Your Ginger Housemate (Jerome Valeska X Reader)

1

There he goes again. Rummaging through the fridge like he owns the place. Most of the time, he annoyed the shit out of you. He was arrogant, dangerous, unstable, irritable, careless and not to mention infuriating... But what the heck, you found him boyishly charming.

His perfectly styled, flaming hair. His dark eyes forever filled with sparks of curiosity. His broad grin which illuminated his features with mocking and mischief. But somehow, his imperfections are what lured you in the most. The stubborn strand of hair that always fell over his forehead. The unpredictability of his moods, like a flame on dry grass. His overstretched smile thanks to the "missing face mishap." Even the faint, puckered, pink scars that circled his eyes and face. Yup. Jerome Valeska. He was your housemate. Not that you had had much say in the matter.

~ Flashback ~

The wind howled behind the window panes, and torrential sheets of rain battered down upon Gotham City. Thunder and lightning filled the sky. You'd been tossing and turning for hours. The clattering of debris hurtling down the street and the constant howling of dogs made even relaxing an impossible feat. 'CRASH!' You jumped up with a start. That wasn't from in the street. That was downstairs. Someone was in the house.

Quickly, quietly, you jumped off the bed and eased the baseball bat you hid behind your door, off the wall. Gripping it like a lifeline, you crept down the hallway towards the stairs. You couldn't see clearly. The power appeared to have been cut, filling the house with an ominous, pressing darkness. Easing down the stairs, you re-adjusted your grip on the bat as cold sweat caused it to slip. The cold, wooden stairs caused you to shiver as your body heat seeped out into the air around you.

Your breathing began to hitch.'Stay calm y/n, stay calm.' As you entered the kitchen, you could feel the cold wind rushing through the smashed window above the bench. Rain swept through the opening, soaking the tabletop and floor. You shivered violently, praying to God debris broke the window, and not something or someone more dangerous. Hopefully, the odds were in your favour tonight.
As you crept further into the kitchen, past your chairs and small dining table, lightning filled the room, revealing a dark silhouette standing only three meters away. A scream tore through your throat as you turned on your heel and bolted for the stairs. 'Why would you leave your phone back in your room. Idiot!' Suddenly an iron grip caught your arm and wrenched you back towards the figure, causing you to drop the bat. You knew you wouldn't have had the guts to swing it at someone. Violence had never been your forte, even in possible, life-threatening situation it seemed.

The figure spun you around. It's hand covered your mouth while the other held a cold blade against your throat. You whimpered as you felt its breath blow past your ear. A low chuckle reverberated through the figure's throat. Not a figure. A man. He leant closer to your ear,

"Hello, gorgeous. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"
You whimpered, and couldn't help but think, 'Oh God. The odds really aren't in my favour.'

**Later**

Jerome Valeska! Jerome Valeska was in your house! You'd seen how he had plagued the news for the past week. You'd seen how he had finally been thrown into Arkham Asylum... again, and how he had escaped... Again! Now you watched as he rummaged through the kitchen draws while you sat on one of the rickety dining chairs, faced towards him, paralyzed with fear. He hadn't tied you up. He must've guessed you wouldn't run away. He must not have perceived you as stupid. You weren't. You were, however, wanting to know what exactly he was going to do with you, but you daren't ask. The maniac raised his head, looking directly at you as he began to speak. Maybe taunt was a better term.

"Wow, don't make too much noise, you'll wake the neighbours." He smiled at you and rolled his eyes before continuing, "Okay, nevermind. I'll cut to the chase. You see, I'm in a bit of a pickle. The cops may or may not be looking for me at this very moment, and I need somewhere to crash for the night." He resumed looking through the draws before smiling suddenly and lifting an object to his eye-level. Still grinning happily, Jerome observed the small paring knife in his hand, glistening as he turned it from one side to another. With a flick of his hand, the blade spun around his fingers and back into his firm grip. You gulped.

'What's he going to do to me?'

The madman began walking towards you, taking his merry time. It made it all the more terrifying. Swinging a chair in front of you and plonking himself down onto the back-to-front piece of furniture, he pointed at you as he spoke, knife hand gesturing and flailing about,

"So here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna stay here for the night, and you're gonna let me. Plus, you will never tell anyone about it. Ever. Got it?"

You finally found the courage to speak, "You can't stay here. I-I won't let you." Your voice shook pathetically, you internally cursed yourself.

Jerome began to smile, shaking his head ever so slightly. "Well, you are. Because one: I've cut your phone lines. And two: I've turned off the power." A sadistic grin spread across his face. "You catch my drift sweet cheeks?"

"Don't call me that!"

He chuckled. "Frankly, I'll call you whatever I like, because, I'm the one with the knife and you, well..." He drifted off, smirking as he shrugged his shoulders and twirled the knife around his fingers. He rested his chin on free hand.

Adrenaline began to pump through your veins. Jerome obviously didn't want to create more trouble than necessary - although, if he had to, you guessed he wouldn't complain much. He was soaked to the bone. His hair a deep red in its saturated and dishevelled state as it lay flat on his forehead and over his eyes. His trench coat weighing him down with water, dripping puddles onto the floor.
You sighed, knowing you were only delaying the inevitable, may as well attempt to play along and figure out what to do in the morning. The morning!

"Are... are you going to be here in the morning?"

"Ah, that's better! No. I'll be long gone. You won't see me again. In the flesh anyway." He cackled.

A wave of relief washed over you. You weren't seeing him again. You might live a couple more hours. If not more!

'Maybe the odds are in my favour?'

- End of Flashback -

You shook your head, smiling slightly because the odds were in your favour, and had been ever since. Even if you did see Jerome again, and again, and again.

"What's so funny sweet cheeks?" Jerome was smirking, leaning against the doorway with his shoulder.

You jumped. 'How does he just appear like that?'

"Nothing moron. And how many times do I have to tell you, don't call me that!"

Jerome merely laughed and walked out of sight while calling out, "Oh, I'm not gonna stop. I'm just gonna keep using these nicknames. And one day, you won't hate them as much as you think."

"Whatever!"

He only giggled,  "See you later... Sweet cheeks!" With that, you heard the back door close.

You sighed and smiled, because, deep down, you loved the pet names he'd call you. You always had.