not love, a duty | charles whiteman x f. reader

;)

"Kill her," the voice from the other line said. Charles's grasp tightened around the telephone. "Kill (Name)," she repeated. Charles sighed as his eyes wandered around the crowded office, his eyes then laying against the target he was ordered to murder. "Why?" he asked the voice.

"She.." her voice trailed off, "knows too much."

"Beep, beep, beep.."

She hung up after that. He bit his lip, eyes still on the girl. (Name) began to stop flipping the book in her hands, itching from his stare as she looked up. And (Name) was right, Charles was staring directly at her. Heat rushed to her cheeks as a smile tugged on her lips.

With that smile, Charles looked away. (Name) didn't seem to have done anything yet the voice from the other line had told him to murder her. The thought of himself shooting a bullet through her head made his nerves tingle. His hands began to shake as he placed down the telephone. His brows were twitching, his lungs were shaky and his palms began to clam up.

Killing was always easy for Charles. He'd lure them in with his small talk before putting a bullet through their skull. It was different for (Name). She had somehow made his hard heart soften within a smile.

He wondered what (Name) had done for the lady to want her dead. He rubbed his stubbled chin, grunting as he positioned himself in his chair to get a better look of (Name). She was doing nothing more than her job, writing down papers and handing out files to the other police officers. Charles couldn't murder a woman for no reasonable explanation. Fuck, he'd kill any woman in an instant if he was told to do so but (Name) was harder to convince him to shoot her.

Charles was already imagining the loud gunshot. The loud screams (Name) would let out. The pool of blood flowing over the floor to his clean shoes. The look (Name) would give him before she closes her eyes.

Charles was determined to find out what (Name) had done to deserve this. The lady from the other line was heartless enough. He'd like to think he was better than her.

The moon looked prettier today. The moonlight shone against his skin softly while his eyes were lit up. Charles had successfully lured (Name) into a so-called date before murdering her with his own hands.

He leaned against the lanky street light, lighting up a cigar between his fingers. His lips parted as he sucked in the smoke, blowing them away after a few seconds. When his ears perked up by the sound of heels clicking towards his way, Charles tilted his hat up, making room for his eyes to have a look at the lady. It was (Name). She arrived just on time for the date.

"Hey," (Name) smiled with a wave. "Hey," Charles waved back. He gulped as he stared at her. He then tossed his cigar onto the ground, stomping it with his foot. He cleared his throat before he looked back at (Name), who stared at him the entire time with the same smile that was living vividly in his mind.

"Shall we get going then?" Charles added, smiling back softly. (Name) tucked a strand of her locks behind her ear, nodding eagerly. "I'd love to," she beamed.

Heels clacked against the wooden floors as the pianist's fingers danced across the keys. The ladies on stage wore dazing dresses that went up to their thighs, their gold heels matching their headwear. The bright light above sparkled against every grain of sweat left on the dancers' skin. Charles's gaze glazed onto (Name). She was smiling and clapping for the performance m.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Charles chuckled. (Name) nodded, her eyes never breaking away from the stage up front. "Indeed it is lovely!" (Name) clasped her hands onto one another, gleaming as she nodded. Charles took a sip from his glass. As he inspected the way (Name) would giggle and laugh to herself every few seconds as she watched the stage up front, Charles still couldn't bring himself to want to murder her.