I Had To Go Back To This Because It Was So Good. It Was Quite Confusing With The Dialogues (like, Which

I had to go back to this because it was so good. It was quite confusing with the dialogues (like, which character speaks. Because, it's a nice rule; a new paragraph should be started every time a new person is speaking to avoid confusion). Overall; check this blog out, they're so cool !!

The Mandalorian and The Jedi

gif by: frodo-sam

Chapter 1 of The Unforgiving Series!

summary: It was a normal day until you met the mandalorian of your dreams (literally)

word count: 5.5k

content: din djarin x f!jedi!reader, kuiil x platonic!reader, nightmare, canon typical violence, brief mention of blood, slow burnn

a/n: wooo first chapter~~ this is my first time really fleshing out a character's motivations and creating a detailed backstory, so i hope i wrote it in a way that made you want to find out more about her :") this is the longest fic i've ever written omg... if i delayed posting this chapter any longer i could just keep editing and fixing things and it was stressing me out and i promised i'd post it today, so here it is! any feedback is greatly appreciated 🤲 if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist pls don't hesitate to tell me! anyways that's all for now! i hope u like this chapter!!

Nevarro - 9 ABY

It’s been a year since you’ve arrived here. A year since you decided to settle on a volcanic, ashen planet, called Nevarro. It wasn’t your first choice of places where you wanted to settle, it literally being a haven for bounty hunters in the Outer Rim… Nonetheless, it was relatively quiet where you were. That's what you wanted, peace and quiet — right?

In the past decade, you never had a place to call home. You were a nomad of sorts, always moving, never staying in one place for more than a year. You didn't want to deal with the possibility of forming new relationships, that was something you wanted to stay far away from. And now that you've hit the one year mark — so close to saying you've broken the one rule you've followed diligently for so long — if you said that you weren't proud of yourself, it would be a lie.

It was definitely a hitch in your plans when you were quickly made aware of the existence of a certain neighbor of yours (your only one), when he came so far as to welcome you, as he hasn’t had a neighbor in years. Living not too far off from where you were, he had even prepared you a traditional Ugnaught dish as a gift. You were apprehensive to be on the receiving end of such a kind gesture — most people were not that kind. But your neighbor was not most people, and in your final assessment, you had deemed him not a threat as you had sensed no ill will in his actions.

The overly-friendly Ugnaught called himself Kuiil and he was a moisture farmer. A kind man that offered you work, probably after taking note of your lack of wealth upon seeing your unkempt, barely furnished home. Your work entailed making sure his farm was well kept and taking care of his blurrgs, to which you had humbly accepted. Options were limited to say the least, not unless you wanted to work at a cantina with people or even worse — do bounty work. The idea of having to join a guild did not entice you one bit. And the only person you had to be around was a nice old man, you could hardly complain.

After some months, the two of you formed a mutually beneficial relationship where Kuiil had extra help around the farm including protection — and you, a job.

Kuiil had also made the annoyingly kind habit of checking up on your mental state. Asking you (an emotionally constipated person) how you were feeling and like routine, you would tell him that you're fine, but of course, Kuiil, a man that you've barely knew for a few months, could see right through your front and could tell when some days were tougher than others. In return for his kindness, you made sure to protect the peace that was created on his farm as well as protecting its less than amiable, beastly inhabitants.

Even after a year of being the only company the two of you had, you continued to maintain a certain level of distance from Kuiil. He knew when not to push your limits when regarding your past and you appreciated that. Despite your reserved nature, he had opened up to you about his early life and how he had been forced to spend it in servitude to the Galactic Empire. Whenever you think about what he’s been through and who he had to serve makes your blood boil with anger.

Your time on Nevarro gave you a sense of normalcy — or how you would imagine what having a normal life would be like.

And it was peaceful for a time, that is, until an influx of bounty hunters started to come through Kuiil’s place trying to hunt down a certain quarry. It got so hectic to a point that multiple bounty hunters would come by asking him for some sort of help (to which he always agreed to), it was a hindrance, really. A hindrance to your wonderful plans of living a somewhat solitary life.

The Ugnaught had asked you once, if you could do something to help, as he had taken note of your skill, despite you not being exactly forthcoming with all of your capabilities. But you had declined. As you stated that it wasn't your problem and that the effort was simply not worth the trouble. He was not pleased with your answer, but for the most part kept his disapproval to himself.

However, if you saw another bounty hunter asking for help from your Ugnaught neighbor again, you were going to drop kick them to the next sector.

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡° ✩ ☼⋆｡° ✩☽︎˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆

Darkness surrounded you. The only source of light appeared from a crack in the wooden door of your closet. Heart pounding rapidly, chest heaving, helpless to stop the horrific event before you. You're on the floor, knees being held close to your chest, as you try to make yourself as small as possible. Rocking yourself back and forth in hopes that this was all a sick dream. A gloved hand begins to reach for the doorknob — and you scream.

Your eyes snap open and your body is upright in a flash, blaster already in your hand, aimed at any semblance of a threat — only to realize there is none. You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe. Repeating those familiar words to yourself as you lower the blaster. Sighing heavily as you fall back onto the bed, rubbing at your sleep deprived eyes, moonlight glistening through the crevices of your hands.

You force yourself to get out of bed and you stumble clumsily, nearly tripping over your own feet. Eventually, you make it to the bathroom to splash your face with water, soaking your long sleeve up to your elbows in the process. You grip the sink as best as you can with trembling hands while your head is down, focusing solely on your breathing in an attempt to calm your senses.

As you lift your head and look into the mirror, you shudder. You’re face to face with your 6 year old self, her eyes emotionless and her finger pointing at you in blame. Your heart seizes when you see that her face is splattered in a thickly crimson glaze — like it was melting away at her innocence from the outside in. No, no, no. You shook your head weakly, bringing your hand to cover your face as you sunk to the floor. It’s not real. It’snot real. It’snotreal.It’snotreal.It’snotreal.It’snotreal.

After some time, when the panic subsided and the shaking stopped, you will yourself to get up from the now, damp ground and prepare for yet another day ahead.

It was a normal day like any other, riding with Kuiil to check the perimeter, that is, until you found someone being attacked by a wild blurrg. Your original thought was: Oh look, it's yet another bounty hunter looking to cause trouble, but what you saw was not what you expected.

It was a Mandalorian.

Still, technically a bounty hunter, but it was something new.

On the outside you may have looked normal. Cold, intense stare and all, but inside — your mind was reeling, having seen this particular Mandalorian before. Not in person anyway, but in your dreams. They looked a bit different, perhaps due to the lack of silver beskar, but you couldn’t deny the similarities. On top of that, you haven't seen their kind in years, having believed the survivors were still in hiding after the Great Purge, so this had to mean something.

You sent a look over to Kuiil in question, as if to ask, should we save them? Even though you very well knew what his answer would be.

He returned with a stern look as if to say, is that even a question, go!

You brought out your blaster instantaneously and shot the blurrg with a dart, swiftly immobilizing it. The struggling Mandalorian thanked you in between grunts while pulling himself out from underneath the wild animal. You only nodded in response, keeping your blaster at hand and it shook ever so slightly. Maker. Remnants of the nightmare still permeated your mind and it — your weakness, was displayed out in the open, to a stranger no less. Your frustration did not go unnoticed by the mercenary.

