Gotham Imagines

Rejects

Jerome x Reader

It is late. And night descends black,
contrasting the sheet of white that covers every inch of Gotham, a fresh layer.

You stagger through the doors of a restaurant, intoxicated with a feeling of worthlessness. The awful feeling of being rejected...and on Christmas Eve, too. Why? Ask the man who didn't show up to your date.

This is the last time, you tell yourself as you wander aimlessly through the snow, mind and heart no longer controlling your actions.

The cold was merciless. It bit cheeks, froze toes, and made you shove your fingers further in your coat pockets.

But finally looking up at your surroundings, you notice that you've staggered into the outskirts of the city, beside a quaint block of buildings and before a park with rows of festive streetlamps and ink-stain-trees.

Frozen, for a moment, you look back at the deserted road of which you came. It's covered in snow and your own footprints and...more footprints? Upon a closer look, you notice a separate set of feet had been there (or two...) as well as a trail of blood that lead into an narrow alley.

Acting blind to your own morals and better advises, you walk along the trail and peer in between the two buildings. It's near black, but as you step closer you are able to make out two figures. One has a knife at the other man's throat and is speaking threats in a low growl, with a touch of dark whimsy here and there.

The victim is quiet, save for a few small whimpers as the blood pours further from the wounds on his torso.

"Somebody's had quite a night," you say, tone both sarcastic and playful. Your head is swimming, brain not doing it's job. Perhaps it was the miserable feeling of knowing you'll never find love, the emptiness of an empty holiday, but you allowed yourself to be drawn to the scene.

Hand still pinned to the other's neck, the younger man turns his head, slowly, with a devilish smile on his face. "And what do we have here?"

Numb but brave, you reply, "Don't ask who I am, and I'll do the same for you." Your legs take you further into the alleyway.

Slitting the throat of his prey like a wolf finishing his meal, the criminal walks up to you with wicked interest. "Sure, I'll play that game, doll."

There is some kind of desperation inside of you, rooted deep, a gutteral longing for this, for something, for someone. For someone to love?

"Yikes. Guess you've been having a rough holiday," the killer purrs, to your dismay.

"And what makes you think that?" you ask, playing it cool.

"Anyone stupid enough to wander right on over to me has got to be either drunk or..." pausing, for a moment, he grins at you and cocks an eyebrow. "Let me guess...lonely?"

"You're one to talk. Murdering a man in an alleyway? Not exactly the most...traditional thing to do on a Christmas Eve."

Laughing like a deranged hyena, he steps closer to you and puts his hand on your cheek. "Y'know what, doll? I like you."

His hands are warm and sticky with blood, but you don't care because suddenly they are in your hair and on your waist, and your lips are forced upon his, and nothing in the world could be warmer...the yearning in your own blood seems to be on fire. Every sense is lit up, heart pumping and infused with wild energy.

Laying against the alley wall next to him in the frigid snow is the last thing you remember from that encounter. The rejected Christmas night when you sort-of-maybe-accidentally made out with a killer. It wasn't a dream was it? You can't remember anything after that, but the cold, the cold, the cold...

Author's Note: Did you like it? Was the ending too weird and cryptic? I personally thought this chapter was very steamy (lol as steamy as my writing gets at least) and the end was a sort of spur-of-the-moment inspiration. Weird.
Also: one last happy holidays to my fabulous readers! I will see you in a week or so.