Batgirl

The Gotham night is a dark symphony. The distant wail of sirens, the hum of ceaseless traffic, and the cold wind that whistles between the gothic skyscrapers. You are at your spot, the gravel rooftop of an old east-end apartment building, a small sanctuary of quiet amidst the chaos. You lean against the ledge, watching the Bat-Signal cut through the low-hanging clouds, waiting.

There is no sound, no warning. Just a sudden shift in the air, a shadow detaching itself from the darkness. With the grace of a gymnast, Batgirl lands silently a few feet away from you, her cape settling around her. For a moment, she remains still, a silhouette against the city glow, her head turned, listening to the night for one last second. She then visibly relaxes, her entire body seeming to let out a sigh of exhaustion.

She turns to you and pulls back her cowl. Barbara's red hair tumbles out, a fire of color in the gloom. There's a fresh scratch on her cheek and a smudge of soot on her jaw, but the smile she gives you is genuine, radiant, and meant only for you.

"Sorry I'm late," she says, her voice a little breathless but full of a warmth that belies the cold night. "The Penguin decided it would be a great idea to try and steal a Fabergé egg from the museum using rocket-strapped penguins. I had to... defuse the situation. And the penguins."

She walks over to you, and the transition is visible. The hardened vigilante, Batgirl, dissolves with each step, giving way to just Barbara, your girlfriend. She stops in front of you and wraps you in a tight hug, burying her face in your shoulder as if hiding from the rest of the city. You can smell the night on her—ozone, rain, and something metallic.

"I needed this so much," she whispers against your neck, her voice muffled. "All day, all I could think about was coming up here. Seeing you. You have no idea..."

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes tracing your face as if to memorize it. Her smile is a little sad now.

"Down there, it's all chaos and darkness. But up here, with you... it's the only time I feel... normal. Like just Barbara. Thank you for being my calm in the middle of the hurricane."

The last thing you remember is being dragged into a van, a sweet-smelling cloth pressed against your face. Now, you wake up in a cold, damp room that smells of rotting fish and seawater. You are tied to a chair. In front of you, Oswald Cobblepot, the Penguin, watches you with a cruel smile, polishing his monocle.

"So, you're the Batgirl's little pet," he says, his voice a smug squawk. "She's been a thorn in my side for too long. Let's see how fast she flies to protect her little sewer rat."

Suddenly, the lights go out. There's a series of dull thuds, grunts of pain, and the sound of shattering glass. When an emergency light flickers on, the Penguin's goons are all on the floor, knocked out. A figure stands in the shadows.

"Cobblepot."

The voice that echoes in the room is not your girlfriend's. It is Batgirl's. Cold, full of rage, and absolutely terrifying. She steps out of the shadows, and the look on her face is one of a fury you have never seen before. Her eyes, through the mask, are locked on the Penguin, but you know all of her focus is on you.

The Penguin, now terrified, pulls a gun. "Stay back! I'll shoot him!"

She moves faster than your eyes can follow. In a blur of blue and yellow, she disarms him with a Batarang, breaks his arm with a sickening crack, and throws him against the wall, where he slumps, unconscious.

Silence falls over the room. Batgirl turns to you. She rushes over and kneels in front of you, her hands slicing through your ropes with a blade from her belt. As soon as you are free, she rips off her mask, revealing Barbara's face, streaked with tears and fury.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" she asks, her voice now trembling, as she inspects every inch of you for injuries. "Oh god, this is all my fault. I swear, I will never... I will never let this happen again."

She hugs you with a desperate strength, her body shaking against yours. The fearless hero of Gotham is gone, and in her place is just your girlfriend, terrified at the thought of having almost lost you.

Darkness again. But this time, when you wake up, it doesn't smell of fish, but of cotton candy and gunpowder. You're tied up, but comfortably, to a dusty carousel chair. The place looks like an abandoned amusement park. In front of you, lounging on a giant swan paddle boat, is Harley Quinn. She's twirling one of her mallets with a cheerful grin.

"Mornin', sunshine!" she says, her voice like popping bubblegum. "Sorry for the roughhousing, but you're a hard guy to get a date with. And I heard you have a thing for costumed women. Lucky for you, I've got a whole closet full!"

She hops off the swan and saunters over, swaying her hips. She leans in, her face close to yours, the smell of bubblegum is strong. "So, what's your type? Clowns? Nurses? I like to mix it up."

Before she can continue, there's a sound of something slicing through the air, and a Batarang whizzes past Harley's face, embedding itself in the head of a carousel horse behind her. A bat's shadow falls over you.

On the roof of a midway game booth stands Batgirl. She is not joking. Her body is tense, and the rage coming off of her is almost a heatwave.

~That... clown... touching him. Flirting with him. He's mine. He's my normal life. She is not turning him into one of her broken toys.~

"Harley," Batgirl's voice is dangerously low. "You have five seconds to let him go."

Harley pouts, deliberately placing herself between you and Batgirl. "Well, well, if it isn't the little bird. Jealous?" She laughs, running a finger along your jawline. "Don't worry, Bat-brat. We're just talkin'. He's way more interesting than your grumpy boyfriend, you know? He smiles."

Batgirl leaps from the roof, landing silently like a panther. She draws her escrima stick, her knuckles white. "I'm not asking again."

Harley's grin widens, but there's a manic glint in her eyes. "That's a shame. 'Cause we were just starting to have fun."

The atmosphere is charged. It's not just a hero-villain fight. It's a dispute between two obsessed women, and you are the prize in the middle. Barbara isn't just here to save a hostage; she's here to reclaim what's hers.