With your features hidden by the mask, due to the dusty nature of Nevarro, made it so the Mandalorian could only see your eyes. Even so, he was able to catch a glint of emotion that you tried so hard to conceal. It didn’t go unnoticed on your end either, that the eyes that bore into your intense ones were unable to tear their own gaze away.

“You are a bounty hunter,” it’s not a question, Kuiil has seen them enough times to know and it releases the Mandalorian from his trance, and he confirms.

“I will help you. I have spoken.”

You ride off first, not dwelling on the show of weakness that you’ve just shown, but instead you roll your eyes at your oh-so-welcoming-to-bounty-hunters boss.

“Why are you always so quick to bring strangers into your home? One of these days you're gonna get yourself killed.” You give Kuiil a hushed scolding as you so often find yourself doing these days.

“Are you alright?” He countered instead, noticing how you looked especially disheveled this morning. “Hey, don’t try and change the subject,” you chide, “But yeah. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I just… had a rough night.” You don’t explain further and he takes what he can get, responding with an unbelieving hum.

The two of you approach his home, with the Mandalorian following loosely behind and finally Kuiil replies, in jest, “If you’re so worried about my safety why don’t you stay and watch him.”

There was no answer to that — unless you wanted to acknowledge your concern for him is anything more than what you're paid to do. To the silence, Kuiil simply says, “I have spoken.” And walks into his home with the Mandalorian following in step, who tilts his helmet your way briefly in greeting. After he enters, you lower your mask to aggressively huff a breath of air, blowing away the stray strands of hair from your face and eventually entering Kuiil’s home reluctantly.

As you speak quietly to Kuiil, the Mandalorian sits on the right side of the room, beskar covered body, crouched, due to the size of the hut.

“If he so much as tilts his head the wrong way, I’ll shoot him.” And as you walk over to sit on the other side of the room, you feel his eyes trained on you — for reasons you are sure of to be because he somehow heard you threaten to blast him. Unbeknownst to you, he was just in awe as it was his first time seeing your unmasked face.

“Many have passed through. They seek the same one as you.” Kuiil monotony states, just as he had to the countless others before the Mandalorian.

You take this time to actually look at the armored man across the room. Taking note from earlier that instead of silver, he wore red beskar, with various weapons adorned all over his body. But the helmet remained the same as from your dream. From the diligently polished beskar helmet, to the well worn boots on his feet, you could allude that he was someone who took great pride in his culture. His energy radiated a loyal and reserved soul.

“Did you help them?” He asks, voice low and modulated.

“Yes. They died.” Well that's putting it simply, Kuiil.

The Mandalorian tilts his head in wariness, “Well, then I don’t know if I want your help.” You snicker, sensing his gaze falling onto you before Kuiil continues, “You do. I can show you to the encampment.”

“What’s your cut?” He asks as he turns back to Kuiil and he simply replies in his usual Kuiil fashion, “Half.”

Before leaving, you spoke directly to the Mandalorian for the first time, “He means half of the blurrg you helped capture.'' It’s become a recurring theme that people found it difficult to make sense of the way in which the Ughnaught spoke, and this was the first and only instance where you had offered any clarification to a passing bounty hunter, to which Kuiil subtly took note of this.

You decided to leave, seeing as your worries were misplaced after sensing zero hostility from the newest bounty hunter to pass through Kuiil’s place. But if you were being honest, you left early because you felt drained from this morning’s ordeal. You didn't have the energy to listen to these two strike a deal and quite frankly, you just needed to be alone.

So you grabbed some food from Kuiil’s kitchen and bid him goodbye, giving the Mandalorian a brief nod of acknowledgement as well. He returns the gesture. When you exit, you don’t hear a definitive agreement, but you sensed that he would be willing to go through with Kuiil’s plan.

You took off on your blurrg and rode to what you called “home” for the past 12 months. It was a small and quaint place, and from the lack of personalization, a passerby would assume that no one lived here. You barely had any items that were precious to you, most things being destroyed or lost proved it difficult.

Briefly glancing at the wooden box in the corner of your room, you couldn’t shake the feeling of the object inside calling to you, almost like it knew you would call upon it in due time. You subconsciously reach towards it before stopping yourself. Instead, you toyed with the chain of your crystal necklace, lost in thought.

After regaining your composure, you prepared the rations you stole from Kuiil’s earlier before beginning your night routine. A routine that consists of doing everything you can to not sleep.

Oh, sleep. What was once something you looked forward to at the end of a day. Although many moons have passed since you've felt that way, sleeping wasn't the issue, it was the nightmares that came with it.

In the past decade, many of your sleepless nights were caused by the nightmares that found themselves invading the confines of your mind. A place that was meant to be sacred and shielded, was now only home to your ghosts, your regrets, and your grievances.

It was like an endless loop. If you felt you were making strides getting past your pain and trauma, your thoughts would come back to haunt you in the depths of the night, entertained at your futile attempts of finding peace.

You couldn't dismiss your gut feeling that these dreams were a manifestation of your mind being in some vicious conflict with a foreign entity. Like red blood cells attacking the invading pathogen in order to prevent illness — you couldn't quite explain it. These dreams felt skewed — something separate from the reality you’ve always known. The uncertainty and distrust of your own recollection was slowly tearing away at the seams of your sanity. It made you want to split your brain in two.

In light of that, something to mention was that nights weren't always so bad.

When you're lucky, your dreams had nothing to do with your past. Sometimes they would just be signs from the force reaching their omniscient hands for you, even in slumber. These “force dreams” that you had called it, had given you what few good nights of sleep you have. That is where you had dreamed about the Mandalorian — it wasn't a dream sequence by any means, it was more like flashes of people or objects. The person that came to you being the Mandalorian in full silver beskar armor, just standing in front of you. And that was usually all the context you got.

In the end, this so-called night routine was a losing game and you know it, but it never discourages you from trying. As the droop of your eyelids becomes harder to manage and your body slowly gravitates towards the plush and softness of your bed. Eyes inevitably shutting closed, you tell yourself as you do every night — I’m only resting my eyes, I'm not gonna sleep…

The next day, to your surprise, you had woken up from the most restful sleep that you’ve had in months. A small thought nagged at the back of your mind that it had something to do with the Mandalorian’s sudden appearance, but you instantly dismissed what you believed was an irrational thought, as you went and got ready for the day.

Eventually making your way to Kuiil’s, you find yourself witnessing quite a sight before you.

The Mandalorian was being promptly thrown off the blurrg he had been trying to mount for what could've been for the majority of the morning, and you almost felt bad for him. It had been just as bad for you when Kuiil had first coerced you to learn. The mere thought of that time brought shivers down your spine — the countless bumps and bruises you had endured and the mud that clung to every inch of your body was something that was not to be remembered fondly.

As you dismount from your own blurrg, Kuiil greets you with a wave and shouts at the bounty hunter currently on the ground in a starfish position, “Perhaps if you removed your helmet...”

“Perhaps he remembers I tried to roast him.” He grunts out.

