#arthur fleck gets a happy ending

[fleckficgirl]

Arthur Under the Mistletoe 🎄

Summary: You throw a party on Christmas Eve that doesn’t go as planned...but in the very best of ways. Extremely fluffy oneshot and the title speaks for itself :)

Warnings: mental illness

Word Count: 2087

Notes: I was inspired by @jokerownsmysoul​‘s recent post about who she’d kiss under the mistletoe. Obviously, I’m choosing Arthur Fleck as well! Be sure to listen along to the Christmas album hyperlinked in the story, too. Hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

“This is a disaster!” you wailed. “Why did I think anyone would ever come to my party?”

Your tear-filled eyes finally overflowed and you buried your face in your hands.

You realized what a sight you must be: young woman in a sparkly pink party dress and white heels, sitting in her own empty apartment, crying unconsolably...and on Christmas Eve, no less. 

Throwing this party was an idea you’d discussed with your therapist a couple weeks prior. You hadn’t thrown a party since childhood, but the idea had sparked your imagination. Deciding you were going to be more outgoing and invite people over for the first time since you moved to Gotham six months ago had gotten your creative juices flowing. 

You'd invited everyone on the eighth floor, including some of the neighbors downstairs you'd chatted with a couple of times. Now you laughed ruefully at yourself for having gotten so excited about decorating the apartment, planning a menu, music and games....only to be stood up by everyone at your own party.

This gathering was supposed to make you feel less alone. But now you felt more lonely than ever. 

You glanced around your festive living room and kitchen. You’d decorated the walls with Christmas garland. A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra was playing on the record player. A full bowl of punch sat in a large, untouched crystal bowl on the coffee table, along with cookies, cake, chips and finger sandwiches. 

And mistletoe. You’d bought mistletoe and placed it over the front door. You’d also gotten dressed up and put makeup on (which wasn’t the easiest thing to do when dealing with depression). But the party had been set to start at seven and it was now a quarter past eight. The writing was on the wall: no one was coming. 

You stood up from the sofa, figuring it was time to start cleaning up. Dejectedly, you made your way over to the record player and turned it off, knowing the joyful, nostalgic tunes would only depress you further. 

A small knock at the door made you jump out of your skin. You froze. Had you actually heard that, or was it your imagination? Afraid of what might be on the other side, you tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole. 

Was that....Arthur Fleck? From 8J down the hall?

You'd run into him a couple of times in the elevator, but only spoken once, during the garbage strike earlier that year. He was shy and sweet. And beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that you’d gotten completely tongue tied around him...had found yourself blathering some incoherent nonsense about how pretending that the streets smelled like pine needles - your favorite scent - was the only thing keeping you sane through the strike. 

Deep in the back of your mind you'd hoped he would show up tonight. You wiped the tears from your eyes - not wanting him to see you see you upset - and opened the door.

The sight of him now almost made your heart leap into your throat, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. Arthur was wearing a crisp blue cardigan, and his beautiful brown hair was combed back in loose curls. He’d dressed up for the party and looked even more handsome than you’d remembered. 

“Hi, Arthur,” you squeaked.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” Arthur held up a small wrapped gift with a bow on it. “Sorry I’m late. I had a gig that ended at seven and raced back over here to change first.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you replied, letting him inside. “You’re...actually the only one who showed up.” 

Arthur stepped into your living room and spun around, surprised. “I’m the only one here?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying not to break into tears again. “So if you don’t wanna stick around, I understand.”

“But everything looks so beautiful.” Arthur pointed at the garland on the walls. “And you look...especially nice tonight.” He stepped over to the record player. “I love this album. Do you mind if I put it on?”

You sniffed. “Wait...you mean...you wanna stay?”

“Only if you don’t mind having me.”

You shook your head. You were still reeling with disappointment - this wasn’t at all the party you’d imagined - but you were grateful that at least one person had showed up. Even more grateful that that person was Arthur. 

“Please stay,” you responded, a small smile spreading over your face. “I’d love it if you stayed.” 

Arthur beamed and turned the record player back on.

“Can I get you some punch?” you offered, moving towards the coffee table. 

“Sure!” His eyes lit up, almost glittering. “Except, if it has alcohol in it I really shouldn't mix that with my medications...”

“Nope, alcohol-free,” you smiled as you poured him a glass. “And feel free to help yourself to any of the snacks.” 

Arthur took the glass from you and sat next to you on the sofa. “What made you want to throw a Christmas party?”

“Well,” you mulled the question over. “I've been feeling kinda down...kinda lonely. I have some...problems with depression.”

“I know what that feels like,” Arthur said. “To feel lonely, I mean. And sad.” 

“I can get extra sad around the holidays,” you continued. “And I couldn’t fly home to see my family this year. So I thought...maybe I could invite people over. Maybe I’m not the only one who has a hard time at Christmas.” 

"Well I’m glad you threw the party. And I'm really glad you invited me,” Arthur smiled, shyly placing his hand over yours. "When I got your invitation, I knew there was no way I'd miss it.”

“Well, I’m sorry it’s not much of a party,” you lamented. “I guess it's official: all my neighbors hate me. Except you.”

“They don't hate you,” Arthur countered. “They probably just had other plans.”

You paused, taking a thoughtful sip of punch. “You're right,” you nodded. “That's black and white thinking. My therapist tells me I tend to do that. Just because they didn't show up tonight doesn't mean they hate me.”

“You see a therapist?” Arthur cocked his head to one side. “So do I. But all she ever asks me is if I’ve been having any negative thoughts.”

“All I have are negative thoughts!” you joked. Arthur laughed.

“Do you want to open your gift?” he asked. “You don’t have to,” he added quickly. “I read in an etiquette book I got from the library that you're not supposed to open gifts in front of other guests at a party.”

“Well, seeing as how there are no other guests!” you quipped before pausing to raise a sly eyebrow at him. “You checked an etiquette book out from the library?”

“Yeah,” Arthur smoothed back his hair self-consciously. “Well...a party etiquette book. The truth is, I've never been invited to a Christmas party before. Or any parties, really. I wanted to make sure I didn't mess anything up.” 

Giddy at the thought of him sweetly taking the time to research how to behave at your party, you pulled his small gift off the coffee table and held it in both hands. The wrapping was a candy cane pattern and the bow was a simple green shiny ribbon. In that moment you felt that you'd never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

“You wrapped this yourself?”

“Yeah,” he replied sheepishly. “I’m not that good at wrapping, but...I hope you like it.” 

“I love it!” you blurted.

“You don’t even know what it is yet!” Arthur laughed.

Carefully, you peeled away the scotch tape on the side and tore back the wrapping to reveal a small, green candle. Snow-Covered Pines, the label read. 

“I remembered that one time you and I talked in the elevator. You said you liked the scent. Anyway, I saw it at the drugstore and...I thought of you.”

“You remembered that?” Your heart fluttered, feeling embarrassed by the memory all over again, but also touched. “Thank you, Arthur. I love it so much.” 

Arthur was an extremely easy person to talk to. Conversation with others wasn’t something that always came naturally to you, but with him it felt effortless. The next time you glanced back up at the clock, you were shocked to see it was almost ten. 

“Should I put on another record?” Arthur offered as the last song on the Frank Sinatra album spun to an end.

“Sure!” 

Arthur stood up. “You have all the greats here,” he hummed as he mused over your record collection. He selected Nat King Cole’s Christmas album, carefully placing the record onto the turntable before sliding Frank's back into its sleeve. 

“This is my favorite Christmas song!” you clasped your hand to your chest as the familiar notes of the first song poured over your ears. 

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...

“Mine too,” Arthur paused, looking shy. 

“We have a lot in common, Arthur,” you beamed. 

“Did you...did you want to dance?” he asked in a soft voice. “With me?”

You felt your heart start to pound again. “Yes...” you answered. “Except I’m really bad at it. I might step on your feet.” 

“Well,” Arthur said. “There’s no one here to see you be bad at it. Except me.” 

He extended his hand and helped you up off the sofa, pulling you in close as you moved around your living room together. 

“Wow, Arthur,” you murmured after a moment, surprised at the grace in his movements. “You’re a really good dancer.” 

“I know,” he said with mock overconfidence. You laughed and swatted his shoulder. He dipped you. The song ended, but he didn’t let you go. You never wanted him to, wishing this night - the same evening you’d been so eager to forget just a couple hours earlier - would never come to an end. 

“Hey,” Arthur hummed softly after you’d danced a few more songs. “I'm having a great time...but I should really get back to my mother. I’ve gotta help her get ready for bed.”

You paused, disappointed to see him go, but more than happy that things had turned out exactly as they had tonight.

“I had a really wonderful evening, Y/N. I'm glad I got the chance to talk to you.”

“Me too,” you replied. “If everyone else had shown up, I don't know if you and I would have gotten to talk as much as we did.”

You walked Arthur to the front door. He stopped and turned to face you once more. You paused before moving to open the door for him.

“Hey, Arthur,” you said in a small voice. “It looks like we're standing under the mistletoe.”

Arthur blinked and looked up. "Oh," he swallowed, a blush spreading across his face.

“Did your book say what people are supposed to do when they’re under the mistletoe together?” 

Arthur nodded, throwing his eyes to the floor. “Yeah," he said, “they’re supposed to kiss each other.”

“Are you gonna kiss me, Arthur?”

“I'd like to...” he hummed. “But only...only if you want me to.”

“I want you to."

He was shy at first, trembling slightly as he brought his lips to yours. But once you were united in the embrace, the both of you seemed to relax. His arms wrapped around you, his hand moving to delicately cup the side of your face. Arthur’s lips were even softer than you had fantasized. His skin was warm, his cologne flooded your senses. 

“Merry Christmas, Arthur,” you blushed as the two of you came apart. Your mind was spinning and you felt weak in the knees. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” His eyes were closed, slowly fluttering open as he took your hands into his.

"Maybe....maybe after your mom goes to bed, you could come back and...we could watch The Murray Franklin Show on TV together."

Arthur stared back at you. “You watch the Murray Franklin show?” he asked, eyes wide and incredulous. “I’ve been watching him for years.” 

“So have I. It's his Christmas special tonight, you know.”

“I’d love to watch the holiday special with you.” Arthur’s eyes sparkled. "I'll come back after I finish up at home and we can watch it together.” 

You opened the door for him, lingering in the doorway as he stepped into the hall.

"Oh, and...Arthur?"

"Yes?" he paused, turning to face you.

“Thank you.”

Arthur smiled. "What for?"

"For making my Christmas so special."

Notes: Wishing you a safe & happy holiday season. Thanks so much for reading ❤️❤️ 

[bittwitchy]

[rovingotter]

Todd Phillips' Joker 2: You all never cared about Arthur Fleck or his mental health! You only wanted the sensationalism and violence of the Joker. Well...Arthur regrets his actions! Your precious Joker is nothing now!

Me: I have written over 160K words of "Arthur gets help when he needs it and never kills anyone" fanfic. Even if you're taking the piss out of toxic Joker fans, me and the other people who love Arthur himself will be rewarded with, if not a conventional happy ending, at least a bit of hope, right? :)

Todd Phillips' Joker 2: .....

Me: Right?

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Subway Obsessions Arthur's POV ch.1

Arthur Fleck POV x Fem!Reader  

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: From Arthurs POV. It's just another night on the subway. A typical ride on the Gotham train on his way home from a long day of running errands and away from his tedious depressive thoughts. Perhaps he would catch a glimpse of the woman he could only seem to catch in passing, the woman he���d been secretly watching, following, fantasizing about nightly. Perhaps the unending misery that is the city above had him thinking of change, of something new to obsess about. Something to draw his mind away from the blistering and the mundane. Would he finally get the courage to talk to her? 

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, public exhibitionism, subway cruising, swearing, stalking, obsession, mentions of violence, fem!reader, romantic smut, fluff

A/N: Beginning to a series? Who knows. May add things later. First fic, btw! I'm hyper fixated now, so expect more. This is something I've been mulling around with for a while. I've done this story from both the readers' POV and from Arthur's because I can't get enough!! So, make sure to read both! I loved writing from this perspective so much, btw! Literally! Send ideas, edits, etc. my way!! And be nice please. The first chapter is mostly fluff/ descriptive plot/character building. Cheers! Enjoyyy!

Word Count: 3.9k

SERIES: Subway Obsessions 

CHAPTER 1: Chance Meeting 

Today was another mundane day. Arthur had been out earlier in the evening running errands for his mother. Picking up T.V. dinners at the grocer and medications for him and her at the local pharmacy. Still, getting around the city was a chore in of itself. He figured the subway would be the easiest and quickest way home. It was nearing 10 o'clock pm. His mother would be worried, and it was getting late. He knew the dangers of roaming Gotham city at these hours. His mother used to say, "That's when the colorful people come out." A way to make something serious, completely unserious. Still, he knew the dangers and tried as hard as he might to keep his wits about him. Easier said than done when you're a man with a neurological disorder, apparently so many people hate you for. He wished they’d understood or tried at least.  

He always pondered why the people of Gotham were so... well so mean! Everyone he encountered save for the very, very few were just assholes to him. Perhaps it was the political climate? With Thomas Wayne running for government placement, it probably didn't help. Make the rich richer and the poor poorer he thought. Perhaps it was the state of the city itself, the infrastructure, the lack of resources. He sure has been on the wrong end of that stick one too many times. "Good people suffer Happy," his mother would say. But he never understood why it had to be that way. Life was circumstantial. He didn't ask to have what little he did. He didn't even ask to be born and thought life was the real joke.