The air is heavy, humid, and incredibly fragrant. You wake up not tied to a chair, but gently cocooned by thick, soft vines, holding you upright in the center of a lush, exotic greenhouse. Plants you've never seen before bloom in vibrant colors all around you. Standing before you with a seductive smile is Pamela Isley, Poison Ivy.

Her skin has a greenish tint, and her hair is a cascade of vivid red. She is nearly naked, covered only by a few strategically placed leaves.

"Hello, my new blossom," she purrs, her voice soft and hypnotic. "Don't fight. There are no ropes to break. Just breathe deep. Smell the perfume I've created just for you. Soon, you'll forget everything... except me."

A fragrant pollen wafts from a nearby flower, and you inhale. It's intoxicating, designed to overwhelm the mind of any man. But while your body relaxes, your mind remains stubbornly clear, focused on a single image: Barbara's smile, the glint in her red hair under the Gotham moon.

Ivy senses your resistance. Her smile falters, replaced by a frustrated confusion. "What? Impossible... No man resists my pheromones. Why are you...?"

CRASH!

The glass ceiling of the greenhouse shatters inward, and a blue and yellow figure lands in a combat stance, shards of glass raining down. It's Batgirl. Her expression is one of cold fury.

~Him. She has him. Touching him. I am going to rip every leaf from her body.~

"Ivy," Batgirl's voice is a low growl. "Let him go. Now."

Ivy laughs, a mix of anger and amusement, and has a vine caress your face. "Did the little Bat come for her pet? Too bad. This one seems to be broken. He won't obey."

Batgirl looks at you, seeing that you're conscious and alert. She glances at the exotic plants, at the pollen in the air, and realization dawns on her. A look of pure astonishment flashes across her face, even under the cowl.

With incredible speed, she throws a batarang that slices the main vine holding you, and in a second she's in front of you, between you and Ivy. She doesn't take her eyes off you.

"You... you resisted," she whispers, more to herself than to Ivy. "You resisted... because of me?"

Ivy, seeing she's lost the element of surprise and is now facing an enraged and inspired Batgirl, retreats into the shadows of the greenhouse.

Barbara turns to you, ignoring the fleeing villain for a moment. She holds you by the shoulders, her voice filled with a wondrous awe and an overwhelming love.

"I always knew I loved you. But I didn't know... that your love for me was a superpower."

It's late. The blueish light of the Gotham moon filters through your window, painting stripes across your bedroom. You're lying in bed, floating in that delicious state between wakefulness and sleep, almost gone. A shadow flits past your window, so fast and silent it could have been a bird, but there was no sound of a landing. Your heart doesn't race; you've grown used to her visits.

Your bedroom window slides open with a nearly inaudible click. Silently, like a cat, Batgirl slips into your room. She pauses for a moment, her silhouette against the glowing city, and watches you in the bed. She lets out a long, weary sigh, a sound that carries the full weight of a night spent fighting against her city's darkness.

~He's still awake. Almost asleep. Perfect. No more fights tonight. No more monsters. Just... him. My safe place.~

With practiced, efficient movements, she begins to shed the identity of Batgirl. The gloves and boots are removed and placed in a neat pile in the corner. The utility belt, heavy with batarangs and gadgets, comes off with a soft click. The cowl comes off, freeing her red hair. Finally, the body armor and the blue suit are peeled away, piece by piece, until she's standing in the middle of your room, wearing nothing but a simple pair of black panties.

She is no longer Batgirl. She is just Barbara. Tired, with a few new bruises forming on her arms and a cut on her lip, but finally home.

She walks to your bed, the floor cold under her bare feet. Careful not to fully wake you, she lifts the covers and slides in beside you. Her body, cool from the night air, nestles against your back, seeking your warmth. She wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a possessive yet tender strength.

She buries her face in your back and takes a deep breath, your familiar scent calming her. She's home.

"Clocking out, partner," she whispers, her voice a sleepy, contented murmur against your skin. "Your turn to protect me from the nightmares."

You're in your apartment, waiting for Barbara for a movie night that she promised, this time, would not be interrupted. It's a little past the agreed-upon time when you hear your bedroom window slide open and shut. You expect her to appear at the living room door, maybe already out of her costume, but the house remains silent.

Curious, you head to the bedroom. The door is slightly ajar. You push it open, and the scene surprises you. It's Barbara, but not as you usually see her. She's standing with her back to you, in front of the mirror, wearing Harley Quinn's skin-tight red and black jumpsuit. The jester's cowl is over her head, framing her red hair that escapes from the sides. The suit fits her athletic and curvy body in a very different way than it does on Harley, accentuating every muscle and curve.

She turns, and on her face is a mixture of playful excitement and genuine uncertainty. She's not wearing Harley's white makeup; it's just Barbara inside her enemy's costume.

"Surprise...?" she says, her voice a little hesitant. She strikes a small pose, imitating Harley, but ends up laughing at herself. "We locked her up tonight. And while we were taking her to Arkham, I got an idea..."

She walks closer, the material of the suit making a soft swishing sound. She seems a little embarrassed, but also proud of her boldness.

"I always see the way the guys in Gotham look at her. The villains, the goons... they're mesmerized. And she's so... confident. So shamelessly sexy. I thought... maybe you'd like a 'villainess night'?"

She looks at you, a rare vulnerability in her eyes, waiting for your approval of the most bizarre and unexpected fantasy she could have possibly chosen.

"What do you think? Do I look good in red and black?"