Kuiil corrects him, “This is a female. The males are all eaten during mating.”

The Mandalorian just shakes his head and proceeds to get up for another attempt, when he notices you. His shoulders tensing, seemingly self conscious all of a sudden. You walk over to stand beside your neighbor, arms crossed and see the Mandalorian square his shoulders, only to be thrown off once again. You could feel the string of curses going loudly through his metal head.

“I don’t have time for this,” he says impatiently, “do you have a Landspeeder or Speeder bike that I could hire?” He walks over to the two of you. “You are a Mandalorian. Your ancestors rode the great Mythosaur. Surely you could ride this young foal.” Kuiil insists.

He looks over to you like you could somehow help his situation, but you can only raise your brows at him in question as you tip your head in the direction of the blurrg with an encouraging purse of your lip.

He looks between you and the blurrg one last time before trying again. He stalks her slowly, easing her with relaxed words. Approaching her with a newfound determination, you sense the connection formed between the two and are pleasantly surprised when the Mandalorian successfully mounts and rides the blurrg.

You nod in acknowledgement and you are about to leave to get to work when Kuiil stops you, “Come with us to the encampment. I am in need of your services.”

“What services?” You ask, eyes narrowed. He never asks you to accompany him and whichever bounty hunter that wanted a shot at getting the quarry that day.

“For protection of course. Can’t have an old Ugnaught alone with a scary bounty hunter, right?” Kuiil speaks in a light tone.

“Fine.” You accept begrudgingly, Kuiil always appealing to your slightly protective tendencies.

“Do you have with you your blaster?”

“Of course.” You never leave anywhere without it.

And so the three of you rode off, the two of them in front with you following in tow. It took a journey to get there, but you finally arrived. The three of you, side by side, looked down at the camp when Kuiil states, “That is where you will find your quarry.”

The Mandalorian then tries to offer him payment but he refuses with a shake of his head, “Since these ones arrived, this territory has been an endless stream of mercenaries seeking reward and bringing destruction.” You frown at that.

“Then why did you bring me?”

“They don’t belong here,” you spoke directly to the Mandalorian for the second time since he’s arrived, “The people that live here come to seek peace and there will be no peace until they’re gone.” He stares at you for a moment.

“Then why do you help?” He looks between you and Kuiil.

“I have never met a Mandalorian. I’ve only read the stories. If they are true, you and my friend will make quick work of it. Then there will again be peace.” You snap your head to your friend looking for an explanation, only for Kuiil to turn to leave, “Kuiil.”

He looks back at you with much finality and resolve “I have spoken.” And just like that, you are left with the Mandalorian. You scoff at the absurdity of it all, “Maker, I hate when he says that.”

“It’s alright, I don’t need your help. I can do this job on my own.” He says, trying to be as polite as possible while you both get off of your blurrgs. You were quiet for a moment. He didn’t need you? You brushed off the light ache in your chest, he was just another bounty hunter passing through, it wasn’t like you knew him very well — so why was it bothering you so much? The feeling slowly dissipated, but was then quickly replaced by a feeling akin to being splashed in the face with cold water. Nostalgia poured over you from the slightest presence that you could only guess was coming from the encampment. It was a presence familiar to you, often felt when in close proximity to other force sensitives.

Your brows went from furrowed to raised, “Oh, really?” You say, suddenly amused as you glance over to the camp, “I mean — I suppose you're right. But, what would you do if, let’s say, another bounty hunter was here out on the same job as you?”

You could just see the gears turning in his metal head, clearly confused, until he snapped his head over to the encampment and took out his scope to find that you were not talking about a hypothetical situation, but you were talking about what you were seeing.

He sighs in frustration, “Droids.” The way in which he spoke that single word had told you a lot. “Do what you want. That IG unit just made this a lot more complicated.”

You only shrug. You had an inkling that the bounty hunter had not wanted the hassle of bringing a stranger along for his job, but you were going to go with him regardless. You wanted to find out whose presence you were feeling. It had to be the quarry who Mando, and all of the others before him were looking for. Remembering the sensation again and you shoved away the dread creeping at your core, and forced yourself to remain indifferent to whatever the outcome. It’s not your problem.

As you both made it down the hill, the faint energy that you felt earlier grew stronger, and it was coming from the heart of the camp. Before you could move any further the Mandalorian stopped you with an outstretched arm. You look at him in question, “He’ll probably shoot because he won’t know I’m with the guild. So stay behind me and you won’t be hit.” You nod, going along with him, “Makes sense.”

And what do you know, he was right. The second Mando made his presence known, the IG unit aimed his blaster to his chest with an unnatural quickness. Time slows down and focusing solely on your breathing, you feel the outcome already. Hearing the click of the trigger so clearly, grabbing him by the arm, and before Mando could be hit, you immediately shifted his body closer to you, the shot just missing him.

He was seemingly stunned for a moment, his back just centimeters away from your chest, and the close proximity making him unable to think. But, he quickly recovered, remembering what he was here for.

“I’m in the Guild!”

“You are a Guild member? I thought I was the only one on assignment.”

“That makes two of us,” he says as he motions for you to follow him to a nearby wall as cover, “so much for the element of surprise. And thanks.” He turns to you, "You, you have… very good reflexes.”

“Don’t mention it.” You said briefly, wanting the topic to be forgotten.

“Sadly, I must ask for your fob. I have already issued the writ of seizure. The bounty is mine.” Well, isn’t this droid annoying.

“Unless I’m mistaken, you are, as of yet, empty-handed.” The IG unit seems to recognize its predicament and willingly agrees to split the reward.

“— I require an answer if I am to proceed.” While the bounty hunters are busy defining the terms of the agreement, spotting movement from the corner of your eye, you swifty brought out your blaster and shot him, causing him to fall off of the building. “If you guys are done, I think we should get going ~ “ You say in a singsong manner as you walk away, drawing closer to the source of the energy.

You look back to see someone sneak up behind the Mandalorian and without wasting any time you shoot them, the blast just missing the side of his metallic head. He sends his thanks with a nod of his helmet and you continue forward until the tracking fob leads the three of you to a large door. While you’re constantly getting shot at, the IG unit provides good cover for the two of you to get closer, only to find that the door just so happened to be locked. Now you’re surrounded with no way out unless you can somehow get the door open, “ — I will initiate self-destruct sequencing.” The droid suddenly states and both yours and Mando’s head snaps in its direction. “Whoa, you’re what?”

“Manufacturer's Protocol dictates I cannot be captured. I must self-destruct.”

“Do not self-destruct!” Mando orders.

“Yeah. How about we don’t do that.” You try and say as convincingly as possible to a suicidal droid.

“Cover me!” You and the IG do what Mando says as he tries what he can to get the doors to open. You’re getting overwhelmed by the heavy blaster fire and you’re starting to wonder if you’ll need to use more than just your blaster. “How’s it going over there?” You shout.

“Go! Go! There’s too many!” He shouts back as he runs to stand beside the droid. You guys continue to return fire but they have you pinned. Through the dust you see the mercenaries bring out a larger weapon.