It doesn't have to make sense to be funny! He jested internally. Because its fucked! And there lies the comedy for those broken enough to see, yet perhaps healed enough to laugh at the pain. Because, what else can you do?  

His mind wandered through these endless fields of thought when a train car stopped in front of him. He had been standing on the platform disassociating for some time. Perhaps he even forgot where he was for a moment, ruminating over the wrongs of life and playing them out differently in his head. The things he didn't say or do, what he could have done differently... 

The brisk hiss and click of the air brakes as they screeched to a halt brought him back to reality. He blinked a couple of times, waiting for the doors to open. As he did, a disheveled looking figure pushed past him while exiting. He burst out in a cry of compulsory laughter and stepped on the train. He was in the last car and immediately noticed it was bearable, as bearable as riding the subway can be he postulated. 

In his search for a seat towards the end of the train car, he noticed a large putrid looking spill in the back. It melted off the seats and slid across the aisle. It looked sticky. Best to avoid that then, he thought. He opted for a bench seat away from the offending area and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, arm outstretched on the head of the seat next to him. No one was in this car except for him. He found a moment of solace and drank it in, filling himself with the noiseless satisfaction of silence and peace when a warbled voice broke over the loud speaker. He couldn't really understand it, but the semblance of words spoke what sounded like “platform 19”. It was all he could understand through the robot whine. He felt anticipation rising within him. 

At approximately 10:15 p.m., the doors of the subway train broke open with a gush of cold night air. At the other end of the subway, he watched as a woman stepped onto the train like a fawn. Scared and unsure of where to go or sit. She was bright and colorful; she immediately caught his eye. Was this what his mother meant by colorful people? He thought to himself. He quickly realized it was her! The girl he had fantasized about daily and nightly, hoping to catch her on the train but only seeming to in his thoughts and dreams, remembering her face, her scent that penetrated her surroundings. He had tirelessly followed her the first time he saw her. She was the only person to smile at him that day. He had to know more and had to know why. But she wasn't always on the same train. He always hoped to run into her and had almost given up, thinking she must have been some sort of hallucination he created for himself to lessen his own pain. But there she was.  

She looked different tonight. She looked like a predator, displaying colors brightly in the face of possible danger. She was a force; he felt the atmosphere change as soon as she stepped in through the steel doors, a thickness lifted in the air and he could feel himself tense in his seat. His clothes were suddenly uncomfortable, his collar too tight, his hands, sweaty. She always looked beautiful when he saw her, she always looked content and comfortable. Hair in a messy bun with strands falling about her face swayed by the wind that surged through the train car. Sweats he could still make out her figure through, leaving him wanting more every time, it drove him crazy! But today she looked like she was straight out of the films on the TV! He thought to himself. She made him think of glamour, it's the only word that truly fit, like the old films he would watch with his mom. Wow! Was she a sight to see, a cool pristine liquid flowing over his burning eyes. A soothing image of pure proclivity. An unknown sense of calm swept over him. 

He watched, frozen, as she cautiously observed the train car searching for a seat. He looked at her from top to bottom. She was significantly smaller than him, petite, probably around five feet three he gauged. Fuzzy black boots, blue jeans tightly hugging her figure, full thick thighs, his mouth began to water - he thirsted for her, wanted to drink in her every essence. He felt a lump in his throat as he tried to choke it down. A tight black shirt under a small cropped pink sweater with red hearts all over. It perfectly displayed her large soft breasts. Brown curls bounced about her shoulders as she walked, strands of them fell daintily on her face and cheeks. As she walked, she would flick it away with a quick movement of her head. The way she did that, moving her hair out of her face without using her hands. It made him tingle in all the right places. His mind raced. What else can she do without using her hands? he thought.  

There was something pink in her hair too, he saw as she walked past. She didn't notice him at first. Most people don't he thought to himself. Although this thought disappointed him, he didn't fault her for it. He had the urge to make her notice him. To be a presence and to be objectified by her, he only wished he could hold that kind of power.  

As she passed, the scent he had come to know as her- wafted past him, he sucked in through his teeth sharply. It was heaven on earth. Stimulating. He would follow that scent hoping to find her, mercilessly searching. It was like a drug, an aphrodisiac, and he felt his cock spasm. She was eyeing the seats towards the back where that odd spill was. A butterfly he thought. It's a pink butterfly in her hair. He immediately felt like a school boy again, fawning over and wanting to get the attention of the pretty girl and for her to return it.  

"This one's fine!" He blurted out, not really knowing what he was saying. She turned around, her beauty, dark, striking, and he found it hard to speak again. He stammered and was able to get the lump out of his throat to follow up with; "I don't know what that is back there but these are not so bad" his voice felt cracked but he tried to contain his composure, he didn't want to scare her off. He was the only other person on the train, and it must have jolted her since she didn't see him at first. Plus, she probably thinks I'm some kind of creep or weirdo, he thought to himself. There was some truth behind those thoughts, but that didn't make him a bad person, he thought. All day, he spends trying to have a nice day to make himself and others happy, trying to think good thoughts, trying not to let the bad influence the good he can salvage. 

"Oh, thank you!" A sweet voice broke the monotony of thought, and immediately he was flung back into the present. She made her way to the seats laid out in front of him. A row of sideways seating. He watched her sit gracefully, slowly, like a calculated ballet dancer, he thought. Every move fluid, every move perfect. When she sat, she arranged her things on the seat next to her and settled in. He wondered to himself where she was going. Why she had so many bags, why she was riding the subway so late, as a woman, she should be terrified. This city is not safe, especially for someone as strikingly beautiful as her. She was like a beacon of light, too bright to stare at, but he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame and simply couldn't resist the allure. 

She actually sat next to me! He thought. Only one seat away, actually next to me. But that wasn't all. She saw him, noticed him, heard him, and listened to him. The weight of these simple gestures made his hands sweaty, and he tried his best to remain aloof. The doors of the train opened on the other side of her, and a breeze blew her hair behind her and over her face. He couldn't help but see her, every aspect of her. He studied her every move, every inch of her body. He wanted this to last, for this image to never leave his mind.  

The wind that blew past her carried on it her scent. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the sweet alluring scent of peach? No. Some kind of berry? No. When the doors shut and the pressure created another breeze, the scent wafted to him again. Taking it all in, he identified the smell as watermelon. Some kind of fruity smell filled his senses with the feeling of euphoria. It was intoxicating. He wondered what it would be like to be pressed up against her, inhaling her deeply. He looked down with a deep sigh when he looked back over. She was moving a strand of hair out of her face and caught a glimpse of her looking at him as well. Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she broke her gaze. She was fire, burning too hot near him, and he wanted so badly to play, to burn himself, engulf himself in her flames breathlessly.  

He tried to come up with something to say, anything. How do I talk to her? What would I even say without sounding stupid? He thought. He watched on as the florescent lights above her flickered. It lit up parts of her he hadn't seen upon first observation. Glitter decorated her collar bones and cheeks. Her sweater was slightly unzipped. He could see the peeking out of her cleavage. Sparkling with glitter, so pretty, she reminded him of the stars of the night sky. Unmistakably beautiful, yet so. Far. Away. He had been working up the courage to say something to her, to hear her voice again, he didn't want to forget it. A symphony replayed in his mind. He needed more.  

He stumbled over his words, "Sorry, I-it's hard for me to talk, I meant to introduce myself. I'm Arthur, " he said in the kindest, most unassuming voice he could muster. She looked up and locked eyes. They burned his insides like hot coals. He anticipated her reply, not knowing if she would even engage in conversation with him. "No worries!" She spoke in a reassuring way that made his heart flutter. "I know how it can be, trust me!" She sounded genuine. Kind. There was something underneath her voice, though he couldn't quite conceptualize. Fear? Doubt, maybe? He wanted to take it away.  

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur!" Again, her voice beaming so light and so lifting. She reached out to shake his hand that he had offered. Her hand was small and was practically swallowed by his. Her fingers were warm, sweeping softly over his palm as she grasped his hand in hers. It's a simple thing, he thought. It was a small touch, but it was enough to make him crumble inside. She felt so nice! "Y/N," he said. "I like that." He lamented. Such a beautiful name. But everything about her was beautiful. Her presence was wholesome and welcoming. Is this real? he pondered. Thoughts took over again, and not knowing how to continue the conversation, they sat in silence for a moment as he worked up the courage to speak again. 

Moments passed that felt like a lifetime, but he was content in her presence, soaking up her aura. As he went to ask her a question, she moved to speak as well. Catching each other off guard, Arthur profusely apologized "No it's okay, go ahead," he said, not wanting to interrupt her. "No, no, that's okay, what were you going to say?" She insisted back. Her voice was small and mousey, she seemed so shy. Why would she be? She screams confidence and power. Even in her apprehensive movements, she seems calculated, he thought to himself. He stole another glance at her. Her eyes sparkled reminiscent of a smokey quartz gem in a bracelet he once saw in a shop window. A thought of her adorned in nothing but gems crossed his mind. He tried to hold onto the image before it left his mind's eye. He felt a flush in his cheeks again, and his eyes darted. He couldn't look her in the eyes for too long. It made him nervous. He was working up the urge to speak again, to say something, anything.  

He broke the silence and asked, "So what brings you to ride the subway so late at night? Aren't you scared?" He uttered jokingly. After saying it, he felt immediate stupidity. Why would I say that? He thought and started an inner spiral. As if seeing his reaction to his own question and wanting to ease the tension building within him, Y/N said, " Well, I work at the Gotham shelter overnight. So, having to ride the train every night, I guess, I've gotten used to it for the most part. But, yeah, I do get scared sometimes. The city can be super sketchy, and I've been attacked twice already, so I had to buy mace and stuff to try and protect myself."  

The words spilled out of her mouth like a wave of glass, he couldn't fathom her ever saying this of all things, it was jolting for him and triggered something within him he had tried so long to hide. His mind raced. He felt anger and rage well up inside of him it hardened his sternum and burned in his throat. He became stiff but was unaware. The spiraling began to start again. This city was ruining people, hurting people, good people! He thought. She helps people, and then people hurt her?! Pieces of shit! He screamed internally. The emotions he felt were at war within himself. He felt rage for her pain and suffering at the hands of this city's denizens, he felt fear for her life knowing she rides the train every night, he felt regret, why couldn't he have been there to help, to do something? He all but took the pain on as his own, it soaked through to his core. He too had been at the mercy of some of the worst people he has ever had the displeasure of encountering in this god forsaken city, he too had been attacked, hurt, mercilessly tortured by these fucking terrible people.  

Lost in his train of thought and looking straight ahead he couldn't help but sternly say in sympathy "These people are just fucking terrible!" She must have noticed his change in demeanor at this declaration. He suddenly felt a warmth cross his leg, and lightly squeeze. It was smooth and comforting. His concentration broke completely. Pulled out of a trance by her as if the thoughts were just zapped out of his brain. His eyes quickly darted back to her where they followed the length of her shoulder, to her arm, and from her arm to her hand that rested upon his thigh. He felt the muscles in his face relax, his shoulders dropped, jaw unclenched. The sheer power she had over him he thought. The warmth emanating off of her palm was like security, a blanket of nostalgia. He couldn't remember the last time he felt what felt like love, like connection, or attachment. He couldn't help but see flashes of images in his mind, her moving her hand closer to his cock which had began to throb. He tried to brush away those thoughts but they plagued him. She was touching him. Something that never happens to him. He immediately craved her touch, he wanted more, he wondered how that would be possible. He thought this couldn't be real. Not this time.  

Once again, breaking his thought pattern she spoke, and he gave her his full attention. "Yeah, but I'm ok now!" She said in a reassuring tone. Her voice, like petals on velvet. Soft, gentle. "You're here now! And so, I feel safe." Safe? He thought, with me? Like she trusts me? He could feel the negative thoughts start to brim to the surface of his mind but quelled them by responding instead. He needed clarification. The words she spoke just didn't make sense to him. He couldn't see why she would or should trust him, although he so badly wanted her to, for this to be true, he needed it to be. He suddenly felt the urge to never leave her, to always be by her side. He would watch, he would follow, and he would do anything for her.  

He only imagined what it would be like to know her both romantically and intimately. "You feel safe? W-with me?" He spoke haphazardly, unsure of the answer he wanted to hear, hoped to hear. "I do." She looked into his eyes sincerely. His heart leapt into his throat; he couldn't breathe. She was so fucking beautiful. He wanted to grab her, to feel her against him. He shifted his legs at the thought. Looking up at him like that weakened him in so many ways. Most noticeably, in his pants, where he tried to conceal the results of his dirty thoughts. "Then I will protect you Y/N" he proclaimed proudly. A shy smile touched her lips and she continued to gaze into his eyes. He smiled back. I make her feel safe, he thought. She is comfortable in my presence. No one even bothers talking to me, no one ever wants to talk to me. He had the urge to speak once more but couldn't find the words.  

Before either of them could speak, the subway speaker rang out once again in that barely audible robotic toned voice announcing the next stop as the harsh brakes squeaked heavily to a stop. As if anticipating her to leave, he just as quickly stood up and offered out his hand. "Thank you," her voice sang. She turned to face him, her small stature looking up at him once more. He held his composure but felt the heat well up inside him. "It was so nice having someone to ride the train with tonight for a change!" She cheerfully exclaimed with a smile.  

