Gotham imagines/Preferences ~❤~

Daddy's Detective~PT 4

You scrambled to find your phone through your bag on the couch, cursing under your breath about how you forgot to turn the sound back on, and when you pulled it out, there was over twenty missed calls from Jim along with Leslie. When the phone rang again, you quickly answered it.

"I've been trying to reach you for so long, are you okay?" he asked in an urgent tone.

"Yes, I'm fine, I'm okay," you reassured him, and he breathed a sigh of relief the second he heard your voice.

"Thank God you're okay," he sounded assuaged for a moment before he added, "there's been a breakout at Arkham. Six inmates escaped," he started, pausing briefly, "one of them was Jerome. Please tell me you're at home," he said, and it was evident how overwrought he was.

"Yes, I'm home," you answered.

"Good, now please just stay where you are. Don't go anywhere," he implored, "the police will be outside the apartment any moment now, so you're gonna be fine. I swear I won't let anything happen to you," he promised, yet his voice was still thick with dread.

"Okay, I'll stay where I am. Please be careful, Dad, I love you," you told him earnestly.

"I love you too, I'll be there as soon as I can," he assured before he hung up the phone.

A moment after your phone call with Jim ended, Leslie was calling, and you answered it immediately, reassuring her that you were okay and that Jim was going to have the police posted outside the building. She sounded hysterical. She told you to stay on the phone with her until they showed up. You paced around and around until they finally did, the police sirens blaring as the cars crowded just outside. When she finally hung up, you sat back on the sofa in front of the living room. You were shaking, your knees knocking against one another, lower lip quivering, heart pounding rapidly in your chest as you stared blankly across the room.

You realized you didn't fear for your life, no, instead there was a strong feeling of anticipation, which was the strangest thing. You were practically vibrating with excitement. You wanted to see him, and you knew there was something very wrong about that. This was what you had been waiting for, as much as you couldn't bring yourself to admit that. You had to convince yourself that it wasn't true, that you were just as scared as the next person about these news. He was a murderer. How many times were you going to tell yourself that?

You raced back to the window, taking a peek through the blinds to see if the police was still there. They were. You were safe. It was all going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay. There was no way that any of the escapees would break in here with the police protecting you.

"Miss me, gorgeous?"

A familiar voice said from behind you, though it wasn't anything like the way it was before, it was ominous, threatening, no longer timid or soft-spoken, much more sure of itself. You whipped your head back and gasped upon seeing the ginger stepping out of your kitchen and standing before you in your living room, your breath hitching. You clasped your hands over your mouth, and he merely laughed at your reaction, grinning menacingly as he started to slowly approach you. His gaze slid from your eyes to your mouth, registering the slight tremble in your bottom lip; it flickered over every part of you. He wasn't ashamed to let you see him drink you in, catching his tongue between his teeth for an instant before it was dampening his lips and in turn - though involuntarily, you didn't hide the way your breath shook as you inhaled. There was no way to disguise the fact that you were committing every destructively beautiful area of his face to memory: sloping nose with a white-toothed grin beneath it, those sharp cheekbones of his, the loose strand of auburn hair falling over his forehead, you didn't ever want to forget it.