Gotham Imagines and One Shots

The Dancer - Part 2 - Oswald x Reader

(Y/n) looked out onto the dark damp streets. There was still a fine drizzle of rain filling the air. The mist seeming to dust everything around her in a sheen of diamonds, the droplets of water glistening like perfect jewels under the hum of the streetlights.

She had made this journey hundreds of times, yet there was always something about the short trip between the studio and her small apartment that always put her on edge. She hadn't always lived in Gotham; in fact, she had spent many years dancing all over the world in everything from West End shows to cruise liners; but a death in the family had brought her back to Gotham. And as much as she wanted to leave again, there was something about the dark, bleak city that held her close, refusing to let her go. The metropolis holding her to its bosom, as a mother would its child.

As she stepped out of the doorway, (Y/n) looked up into the heavens momentarily letting the fine mist of water settle on her warm skin. She liked nights like this, there was something ever so slightly magical about the rain that seemed to make Gotham just ever so slightly less depressing and had a habit of keeping some of the more unpleasant residents of the city, indoors. The local criminals appearing to have a dislike for good, clean water.

Carefully (Y/n) opened her umbrella, the bright colours of the parasol, breathing some life into the darkness that surrounded her.

Tonight, she had had enough of Michael. She had had enough of his wandering hands that always seemed to find their way from her waist to the swell of her backside. She had had enough of his revolting innuendos about her mysterious fan; and she had had enough of his continuing suggestions that the two should try just one more date. (Y/n) sure that it wasn't just a date that Michael had in mind.

Months before, (Y/n) had given in, accepting Michael's offer for a quiet drink. The two ending up in some dark, seedy place downtown, a place that Michael had thought would be safe to let his hands wander to places (Y/n) had no intention of letting him anywhere near; resulting in the night ending with Michael nursing a red cheek from the slap across his face, and a very uncomfortable manhood from where his genitals had had an unfortunate collision with (Y/n)'s knee. Ever since that moment, (Y/n) had tried to avoid any suggestion of Michael's about making up for the evening, determined that having to dance with him was as close as she ever really wanted to get.

She couldn't help but let her mind wander to the mystery man. She hoped that he was out of the weather, wrapped up warm in front of a fire somewhere, rather than being one of the multitudes of unfortunate souls that were forced to live on the streets. There was part of her that couldn't help but make up all sorts of stories for the strange watcher. That he was a European aristocrat that had somehow found his way to Gotham. A prince that had come to see what real life was like. That he was an international spy, suave and debonaire, with a Walther PPK tucked just inside his large dark overcoat. Or that he was a time traveller that had journeyed to this time, only to find himself falling in love with the beautiful dancer that he had seen. (Y/n) had to admit the stories she made up for him were just pure flights of her overactive imagination; but she couldn't help but smile as she thought about the idea of her very own international spy, or debonair superhero, watching over her. Protecting her from the seedier side of Gotham life.

"Well hello, beautiful." A voice called out from behind her. (Y/n) turning to see two men approaching her.

"You know, its not safe out here. A pretty little thing such as you shouldn't be walking the streets alone at this time of night. Ya never know who is watching you." The man cooed softly, as he and his compatriot circled (Y/n). The two looking her up and down as she tried to pull her long, thick coat, tighter around her form.

"I........ I don't have much money, but.......but what I have, you can take." (Y/n) told the pair. Holding out her bag to the man that had been talking.