She had grabbed her things and had let go of his hand. What sweet bliss it was for the few seconds he had held it. Her fingers, so dainty and soft. The train screeched to a halt, and he instinctively grabbed her hand again and put his other hand at the small of her back to steady her. He could feel the soft curve of her spine. He slowly moved a pinky closer, hoping she wouldn't notice, tracing the line of her jeans as he did, feeling the line of her panty through the fabric. He quickly pulled away as she exited the train. He had held back. He wanted to do so much more. He wanted to turn her around, grab her face and kiss her, shove her onto the subway seats, and have his way with her, make her cry out. He wanted her to miss work. He wanted her to quit! He wanted her all to himself.  

This moment was too perfect. It felt like a dream. As she stepped off the platform and began to walk away, he stood as the doors shut, helplessly watching her as she slowly walked. Unable to stop time. As the train brakes hissed and cranked, he saw her stop and turn around. She had stepped to the doors, but it was too late. He watched on as her figure shrunk into the distance as the train traveled once again into the dark tunnel. He waved. He would see her again. He would make sure of that. Platform 19. He thought, I'll remember this time. 

[milkywaygalaxygurl]

Caring - Arthur Fleck

i hated the way Joker 2 ended, so this is my alternate ending. sorry if this sucks booty, i haven’t written in a while 😭

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Female!Reader

Warnings: probably slightly sad, reader doesn’t like Arthur at first (though she doesn’t treat him badly), probably cursing, smoking, reader is significantly younger than Arthur (i headcanon him as in his like late 30’s - early 40’s and reader is supposed to be 20ish)

Word Count: i’m too lazy to put it rn, will update later.

Being assigned to babysit Arthur Fleck had seemed like a slap to the face before you really knew him. You had spent your whole life studying Psych, just to be permanently assigned to caring for an insane criminal who miraculously happened to escape the death penalty. You had begged your higher up to give you any other patient, to assign you to any other case.

Your wishes were not granted. Instead, you were ordered to allow this strange man into your living space and to make sure he went to therapy and took his meds. All remnants of your old life were gone; You no longer lived alone, you no longer had the job you loved at the fancy psychiatric hospital on the West side of Gotham due to the fact that Arthur need 24/7 supervision. Everything changed and you were not happy about it.

Having Arthur move in was awkward, to say the least. He didn’t speak, he barely left his room, he barely ate. He just sat quietly in his room, smoking pack after pack. The only time he left it was for therapy, where he sat in your living room while you vacated the house for some much needed you time.

It annoyed you, having this strange man in your house who couldn’t even pay you the decency to speak to you or look you in the eyes. You had read his case file, read about his childhood, so you understood why he acted this way. You couldn’t place why it annoyed you until one day, when on your walk while he did therapy, you realized you were annoyed with yourself.

You had been able to get so many patients to open up to you in the hospital you worked at, but no matter what you did Arthur stayed closed up and distant. Nothing worked and you couldn’t understand why. It was on this walk that you had started to formulate a plan. You had decided to put this plan to use as soon as you got home and so, you did.

It started with simple things like inviting Arthur to eat meals with you at the dining table, he had denied the first few times but said yes when you had asked him to join you for dinner.

“You’re allowed to leave your room, y’know? You’re not in Arkham anymore, you’re free to roam the house and do whatever you please.” You spoke softly, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you look up at Arthur. He nods, taking a bite of his food.

You want to scream, yell at him to say something, but you know that wouldn’t do anything but cause him to retreat further into his shell. Him even joining you for dinner was a big step, you had to remind yourself. Taking a deep breath, you speak again.

“It’s good to see you eat, thank you for joining me. Maybe we could do this for every meal?” You smile warmly at him when he looks up at you, his eyes almost shocked that you even offered. He nods again, looking back down at his plate.

You smile to yourself, happy that he even agreed. “I was thinking of watching a movie tonight, if you’d like to join me.” You take a bite and nearly choke when he speaks.

“I- I’d like that. What movie?” His voice is soft, timid. It makes your heart ache, hearing how unsure he sounds with his voice. You swallow your food and the pain, instead smiling brightly at him.

“I’m not sure yet, maybe you can pick?” Your words seem to make him smile, and you swear your heart falters at the sight of it. It’s easily one of the most beautiful smiles you’ve ever seen.

“I’m not sure you’d know anything I’d prefer.” He says it softly, so softly you barely hear.

“That’s okay! I love watching new things, so pick whatever you’d like.” He nods, still smiling, and looks back down at his plate. You realize that’s the end of the conversation, but you don’t mind. This is amazing progress. You both finish your meal and settle into the living room once the dishes are cleaned, as promised you let Arthur pick whatever he wants.

After that night, it becomes a daily occurrence for him to join you for every meal and a movie after dinner. You take turns picking, Arthur introducing you to old movies and you introducing him to newer ones. It was nice, you could almost convince yourself that he wasn’t just a patient you were assigned to.

After months of getting to know the man, you couldn’t deny the fact that he is more than just a patient to you. He had become a friend and, whether you liked to admit it or not, you had developed a crush on Arthur. He looked good after having home cooked meals for the past few months, he no longer looked sickly and had even started to build some muscle by helping you around the house.

“You look good!” You smile brightly, seeing him in an outfit he had picked out. He was in need of a new wardrobe after gaining some weight, so you had taken him shopping. He smiles at you through the reflection in the mirror before looking at himself, still smiling.

“I vote yes for this outfit, it’s adorable.” He had picked out a yellow corduroy jacket with brown corduroy pants to match and a purple shirt to go under the jacket. He truly looks amazing in it. He nods his head and goes back to try on another outfit. You leave the store with at least 10 new outfits for him, he just looked too damn good in everything.

“Did you have fun?” You ask, nudging him softly with your shoulder as you walk.

“I did, thank you.” He had seemed to become more confident in himself as you got to know each other, his voice no longer quiet. It made you happy to see, to hear.

“Good, I’m glad! I got the clothes a little big so you could grow into them, you still gotta get some more meat on you.” You giggle and he laughs as well, a real genuine laugh. It makes your cheeks warm, but you’d blame it on the cold if he were to ask.

Your cheeks warm further when he timidly grabs your hand, pulling you a little closer to him. “I-It’s cold.” He says with a shrug when he sees your questioning look. You smile to yourself and shake your head, continuing your walk back to the house.

Later that night, you two are watching a movie when he suddenly breaks the silence. “Thank you for giving me a chance, Y/N. I-I know it wasn’t easy for you, having me come here and invade your space. You- You still tried though, you fought through my shell and you’ve been taking such good care of me.” His words warm your heart, tears almost rising to your eyes.

“Of course, Arthur. I��d do it again a million times if it brought me here, to this exact moment. You’re so much more than just an assignment to me now, you’re honestly my best friend.” You each for his hand as you speak, taking it into my own and squeezing it.

“My-My therapist encouraged me to share something with you, but I’m-I’m a little scared.” You immediately pause the movie when he says this and give him your undivided attention.

“You can tell me anything, Arthur. Anything.” You take his other hand in yours, squeezing them both as you turn to face him on the couch.

“Well I-You-“ He seems to struggle with his words and you smile at him encouragingly, waiting for him to find the right words.

“I’ve never known what’s real and what isn’t, but I know that you’re real. I know the feelings I have for you are real.” You’re heart leaps to your throat at his words, your eyes going wide.

“W-What do you mean?” You ask, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“These last few months have been the best of my life, Y/N. I think-I know that I love you.” Barely able to contain yourself, you lunge forward and hug him.

“I’ve been falling for you since the moment you smiled at me that first night we shared dinner.” You say, your face buried in his shoulder.

“R-Really?” He asks, pushing you back softly so he can look at you.

“Of course, Arthur. How could I not fall for this beautiful smile?” You ask, cupping his face and softly rubbing his smile lines with your thumbs. His smile widens at that and he surges forward to hug you tightly.

“Thank you.” He whispers into the crook of your neck, holding you snug to him.

“For what?” You ask, pulling back to look at him.

“For noticing me, for seeing me.” He almost whispers, his eyes full of unshed tears. Your own eyes fill with tears as you lean forward to kiss him softly, trying to put all of your love into the action.

“It’s my pleasure, Arthur.”

[gremlins-hotel]

Post headcanons abt Arthur and his first baby you coward, you fool. The audience arrived, we are here, yet you stay silent upon the stage.

(Just joking ofc, tho id give you a kidney if you gave us some hcs abt their early days <3)

I know it's not a headcanon, but I hope this will still be satisfactory. A moment between a new father and his first son, to whom Arthur wishes the world.

“You coddle him,” came Rhys’ voice, blunt and teasing.

Arthur waved his brother’s words away. They were meaningless like wayward flecks of spume against the broad side of a ship in the face of the treasure held tight to his chest. Sleepless nights, tears, and the terror of the unknowing life. He had watched his son like a hawk for years, and the boy now grew blessedly stronger. Each time little Alfred grabbed his finger, the babe’s grip was vicelike, and Arthur knew the little chubby squish of pain was worth all his toils.

Alfred burbled up at Arthur, seeing his father’s watchful eyes glimmer, a mostly toothless smile scrunching his small face with joy.

Heart squeezing and eyes wide, Arthur knew he would endure it all again as long as that babe was laughing. Hugging the heavy bundle tighter to his chest, Arthur bounced the boy gently as he fiddled with a pocket of his coat. Life was difficult when one-handed, but he hated putting Alfred down. The troubles a baby could get into with any degree of autonomy he did not wish to imagine, not after famine and disease and blood. Alfred seemed determined to bind the world with his gums if his father allowed him, in any case, and to grab it without hesitation. There were dangers on the floor that the boy approached fearlessly. That determination. It was a good thing to have, Arthur knew, but woeful for life still so seemingly fragile.

A faint jingle answering his seeking fingers told the man he’d found his quarry. Arthur whisked the trinket from his pocket in a closed fist, the toy’s chain hanging from between two fingers. The near-sterling silver rings tinkled prettily against one another as he shook his fist above Alfred’s head. Curiosity lit the deep skies held in his son’s face like stars and Arthur couldn’t keep the soft smile from turning the corners of his mouth, shaking the chain again. Skies and stars indeed, for he had never observed someone to watch the heavens so closely at such a young age. Silently he praised the boy’s curiosity; one day it might have its questions answered if Arthur had anything to say about it. He would give that lad the sky and the seas.

Short, squishy fingers reached up for the chain, seeking the noisemaker with excitement. Arthur raised it away from his baby’s reach and took delight in seeing him try again. So he played the cat-and-mouse, jerking the prize just inches from Alfred’s grasp when he waved his hands skyward. Alfred laughed uproariously each time the toy made its metallic clinking and at seeing the smile on his father’s face. Arthur opened his fingers to reveal the rest of the shining silver toy and raised it to his mouth. One end was a sweet little whistle, which he blew quietly in the face of the babe. A high, windy note spiraled out into the air between them and Alfred laughed again, his entire face bright and bold. It made the boy redouble his efforts.

Arthur finally acquiesced, lowering his hand enough for those ferocious fingers to grip the tiny silver rings and tug. Once more Alfred’s burgeoning strength shot a bolt of pride through the man’s chest. With reluctant fingers he allowed the toy to drop into his son’s happy hands. Little curved talons, blunt by youth, curled around the moon-bright metal like a hunting bird content with its catch. The babe brought the whistle end to his soft mouth and immediately made to teethe on the silver. Tiny puffs of breath made the whistle sing and stutter, and Alfred’s eye glimmered happily, gazing up at Arthur as though he’d hung the heavens. Quickly he slobbered on the toy, but Arthur couldn’t help but feel enraptured by his son, drool or not.

Having forgotten the watching eyes beside him, it was Rhys’ voice that broke his reverie. “You ordered the coral, after all? No measure too small.”

Arthur blinked, looking up and away, then back to the toy in his son’s burbling mouth. The opposite end of the whistle had a stub of red, red coral from lands far away, polished to a beautiful shine. It was worth it to him. Anything to keep winding spirits and the fey away from his boy who had already suffered enough. No measure too small.

“Someday he will not need it, I hope.”

[promptthebear]

Hi sorry, I don’t rlly know how to request but I hope this makes a bit sense > _ < 👍

🧺Arthur Fleck Joker - Something about Easter, what they would do and would they do hide and seek? Idk surprise us! :3 🙌

Happy Easter too! ✨ 🪺

💐Celebrating Easter with Arthur Fleck 💐

CW: Child abuse, parental neglect, food insecurity.

First off, I can’t imagine that Arthur really celebrated a lot of holidays growing up.

He probably had the typical crafts and class parties at school, which he enjoyed very much, but what would happen at home was kind of a toss up.

If Penny was lucid, and they had the money, I can see her being the type to go all out. Most food bank programs offer special meals or food related to those meals around the holidays. Penny would absolutely take full advantage of that, and do either a turkey or ham dinner with all the fixings.

Arthur remembers these moments fondly, sitting on the couch with a full belly and maybe watching a church service or something on TV while he and his Mom decorate eggs. Having food for days after between the dinner leftovers and the eggs, which for Arthur meant eating like a king at least for awhile.

However, if Penny was having an episode or worse if they were staying with one of her so called “boyfriends?”

Well, in those cases Arthur was lucky if the day passed without ceremony like any other.

Depending on the conditions of their place, Easter could mean he got one less beating on account of the holiday and the closest thing he’d get to dinner was dry crackers and a juice box that he managed to scrounge up from the cupboards, if that.

