Your Ginger Housemate (Jerome Valeska X Reader)

10

You stared at the door, unsure of how to introduce Jerome. A million scenarios sped through your mind, but only one really stuck due to its simplicity. You spun on your heel and darted back to the kitchen. Gripping the wall and poking your head around it, you went to give Jerome the plan.

"You're my friend I met at college. You needed a place to stay, and now we're roomies. That's it. No more, no less." He raised his eyebrow amused at how flustered you'd become. Just as you had turned to leave, a flash of silver caught your eye. A flash of silver. You whipped your head back around the wall. "And put the knife down!" You hissed.

As you darted back to the door to answer the second set of knocks against the door, you heard Jerome chuckle. 'He'd better keep his word, or I swear...'

You wrenched open the door to greet the two people you'd hoped not to encounter for a while... for many obvious reasons of course. "Mum! Dad! Hi!"

You're crushed into a tight embrace from both parties as nicknames and greetings were repeated into your ear - mostly from your mother.

"We've missed you so much!"

"It's good to see you poppet."

"It's been too long sweetpea!"

You couldn't say you didn't love your parents. On the contrary, they received the most enormous amount of affection and trust you could offer. You wouldn't know what you would have done without them. At any other time, you'd be thrilled to see them. It had been months. But now? Well, it wasn't so much as being excited but more terrified. Terrified of their well-being. Your well-being... Jerome's.

Both parents pulled you out of your thoughts as the moved you to arm's length in synchronicity to look at you. Your father smiled at you as your mother began to speak. That was usually the case. She was an energetic woman. Light, brown hair, almost a sandy blonde that would resist being tamed. She would apply jell and hairspray, and still, it would eventually become a frizzy halo around her face.

"Oh, you look so beautiful! It's been so long since we saw you last. And you've grown your hair out. It looks lovely dear, but isn't it tiresome?Never mind, who am I to judge? Oh, you won't believe what happened when we got here..."

Still, she rambled on. Your mother would have been quite content with standing at the entrance for hours chattering giddily away if it weren't for your father. He exchanged a warm look of amusement with you and put an arm around his wife.

"Patty, dear, should unpack first and chat later? Or shall we stand hear and let the cold in?" He gestures slightly to the still agape door behind them. He was right, the cold air from the usual Gotham weather was seeping into the house, giving you goosebumps.

"Oh! Yes! Of course. Let's get the bags," Your mother, Patricia y/l/n, looked at you as she walked out the door, "We'll just get our things sweetie, and then you can show us around, hey?" She flittered down the steps, the usual bounce in her step. You once again exchanged a look you and your father had done for years. The 'oh Mom,' look. With that, he walked out the door and down the few steps to help bring the bags in.

Your father was a taciturn man. Brandon y/l/n was where you had received many of your looks. His hair was [insert y/h/c], just like your own but it looked as if it had been dusted with a silver coating. His eyes twinkled green with understanding. He was your best friend, because, unlike your mother, he would listen entirely, without interrupting, and was able to look at things from your point of view. Usually, you would confide in him with everything. Everything... but the circumstance of harbouring a criminally insane maniac. Even he would not understand something like that.

You turned around and held your fingers to your temples and glanced up to see Jerome leaning against the wall.

"They leaving already?" He asked with a too much innocence then what was necessary.