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Jerome Valeska - Silent Treatment

A/N: this was originally made on my old account zsaszercise, but I am deleting that account and reposting my stuff here

WORDS: 478

originally posted December 27, 2022, 12:39pm

gender neutral reader

____________________________________________

1 hour, 27 minutes. 34 seconds.

That’s how long it had been since I woke up tied to this chair. At first I called out, demanding to be let go and that this must be a dream or something. Honestly, who would be sadistic enough to tie someone to a chair, hanging over a pool of piranhas? It’s like a stupid action movie or something.

When I realized this was infact, actually happening, I stopped yelling because, well, why the hell would I give this psychopath the satisfaction of seeing me freak out? After a while, the situation almost became peaceful: I wasn’t moving closer to the pool, I didn’t have to go to work, and the soft music in the background was a nice change of pace from how these situations usually go. Being the younger sibling of Jim Gordon tends to make nut jobs kidnap me pretty often.

I stay sitting up here, counting another 2 minutes and 26 seconds until a large door slams, a man rushing down some stairs to stand next to the piranha pool. I recognize him quickly, it’s kind of hard not to know the face of someone who’s all over the news. Jerome Valeska stands there, tapping his foot and looking up at me his usual sinister smile twisted into a very obviously fake one.

Why ya so quiet? He waves his hand towards me, fist clenching when all he gets in response is an eye roll. Jerome rushes back into the room he appeared from and eventually my chair jolts down, stopping just 5 feet from the surface.

Knowing that all he wants is a reaction, I bite my tongue and force my silence, my racing heart blocking out sounds of splashing fish. The door slams again as Valeska again moves to the pool, this time using the platform at the edge. He grabs some kind of pool net thing to pull my chair towards him, making us face to face in a silent staring contest.

He finally loses, breaking eyecontact to hold a gun to my chest, eagerly awaiting the terror to fill my eyes. Instead Jerome is greeted with a mask of indifference, causing him to drop a small string of swears before he pulls the gun away. His lips quirk up for a second as he launches himself toward my face and captures my lips, breaking away when the bright lights of police cars fill the windows of the room.

Well doll. Yell, scream, say anything at all. He waits until the sounds of the GCPD forcing the door reach us, sighing and walking down the platform stairs. Halfway down I clear my throat, you’re surprisingly not an awful kisser his head spins around, a grin covers his face as he does a bow, rushing off as the officers, led by my brother, enter the room.

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