Arthur doesn’t like thinking about those times too much. It’s just another reminder of all the happiness he missed out on and is desperately trying to bring back into his life.

After meeting and having a relationship with you, he’d probably mention all of this at one point or another when the holidays start coming around.

Even if he’s still living with Penny, or if you have your own place, you’d probably go all out to compensate for his childhood.

You’d probably go as far as to plan an itinerary and a menu, which both confuses and delights Arthur.

Him??? You’re really doing all this for him??? But it’s too much trouble, too much work, at least let him help with the-

Shush baby boy, just relax and let your partner spoil you.

First on the agenda? Special Easter breakfast.

Whether you stay over from Saturday or come early Sunday morning, Arthur is woken up by the smell of pancakes and bacon.

As far as I’m concerned, Easter breakfast is almost as important as Christmas. Especially if you come from a Catholic family and were fasting for lent like mine did sometimes.

Arthur isn’t even off of his sofa bed before you’re putting a heaping plate in his lap.

For a moment, he’d be too stunned to speak. You’d really outdone yourself.

First off, there’s a whole pile of bacon, still steaming hot and cooked to a crisp just how he likes.

“You eat every bite of that, or else.”

It’s not a real threat because you give him a gentle poke in the ribs when you say it. Arthur knows you’re doing it because you care and want him to have a decent meal for once.

Next are the pancakes. Oh my god, the pancakes.

These aren’t your garden variety, maple syrup and butter kind of pancakes.

Like yes, you’ve included those things, but also you’ve gone the extra mile and added in fresh fruit and chocolate chips and even tried to make some into fun shapes.

There’s an “A” shaped one, as well as a bunny with a blueberry eyes and a strawberry nose, and best of all, a clown with banana slice and chocolate chip eyes, a raspberry nose, jam mouth and whipped cream hair.

They’re so pretty Arthur almost doesn’t want to eat them, but does in the end because he doesn’t want you to feel like he doesn’t appreciate it.

Of course, know you’re getting a kiss between each and every bite.

It’s while he’s eating that Arthur also notices the colourful eggs that are stashed around the apartment. He’d look over at you, eyes sparkling with delight and give you a big grin.

“Are we gonna do an egg hunt???”

He can’t remember the last time he’s done an egg hunt, if ever. Even on the good Easters, usually all they did was dye some eggs to eat later since Penny was usually too sick or didn’t have the extra money to commit to an egg hunt.

You’d smile back, and lean down to give Arthur a kiss on the forehead. “Mmm-hmmm, though don’t get too excited. There’s no chocolate in these ones but they’ll lead you to your next surprise”

It’s all Arthur can to do wolf down the last off his food before he’s off like a shot, tearing around the apartment like he’s setting an Olympic record for egg finding.

You love seeing him like this and the way the childlike wonder takes years off his expression and posture. This is Arthur at his most authentic and you want to cherish every second.

You tried to be as creative as possible when hiding the eggs, even in such a small place. There’s six of them in total and Arthur finds them all in about twenty minutes.

Like you said, the eggs don’t contain chocolate but instead are plastic shells that pop open with something inside.

Arthur would spread the contents out on the coffee table and discover that it’s basically a picture puzzle with the pieces cut into horizontal strips.

Immediately, he’s all business. He’d hunch over the coffee table and light a cigarette, his expression one of intense focus.

When you try to help or give him hints, he waves you off, determined to solve this by himself and make the most of your hard work.

So of course, you oblige him. If you’re in the apartment he shares with Penny you’d probably check in on her and make sure she has something to eat, explaining that you and Arthur will be going out for the day.

If it’s a place you and Arthur share by yourselves, then you’d start cleaning up the dishes and the kitchen while he works at the puzzle.

For once the two of you have the chance to bask in peaceful, domestic silence. While you’re excited to do all the activities you planned with Arthur, you know this is what the holidays are really about. Having these quiet moments together where you can just take it slow and not worry about what’s coming next or where you need to be.

You’d just be putting the last of the dishes away when there’s an excited cry from the living room.

You’d poke your head in through the kitchen door to find Arthur, grinning triumphantly around his cigarette with the completed puzzle on the coffee table.

The picture it makes is of Gotham Central Park, specifically the front entrance.

You’d come over to Arthur and lean down to give him another kiss on the forehead.

“Good job babe, you did that so fast! How’d I get lucky enough to get someone who’s handsome and smart?”

Arthur would sit on the couch for a moment, eyes closed and basking in the praise like a cat in a sunbeam.

When he opens his eyes a few seconds later, he’d stub out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and ask “Are we going right now?”

The way he says it is like a kid asking about Disney world, a little breathless and like he can’t quite bring himself to believe it.

That breaks your heart a little, in spite of the glow in the pit of your stomach.

It’s just a trip to the park. You’ve done it a million times or more with your family over the years, but once again this gives you a glimpse of the kind of life Arthur has had until you came along. Things haven’t been easy for him, and so he takes nothing good for granted, no matter how small.

You’d smile at Arthur and reach down to caress the side of his face with your hand

“Yeah, if you get ready in the next fifteen minutes we could probably make the 9:30 train”

Arthur would all but leap off the couch, grinning wide and with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Before you can react, he’s scooped you up into a massive bear hug that lifts your feet clean off the floor.

He’s squeezing you so tight it hurts a little, but you don’t mind. You squeeze back just as hard.

“Thank you so much for doing this” he’d murmur in your ear “I love you so much”

He’d punctuate that statement with a long, deep kiss where he almost leans you into a dip. He’d taste like smoke with a hint of maple syrup, which makes the warmth in your gut blossom and spread in a pleasant tingle across your body.

When the kiss breaks off you’re flushed, panting and unable to say anything more than a half mumbled “you’re welcome”

[jokeringcutio]

Ok slightly angsty but how would joker and Arthur fleck react to their s/o being kidnapped? 💭

Oh, Anon, I love this one so much <3 I could write an entire fic for this. (I might even...) But for now. Here we go: How would Arthur Fleck and the Joker react to you as their significant other being kidnapped?

Arthur:

It either happened by accident (like a robbery or someone taking hostages at the place you work, and you are one of the few they take along) or you’d been taken on purpose (by one of his enemies).

He’ll find out either via the news on the television, or he’ll receive a personal note. Probably a letter thrown at him attached to a rock. In that latter case, he’ll have a huge bump on his head, his headwound bleeding all over his clothes.

He’d be devastated. No joke here. He has such bad luck. If he comes home to find you have indeed vanished, he will have a laughing fit that never seems to end. His world will shatter.

He’d be all over the place – uncertain of what to do and how to get you back.

If his mom is still alive, then he will be packing to go after you and she will be the one to stop him. Like “What are you doing, Happy? Shouldn’t you leave that to the police?”

Oh, he’ll go to the police all right. It might take him a try or two, perhaps three or four, but in the end, his patience wears thin and he’ll smash his fist on the counter and demand that they’ll bring you back.

He’ll probably feel better once the officers tell them they’ll be on the case. Probably even cracks a smile when he heads back home, feeling good about himself.

But then, once at home, he’ll be reminded of what fate could be in store for you, either by seeing a news item about your vanishing, or by seeing something else that will trigger him.

He’ll think of so many ways that he could lose you. All dark ways, growing increasingly more disturbing as he thinks and thinks, and then, he will just explode.

No, the police won’t be able to find you in time, he’ll think.

He’ll have to do it himself.

He’ll don his Carnival clothes and dress up like a clown. He’ll sit in front of his mirror and stare at himself while he imagines a thousand ways he’ll kill the ones who took you from him.

His costume is too jolly. He’ll take it off again.

He’ll dye his hair. Green. The color you once suggested him.

He’ll put on his funeral suit. It’s the only nice suit he has. It’s red.

He’ll take the gun.

He’ll rescue you all right. You’re in safe hands.

Joker:

If someone took you away from him he’d snap. Oh, he’d be right like Arthur. He’d lose his mind at first, nearly laugh his head off in a fit of painful laughter that makes his stomach ache and his ribs sore.

But then, he’d be on it.

No one is safe around him. Not until he has you back in his arms.

Even his henchmen can expect a gun aimed at their heads if they nag him, distract him or stand in his way (even by accident). Everyone is on their toes while Joker is like this.

Nothing is too dirty. Joker will use all the tricks he has to get you back.

Need bribing? He bribes people. Need convincing through torture? He tortures people. He hires the nastiest of men to work for him if he needs their help to get you back.

It’s all damn messy because no way is he letting the people who did this to you get out of it lightly. A simple killing? Too merciful. Expect pain and slow torturous deaths.

Even those who only slightly assisted or stood by to watch. None of them are safe kids. He’ll punish all of ‘em.

And yes, they die. Even the less significant bystanders whom he blames for your disappearance. The receptionist who let the bad guys in, or the nightguard who had fallen asleep so they could get you out. Expect their gruesome deaths to be reported in the next morning’s newspaper.

And he’ll make sure that his message is sent out into Gotham and far beyond. You are his. No one should mess with you.

He’ll make sure that everybody knows he came for you. He is the first one you see entering the room to rescue you. And you leave the building carried bridal style in his arms. Him smiling down at you while the building behind the two of you explodes in a light show of fireworks.

Arthur/Joker

You love him madly for rescuing you. You have no idea how much he has gone through to come and save you, but you understand how maddening it must have been for him, how hard and how lonely. It had been the same for you. So scared, so afraid to lose him.

Of course you’ll find out about some of the casualties later on. But you’ll never find out the full extent of his terror. He’ll distract you at the right times so you’ll miss it on the news. Or tear out pages of magazines. That coffee spot spilled on that article in the paper? Threw it out, nothing worth reading in it anyway. Just some advert for knickers or something.

He’ll try and keep some of the details hidden from you because he fears that it will scare you away.

He’ll be your hero. Always. Even if others think him to be a villain.

[sashaisready]

Chapter Six

Lee Bodecker (The Devil All The Time) x Femme Reader

A year after the sudden death of your husband you find yourself at a loose end, unsure what to do next. You're also learning about your sexuality - your hidden desires and fantasies creeping out now you're no longer playing the role of the good wife. A certain Sheriff in town could be the one to awaken something in you.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 7

Lee had gone back to the station to finish work and you had got to work cleaning yourself up. You had washed your dress which was sweaty from your time in the cell, flecked with mud from the woods and God only knows what else from yourself and Lee combined. You took a long bath, cleansing yourself of the day's deeds – not that you could wash away what you'd done.

As you sat in the bath your mind raced, wondering what this all meant, what you were going to do next. You felt guilt towards Arthur, it felt like a betrayal to do this with another man. In his house, the house he paid for and lived with you. Debasing yourself in his armchair where he had watched TV, writhing against the mouth of another man in his kitchen where he had eaten his meals.

But, Arthur was gone. He was dead. He was never coming back. Living like a nun wouldn't change that. Nothing you did would change that. It had nearly been a year now.

And he'd want you to be happy. You knew he would. He had loved you, and he wouldn't want you spending the next fifty years of your life chaste and lonely, slowly decaying in your modest home like a Knockemstiff Miss Havisham. If it had been you who died, you know you would've wanted him to meet someone new and be happy again.

Could you be happy with Lee?

Maybe.

He certainly made your body happy. It was as if he had discovered a key to your sexuality's cypher, decrypting and unlocking your secrets. You hadn't even really considered the possibility of Lee as a partner, what it would be like to have him come home to you, to cook and clean for him, to share a bed with him. In your mind you had ringfenced him as something physical only.

But maybe?

He wasn't perfect, you knew he had a penchant for booze and if rumours were to be believed then he wasn't a cop keeping on the straight and narrow. And before all this you'd had a nagging feeling about him, like something was wrong.

But he'd treated you well. Mostly. He had been rough with you, demeaned you during your trysts – you had wanted that of course, been aroused by it and bathed in it. But was he like that outside of the bedroom too? Would he disrespect you? Treat you meanly? After years of Arthur's careful affection you're not sure you could handle a man being cruel to you. Despite your stubbornness and occasionally getting carried away with your enthusiasm, you are still quite fragile underneath.

But God, imagine that type of sex for the rest of your life. The thought was dizzying, enticing. Entire weekends spent in bed with Lee, endless orgasms and exploring every sexual curiosity you had stifled with Arthur. It made your head spin.

You laughed out loud at the madness of your thought pattern, getting ahead of yourself as always. You didn't even know Lee and here you were fantasising about a life with him. This was so typically you. The man was divorced, and it was pretty rough going according to the town's whispers, he might not even want to get married again. He might be content with the bachelor life and occasional casual flings with local bored housewives to keep him satisfied. Or maybe women who charged for their services. You would bet good money that you were one of many women he'd taken out in the cruiser for non-police business.

You sighed, sinking into the bath with your eyes closed, your fingers on your temples. All you could do was ride this out and see where it went.

🌼

Lee couldn't get you off his mind.

He was distracted back at the station, making silly mistakes with his paperwork and losing his train of thought. He just kept thinking about the way you'd felt wrapped around him, the sound of your moans in his ears, the mischief on your face as you dripped with his cum.

You were something.

He was thrilled by the duality of you, how innocent and proper you seemed on the surface and then how utterly filthy you were behind closed doors. He liked that nobody else knew what you were capable of, even in their wildest dreams.

It was all for him.

He thought about taking you out in the town, looking pretty on his arm as everyone saw you together. Having a nice dinner and looking respectable, then taking you home and leaving you a quivering mess drenched in your own bodily fluids. Maybe settling down together, him coming home from work to enjoy a home cooked meal and then you sucking him dry as he watches the news with a beer.