You try to get their attention, “Guys?”—“I will initiate self-destruct.”—“Do not self-destruct! We’re shooting our way out.” Mando says not hearing you, as he went around the wall to start shooting.

“Guys!” You repeat. “What!” They finally saw the gun you were warning them about, “Okay,” Mando said as they both quickly returned to their place behind the wall. “New plan!”

You were done with this. Cowering behind a wall, with nothing but a meager blaster at hand — your impatience was painfully obvious. “Argh! Draw their fire! l got this!” You were done waiting and as soon as that blaster rifle turned, you left your position and reached your hand out, grabbing the gunman and launching him up into a wall. “Go!” You shout at Mando because he was just staring at you and he eventually snaps himself out of it and gains control of the rifle to use their own weapon against them.

You guys continued firing until you finally got rid of them all. By the time you were finished, your heart was beating rapidly in your chest from the adrenaline. From the thrill. You had missed the feeling of wielding the force, the years in hiding and fear of attracting unwanted attention to yourself, prevented you from using the full extent of your powers. The force gave you a sense of comfort and you felt whole again. It made sense for you to feel fulfilled, your relationship with the force being closely utilized for the training you had undergone ever since you were just a child. Combat. Bloodshed. These were integral parts of your character — your livelihood. It was your damn purpose for existing.

It was already unnatural for you to settle, to be without action and this just cemented the fact that this was not the life for you. Was this why Kuiil had been so adamant for you to help the Mandalorian with his job? For you to realize this?

Collecting yourself with a deep breath, you rejoined the bounty hunters. “You okay?” The Mandalorian sounded concerned about your prolonged absence.

You lightly nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Well, now we just need to get the door open,” you heard Mando say, “uh, do you think you could do something about that?” Oh. He was asking you.

“Yeah. I think I could work something out.” You respond straight faced, with only the slightest hint of amusement in your voice.

Raising your hand in front of the large door, you manipulated the metal like it was merely a piece of paper. The whine of metal crushing pierced through the air and you pushed it to the side, leaving a gaping hole in your wake. Your steps halt, noticing neither bounty hunters following in step with you, “Um, you coming?” Not understanding that you’ve just displayed a literal inhuman amount of power like it was nothing.

Only the droid replies mechanically, “That is physically impossible. I must inquire how you are able to perform such —” “Nope. Not happening.” You did not have enough patience today to be interrogated by a bounty droid. “Are you gonna get this bounty or not?” You look at the ever-so-still Mandalorian at your side, eyebrows raised. The tin can looks like he just blew a fuse and appears to also want to ask a question about your unusual abilities, but thinks better of it, “Yeah.”

Amidst the settling dust, you sensed a lone mercenary holed up in the corner and you step inside first, seemingly checking out some random boxes. You knew what the mercenary would do before he even did it. It was a little show all in good fun, a little game that you liked to play with people who would wish you harm. Feigning ignorance to their advances, and when they so foolishly believe they caught you by surprise, you turn at the perfect moment to see their confidence fall, and see themselves fall at your hand as well.

But what you didn’t account for, was the Mandalorian making quick work of the mercenary and you couldn't deny that he piqued your interest. Was he that important of a mercenary to show up in your dreams? When not a single one of the previous mercenaries ever showed up in your visions, what was so special about this one?

You thanked him and he nodded in response, “Anyone else?” He announces for anyone willing to try and get in our way, only for silence to be returned.

“The tracking fob is still active. My sensors indicate that there is a life form present.” The droid says as the three of you begin to walk towards where the tracking fob’s beeping beats faster and faster with each step you take.

As much as you wanted to head directly towards the source of energy that has been poking at your psyche for the past 40 minutes, you decide it's best for Mando to find the bounty for himself. It is his job after all, nothing that has to do with you. You kicked away your curiosity and reminded yourself that whatever - whoever you find here is just a quarry and nothing else.

The beeping intensifies as it leads Mando to a hovering pram. As he opens it, your breath stalls at what you see next. Two long, furry green ears peeking out of a tattered brown cloth. This couldn’t be the bounty…

“Wait — they said 50 years old.”

“Species age differently. Perhaps it could live many centuries.” The child coos softly as if it had just woken up. “Sadly, we’ll never know.” The IG unit says as it raises its blaster directed to the child. But the Mandalorian stops it with a hand, “No. We’ll bring it in alive.”

But the droid persists, “The commission was quite specific. The asset was to be terminated—”

Thump. Steam rises from the entry blasts coming out of its head. Simultaneously, thhe pair of you return your blasters into its holsters, “So predictable…” you sigh. The two of you glance at each other in a shared understanding, before redirecting your attention to the quarry.

“So… this is who all of those bounty hunters were looking for?”

“Yes, but… I didn't know it would be a child.” He responds rather hesitantly.

Keeping your hands at your sides, you watch as the bounty hunter tasked with bringing this quarry to his employers, reaches his gloved hand out to this child and the child also reaches for him.

♡ next chapter →

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typingfool

2 years ago

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typingfool

9 months ago

Also did the show just like forget that when Five saw Diego dead, he kept trying to wake him up in the apocalypse. Did they forget that he sat near his brother’s corpse completely distraught and Diego was the only person that Five actually shook? Five would never do this shit to him man

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typingfool

2 years ago

those people who said they wanted to see Din Djarin on his knees. are you happy now?? LMAO

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the mandalorian din djarin bo katan kryze the mandalorian spoilers the armorer axe woves paz viszla

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typingfool

1 year ago

Israel has killed over 50 Palestinian journalists in the last 46 days. People like Motaz Azaiza are literally risking their lives to shed light on Gaza.

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free palestine

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typingfool

9 months ago

ARE YOU AFRAID OF ME? I thought you would be willing to enter hell if it meant you got a taste of heaven in my mouth.

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writing creative writing pax writes 🕯

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typingfool

2 years ago

did paz viszla just "sacrifice" himself knowing DAMN WELL he has a son? man, i don't know anymore.

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star wars the mandalorian din djarin bo katan kryze the mandalorian spoilers axe woves paz viszla ragnar vizsla not hating on him who will ragnar grow up with :(

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typingfool

1 year ago

woah,, listen. i don't like joker at all. but i didnt know cameron played him??? hello?? in all seriousness, your writing is incredible !!! i admire the way you describe scenes and portray his character (even though, i have little to no knowledge about diff versions of joker, this is still spot on. i can definitely imagine him being like this) - - and the kiss scene in the kitchen. bye, i was squealing and kicking my feet.

thank you so much for sharing your work to the internet. manifesting all the luck your way, author ❤️

TWO-FACED; J. VALESKA

JEROME VALESKA X F!DETECTIVE!READER

WARNINGS: this imagine is set from s1 + s2 Jerome!, mentions of sex, makeout sesh, jerome being cocky !!

WORD COUNT: 6181!

SUMMARY: From the first time you met Jerome Valeska, you knew him as the son of Lila Valeska, the murder case you and Detective Gordon were working on. You had grown close, until you found out the truth. Now you know him as an Arkham escapee:

A MANIAX.

“I’m Jerome Valeska, her son.”

