Gotham Imagines

Here Comes Santa Claus

Jerome x Reader

    The Gotham mall is looking as festive as ever when your mom takes you and your 6-year old brother Sam there for some holiday-shopping. Each store had put up a unique display, presenting their most valuable, wanted items so that children peeked through the windows at toys, or adults were lured in for the newest, hottest new clothing item.
    You were SO ready to get the whole thing over with, buy some gifts, maybe grab a bit of food, and get out, but after shopping for a while, your brother insists on getting a chance to meet Santa. This sparked an eye-roll for you, for that's just about the last thing you want to be doing right now. However, your mom, over the phone, says it sounds like a great idea. Lovely.
    So you wait in the tediously long line, full of squirming, screaming children for about half an hour, eyeing the lucky kids that get to go up and meet Santa before Sam does, their eager (yet tired looking) parents waiting behind to take pictures. And when the years of waiting pass, Sam excitedly springs into Santa's lap.
    You watch him now, the "Santa," resting your eyes on his deep-red coat and furry white beard. He has an unusually wide smile, and though it's easy to see that he's younger than most Santas, he plays the part well. "Ho, ho, ho! And what would you like for Christmas, young man?"
    This is when you decide to tune out, and instead listen to the music playing from the mall's speakers. Jingle Bell Rock. Ugh. Your thoughts go back to your warm, cozy bed at home, a place you'd much rather be. How easy it is to leave the present, just for a moment.
    You snap to attention, tuning in to what your brother was saying. "I want a toy gun!" he enthuses, making a gun with his fingers and pretending to shoot. The Santa leans in, getting very close to your brother's face and saying, his voice both low and out of character, "Don't shoot your eye out..."
    "Okay, Sam, time to go!" you hasten, weirded out by the Santa's behavior. Your brother hops out of Santa's lap and tells him goodbye.
    "Goodbye, young man, and remember to stay happy this Christmas season!" he responds with a "ho, ho, ho!"
    Only, moments after your departure, the "ho ho hos" that come from behind you are slowly but surely changed into laughter, familiarly maniacal laughter at that. That laugh. You know it from somewhere.
    People shuffle on like nothing happened. Suddenly, you hear a gunshot and voices screaming. Everyone in the crowd is scrambling about, frantically running with their children in no particular direction. It's chaos.
But where did the gunshot come from? you ask yourself, taking a last look around you while grabbing Sam's hand. And that's when your eyes fall upon Santa. He's smiling like some sort of maniac, and is now standing on his Christmas-y throne, yanking the white beard off his face.
    "LADIES and GENTLEMEN!" he starts, grinning menacingly at the crowd. "I know I'm not the Santa you wanted." He tosses the wig and hat aside. "But I'll be the Christmas miracle you NEED! Who's ready for a holiday party you won't forget?!"
    He fires the gun up at the ceiling, and you're suddenly mesmerized his fiery-red hair and joyful personality, the way he smiles at the chaos he's currently causing. But Sam tugs on your hand and you know you have to get out of here. You dash to the door, though the forest of people, pulling Sam behind you but when you reach the handle...it's locked.
    Frantically, you yank on it, but you know you've made a mistake when the smiling psychopath in a Santa suit slowly turns his head and makes eye contact with you. He begins to speak...to you. "Y'know...I'm a little bit disappointed. I honestly thought this would be an enjoyable experience for you, especially you gorgeous..." His face examines yours more and more as he speaks.
    The next thing he does is shoot the door, and the glass shatters, falling into a heap on the ground next to you.
    But then he aims his gun directly at your trembling brother. "Leave and I shoot. That goes for everyone."
    You squeeze Sam's hand and step away from the door, tugging him with you cautiously. The killer's smile widens, if that's even possible, as he says, "Great. Now that we're clear, why don't you step up here and introduce yourself."
    Your footsteps echo across the glassy floor as you make your way towards the boy with red hair. Everything seems as if in slow motion, your breathing, his stare, Sam's quiet sobs behind you.
    He offers his hand when you get to the platform, but you climb up without his help. You stare nervously toward the crowd and he looks at you as if to say 'go on.'
    "Um...I'm...Y/N. Y/L/N."
    Everyone simply stood, watching, too afraid to say anything.
    "And I am the lovely Jerome Valeska!" he finished with a bow.
So that's who he is, you think. The one who murdered as those cops a couple months ago. You knew that fiery-red hair and wide-set grin. Jerome Valeska. That's his name.
    Jerome strolls across the stage, taunting the hostages, and you seem to get lost in your thoughts again, the glittering decorations around you merging together while you lose your grip on reality, just for a moment. For some reason, you felt more at ease than you should have; after all, you were being held hostage at gunpoint. But the man didn't scare you...in the wierdest way, you felt comfortable around Jerome.
    Then he taps your shoulder with the pistol. "What do you think, cupcake?"
Wait, I wasn't listening. What was his question? you think.
    "Uh...yes." you sputter.
    "Blood it is then!" he cried happily, then, to you, "I knew you were a keeper!"
CRAP...Did I just suggest he kill someone?? And is he...hitting on me?!
    Jerome looked at his hostages with pleasure and began to speak. "Who here believes in Santa?"
    Every kid raised their hand and most parents shakily did so out of fear.
    "Well there's our problem!" he boomed, his eyes trailing across the few who didn't raise a hand. Then he raised his gun and shot every single one in the skull. Four people dropped to the ground, blood gushing out of the holes in their foreheads.

Author's Note: There will be a part two! :)