Okay, the respectable element may be questioned now that everyone had seen you kicking and spitting at him at the library – but you could work on it.

They'd all be so impressed that he saved the lonely, slightly quirky widow – charming her and making her the Sheriff's nice little wife.

He liked you, too. Not just your mouth. Or your body. But you were sweet. Polite. Also you clearly had a fiery streak within you which kept him on his toes. A nice little wife is fine and all, but he didn't want to get bored, either. And you certainly wouldn't do that.

He wasn't sure what would happen next exactly, but he knew this wouldn't be the end of it. He'd make sure of that.

🌼

Your next shift at the diner came around quickly. You were nervous as you stepped in, tying your apron on and surveying the scene around you. You were grateful that it seemed to be a quiet day with only a few customers milling around. Gina had greeted you with more of a smirk than you would've liked, but she didn't say anything about the library.

There were a few whispers here and there, but nobody was saying anything to your face. And you were used to the whispers, after Arthur. As much as the town loved its gossip, they were also cowardly – doing it in the shadows, too meek to say anything to anyone directly. You kept your head high and pretended you hadn't noticed it, your smile plastered on and your tone sunny. They wouldn't get you down. And you'd give Hell to anyone who tried.

You hadn't heard from Lee. It had been a few days. Probably best to have a bit of space as you still didn't know what it all meant. Still, part of you was disappointed he hadn't called or stopped by. You knew it was silly, he didn't owe you anything, you weren't a couple.

But you couldn't help it.

As if you'd somehow summoned him, he strolled into the diner just as you finished that thought. Your stomach flipped as his bright eyes found you immediately and he tipped his hat to you, smiling. You felt momentarily weak, his gaze was just so penetrating. Your thought about his tongue, his hands...Before you knew it you were making a beeline to him, menu in hand despite the fact he ordered the same thing every time. You realised you were looking at him with gooey eyes and anyone could've seen, but you didn't care. It was as if he was pulling you towards him like a powerful magnet.

Gina intercepted you at the last second, her body a barrier between you and Lee.

"Don't worry sugar, y'know I always handle the Sheriff" she said sweetly, taking the menu from your hand. "And he knows exactly what he wants, so don't you worry about any o'this".

Your face dropped but you realised you had no reason to challenge her, unless you wanted to raise suspicions of course.

"Oh right...of course. Sorry Gina, I guess I just forgot today" you said awkwardly.

Gina laughed and turned to Lee as you trudged back to the kitchen. You looked back at him over your shoulder and caught him glaring back at you over Gina. His brow was furrowed, his smile had faded. Was he...annoyed? It was hard to say.

You kept an eye on him after that, looking for a rare moment Gina wasn't hovering around him to go say hello but she barely let up. If you didn't know any better you'd think she was tethered to him and could only walk a few feet in either direction. You huffed in annoyance.

Then a large group came in and kept you busy with complicated orders and substitutions and complaints about how much ice was in their drinks. It was a family you recognised but couldn't place their names. You were run off your feet, rushing around trying to keep them happy despite it being impossible to meet their ridiculous demands. Stiffed you on the tip too, of course. They always did. You made a mental note to spit in their iced teas next time they came in.

You finally got a chance to check on Lee and your face burned when you saw what he'd been up to in your absence. Gina was sitting on his side of the booth, a finger twirling in her hair as she giggled and tapped him affectionately on the shoulder. Whatever he was telling her must've been hilarious because her giggles got louder and their bodies got closer. Lee was smiling away, clearly lapping up the attention and egging her on.

You felt anger rising from within, suddenly feeling stifled by the heat of the kitchen. You pulled your apron off and flung it behind the counter as you shot out towards the front door.

"Gina, I'm gonna take my break – that last table wiped me out" you sniped as you walked by without looking at them.

"Okay 'hon" replied Gina, clearly oblivious to your annoyance.

The cool Autumn air was a godsend, you needed to get out of there, marching round to the back of the building for some privacy. Christ, what was going on with you? Were you jealous? You knew you were being ridiculous. Gina and Lee could flirt with whoever they wanted. But still, you were so angry. How dare Lee do that right in front of you?

You were suddenly struck by the realisation that Gina had probably had a trip in the Sheriff's cruiser too at some point. Of course she had. Maybe still did. She was always all over him and cordoned him off in the diner like a prized museum exhibit. She may have been with him last night for all you knew. How stupid could you be? To think you were daydreaming about marrying him. God, you really were an idiot. One of many in a rotation of loose bimbos who all thought you were the Sheriff's special gal.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the bricked wall of the diner and closing your eyes. You needed to get a grip.

"Nap time already, babydoll?" came a voice from nearby.

Your eyes flew open. Lee, of course. You crossed your arms trying to appear unfazed while your heart beat out of your chest.

"I'm just taking my break, Lee" you replied deadpan, not meeting his gaze. You could see him in the corner of your eye, his hands on his hips as he watched you.

"In that case - can you spare a few minutes for me?" he asked as he stalked towards you, his voice low and teasing.

You sighed as his hands met your waist, as much as you wanted him you couldn't fight the jealousy you had bubbling inside.

"Or maybe you could ask Gina?" you spat as you wrenched his hands off of you.

Lee laughed, unperturbed by your annoyance. "And why would I ask Gina?" he whispered, lowering his face to meet yours.

You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the ground. "Well you seemed pretty close in there.

Lee lifted your chin with a finger and did a mock gasp. "Don't tell me you're jealous babydoll?" he asked as his thumb stroked your cheek, his voice dripping with amusement. The idea of you jealous and feeling possessive of him was absolutely mouth-watering, his ego was inflating in real time.

You shrugged. "Not jealous...just...clearly there are a lot of girls around town you could have a few minutes with". You had tried to sound casual but it came out much whinier than you'd planned.

Lee laughed again and he continued to stroke your face attentively. 

"Sweetheart...don't get all pouty. Gina means nothing to me, we fooled around a few years back and she has a little bit of a crush on me is all. You're my best girl".

You blush, raising your eyes to meet his gaze. Embarrassed for him to see you like this. Needy and pathetic.

But Lee loves it. Your desire for him just fuels him.

"Yeah?" you ask shyly.

"Yeah" he responds, his voice silky. He kisses your collarbone and you gasp quietly at how good it feels.

"You miss me honey?" he asks, his hand running up your thigh, skimming under your uniform. "That it? You missin' me and feelin' jealous? Have I been neglectin' you? That's so bad of me. Need t'make it up t'you".

You can only moan as his fingers gravitate to your panties, slipping inside of you. You look around urgently but fortunately there is nobody else around, nobody really comes back here except staff and Gina is busy holding down the fort. You rest your head in the crook of his neck.

"Well, it seems she missed me" he coos, feeling the moisture on his digits as your pussy moulds around him.

"Lee..." you whine, shuddering. "I gotta get back to work" you plead.

"Uh huh..." he says gently, dipping his fingers even deeper within you. Your knees begin to crumple as you whine. "Well, I'd never keep a gal from her work".

He roughly yanks his fingers from you and you mewl pitifully at the loss.

"How about I come by and see you tonight, huh?" he asks. "After my shift? Make you feel better hmm? Help keep your jealousy at bay?"

You smile up at him bashfully, nodding with gusto.

He smiles back, "there she is".

He gives you a short, sweet kiss. "And until then, 'hon, I've got a taste to keep me going".

He lifts the hand from under your skirt and begins to suck on the fingers like he'd just finished a fine meal. You gasp, your eyes glazing over with lust.

"Mmm. Delicious" he winks, running a finger under his nose. "And I'll be able to smell you on me all shift to keep me tied over".

You stare at him with stars in your eyes, entranced by him.

He leans over to you, his voice low in your ear, "Make sure you limber up before I get there, babydoll" he warns. "It's gonna be quite a workout" he teases.

You nod rapidly, smiling at him as you turn to go back inside.

He delivers a short spank to your behind as you pass him which makes you yelp.

As you step back indoors and retrieve your apron, you can already feel how drenched your panties are.

[fleckcmscott]

Haunted Heart

Summary: Mabel invites the Flecks to visit for the holidays. On Halloween, more than trick or treats await them.

Words: 5,606

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: In this oneshot (twoshot? 🤫), I wanted to revisit Y/N's family in Missouri, catch up on how Mabel and Ed are doing, and give Arthur a new way to celebrate the holidays. This Halloween story is a tad late, but I hope you all still enjoy it. 😊 Much gratitude to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing and @sweet-nothings04 for her kind support and encouragement. 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The notion had sprung from Mabel's gut, not her head. Flown out of her mouth like one of Jason's fastballs flying past home plate.

"Why don't you and Arthur come down for the holidays?"

The plea disguised as a question hung, waited. Tick-tocked in the air and her heart. A sitcom's muffled dialogue came from the other end of the phone line, canned laughter directed squarely at her. The tap of Y/N's fingernails on Bakelite. Once. Twice.

Silence pushed Mabel to continue the sales pitch of the year. "Two weeks would be enough time to do Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. We'd be happy to have you stay here, if you're ready to try that again. Not that before was your fault, I mean- That's not what I mean." Shut up, shut up, shut up!

The airy idea had taken on the sudden heaviness of urgency, paired with an awareness of how much she craved this, how much she had to make up for. Yeah, Y/N had forgiven her. But the wheels of self-forgiveness spun at two miles at hour. And though her sister wasn't one for drawn out heart to hearts, Mabel felt an acute need for amends.

It manifested at the oddest times. When Ashley had taken her first steps, and Mabel realized Y/N had witnessed their dad's last. Or when Jason had gone to the prom, and his date's baby blue dress had reminded Mabel that she'd missed Y/N's wedding. The Widow Brown shuffling through the produce section with her walker; catching Murray Franklin with Ed; card games on family nights, new since Ed's demotion. They induced the pang of not being there. Of not having been there.

The last two years they'd made real process. Weekly calls and surprise cards and quite a few I love yous. They continued to work their way back to each other.

Last summer, Mabel had downed a mint mojito in the airport bar, clung to Ed and the kids, and boarded a plane to the Great Wilds of Gotham, where Y/N and Arthur let them further into their lives. Shown them Dube & Ellis's office building, the city's zoo and botanical gardens, and Amusement Mile. They'd even made reservations at a fancy Italian joint called Bamonte's and caught a show at Pogo's.

At Gotham Beach, Y/N had taught Brian how to skip stones, and Ruthie had returned her magic coin to Arthur. Running down the shore, Ed held Ashley above him like an airplane, zoom zooming all the way. For the first time, Mabel had seen the ocean. Standing on the rocky beach, toes digging into broken shells and jagged pebbles, the water was endless. So vast it could have swallowed her up.

Starting, she'd stumbled back, feeling foolish for never being the type of girl to leave home.

She folded deeper into the den's easy chair, squished herself into the worn leather. "We just love you and would love to see you again."

A click of the tongue across the miles. "I don't see why not. It's one of Arthur's busier seasons, but he doesn't take enough time off, anyway. I'll talk with him. We'd love to see you, too."

Mabel rushed out a breath she definitely knew she was holding. "Really?"

"Yes!" Bright laughter that dimmed to an ahem. "I...can't make any promises about our parents or going to Sunset Hills. Please don't ask me to visit. If I can, I'll tell you. All right?"

