Imagine Book 2

Chemical Change- Jeremiah Valeska- Gotham

Fem Y/N

The bunker had been home for months now. Y/N had grown accustomed to its concrete walls and fluorescent lighting, the way their footsteps echoed in the corridors, and most importantly, the brilliant man she shared it with. Jeremiah's paranoia about Jerome had initially seemed excessive, but after witnessing Jerome's violent attempts to get to his brother, she understood. She'd stood by Jeremiah through it all, believing in his sanity, his goodness, his vision.

That particular evening felt different the moment she stepped through the heavy security doors. The air seemed charged, like the stillness before a storm. Usually, Jeremiah would be at his drafting table, surrounded by blueprints and calculations, or tinkering with some new security measure. But today, silence greeted her.

"Jeremiah?" Her voice bounced off the walls, coming back to her twisted and distorted.

A low chuckle emerged from somewhere in the shadows, making her skin prickle. It wasn't Jeremiah's usual controlled laugh – this one had an edge to it, sharp and dangerous.

"Welcome home, my dear." His voice was different too, more playful, with an undercurrent of something wild. Jeremiah stepped into the light, and Y/N's breath caught in her throat.

He was still wearing his usual crisp outfit, but his tie was loosened, collar unbuttoned, hair slightly dishevelled. Yet it was his eyes that made her freeze – they blazed with an intensity she'd never seen before, pupils dilated despite the bright lighting.

"Jerome," she whispered, fear gripping her heart. "He got to you, didn't he?"

Jeremiah's smile widened, showing too many teeth. "My brother gave me a gift, Y/N. He helped me see everything so clearly." He moved toward her with predatory grace, nothing like his usual measured steps. "I've been so blind, so boring. Hiding away down here, playing at being normal." He was closer now, backing her against the wall. "But now I see what I truly am. What we could be."

Y/N should have been terrified. This was everything they'd fought against, everything Jeremiah had feared becoming. But there was something magnetic about him now, an electric current that drew her in despite her better judgment. His hand came up to cup her face, and she noticed his fingers trembled slightly – not with fear, but with barely contained energy.

"You're not afraid," he observed, tilting his head like a curious bird. "Everyone else ran. Ecco stayed, but out of duty. But you..." His thumb traced her lower lip. "You're fascinated, aren't you?"

She couldn't deny it. This new Jeremiah radiated power and danger, but underneath she could still see her Jeremiah – brilliant, intense, and utterly focused on her.

"I love you," she whispered. "Whatever you become, I love you."

Something flashed in his eyes – possession, desire, madness, or perhaps all three. "Mine," he growled, and then his mouth was on hers, hungry and demanding. Gone was any trace of his usual restraint. He kissed her like a man possessed, one hand tangling in her hair while the other gripped her waist hard enough to bruise.

Y/N matched his intensity, her fingers clutching at his vest, pulling him closer. He bit her lower lip, not quite hard enough to draw blood, and she gasped into his mouth. He took advantage of her parted lips to deepen the kiss, tasting her, claiming her.

When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavily. His pupils were blown wide, leaving only a thin ring of colour around the edges. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he panted. "To stop holding back, to show you exactly what you do to me."

"Then show me," she challenged, and saw his eyes darken further.

He pressed her harder against the wall, his body flush against hers. "Be careful what you wish for, darling," he purred against her ear. "I'm not the same man you moved in with. That Jeremiah was afraid of his darkness." His teeth grazed her earlobe. "I want to paint you in shadows, make you as mad as I am."

"Maybe I want that too," she breathed, and felt him shudder against her.

"My perfect match," he murmured, trailing kisses down her neck. "My beautiful, twisted girl. I knew you had darkness in you too – I could see it hiding behind those pretty eyes." His hand slid up to her throat, not squeezing, just resting there in a way that made her pulse race. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," she gasped as he nipped at her collarbone. "I've always been yours."

He pulled back to look at her, and the possession in his gaze made her weak at the knees. "I'm going to reshape this city," he told her, running his thumb along her jawline. "Tear down everything boring and safe and sane, and build something glorious from the ashes." His other hand tightened on her hip. "And you'll be right there beside me, won't you? My queen of chaos."

Y/N knew she should be horrified by his plans, should try to talk him down or run away. But the way he looked at her, like she was the centre of his universe, made it impossible to want anything else. "Yes," she whispered. "Always."

His smile was beautiful and terrible. "I'm going to ruin you," he promised, voice thick with desire. "Break you apart and put you back together in my image." He kissed her again, deep and consuming, until she was dizzy with it. "And you're going to love every second of it."

She should have been scared. Should have mourned the loss of the quieter, gentler man she'd fallen in love with. But as Jeremiah's hands roamed her body with desperate need, as his kisses burned against her skin, she couldn't bring herself to miss him. This new Jeremiah was fire and lightning, chaos and brilliance, and she wanted to burn with him.

He lifted her suddenly, wrapping her legs around his waist and carrying her toward their bedroom. "I have so many plans for us, my love," he murmured against her neck. "Such wonderful, terrible things we'll do together."

Y/N tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth back to hers. She could taste the madness on his tongue, intoxicating and addictive. The gas might have changed him, but his obsession with her had only grown stronger. He'd always been possessive, but now he wore it openly, like a crown...

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Later, as they lay tangled in sheets, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare skin, he spoke of his visions for Gotham. Of mazes and mirrors, of breaking minds and rebuilding them, of a city shaped by brilliant insanity. Y/N listened, entranced by the poetry in his madness, the terrible beauty of his plans.

"You're not trying to save me," he observed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Everyone else would be trying to fix me, to bring back the boring man I was before."

She turned to face him, running her fingers along his jawline. "I love you as you are," she told him honestly. "Both versions of you. The man who protected me, and the man who wants to watch the world burn."

His smile was softer now, but no less dangerous. "My perfect match," he repeated, pulling her closer. "My beautiful contradiction. So sweet and yet so willing to be corrupted." He nipped at her lower lip. "I'm never letting you go, you know. You're mine now, forever."

"Promise?" she asked, and his answering kiss was all the answer she needed.

The bunker that had once been a refuge from madness now housed it willingly. But as Y/N curled into Jeremiah's embrace, feeling his heart race against her back and his possessive arm around her waist, she knew she wouldn't have it any other way. Let the world call them crazy – they had found their own perfect sort of sanity in shared madness.

"My love," he whispered in the darkness, "my muse, my partner in chaos." His grip tightened, protective and possessive all at once. "Together, we're going to make history."

Y/N smiled, pressing back against him. The old Jeremiah might have been the man she first fell in love with, but this new version – wild and brilliant and utterly devoted to her – was the one she would follow into whatever beautiful darkness he created. After all, the best kind of love was the kind that consumed you completely, that burned away everything else until only devotion remained.

And if that devotion had a touch of madness to it? Well, sanity was overrated anyway.