Jerome Valeska One-Shots

Kidnapped

Possible Trigger Warning

You didn't think that it could happen to you. Being kidnapped, that is.

All those stories on the news about the people that went out alone at night and didn't survive to see the day had never really applied to you. You felt untouchable. Those stories didn't seem real until you were the one that had walked alone at night and paid the price.

Now you were waking up in a dark room, chained to the wall. Who knew what kind of sicko had you in this town, or why. You couldn't help but feel like you were about to be tortured. Or killed. Or raped.

That kind of thing happened all the time in Gotham, you knew that as well as anyone else.

You just didn't think that it could happen to you.

There was no real hope of being rescued. Who would miss the runaway that lived alone enough to inform the GCPD? And even if they did, how could they ever hope to find you—dead or alive? Bodies disappeared like spare change in couches in this city. Yours would be no different, you were sure.

You were kind of wishing that your kidnapper would come out and get it over with already, whatever it was. I haven't lived that great a life anyway.

You had a death wish. Why keep struggling to stay afloat in the city where no one cares?

Just then, the door to whatever dark room you were in creaked open, revealing a silhouette of a man in the doorway.

He was tall, probably just about six foot. As he stepped into the glow of the one dirty lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, you saw that he was a ginger. A cute ginger, at that.

But he definitely wasn't your rescuer, given that creepy smile on his face. No, he was your kidnapper.

You shrunk away in fear. All of your big thoughts before about being brave and wanting to die faded away. You didn't want to die. Of course you didn't. Saying otherwise would be crazy talk.

The man—or boy really, he couldn't be much older than nineteen—began to laugh, low and sinister. It sent actual shivers down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise up in their trail.

"Hi there, gorgeous. I'm Jerome. Jerome Valeska. Maybe you've heard of me?" The boy greeted, a coy smile on his face.

Jerome Valeska. The Arkham breakout. You'd seen it on the news, heard the warnings, but again, being the stupid idiot that you were, you thought that somehow all those warnings didn't apply to you.

"I can see you have. Now, I'm sure that begs the question in your pretty little head of what exactly I'm going to do with you. To you. I'm going to kill you dollface. Messily, painfully, yada yada yada—unless you give me a good reason not to. Just one, teensy little reason why I shouldn't extinguish your pathetic existence," Jerome growled.

You gulped. You didn't know what he wanted. Clearly the wrong answer would lead to your death, perhaps an even more painful one. But what did he want? That was the real question wasn't it? Money wouldn't matter to him—not like you had any to offer anyways. There was nothing even remotely special about you. Unless—oh god—did he mean that? Were you supposed to offer him something... sexual?

Lord knows that you didn't have a seductive bone in your body, and while you weren't hideous, you didn't think you were much to look at either. You struggled to recall what they said about him on the news. Then it hit you. He went to Arkham for killing his mom. Shit parents are practically the bane of his existence. And lord knows my parents were pretty shitty.

You'd been orphaned by your parents at a young age because you weren't a boy, basically. Then it turns out that they couldn't have any more kids so they took you back, but they treated you like crap, making you do work around the house while they went to fancy parties and foreign countries. And if you didn't get the job done properly, well then...

"Sometime this year if you don't mind, gorgeous," Jerome prompted impatiently.

"I don't want to die before I can kill my parents," you realized, blurting it out.

A sickening grin spread across his face, spanning from ear to ear.

"That's a good reason, gorgeous," he practically purred, stalking closer.

You didn't flinch. How could you, when deep down you wanted to murder your parents. You two were really no different. You five minutes ago would have been terrified, but right now? No. You weren't afraid of the psychotic ginger that had made you realize your darkest desires. It was like a switch deep inside of you had been flipped, and suddenly you were this darker, more confident person.

You smiled seductively as he approached, looking sultry.

"You gonna free me, handsome?" You flirted.

"I'm gonna do more than that, baby."

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Word Count: 847
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Love,
Gingy