Mabel's chest tightened. At least getting this out of the way would result in fewer eggshells. The curly phone cord wound between her knuckles. "All right. I hope to make the bed for you soon."

~~~~~

Arthur couldn't have agreed faster than if Y/N had asked him to marry her (which he would do again and again and again.) Spending the holidays in the countryside? With his nephews and nieces and in-laws? Even without snow, the celebration would be worthy of an Irving Berlin song, a postcard to paste in his journal.

And, after the tidal wave of their last visit, he'd get to see how Y/N would do.

When she'd mentioned the trip, there'd been none of the pursed lips, the fleeting fear, the cryptic conversation that'd made him wonder what she was hiding. Just a simple matter-of-factness that her family was worth having to make small talk with perfectly nice people she never wanted to see again. A weird notion, yeah, but within her realm of weird, the same realm that made her love Gotham and him.

On the flight down, he turned to a fresh page and jotted a title in the top margin: "Our Trip to Missorie."

Welcoming and warm, Mabel and Ed were as kind as Arthur remembered, an imprint on his heart. Before they had a chance to drop their suitcases, Ruthie and Brian rushed them for hugs, while Jason held back in the way happening teenagers do. Sitting on the play rug in the corner of the living room, Ashley waved and smiled. "Hi! Who you guys?" Hard to believe they'd fed and rocked her a blink of an eye ago.

With Halloween only two days away, they got right to work.

Having an entire porch to decorate, an honest-to-goodness front yard, tickled Arthur's mind, made it whir with creative flair. Not that he didn't love the small touches Y/N put together back home. Die-cut cardboard cutouts on the windows, a jack-o-lantern he lit and set outside the door. How her cat costume cradled her curves and that teasing tail.

Their celebrations were sweet and understated, wholeheartedly them. But compared to an apartment, the possibilities here were endless.

On the way to the supermarket, they'd stopped at a clapboard farmhouse that took the holiday as seriously as evening news. Spooky sounds echoed, an audio effects cassette on infinite loop, howls and screams that prompted a shiver even in the day. Plywoods gravestones - at least a dozen - loomed over coffins, from which rubber masked ghouls climbed. A hooded creature lurked behind a crooked tree, a scythe in its skeletal hand. A guestbook lay open on a music stand by a makeshift crypt.

Arthur declined to sign. Instead, he chose a friendly competition.

"Miller's has cornstalks for sale," Mabel said. She and Arthur were in the basement, digging through box after box of goodies. "We can get some this afternoon. Hay, too. But we'll want to decorate tomorrow - the squirrels'll tear it up, otherwise." She knelt by a plastic milk crate of props and lifted a rubber rat by its tail. "This'll look good on the stairs."

He blew dust from the ears of a blow mold horned owl. "I don't understand how you can love Halloween but Y/N doesn't."

A pause, a gulp loud enough to make him turn. "The kids help," Mabel began. "The first year Jason was supposed to go trick-or-treating, he had a fever of a hundred and two. The poor thing wore his Daffy Duck costume and watched cartoons. Arthur, look at this."

Scooting beside her, he studied the object in her hands. A pumpkin shaped doily, vines winding into curlicues at the edges. It'd ridden in directly from the fifties, akin to Y/N's needlepoint apron, the one her mother hadn't gotten to finish. Mabel's fingers curled as though holding a fragile treasure, stained-glass that'd been cloaked in dirt for too long.

When his gaze met hers, there was melancholy mixed with merry. "Do you wanna use it?" he asked, indicating it with his chin.

"Yeah." Thumbs caressed the seams once more. "Mom would hang it on the door after we carved pumpkins. Did Y/N tell you about that?"

"She doesn't talk a lot about the holidays." A grimace twisted the corner of Mabel's mouth. Leaning into one of the earliest lessons he'd learned, he sought to cheer her, raised a palm in a Hold On gesture. "She tells me more than she used to - about you and your mom and dad. But I think it's still hard. Please. Don't be upset with her."

"I'm not, not at all." Mabel said with an emphatic shake of her head. But she didn't meet his gaze. "What did you do last year?"

The tastes and sounds and sensations of that evening roared through his head and heart. He sought to keep his cheeks from turning crimson through sheer will. "Um. Worked on one of her cases and baked a cake." He cleared his throat twice. "She does like to catch B-Movies on TV in October."

Mabel chuckled. "That's an old tradition. One night she took me to see The Blob at the drive-in. She was always so refined and smart - I had no idea she had such bad taste."

"I don't like them, either. But I watch with her, try to plan something special, you know? Make it about us? There's a Grand Halloween Ball every year. At Wayne Hall. I'd love to take her there someday."

"But she'd have to get better at dancing."

A snort wrinkled his nose, shoulders raised in an agreeable shrug. "Well, loving her makes her easy to dance with. It's just it’s the one thing she's shy about."

"I love her, too." Mabel folded the doily into quarters, grabbed a steel support post, and pushed herself to her feet. "This should be enough to knock the neighbors dead. Help me lug all this upstairs."

~~~~~

"Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom!"

Brian rounded the bottom of the stairs. Careened into the kitchen. Skidded to a stop at the oval dining table, where Mabel, Y/N, and Arthur stood sorting candy. A plastic turtle shell, a repurposed sandbox cover, clattered to the floor. Frantic huffs and puffs that left Mabel wondering if she should grab a paper lunch bag and hold it to his mouth.

The boy pressed an orange strip of terrycloth to his forehead. "I can't tie it!" He pulled the ends past his ears for emphasis.

"Honey, slow down." It was just after breakfast, but the kids were determined to wear their costumes all day. She handed a quarter-filled paper treat bag to Arthur. Turned the boy around by the shoulders. "Where's dad?"

"In the bathroom. Ashley missed again."

Mabel rolled her neck from side to side. Though she adored the stork's little surprise, she'd assumed potty training would be behind her at forty. She'd double-wrap Ashley before sticking her in her pumpkin costume. "Put your dirty clothes in the hamper and I'll start the laundry." Mabel tied the terrycloth into a knot. "Did you find your pillowc-"

"Mommy!" Ruthie's plaintive cry from the downstairs bathroom. "I can't find my makeup!" An unsurprising development, given the last-minute switch from Strawberry Shortcake to Circus Ballerina.

Ensuring the headband wouldn't cut off circulation, Mabel stuck two fingers between it and the crown of Brian's head. "All set! Now get your clothes, then go help your sister."

"But my shell isn't on yet!" He pointed at the forlorn accessory.

"Brian, take a deep breath and count to five." Y/N crossed the linoleum to kneel next to the boy. She retrieved the fallen armor, instructed him to hold up both arms. Held his hands one by one to keep his elbows straight and slip it over his green sweatshirt. Once the shell was in place, she tightened the straps on his shoulders, tightened his belt to keep his plastic nunchaku in place.

"There you go," Y/N said, ruffling his caramel hair. "Now let's go find that makeup."

"I don't have green."

"Mommy!" Ruthie wobbled on the tightrope of excitement and panic.

A much-needed referee, Arthur stepped from behind the table. "I do. I have enough for Ruthie, too." He offered his hand to Brian, wiggled his fingers. When he took it, Arthur gave the quarter-filled bag to Y/N. "Save a treat for me," he said, flashing a grin as he was tugged out of the room.

Smiling softly, she studied the crinkly paper, where a scarecrow waved, clad in a top hat, plaid suit coat, and patched pants. "This looks like Arthur's Carnival costume."

On their vacation north, they'd gotten to meet the professional clown courtesy of a special street performance. Mabel opened a box of taffy. "Is that what he wears for Halloween?"

Y/N answered with a nod. "He works most of the day, usually one or two gigs." She dropped a few loose candy corns into the bag. "That reminds me. I've got to dig my cat costume out of my suitcase."

"Not this year, you don't." A skeptical glare shot Mabel's way. She cackled. "All will be revealed. Your hubby shared a smidge of what you two get up to. I'm glad you're making your own history."

"This is for him, mostly This is the one holiday he insisted on." Lower lip stuck between her teeth, Y/N looked in the direction Arthur had gone, gaze flitting back and forth. Then she leaned forward. "You heard what he said on Murray. I don't think he had many traditions growing up."

It was a truth Mabel had locked in her psyche, one that turned her throat to cotton.

"He likes looking through my photo album," Y/N continued. "We've gone through it probably six times. He asks about every single picture. What I got for Christmas that year, or what game we were playing, or what we had a picnic - he refuses to try egg salad sandwiches." Giggles dissolved to a tender hush. "Sometimes I think he wishes he was there. I don't blame him. His father wasn't around, Penny couldn't take care of or protect him.

"There's a file he took from Arkham - that's the state hospital in Gotham - about his mother and what happened to him. He doesn't know this, but I read everything in it, all of it. Part of me wishes I hadn't, but I had to know. What he went through, I-"

One long inhale, the rapid flutter of her lashes. "I know how hard it is to want to look back at happy times and not find them - even when they're there. We've put a lot behind us. It's nice to be able to appreciate Halloween again, to celebrate with someone who can enjoy it." Wincing, she shook her head. "I didn't mean how that sounded."

Lips pinched, Mabel put a bag in the white wicker treat basket. "You did and that's all right."

"I did love taking you house to house. Remember when you drove your bike into a pothole and scraped your knee?"

That hadn't hurt as badly as the scraping of Mabel's heart. After a moment, she pushed the weight of what she couldn't change off her back and went to her side. "You gave me a Clark bar while dad patched me up."

Y/N folded down the end of the treat bag to seal it shut. "Where are we taking the kids, anyway? The mall?"

"Absolutely not. It was a zoo last year." Stumbling through what must've been a thousand people, all for hard candies a grandmother would be ashamed to have in a lead glass dish on her coffee table. "The elementary school's having a fall carnival for the town. Jeff might be there. Would Arthur mind?"

"They met before and got along well enough to gossip about me." Y/N nestled her bag next to Mabel's, fingertips lingering at the seam.

"How have you been sleeping?" Mabel asked. It'd been a relief when Y/N had forgone a reservation at Four Acres, decided to give the old brick house another try. And while she still took morning walks, they were shorter and came only after a decent breakfast.

"Better. It's not easy to sleep in a new place - or an old place. But I'm getting there. This-" She gestured at the festive mess "- is helping me get there."

Mabel blinked back enough remorse to sling an arm about her shoulders and squeeze. "Good. I want this place to feel like home."

~~~~~

Clad as Carnival, Arthur waited on the living room sofa, pen in hand and notebook on his lap. "I think Y/N's halfing a good visit. She wants to talk with me more now and that's a relief. She isn't tossing and turning in bed - so I can get some sleep! Ruthie and Brian let me paint there faces, like I do at work sometimes. But it was nicer because their my neece and nephew (f?) and-"

"Ready or not, here we come!"

In the dining room doorway to the left, Mabel stood with Y/N, their arms firmly linked. Identical outfits forced a doubletake. Claw clips held back cinnamon hair, siren blue headbands sat snug above their ears. They wore Lycra leotards, capsleeve and V-neck, a fuchsia bright enough to blind. Spandex belts flattered rounded hips, what he figured was a family trait, and blue tights hugged their legs. Fuchsia leg warmers and white Saucony Jazz sneakers completed the ensembles.

Rising, Arthur rolled up his journal and stuck it in his waistband, flummoxed but eager gaze darting back and forth between them. "Who're you supposed to be?"

"The Doublemint Twins!" Mabel said, beaming with pride.

Y/N offered the half-smile of the Playing Along.

"Double the pleasure, double the fun! Look, I even have gum." Mabel retrieved a pack from her belt and doled out a stick each, which had gone soft from her body heat. Arthur hated mint gum; it tasted like trying to quit smoking. But, being in the spirit of things, he accepted, anyway. "Ed and I usually do couple's outfits, but he agreed to make an exception this year. No football player and cheerleader."

Y/N asked, "What's he doing, then?"

A guffaw boomed beyond the woman's shoulders. Slicked back salt and paper hair came into view, a face bathed in blotchy baby powder like a 1940s B-movie extra. A faded white short sleeve button-up was tucked into gray trousers, and a plastic cape was tied loosely at the neck. The cape came to his waist, as if he'd borrowed it from one of the kids.

Fingers curled into claws, he lurched forward and slurred through cheap plastic fangs. "I vant to suck your blood!" He grabbed Mabel by the bicep and bent to her neck.

Giggling, she swatted him away. "Now, now, not in front of the guests."

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I can't find Ashley's tights."

"They're in the bathroom." Mabel rubbed his hairline with her thumb, then grabbed his hand. "You need a widow's peak."

Once they were out of earshot, Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. "I think she forgot we're not actually twins. This is too tight for a school party."

When an outfit accentuated her breasts, she tended to avoid it. As Arthur saw it, though, she had nothing to be bashful about. She was lovely and his. Rouge highlighted the apples of her cheeks, violet eyeshadow flattered her brown eyes. Stepping forward, he pried her hand from her armpit.

A timid laugh bubbled up. She tucked her chin. "You're looking at me like you want to eat me up, but I feel more silly than sexy."

"You're always sexy. Especially when you're silly." He pressed a chalky kiss to her wrist, lingered until he felt her pulse. "What is it they say on GMC? When your bad movies are on? Something wicked is coming this way?"

"Not too wicked, I hope," she said, stealing beneath his plaid suitcoat to cup his sides. "At least, not yet." She bounced to her toes, plush, plum painted lips puckered towards his...

"Bye mom, bye dad!" Jason bellowed from the kitchen.

Mabel did not miss a beat. "Hold on a minute, young man!"

Arthur's mouth bumped Y/N's temple as she turned towards the commotion, then started off with an arched brow.

Ashley shoved under her arm like a sack of flour, Mabel marched out of the bathroom. "Where do you think you're going with that?" She pointed at the VCR sticking out from Jason's windbreaker.

"Mike's mom said she'd rent movies if I brought it over."

Felt pumpkin outfit at the ready, Ed jogged to Mabel's side. The toddler's stubby legs kicked wildly. Mabel passed Ashley to her husband and the interrogation continued, questions whipped off a well-memorized list. "Is this a party?"

"No."

"How many people will be there?"

"It's just some friends from school!"

"Will Mike's parents be home?"

"Yes. No. I dunno."

"Your curfew is ten-thirty."

Wincing, Jason leaned his head against the door. "But we won't even get through one movie by then!" He'd reached that age where being cool was of the utmost importance. While getting his driver's license had added a notch to the cool belt, he currently sounded much younger and uncooler than his sixteen years.

Hands on hips, Mabel let out a huff. "Eleven-thirty and not one minute later." Once the boy nodded, she pecked his cheek and opened the door. "I love you. No speeding."

Though agitation lurked in the air, Arthur couldn't help but find the scene heartwarming, akin to a family disagreement he'd seen on one of his old sitcoms. Something he wished he'd had. Maybe a compliment would soothe the situation.

"You're good at that," he said. "Being a mom, I mean."

Mabel shrugged. "He's growing up so fast - sixteen going on thirty. Let me grab this basket here-" she heaved the basket of treats from the table "-and we can be off."

~~~~~

Boonville Elementary and Sumner Middle shared a quad with Thomas Hart Benton High, with the high and middle schools on a hill on Cooper Street, and the elementary on the parallel Locust Road. Victory Field, a football field surrounded by bleachers and a quarter mile track, delineated where the big and little kids played. A baseball diamond was to the left and a playground sat to the right, which had a merry-go-round, a jungle gym, a metal slide that'd scald you when the sun was out, rickety seesaws, and two sets of swings.