A soft voice was heard coming out of the silver trailer, coming closer to you. His ginger hair shined in the lights of the Circus, as he pulled over a comfortable jacket. He looked concerned as far as you could see, analyzing the way he talked and reacted to the things your partner was saying.

You had been invited to the Circus earlier that day by someone at the precinct, telling you it was a date. As time passed while you sat on the bleachers, they hadn’t shown up. You should’ve known; those cops were never true to their word.

You managed to make eye contact with Leslie Tompkins, the new Medical Examiner, smiling at her as she politely waved to you. It caught Detective Gordon’s attention, sending you a nod from the other side.

Now you stood next to him and Lee as you investigated the feud at the performance you all watched.

“Jerome, when did you last see her?” Jim asked, looking at the taller man. You both had been looking for Lila Valeska, the boy’s mother.

“Uh, this morning.” The ginger answered, his face conveying worry. “She was here when I left for the library.” He adds on, telling his side of the story to the detective. His eyes glance over at you, sending a kind half-smile towards you. You return, feeling your cheeks warm up.

At such an inappropriate situation, you couldn’t deny that the man in front if you was very handsome. His fire-colored hair suits him as much as his freckles matched his pale skin. His lips were the perfect shade of pink, begging to be kissed.

Talking snapped you out of your daze, looking over at the bigger man that had walked over. He spoke to Jerome in a low voice. “Your mother is fine. Gone on a spree no doubt. You know how she is.” His tone seemed to have some sort of undertone to it, making you shift in your spot.

“A spree? Without her hat or coat? Or her purse?” He rambled, wrapping his arms around himself to protect himself from the cold or to try and ease his worries, you couldn’t tell.

He looked around for a second before turning around and backing up towards a snake behind him. “Oh, look at Sheba.” He rested his hand on the cage, his left hand still clutching his jacket. “She’s distraught, she knows something’s wrong.” He looked back up as the snake hisses.

“The snake does seem to be agitated.” Jim chimes in, a fake smile taking over his lips. You look back and forth between your partner and the missing lady’s son. Jerome looks your way again, his eyes scanning over your body. You shivered and not because of the cold temperature.

“Sir, Ma’am,” The other man in makeup chuckles, walking over to you and Jim. “She’s what you call a ‘party girl.’” He leans in and whispers. As Jim listens to him, you look behind the broad red-coated shoulders to see the ginger look away irritably. His mother seems to be a tough subject to him, whether she was missing or not.

As Jim and the man converse, you back away and stalk towards the man standing in front of his trailer. “Hi,” You send a soft smile his way, walking next to him.

Jerome replies with the same smile, his dimples exposing themselves to you. His smile, whether it was real or to be polite, was breathtaking. It made your stomach feel fuzzy, having to clear your throat to gather yourself.

“So, what’s it like living at a Circus?” You try to start a conversation with the worried son. While your partner, Jim, always went straight forward into the investigation, you always tried to start off nice to see if they would give into you and tell you something.

The ginger-haired boy lets out a quiet laugh, looking down at his feet. His arms were still wrapped around his body, securing them tightly to himself.

“Uh, well,” He sighs, trying to rack his brain for the right words. “It’s different.” He starts off. He looks you in the eyes as he keeps speaking. “I’ve lived at the Circus my whole life, so I’ve gotten used to the weird behavior around here. We move a lot, hence the trailers.” He looks around, pointing to the ones in the area. You follow his finger, looking everywhere his eyes catch. “I guess, I don’t really have the right words to describe it.” He admits, looking back at you. His eyes tell you something you couldn’t understand yet.

“It’s definitely not a lifestyle I would choose if i had been asked beforehand. But,” He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s not like I have a choice.” He forced out a laugh, his features showing defeat.

Before you could question further into his confession, Jim interrupts. “How fast does an animal like that move?” He asks, looking towards Sheba in the cage.

“Uh.. fast walking pace. They rely on surprise mainly.” Jerome informs him as the snake hisses.

“Let her out.” Jim tells him. You and Lee look at him in disbelief.

“I’m sorry?” Jerome’s head cocks to the side, hoping the detective wasn’t being serious.

“Let her out.” He repeats, but with a smile. It was not convincing whatsoever. Behind him, Lee stood in shock at her boyfriend’s order.

“Jim, are you sure-“ Your input get cuts off by the same man you’re talking to.

“Y/N, trust me.” He gives you a look that made you sigh. You had originally stood up to him because of the look on Jerome’s face. He looked scared; maybe he didn’t want his mother’s snake out to get loose? Or maybe he was afraid?

Jerome’s shoulders were tense as he walked around the cage. He took the top off, watching the snake slowly navigate its way onto the ground. You all stand and wait as Sheba moves around, shifting in your spot.

“Do you work with Detective Gordon?” Jerome breaks the tense silence, looking over at you. You stood next to him as Jim and Lee were a few feet ahead of you.

“Yeah, he’s my partner at the GCPD.” You answer, trying to capture his expression. He nods in response, clenching his jaw every now and then.

“So, you guys aren’t together?” His bold question makes you freeze, taking a sharp breath in. You heard his faint chuckle from beside you, making your skin feel hot.

“No,” You reply, clearing your throat. “No, we’re not.” Jerome nods, a whisper of a smile on his face. “Besides, I look more to him as a father than anything.” You admit, starting to ramble.

“Yeah, I can see why.” Jerome adds.

You both walk forward slightly, carefully following Jim’s and Lee’s footsteps. As Sheba hisses and moves up boxes and on a truck, you stop dead in your tracks. Jim peels the tarp off the back of the truck and lying there is Lila Valeska. Blood seeped around her neck as her snake glides closer to her.

You hear a choked sob come from your right, watching Jerome fall to his knees. You gasp as you watch him cry, his face paler than before.

You crouch down beside him, not sure what to do. You place your hand on his shoulder and squeeze, hoping any form of contact would help him in any way. Before you register what happened, you feel two arms wrap around your torso and tears on your neck.

You tense at first, but hesitantly fold your arms around his body. He was vulnerable, too vulnerable to a stranger. You had a weird feeling in your stomach (not just the butterflies), that something bad was going to happen soon.

When Jerome came out of the interrogation room with Jim, you watched him walk over to an empty desk in the middle of the Precinct. You made your way over to your partner, immediately falling in line with his steps.

“What did you get out of him?” You asked, making your way with him over to his desk.

“Well, I asked about his mom, and he told me that she kinda slept around.” He explained with a grimace, looking back down at some folders. “But he did say that he loved her a lot; he seemed upset.” He adds on, still filing through the mounds of paperwork on his cluttered desk.

You nodded in response, arms crossed in front if your chest. Your eyes wandered the Police Department until they landed on the ginger in the corner. He still clutched his sweater, a nice red and white flannel under the soft fabric of the navy-blue cashmere.

“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Jim interrupts your thoughts, making you blink and look back at him. Before you could open your mouth to say anything, he puts up his hand to stop you. “I see the way you look at him.” He says with a serious face, but if you look hard enough, there’s a hint of a twinge at the corner of his lips. “Go on, kid. Maybe you’ll be able to get more out of him than just flirting.” He teases you, making you smack his arm. Go, he mouths, giving you a look.

