Gotham Imagines (Requests Closed)

Oswald X Reader

You've been dating Oswald Cobblepot for two months now, and you've been in love with him for even longer than that.

You met him in a flower shop. He was buying lilies and roses for his mother's grave, and you were buying some seeds for a flower-meadow that you had been making.

And now here you are. At the same little shop, buying a bouquet for the dinner table, seeing as he invited you for fancy dining this evening. He got a professional cook to make you some lobster dish with two of your favourite sides, or so he told you.

Smiling, you pay for the flowers, and walk to the nightclub.

He waits for you at the small table, designed for two, and grins broadly when you approach. Sitting down opposite him, you go through the routine of asking about each others day, and all that boring stuff that couples politely talk about.

"Let's go for a walk, hmm Oswald?"

"Yes, anything you want!"

Mindful of his limp, you wrap your arm around his, and walk out into the crisp air together.

After you had gone aways, you told him that you'd catch up with him. You decided to cut Oswald off at the next turn and maybe jump scare the crap out of him. So you ran ahead, and then hid, and waited for him to catch up.

But, you heard a man yelling and threatening Oswald and Oswald trying to calm him down.

Knowing that this won't end well, you launch yourself at the man about to attack. Kicking him between the legs, and punching his throat, you almost emerge victorious.

Turns out, he had a gun, and it was loaded.

And ... he shot you. In the chest.

Pain!

Agony!

Torment!

Suffering!

n o t h i . . . n . . . . g . . . . . . e n d l e s . . . s . . . . l . . . . . y . . . . . . f l o a t . . . . i . . . . . n . . . . . . g . . . . . . f o r e . . . . . v . . . . . . e . . . . . . . r

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beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...

The sound of the heart monitor awakens you. You gasp, sitting erect and panting softly.

"Y/N? You're- you're awake! I-i thought you weren't gonna make it, and I-i-"

"Shh..." You say, waving your arm around like an idiot, "Have. Pounding. Headache. Please, shut up."

You flop onto your back dramatically, all too aware of the pain in your chest. Oswald laughs slightly.

"Now I know you're okay. But seriously, what were you thinking?" He whispers, leaning closer.

"Well now, I obviously wasn't thinking. I was acting on the stupid impulse to save your life. I think that some serious thanks should be in order?" You smirk.

"Of course, . . . thanks," Oswald replies, closing the space between you with a passionate kiss.

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