The high school's gym bustled, as if the whole town had joined in celebration. Booths and tables lined the walls, manned by teachers, students, and volunteers from the community. A cakewalk with desserts and other small prizes stood in the center. A sign in an urgent font advertised a bake sale, featuring Ms. Chippy's Blue Ribbon popcorn balls.

Brian and Ruthie steered Ed and Mabel through the throng, to a haunted house hosted in the kindergarten classroom. Mabel shifted Ashley from one arm to the other, calling for them to wait up.

Y/N's face was a mask of unwelcome discomfort. Her hands folded firmly together, her Ready for Inane Conversation stance. It was foreign on her, ill-fitting. Arthur cocked his head, wondered allowed what was wrong.

Skeptical glances scanned the room. "The last time I was here was my high school reunion ten years ago. And I hated every minute of it." Before he could ask for more details, she took hold of his collar, rubbed the worn cotton between thumb and forefinger. The corner of her lips quirked, her crow's feet softened. "But with you here, it'll be worlds better. Should we bob for apples or play bean bag toss first?"

Delighted, he pressed his nose to hers, marked her with a faint streak of white.

They ambled along, Arthur adjusting his wig and tiny hat. Local dentist. Dr. Young manned a completely abandoned station; the red delicious apples and toothbrushes on offer belied why. A tween girl wrapped in swirled, turquoise scarfs and gaudy rings on her fingers, ran Madame Trudy's Palm Reading. Arthur dropped a dollar in the donation jar and held out his left hand.

"You're married," Madame Trudy said with the enthusiasm of the voluntold. A cheap trick, give his wedding ring and the woman at his side. But she was just a kid, and her next prediction made it all right. "You'll be married a long time."

A wizened old crone in a witch's hat and warted rubber nose waved them over. To his surprise, Y/N wore a warm look behind her makeup, the most genuinely welcoming he'd seen when meeting a stranger from her past.

"This girl was one of my best students," Mrs. Spencer said, patting Y/N's hand. Mrs. Spencer was a forty-year veteran of the English department and prided herself on never forgetting a face. "She sometimes got her is and es mixed up, but she always asked the right questions."

Arthur palmed the small of Y/N's back. "That makes sense. She's my best wife."

"I thought I was your only wife," she said, elbow nudging his ribs.

"Come around here," Mrs. Spencer instructed. The pat of Y/N's hand became a firm grasp as the teacher guided her former student to her side of the table. "Tell me all about what you've been doing and the big, wide world you moved to."

~~~~~

Sipping spiced cider by the snack table, Mabel and Ed made pleasant chit chat with Brian's teacher, Mr. Webb. The boy had a knack for natural sciences, and Mr. Webb had a plan for leaf graphing to help him earn his Nature merit badge. Mabel was grateful the boy had a mentor, if not a pal.

In some ways, Brian was younger than his years. Smart and good at school, but he tended to struggle with his peers, miss the social cues that'd turn classmates into friends. Luckily, he'd been enrolled in special classes in the resource room twice a week and good progress was on its way.

Just then, a woman in a sock hop costume came to the table, a woman that Mabel had the misfortune of recognizing. Replete in poodle skirt and saddle shoes, she poured herself an orange drink from a large, yellow cooler.

The prim and proper nurse was a longtimer at the hospital, had won local recognition for excellent patient care. But her method of handling family members should've resulted in a rusty iron medal.

Whenever their dad had been admitted to the hospital, the nurse had admonished Y/N with accusations. That he'd had pneumonia because she'd fed him too quickly. Or that she hadn't turned him enough in bed. Or that he wouldn't have had a UTI, if she'd washed her hands before changing his catheter. How could she not know the basics when her father was a doctor? All as if Y/N were a reckless child, with no acknowledgment of the dreams she'd abandoned to care for him. A realization Mabel had been too immature to recognize.

Though seven years had passed, the disapproval the nurse had displayed - and Mabel's own inaction against it - made her blood slow to sludge. She crumpled her paper cup, steeled herself against recollections that barged in like wanted guests.

"Mom, look!" Ruthie ran to Mabel's side, ballet flats smack, smack, smacking the linoleum floor. "I won it in the cakewalk!" she said, shoving a book at her.

Mabel took the slim paperback, studied the cover of vibrant purple and velvet black, where two tiny ghosts stood before a crumbling castle. The full moon shone through jagged clouds, illuminating a path to a splintered door. Bats and spiders snickered, waiting to greet them with screeches and snares. With a soft sound, she flipped the book to read the synopsis.

Searching for the best treats, sisters Anne and Amelia stumble into a haunted castle. Through phantom wails and creaky hallways, only by facing their fears together will they be able to break free!

Water stung her eyes, lips parted then pursed. She was stricken. Once again the silly girl at the edge of the ocean, taken aback and barely able to breathe. Sisters who were freed by facing their fears together...

"Uncle Arthur can read it to me tonight!" Ruthie said, oblivious to her mother's sudden turmoil.

Mabel wouldn't have had it any other way. Bending to return the book, she offered a tight smile. "That's my girl." She reached into her bra, dug out a five-dollar bill. "I'll be back in just a little bit. Go get something for you and Brian at the bake sale." The girl ran off, darting towards dreams of sweets.

~~~~~

Sodium vapor lights cast shadows across the playground, long, spindly fingers bent at unnatural angles. Leaves rustled in the light breeze, warm but with a nip at the back end. Through hopscotch and four square courts, Mabel hurried across the pavement, steps quickening towards the swings tucked into the furthest corner.

She sat on a worn rubber seat, knees pulled in tight, hands rubbing her upper arms. The earthy smell of wood chips, normally a familiar comfort, failed to reassure. No moon shone tonight. A new moon. If only that wasn't the only thing that was new.

This town was supposed to be familiar and friendly and safe. But while she'd gotten all the safe, it seemed as though Y/N had gotten all the thorns. Even when her divorce had been behind her, the inquires about it hadn't. She'd mentioned it more than once over beers at the Silver Spur. Innuendo in the guise of polite curiosity. The way friends they'd made as a married couple had fallen away.

And when their dad had gotten sick, there'd been enough questions put to Y/N to fill the entire room. How their father was doing, what he needed, but not how she was doing or what she needed. - something Mabel herself had been guilty of far too often. Y/N's eyes glassing over as she tucked her hair behind her ear, always answering the same.

For her, Boonville had been a blackhole. Cold and dark and lonelier than ever.

A silhouette slid into Mabel's peripheral vision, stood a few yards away. Before whoever it was could get closer, she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

The shadow stepped forward. Teased hair, spandexed hips, headband that nearly glowed in the dark...

"Shit." Mabel cleared her throat, consciously eased her voice like the best Beauty Boutique sales representative. "I'll only be a minute, Y/N." She swiped a stray tear from her cheek. "Are the kids all right?"

"Ed's getting Ashley a snack. Arthur's taking the others classroom to classroom to trick-or-treat. I don't think I've ever seen him smile so wide," Y/N said, sitting on the swing beside her. "When I told him I didn't want children, him being fine with it was a relief. But I love seeing him be an uncle. He wouldn't have had that chance - I wouldn't have had that chance - without you."

Mabel winced against her gratitude, the last thing she wanted.

Y/N pulled a long blade of grass from the A-frame's post. Rubbed away the wispy seeds. "You and I haven't talked about the hard stuff. Not yet. It's easier with Arthur because he wasn't there."

"I wasn't either," Mabel said. With all her missing in action, she should've been a regular confidant.

"You're here now and that's what's important to me."

A soft sniffle forced itself out of Mabel's nose. She'd invited Y/N here to atone, to recapture the holiday magic they'd loved as little girls and lost for too long. And here she was being comforted instead. God, how it irked her. She didn't want to burden Y/N, didn't want to wallow. She'd work it out with Ed, her silo of support.

Mabel decided to share a simple truth. "You know, after you got married and moved out, mom let me light the jack-o-lantern. But I'd rather have had you."

Sidling her swing closer, Y/N put her hand on her knee. "There've been enough ghosts between us, Mabel."

