Gotham Imagines

Here Comes Santa Claus Pt. 2

Jerome x Reader

Gasps and quiet squeals rang through the room. "What?" Jerome questions playfully towards the appalled crowd. "We can't have anyone ruining our Christmas spirit now, can we? Right, Y/N?"
He turns to you, and his piercing blue eyes cause tiny goosebumps to prick your arms. You're rendered speechless; after all, how does one answer that? You shouldn't even be near this monster, but you feel a force drawing you to him for some reason. His charisma like some sort of attraction spell.
Jerome smiles at you but says nothing more on the subject. Instead he pushes the gun into your hand and tells you it's your turn. The cold metal is heavy in your trembling palm; does he really expect you to shoot someone?
That's when he grabs your hand in his own steady one. He lifts your arm up so the gun is pointing to the doorway, where an alarmed policeman appears.
"Don't shoot!" he yells.
Jerome's whispering in your ear. "Pull the trigger."
You feel strong for the first time in a long time. Your lingering finger sits down on the trigger. You pull it. Yet the force of the gun firing is stronger than you expected, and you're suddenly stumbling backwards, startled. You fall back into the Jerome, who giggles abruptly while your bullet misses Officer Gordon by about a foot and ricochetes off a large metal Christmas ornament.
Rather than a feeling of relief, however, you feel somehow as though you've failed the ginger psychopath beside you. He grabs the gun from you and fires two more bullets almost simultaneously, though Gordon ducks and plunges into the crowd with a pistol of his own.
The speakers beside the stage still blares Christmas music, which until then, you've been blocking out, but now, the song in your ears rings and warps into some twisted, crazy carol, a reflection of your pounding heart.
"Jerome!" Jim hollers. "You—" he fires, missing Jerome by an inch, "—were supposed to be—" another bullet, "DEAD!"
Things are fuzzy; your head feels faint. Bullets whiz past you. Jerome is tugging on your arm, pulling you down the steps, but you barely even notice. Then the two of you are off the stage and standing on the ground beside it. You feel as though in a trance; everything's hazy.
"Y/N!!!" Sam shrieks from somewhere in the crowd. "DON'T!" his 6-year old voice warns.
Don't what?
"So whatya say, angel, come with me?" Jerome asks, smirking as you whip around to face him. Oh, you think. Don't that. He's holding his hand out towards you, really asking you to go with him.
Your breathing steadies. Despite your terrified brother and your probably worried sick mother, you grab his hand. Because you realize they are the only reasons to stay submerged in you're pathetic life, where you were the puzzle piece that didn't fit. And, though Jerome was not leading you into the ideal lifestyle either, it all of a sudden felt right. You're diving headfirst into madness and not thinking twice about it.
He yanks you forward into an unexpected kiss, and his lips taste like cinnamon on your own. Then you two run off into the cold air outside, gunshots still firing from behind.

As you and Jerome walk along the sidewalk, the distinct feeling of a fresh starts slams into you. You feel like a clean slate, now that you have a new direction, a new home and everything to learn about the world from a new angle.
Snowflakes are fluttering steadily to the frosty ground, and the streets of Gotham are quickly becoming covered with a white blanket. A siren blares somewhere in the distance, the only sound to be heard in the quiet night.
Your hands are in the warm pockets of your coat, but you're shivering nonetheless. Jerome leans in and plants a kiss on your cheek, wrapping an arm around you as the both of you stride forward into nowhere.
You don't know what the future holds, and you've forgotten your past, yet when Jerome smiles lovingly into your eyes, you know you've made the right decision.