You give into it and walk down the small stairs, making a beeline towards him.

You sit down next to him on a small bench, startling him out of his thoughts. He looks up at you from his position, straightening out his back instead of resting his arms on his legs.

“Hey,” His voice was small and short, fitting for someone in his position.

“Hi,” You try to send a soft smile his way, hoping to distract him, even for a little bit. Your eyes scanned his face, admiring his features. His freckles seemed for visible now in the Precinct lighting; his red hair parted to the side perfectly; his mouth looked swollen, maybe he was biting his lips. His waterline on his eyes were faded red from crying. He was still as beautiful with tearstained cheeks.

“I thought I’d come over here and maybe try to distract you or talk to you, instead of listening to the mumbles around this place.” You admit, forcing out a laugh. He lets out a breathy laugh, nodding his head with his eyes locked on the floor. “I know how much it sucks to hear every whisper in this place. I’ve only been working here for a couple of months, but for a police department, there’s a lot of drama.” You laugh, smiling as he joins in.

“Yeah,” He agrees. He looks up at you, finally making eye contact with you. His green eyes shined in the light; they looked expensive. “We only got here a couple of weeks ago, but I heard of all the crazy things that happen in Gotham in the newspapers.” He says, going along with the conversation.

You’re glad he continues it, instead of turning you down and ignoring you. You could never understand how someone could kill a mother to such a nice boy like Jerome. But as much as you liked conversing with the ginger, you couldn’t shake that feeling in your stomach.

As some time went by, you and Jerome got caught up in each other. His smile was so captivating, it made you want to try anything to see it again. You felt almost foolish to fall for some pitiful boy in a murder investigation, especially the victims son.

He seemed to break out of his shell to you, showing the sweet interior of the boy. You would get some weird looks from other cops when they saw you were laughing and smiling with someone who had fallen victim to a murdered mother.

“Was there anything any of her past lovers did that might’ve indicated of their intentions?” You asked him. As much as you love talking to him, you wanted to try and understand more to help him and his situation.

Most of the cops had gone home for the night, specifically Jim and Lee. You knew of their date tonight, so you’d rather not bother them. But you also knew that Jim would’ve wanted you to get at least something out of the red-haired boy.

“I mean.. not that i can think of.” He responded, fiddling with his fingers. Your eyes watched him fidget, that bad pit in your stomach resurfacing. You quickly tried to push it back down.

You nodded your head as a reply, different thoughts clouding your brain. You looked for the big clock on the wall, realizing how late it was. You looked out of the windows, just now noticing the black sky and the city lights on.

“Oh, Jerome, I’m so sorry for keeping you here! I lost track of time, I didn’t realize..” He cut of your rambling.

“Y/N, it’s okay. I had a really good time. Your distraction definitely worked.” He chuckled, the smile on his face making you feel weak.

Only certain desks were filled with people, some on the phone, some talking with others, and most asleep with their head resting on top of the table.

When you looked back at Jerome, you caught him staring at you, but instantly looking away once you saw him. You smile, watching his face start to heat up, looking down at his shoes.

“I can drop you off at your trailer if you’d like?” You offered, truly wanting to get out of this uniform and into bed for the night. He looked up at you, trying to decide what he wanted to do. “Or I can take you back to my place?” You offer. Before he had any sort of reaction, you kept talking. “I mean, I’m not too sure it would be the best idea to go back to the Circus tonight. I can give you a bed and some food.” You rambled on, not wanting the suggestion to come off as anything but friendly. “It’s all up to you.” You add, both of you already knowing this fact, but you wanted to state it verbally.

“That’d be really nice. Thank you, Y/N.” He answered, giving you a smile in return. You send one back, standing up from the bench.

“Let me just grab some things and I’ll be right back.” Jerome nods at your words, watching you walk away from him. You stood at your desk, grabbing your things and a folder or two.

“Alright, you ready?” You stood in front him. Jerome gets up and nods, following you out to your car.

You set your things down on the coffee table, walking over to grab a drink from the fridge.

“You can sit down, grab some food, whatever you need.” You inform Jerome as he stands by the door. He listens, making his way towards you in the kitchen. He grabs a cookie from the jar, taking a bite.

You laugh as you watch the crumbs fall on his sweater. “Sweet tooth?” You tease, screwing the cap back on your drink, leaning against the kitchen island. He chuckles, finishing off the cookie and dusting himself off.

“I saw it and I couldn’t help myself.” He admits, walking beside you and copying your stance. You both stood in comfortable silence, admiring each other without words.

“You’re really beautiful.” He whispers, voicing his thoughts. You couldn’t control the smile that took over your lips, looking down at the counter. “I’m serious.” You look up at him. “Even at such a bad time earlier, when I saw you at the Circus, I was immediately drawn to you.” He reveals, trying to capture your reaction.

“I felt sorry for feeling like this for the son of a case I’m working on, but,” Your words faded as you spoke, not finding any more on your mind.

You’re caught off guard when he leans forward and pressed his lips against yours. You both freeze when he pulls away, looking between his eyes and lips.

Your arms go around his neck as his go around your waist, pulling you both against each other. This was the first time you kissed him, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like you’ve known each other forever with just one kiss.

His fingers dig into your hips, pushing you against his body. His tongue teases your bottom lip, waiting for you to answer. Your fingers pull on his hair, his groan being lost into the mesh of lips. His tongue pushes against yours as he pulls you closer-

RING! RING!

You both break apart fast, your chests heaving with each breath. You both reach for your phones, quickly taking the call instead of talking.

“Hi, Y/N, this is Lee! I was hoping to get you to the GCPD as soon as possible as some evidence for the Valeska case has been found.” She explains. You take a fast glance at the ginger on the other side of the room, making eye contact. “Jim’s currently on the phone with Jerome, so he should be here soon as well.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be right there.” You reply, hanging up the phone and closing it. It’s quiet for a minute before you hear Jerome move.

“Guess we’re heading to the GCPD.” He seemed irritated, his demeanor completely different. You follow him outside and to your car as you head over to your work.

You walked through the entrance, scanning the large room for the two that called you. Jerome followed behind you, watching your line of sight, looking for the detective that called him at such a late hour.

“Alvarez!” You walk down the stairs, catching the man’s attention. He turns around, waiting for you to keep talking. “Where’s Jim and Lee?” You ask, standing in front of him. His eyes get caught on the man behind you, before pointing to the interrogation room.

“They’re in there.” He replies, moving away to go to his desk.

You and Jerome make your way down the hall, standing outside of the door. A policeman guarded it, staring straightforward.

You look back at Jerome. “Why don’t you stay here for now, if that’s okay?” You suggest. He nods, sitting down on the bench as he waits.

You walk past the cop, opening the door and shutting it behind you. “What did you get, Gordon?” You ask, walking further into the room. You saw an older man sitting across from him with a dark red hat and a black suit with a matching red tie. You saw him from a distance earlier that day when he was talking to Jim and Lee, but you didn't know who he was. Jim told you he was blind and that he says he can speak to the dead. Jim seemed less than thrilled about that.

"Ms. Y/L/N." The old man calls out, making you stop walking. You stood beside Jim, sending a confused look to your partner.

