Gotham Imagines and One Shots

A Little Dutch Courage - Oswald x Reader

As Oswald took another drink from the bottle of brown liquor that sat on his table, he grimaced at the taste and the burning sensation that it made as it flowed down his throat. He didn't normally drink this much, but the pain was getting too much, and the thought that whatever alcohol he was consuming might help him forget, even if for a short time, had spurred him on to consume the vile tasting liquid.

He had been (Y/n)'s friend for so long, been with her through thick and thin, she had helped him whenever he needed anything, and he had always told her that she was his one true friend; but things had begun to change when he had come on the scene.

Victor was everything he wasn't, a cool, calm, confident and charismatic assassin, all the things that Oswald thought (Y/n) wanted. He had been an umbrella boy under the control of Mooney, nothing but one of those men that seemed to blend into the background, and he knew that he couldn't compete.

Oswald had first met (Y/n) when she had come to work for Mooney, and the new club singer had made quite an impact on him; unlike others, she had always been good to him, always been concerned about him, and she always had a smile that seemed to be wider whenever he was around, her bright green eyes speaking of a gentle soul that he couldn't help but find himself drawn to.

He would spend most nights in the club, listening as her melodious voice filled the venue, his heart pounding violently in his chest as she would wink at him if she ever saw him in the crowd. Whenever he got a spare moment, the two would meet for coffee as they talked about books, their lives and dreams; Oswald felt that he had finally found someone that he could be himself with, a true friend, and he couldn't be happier. (Y/n) was kind and helpful, she was always there when he needed her, and she would be for so long.

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As he remembered that first meeting Oswald poured himself another glass, swallowing the brown liquid down in one gulp. Refilling his glass, he remembered the first time (Y/n) had told him about Victor, how she gushed over how much she thought of him, and he also remembered how (Y/n) would come and see him less and less, something that Oswald could only put down to Victor.

Suddenly Oswald turned, throwing the empty shot glass at the wall, smashing it into a million tiny pieces, he had get out, he needed a walk; he knew that the streets of Gotham were no place to take a late night stroll, but as the alcohol coursed through his veins and muddled his mind, he didn't care. Picking up the bottle, he took it with him as he ventured into the night.

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(Y/n) was surprised by the knock at door, she was even more surprised when she noticed it was 2am; she cautiously peered through the little peephole, not knowing what to expect, no normal person in their right mind would just be making house calls at this time of night, not as though there were many normal people to speak of in Gotham, but she had let her curiosity get the best of her and she had to know who her visitor was.

Her eyes grew wide as he saw Oswald leaning against the door frame; hurriedly she opened the door.

"Dear god Oswald, how did you get here." (Y/n) asked, noting the empty liquor bottle in his hand, and the smell of alcohol on his breath. (Y/n) knew that Oswald didn't normally drink so much, so something had to be really wrong.

"How did I get here? I FLEW!" Oswald told her, trying to straighten himself as he slurred his words.

If it had been under any other circumstances, (Y/n) would have laughed, but instead she dragged him into the apartment, taking the bottle from Oswald's hand, and sitting him down on the sofa.