“We solved the messga Lila sent you. It sent us to Arkham Bridge Park.” Jim reveals, walking over to the older man. Mr. Cicero fiddles with the cane in his hand.

As Jim continues to tell him about Mr. Cicero supposedly protecting someone, you hang on every word he says. As the bad feeling in your stomach grows bigger, Jim gives a look to the officer by the door.

When it opens again, the boy waiting outside came in. As soon as he made eye contact with you, your eyed widened. You knew what Jim was thinking. How could he be serious about this?

“Jerome, you know Mr. Cicero from the Circus.” Jim sits down in his chair. You stood next to him, frozen in place.

“Yes, sir. Hello, Mr. Cicero.” Jerome looks to his left, making your nerves rise. Mr. Cicero greets him back as Jim analyzes them both.

You and Jim both worked differently, but it always worked right. It took a bit of time to get used to, but you both fell into a pattern together. But right now, you’re not sure if you’re even able to open your mouth to breath.

“Do you know why you’re here?” He looks at Jerome. The ginger thinks before asking, “Did you find out who killed my mother?”

“You killed your mother, Jerome.” Jim answers without hesitation.

Your body tenses as that feeling in your gut freezes. Your body felt heavy as you stood still, your breathing slowly picking up. Jim had a strong intuition and evidence; there’s no way he was wrong.

“Me?” Jerome’s voice was a whisper, leaning back in his chair.

“You killed her up on that hill and Mr. Cicero let you clean up in his trailer.” Jim explained further. Every word that came out of your partner’s mouth made you feel sick. “He told you to scratch the satanist symbol on the hatchet and throw it off the bridge.” Jerome looked between Mr. Cicero and Jim in disbelief.

“Sir, that’s absurd and.. offensive.” His voice cracked, making your stomach turn.

“But it’s the truth.” Jim states, staring at him. “What I don’t know is why this man risked so much to help you.” He looked over at the man sitting next to the red-haired boy. “I think he’s your father.”

Jerome’s shoulders fell, pausing before letting out a scoff. He looks between the two men again. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says to Jim. “My father was a sea captain.” Jim looked over at you and Lee, making your jaw clench. You were a great detective, but a case like this wasn’t what you were expecting.

“Am I wrong, Mr. Cicero?” Jim looks over at the older man.

“Yes.” He replies with a monotone voice.

“He was a sea captain, his name was Sven Carlson. He died at sea.” Jerome explained further with urgency.

“What was the name of his ship?” Jim asked.

Jerome froze, before replying, “He worked on a lot of different ships.”

Jim shook his head, “The one he went down in.”

Jerome stopped. His shoulders fell as his gaze moved down towards the table. “She never said.” He whispered, looking back up at the detective. He looked over at you, giving you a pleading look.

“We can take a blood test to see if I’m right. Takes only half an hour to get a blood proof result. Isn’t that right, Doctor Tompkins?” He looks over at Lee, watching her respond. “Save yourself a needle.” He adds.

“I do hate needles.” Mr. Cicero replies. Jerome looks over at him, with furrowed brows. “I’m sorry, Jerome.”

“What’re you talking about?” Jerome’s voice was gravely, as if he was on the verge of tears. Your stomach started to hurt, watching all of this unfold. Was he faking?

“I am your father.” The old man reveals.

“No you’re not. Why would you say that?” Jerome’s tone makes your heart clench. Your jaw tightens as every second goes by, silence being the loudest sound in the room. You thought maybe they could hear your heart beating.

“You must’ve suspected the truth.”

“No, you’re not my father. My mother would never…”

“Your mother was a cruel woman, she was often unkind to me. But she did once love me.” Mr. Cicero interrupts him, his deep voice making the room tense. “And she loved you very much, that’s why she gave you a better father.” He felt around for Jerome’s arm, squeezing his wrist before going back to hold his cane.

Jerome broke out into sobs, his face leaning down towards the table. A lump formed in your throat watching him breakdown. Just a half hour ago, you and Jerome were talking in your apartment. Everything felt right before, it was comfortable. Now you were in an interrogation room with the boy crying and his father admitting to every accusation.

You heard every hiccup that left the boy’s throat, chills enveloping your body. You didn’t know what to do. Should you talk to him? Reach out? Comfort him? Or should you just wait?

His sobs turned to laughing as just seconds went by. Your body stood in shock as he looked up, a Cheshire grin taking over his red lips. A single tear fell down his right cheek, looking almost like a painting. I wonder what that masterpiece would be called.

“My mother was a coldhearted whore who never love anyone. And she would never touch a pathetic old creep like you.” Jerome’s voice was deeper than before, causing a shiver to go down your spine. Was this the actual Jerome?

You watched his eyes as he said each word. When you had met Jerome earlier, you saw something in them from the beginning. You didn’t understand it before, but you did now.

“Did you think I was kind to you because I’m such a good man? If I wasn’t your father, would I have helped you as I had after what you did?” Mr. Cicero retaliated. Jerome glared at him as he spoke.

“My father… hm! Well, I’ll be damned.” He turned towards you and Jim again. “Oh, that’s very funny.” He says, starting to laugh hysterically.

None of the murders or criminals you’ve dealt with so far have ever scared you like this. It wasn’t just the murder of his mother. He played mind games with you, manipulated you into thinking he was a good person. Are all the things he said in your kitchen a lie? Would you be upset if they were?

Jerome mimicked a drum and symbol sound, doing the gestures with his hands. “Looks like that bitch got me with a zinger in the end.” He glared ahead at Jim, setting his hands down on the table.

“Why did you kill your mother, Jerome?” Jim asked.

“Oh, you know how mothers are…” He waved his fingers, while looking off into the distance. “She just.. kept.. pushing.” He looked back at the detective. “And I’m like, okay mom, be a whore. Be a drunken whore even. But don’t be a nagging drunken whore… ya know?” He smiles. “Don’t come yelling at me to do the dishes if you’ve been banging a clown in the next room!” His hand slammed down on the metal table, making you flinch. “.. ya know?” He starts laughing again, each time getting louder and louder. He was in hysterics, not seeming to stop any time soon.

“Can I talk to him?” You ask, staring straightforward at Jerome. His laughter dies down, but his smile doesn’t fade.

“Y/N, I’m not sure-“

“Jim, I’m going to talk to Jerome.” You found your voice from your dry throat. You stared your partner down until he sighed. He nodded at Lee, resting a hand on her back as she leaves. Jim takes Mr. Cicero out to the Precinct with the other officer at the door. Once the door shuts, you take Jim’s chair and sit across from Jerome.

“Well, Y/N,” His voice was cocky, that wide smile never moving. “I didn’t-“

“Who are you?”

“Huh?” Jerome looks taken back. He blinks, that devilish smile slowly fading. “What are ya talking about, doll?” He sits back, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

“Who are you.” You lean forward, your face serious. You watch his jaw clench, his eyes switching between watching your left or right.

He leans forward, just inches away from your face. “I’m the son of a whore of a mother.” He spits out, each syllable filled with malice. “The poor boy in the Circus that gets beat up by their slut of a mom. I have suffered my whole life under the wing of that useless bitch!” He yells, his eyes screaming with anger. You don’t move from your spot, watching the way he reacts. “I thought it was about time she died anyway. Whether it was gonna be from one of her little toys or me.. guess it didn’t really matter in the end, huh?” A laugh surfaced from his throat, goosebumps forming on your cold skin.

It was silent for a minute or two, trying to find your words. “Was none of what you said real?” You question, taking him off guard again. He backed up an inch and cocked his head.

“What? The things I said to Gordon about loving my mother? Then, no, obviously not.” He states.

“No,” You stare at him, waiting for.. something. You didn’t really know what, you just wanted some type of answer.

“Ohh,” His eyes widened for a second, that nefarious smile forming again. “You’re talking about our little kitchen sesh.” He realizes, grinning from ear to ear. You never take your eyes off of him, wanting an explanation of anything you can get out of him. “That was hot, wasn’t it-?”

“Jerome.” You cut him off. Your face felt hot, you didn’t know if you were blushing or embarrassed. Was anyone watching the cameras? Can they hear Jerome?

“Okay, relax, doll.” He smiles, getting up from his laidback position. His face gets closer to yours again, feeling his breath on your lips. “What would you do if I said yes?” His eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips.

Your breath caught in your throat, your throat starting to feel dry again. No words came to your mind, all of it enveloped with fog. Jerome captured you in a way you couldn’t explain. His strong eye contact never wavered, seeming to tell you more than his words ever could.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased, laughing. Your jaw clenches, trying to find the right words to use. “Alright, babe, I’ll tell ya.” He sits back in his chair, arms still folded in front of him on the table. “Everything I said was in fact true, dolly.” He says, his eyes never leaving yours. He has a faint smile on his lips, just the corners barely curved upright. “I mean, I can explain to you what we were gonna do before those two idiots called.” He keeps talking before you could say anything. “Well, first, I was gonna tell you to strip-“

“Jerome.” You stop him, taking a glance at the security camera in the top corner of the room. His laughing starts again, filling the silence of the small room. He follows your line of sight and waves at the camera, sending a chilling smile to the people that were watching. Most likely Jim, maybe Lee.

“Is there anything else you have to say before you’re sent to Arkham?” You ask, trying to come off to talk about his mom, but you both knew what you really meant.

“Hmm…” Jerome puts his finger on his chin and looks up, pretending to ponder. “No… no, I don’t think so.” He finally answers, smiling a genuine smile to you. Hopefully, for the last time, he causes a chill down your back.

As two officers rush in to grab him, Jerome laughs hysterically. Each one grabs one of his arms, dragging him out.

“I’ll see you again, Y/N! I’ll be back for you, doll!”

His yells echo through the long hallway, stopping you from moving. His words repeat in your mind over and over again, clouding your brain. You weren’t sure of what Jerome was capable of, and you’re not sure you want to find out.

Why would you let yourself fall for someone like him?

- SEASON 2 -

The Maniax. That’s what they called themselves.

Already, they’ve caused chaos. Throwing people off buildings and hijacking a school bus. People of Gotham were terrified, paranoid to step foot past their front door.

Jim had shown you and the rest of the GCPD of who you were trying to catch earlier that day. He walked up to the projector, clicking a button to turn it on.

“Jerome Valeska, 19, matricide.”

You froze. He broke out? What does that mean for you?

“I’ll see you again, Y/N! I’ll be back for you, doll!”

His last words to you rang like a bell in your mind. Goosebumps filled your skin, your body tensing up immensely. You felt like your body was cemented to the floor, almost not wanting to move.

Was this his plan all along?

“Hey, Y/L/N?” Jim waved a hand in front of your face. Your blinked, noticing how all the cops where at their desks now or running around the precinct. “Are you okay?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

It takes a second for you to answer. “Yeah,” You pause, trying to clear your mind. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You reply, forcing a smile.

Jim quickly sees through it, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I’m not gonna let him get to you, okay? If it comes to it, I’ll let you stay at my place if it makes you feel safe.” He says.

Relief filled your body at his words, but you knew Jerome was going to get to you one way or another. “Thank you, Jim. I’ll let you know.” You send him a smile before waking away to your desk.

Was he really going to find you?

Hours passed from then as you sat at your desk, looking over different files of the Maniax. You wondered how only a group of people managed to break out, but not the others. Every time you flipped a new page or read a different paragraph, all you see is Jerome.

His file sat next to it, reading, in big capital letters: JEROME VALESKA. It distracted you any time you let your mind wander or your eyes peer over to it. Even if you worked on it with Jim, Jerome was your case. You’ll never forget what happened in your kitchen that night of the investigation. Every time you step foot there, you get hit with a wave of the feelings you felt in that moment. It made your heart clench every time.

The little things about him still consumed you. His scent still lingered in the back of your head: a faint apple cinnamon smell. The genuine smile he had on his face when you two talked in your house.

Jerome Valeska has clouded your mind since that day. Ever since you couldn’t shake him from your mind; his captivating eyes, his bright hair, the way his lips felt. The last one was the hardest to get rid of. Every now and then you’d wake up in a cold sweat, guilty from dreaming of kissing the murderer you once held.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang in the office, making you jump out of your seat. Smoke engulfed the precinct, making you cough. Gunshots rang through the air, making you flinch as you guarded your face. You had to think fast as you started to make a run for a closed off room somewhere in the back of the precinct.

You ran down an empty hallway, just a few feet away from an unlabeled door. You made a run for it, jiggling the rusty doorknob. It creaks as you open it, hoping for your life that no one heard. You hadn’t seen who the people that hijacked the GCPD were, too busy on watching all of the dead cops fall on the cold floor. You knew, even as a snap decision, the only good idea was to run. The only figures you saw standing were the ones that were firing.

You close the door behind you, trying your best to be as quiet as possible so the creak wouldn’t echo down the hallway. Your body backed up as you watch all kinds of lights flash outside of the distorted window. Your heartbeat was rapid, feeling as if it was going to rip out of your chest. Your body freezes as it backs up against something.

“Hey, doll.”

Your blood runs cold when you hear his voice. It was like you were back in that interrogation room, questioning why he had done what he did. You felt, at that moment, like your heart truly did tear through your skin. You felt cemented to your spot, too terrified to move incase he’ll do something drastic.

A cold hand wraps around you, pressing his palm against your mouth. You knew better than to scream, a gut feeling that no one would’ve heard you anyway.. if anyone had even survived.

“I told you I’d be back for ya, doll!” His manic laugh rings through the silent room, raising goosebumps on your cold skin.

This wasn’t going to be good..

Tags

jerome valeska jeremiah valeska x reader

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typingfool

9 months ago

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typingfool

2 years ago

Then Chessa spoke, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Her rosy cheeks grew even rosier as she grinned.

Nyla's fingers curled around her paint brush, dipping her chin down. She looks at Chessa from the rim of her glasses. “No, I’ll paint you instead, it’ll last for centuries.” She spoke softly, grinning back.

Reblog with a random sentence from your wip.

Tags

pax writes 🕯 typingfool's (orig.) wip

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typingfool

1 year ago