A wave of protectiveness swept through Mabel, the same she'd felt when given Jason the third degree. "Let's face them together," she said, ready to start right away. She kissed Y/N's cheek and sprung from the swing. "Now hold on tight."

~~~~~

"Watch your step," said Arthur, a kid on each hand. While Ed and Ashley napped in the school nurse's office, Arthur navigated the downward slope to Victory Field. In clown shoes, that was a feat.

Ruthie and Brian had gotten a haul to be proud of, their pillowcases filled to the brim. Arthur's own pockets were bursting with his favorite butterscotch candies and Palmer chocolate flavored crispy wavers. Y/N insisted the latter were terrible, and he had to admit the chocolates she'd introduced him to were less sickly sweet. But Palmer's distinct plastic taste was tied to the warmth of a kind schoolteacher who'd taken a boy without a costume under her wing.

Girlish laughter rang out in the distance. He blinked in the semi-darkness, guided the kids towards the cheerful sound.

Halfway down the hill, he halted. Unbridled joy stretched his lips, a smile to rival Carnival's.

Crouching behind Y/N, Mabel pushed her on the swing, letting loose an exaggerated groan. Heavy duty chains squeaked in their pendulums with each back and forth. Y/N's legs pumped harder and harder, toes reaching for the stars as if she was ready to fly. "Higher!" she cried, then laughed again. "Higher!"

Brian dumped his sack on the ground, spread out the booty in a big circle. He knelt to arrange the candy into neat rows, sorted by least favorite to most. Offering to trade three rolls of smarties for a Jolly Jack bar, Ruthie flopped down in her tutu and dug into a peanut butter cup.

Half-listening, Arthur sat cross-legged on the lawn, an eager audience to the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​​ @rommies​​​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​​​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​​​ @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics​​​​​ @iartsometimes​​​​​ @fleckficgirl

[five-miles-over]

Could you pleaaaase do flirting headcanons for joker and Arthur fleck? 😍 I bet he can be a charmer~

Thank you for your patience with this ask, anon!

Flirting Headcanons for Arthur Fleck and Joker

Arthur Fleck

Arthur's style of flirting is almost reminiscent of a schoolboy, in my opinion 

He's someone who's been inspired by old Hollywood films and music from the Golden Age

His definition of "flirting" might consist of doing a little dance routine, maybe something reminiscent of Fred Astaire. If he can get someone to play a little music, he'd be more than happy to have "The Way You Look Tonight" or "Cheek to Cheek" play while he performs for you.

the little dance might end with him giving you a little bow, and you would clap for him

"Thanks…You liked it?" He ambles towards you, his hands clasped in front of him like a little boy

"Yeah, I liked it. It was very cute."

"I'm cute? Thanks…uh, you're…you're beautiful." Arthur swayed a little. "Would you…Do you wanna get, maybe a coffee together sometime?"

After the two of you start dating, Arthur would definitely continue flirting with you in the most innocent of ways 

He'd surprise you with a flower, maybe a candy bar, and yes, another dance routine just to make you adore him

All in all, he'd be very respectful and naive with his flirting,

Joker

Joker's style of flirting is 1000x more forward and direct than Arthur's 

If he finds a person that catches his fancy, he'll probably just walk up to them and offer a smooth compliment

He might get their attention with a touch, maybe lightly grab their arm and get into their personal space

"I don't think I've seen you here before. What's your name, doll?"

After you tell him your name, he'd nod approvingly and inch his fingers towards your cheek.  

"How about I buy you a drink?…It's getting crazier out there. Let me put a smile on you." 

When the Joker flirts, he likes to say things in such a way that lets you know that he's the one in control, that he's the one who deserves your time and attention, and that you're the only one he wants. 

[fleckficgirl]

Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 13

Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.

Warnings: sex, age gap, language, violence, mental illness, assault

Word Count: 2651

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Arthur called immediately after you hung up the phone with Tina and Chantelle and asked you to meet him at City Central Station at noon.

“I have to go out to Long Island,” he said, a heavy undercurrent of apology in his voice. “And I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to come with me.” 

“Sounds perfect,” you’d replied instantly.

Arthur laughed, surprised. “I, uh…well, I know it’s not very romantic. But it’s kind of an emergency and-”

“I’m there,” you said. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Arthur said. He sounded tense, flustered. You wished you were in the same room with him so you could put his arms around him and calm him down. Comfort him with your body. Among other things. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Arthur assured you. “I’m not hurt or anything. I can explain everything to you on the train. I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be sorry, Arthur,” you stopped him. “I’m happy just to spend time with you. No matter what we’re doing.”

You heard Arthur pause, releasing a relieved-sounding sigh on the other end, his tone softening. “I…I couldn't stop thinking about you last night,” he confessed. “I think I even dreamed about you.”

“Really?” you felt an uncontrollable smile spread across your face. Only Arthur Fleck could make you smile like a complete loon. 

“Sorry. Is that weird for me to tell you that?”

“No!” you blurted. “In fact, I dreamed about you!” 

Arthur laughed. “You did? Last night?”

“Uh…not last night, exactly.” You felt your cheeks heating up and felt glad Arthur couldn't see you blush. “Earlier. Like…maybe after the first time I saw you?”

“That’s sweet, Y/N. Was it a nice dream?”

“It was…very nice.” 

If only Arthur knew the true carnal nature of that first dream. You’d get around to telling him someday…hopefully sooner rather than later. 

And now, one hour later, here you were: one hour standing on the train platform waiting for him. 

You glanced around Gotham City Central Station at all the bustling people - still rushing, still hustling, still rat-racing on a Saturday morning. They were like hamsters on one big gigantic wheel in a cage called Gotham, and although you knew you were one of them, having a day off gave you a refreshed perspective: Exactly who was winning this race? Why did normal people have to work themselves into the ground just to scrape by? 

It seemed the winners of this race had already been called a long time ago. 

Among the noise, traffic and images vying for your attention all at the same time, you locked eyes with a poster of Thomas Wayne. You shook your head. He was on television all the time these days. People seemed to think Wayne could “fix” Gotham and wanted him to run for mayor. 

To put it bluntly: you thought those people were delusional. 

There was no denying Gotham was a broken place. But was the wealthy mogul Thomas Wayne really the one to fix it? How could he know what the people of this God-forsaken city needed to get back on their feet? How could someone born and raised with an endless supply of silver spoons in his mouth possibly relate to living on the fringes of society?

The crowd parted and Arthur appeared, holding a newspaper under his arm. He spotted you and smiled. You ran up to him and leapt into his arms. Arthur caught you, spun you, then dipped you over and kissed you. The two of you were living in your own musical fantasy in the middle of a dirty, overcrowded train station.

“I’m so sorry that this is our second date,”Arthur said as he lowered you to the ground. “I wanted to plan something more romantic…a walk in the park, or maybe a trip to the-”

“Arthur,” you stopped him. “Anytime we’re together is romantic. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now but here.” 

He smiled shyly and gave you a tender kiss on the cheek.

The graze of his lips against you triggered a slew of wants. You wanted to kiss him again. Properly. In fact, you wanted to do a lot of things to him. The memory of the soft pull of Arthur’s lips against yours the night before had stirred within you like a fever since then - but you were worried that if you started, you wouldn't be able to stop. And there were too many people around. You’d have to behave yourself. At least for the time being. 

“So where exactly on Long Island are we headed?” you asked. “And what’s this mystery mission you couldn’t tell me about on the phone?”

Arthur drew in a heavy breath. “It’s…look, I don’t want to sound crazy. I’m not sure if I believe it myself, but last night…”

He was interrupted by your train pulling loudly into the station. 

“That’s the one we want,” he jerked his head towards it.

“Oh shit!” you exclaimed. “I just remembered, I didn’t buy a ticket!”

“Don’t worry,” Arthur fished into his jacket pocket and pulled out two small pieces of paper. “I got yours.” 

After finding two empty seats together, you placed your hand on Arthur’s and listened. Listened as he told you everything: How his mother had been writing letters to Thomas Wayne (funny how you’d just been thinking about him…though to be fair, his smug face was plastered all over the city). How he hadn’t paid his mother’s compulsive letter-writing much mind. She was set in her ways and tended to overfocus on things that were of little to no consequence. And finally: how last night after coming home from your date, an unexpected burst of curiosity had cajoled him into reading one of her letters…

…in which his mother had disclosed something totally unexpected. Something shocking.

“Thomas Wayne?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows. 

Arthur nodded.

“Your…father?”

You blinked. This was so out of left field, it had gone past left field and back to right again. You struggled to pick a reaction; there were so many coursing through your mind and heart. You could only imagine how Arthur was feeling. 

“How did your mother even know him?” you asked, agog.

“She used to work for the Waynes. As their housekeeper. Just before I was born.”

You shook your head in stunned disbelief. “I have to say, I don’t know what to think. Do you believe her, Arthur?” 

Arthur was silent for a moment, and you gave him space to find the words.

“At first I didn't, really. She hasn’t always been…the best at telling the truth. She thinks things are real that aren’t. I wonder sometimes if I get that from her.” 

He unfolded the newspaper on his lap and began leafing through the pages.

“But now, when I look at pictures of him - and his pictures are everywhere - I can’t help but see a resemblance. Maybe it’s all in my head, I don’t know.” 

Arthur landed on a picture of Wayne and his wife, gazing admiringly up at him as he waved to a crowd. He tore out the photo and creased back the edges so you both could see it more clearly. 

“Do you think I look like him, Y/N?” Arthur asked. 

“I don’t know…” You scoured the famous man’s face. The curve of his cheekbones, the arch of his eyebrows. 

Like a bolt of lightning, it struck you.  

“Shit, Arthur. I don’t know if I’m going crazy, but…now I do kind of see a resemblance!” 

“I know,” Arthur said. “Now that I see it, I can’t stop seeing it.”

You peered in closer. 

“But why wouldn’t she say anything until now?” you leaned back in your seat. “Why wait all these years?” 

“She said she signed some papers promising she would keep it a secret. It was to protect me as their child, some big scandal coming out. But she said they loved each other. They just couldn’t be together.” 

“Jesus,” you sat back in your seat. Through the window, the entire world seemed to blur as the train lurched away from the city. “What a fucking rollercoaster.” 

“I have to go see him,” Arthur’s voice broke into your racing thoughts. “Talk to him face to face.”

“Of course,” you agreed. “Go to his house and confront him. It’s the only way to get to the bottom of this. ” 

You’d been to Wayne Manor only once before: a field trip in the second grade at Burnley Elementary School. Over a decade later, all you recalled about the visit were the Waynes’ dobermans that barked at you and your classmates the entire time. Like you were intruders even though the Manor was a historical landmark with paid tours.

The Waynes were a piece of work. 

“Come on,” you took Arthur’s hand as you exited the train station. There were no cabs around like in the Gotham, and the walk from the train station to Wayne Manor would take at least half an hour on foot. 

Long Island was worlds apart from the city. Away from the endless, screeching roar of Gotham, you could actually hear yourself think. 

You and Arthur made your way down the tree-lined roads. It was autumn and the leaves were beginning to turn gold and fall to the ground. You liked how Arthur made a point to always walk on the outside of the sidewalk, creating a buffer between yourself and the street. Maybe his mother was crazy, but there was no denying she had raised a gentleman. 

Arthur seemed to relish holding your hand, the sound of dry leaves crunching beneath your feet. 

“So what was that dream you had about me?” you asked playfully, giving his hand a light squeeze. You looked over to see his cheeks flush. His shy smile swept you off your feet.  

“Oh,” Arthur gave a small laugh. “I dreamed you were onstage with me.” 

“Doing your comedy act?” you giggled. “Like a singing, dancing comedic duo?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “I mean yes. Kind of. We were singing and dancing together. I was in my red suit and you were…”

He paused. You shot him a quizzical look.

“I was what?” you prodded. 

“It’s embarrassing.”

“What was I, naked or something?” 

“No,” he shook his head. His face was even cuter (if such a thing was possible) when it was all embarrassed and flushed.

“You were wearing your Snow White costume.”

Not the answer you’d expected. You let out a laugh. 

“I guess that makes sense,” you conceded. “Given you’ve seen me in it at the children’s hospital.”

“It’s not just that,” Arthur confessed as you walked along. “It’s because…well, I didn’t tell you this at the time because I thought it would be weird. But Snow White was the first movie I ever saw in the movie theater.” 

“That’s not so strange,” you replied. “It’s a classic, after all.”

“Well…she was also my first love. Snow White, I mean. I saw her up there on the screen and I fell in love with her.”

Now you were blushing. And as stupid as it was, you also felt a pang of jealousy course through you. Yes, you were jealous of a cartoon princess Arthur’d been infatuated with as a child. It was beyond ridiculous, but the truth was: hearing Arthur loved anyone besides you made your heart pound with envy. You just hoped he still didn’t have a thing for her. 

“You know…” Arthur’s voice broke into your racing thoughts. “I hope this isn't weird of me to say, but…I'm honestly surprised you would ever be interested in someone like me.” 

You stopped in your tracks. Was he trying to give you the brush off? Tell you he was still in love with a childhood celluloid dream? Your heart was jumping up and down, side to side. You couldn’t imagine going on without him in your life. 

“What makes you say that?” you asked, measured tone and breath, trying specifically not to sound as psycho as you really felt.

Arthur shrugged. “I’m…older than you, I live with my mother. I have no money. And you…”

You wanted to protest everything he was saying, but reminded yourself to wait patiently for him to complete the thought. 

“...you’re a college student.”

“I was a college student,” you corrected him.

“You deserve to live in a beautiful place like this,” Arthur said, gesturing at the verdant surroundings. “Someone who can give you that.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” you blurted. You could feel another episode coming on and as much as you trusted Arthur, you really didn’t want to lose it in front of him again. You especially didn’t want to lose it because he was dumping you. And on Long Island, no less. Crazy behavior was normal in Gotham, but here they’d have you arrested for so much as a shriek here.

“No!” he shook his head immediately. “Not at all. I just…don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping you from a better life. You know I have all these problems…”

You breathed a silent sigh of relief. He wasn’t breaking up with you. He was just concerned, thoughtful, putting your needs ahead of his. 

It only made your feelings deepen for him even more. 

“Does it bother you?” Arthur asked. “That I’m older than you?”

“No,” you replied. “Does it bother you? Have you ever been with someone younger?” 

Arthur pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and shook one loose, bringing it to his mouth as he fished around his other pocket for a lighter. 

“I haven’t really dated at all,” he said with an embarrassed wince. “I’m not someone most people would…ever be interested in.” 

“That’s not true,” you said, still reeling from the shock that this beautiful, sweet, tender man had never dated. Though to be fair, knowing he’d loved anyone else would have triggered more jealousy. At the same time, you couldn’t wrap your head around how no one could see how amazing he was. 

“I’ve never dated, either, Arthur,” you pointed out. 

“But that makes sense. You're a lot younger than I am.”

You grinned slightly. “Have you been doing the math? How much?”

Arthur inhaled the first drag of his cigarette, and it billowed out into the clean Long Island air. 

“You told me what year you graduated last night. If I’d stayed in school, I would have graduated in 1964. Which means I'm fifteen years older than you. It took me a second to do the math. That was never my strong subject. None of them were.” 

You shook your head, then suddenly found yourself laughing. “Actually…”

Arthur looked up at you with big, worried eyes. “Yes?”

“I like that you’re older than me,” you confessed.   

“You do?”

“Is that weird?” Now you felt a little embarrassed. You didn’t want Arthur to think you were a freak, but you were just being honest. “I don't like guys my age.”

“You didn't meet anyone you liked at school? I'd think lots of guys would be interested in you.”  

“‘Interested’ is a relative term,” you scoffed bitterly. “The guys at Gotham U are…let's just say a lot of them are book smart. And come from rich families. But they act like fucking animals.”

Arthur frowned. “Animals? How do you mean?”

You shook your head. “I'll tell you about it some other time.”

Arthur nodded respectfully.

“The truth is, Arthur,” you continued. “I never liked anybody that way…until I met you.”

Arthur smiled at the ground as you plodded along in sync, then silently took your hand.

“I feel the same way about you,” he said. “When we’re together, it just…feels right.” 

“I know,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. “So many things in my life haven’t felt right…haven't been right. But this does. And if it feels right, nothing else matters.” 

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[thomasshelbydrabbles]

The Messenger (22/22)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Adeline Taylor (OC)

Warnings: period typical sexism, series typical violence, period typical views of PTSD, period typical racism, blood and gore, smut

Summary: It's Darby Day, and all things end as they begin. Adeline clears her ledger and settles old scores. 

**This is a series, so you should read The School Teacher first if you want to understand everything.**

Note:  As the show does, I am loosely using actual events and people from WW1 and other time periods represented in the show. These are fictionalized versions of both events and the people.

Word Count: 3271

A/N: Here we are, the end of another part. I’ve had this ending in mind since forever, and I’m so happy to be able to share it with you all.

Arrow House, 1922

“We’re setting a date.” 

Adeline glanced up at Tommy, watched the firelight cast shadows on the angles of his face. They sat next to each other in bed, the house quiet at this hour of the night. 

“For?”

“Wedding. We’re gettin’ married.” 

Adeline smiled. “Are we? Is that what this here bobble on my hand is?” 

Tommy gazed down at her, eyes soft. He traced the apple of her cheek. “Yes. Once the bloody Darby business is done, I’m marryin’ you. Makin’ you the official lady of the whole fuckin’ house, Missus Shelby. Then we’ll take a whole month off and fuck in every room in the house.” 

She smiled into the kiss she pressed to his lips. “You’re a stubborn sort, Mister Shelby, so I know better than to argue with you about this. So, I’ll be agreeable this once and let you have your way. Consider it my wedding present.” 

“We both know you’re only being agreeable because you want my cock, eh?” 

Adeline smirked. “Take the win, Thomas.” 

With a chuckle he captured her lips again, rolling her beneath him. 

“You’ve not asked me about the Darby.” 

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose before rolling onto his back. Adeline sighed. She could have been having sex. She wished she were having sex. But, there was this nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Like an itch she couldn’t reach. Made the hairs on her arms stand on end. 

“Just got you back, not looking forward to fightin’ with you about whatever bloody plan it is you’ve made for the fuckin’ Darby.” 

Adeline stared at the ceiling. She wanted to comfort him. For the first time in years, she wanted to lie. It would be easier that way, but easy never solved anything important. If it were easy, she could roll on top of him and spend the rest of the night feeling his cock deep inside her. 

“We don’t always win,” she began, voice soft, hesitant. “Got a damn good record of winning, the two of us, but I know I’ve lost a time or two myself. There’s always something unaccounted for in campaigns of this scale. Weather, someone deciding to be clever for once. A bad day.” 

“You’re soundin’ like Pol when she’s been in the port.” 

Rolling onto her side, she took in Tommy’s profile, watched the smoke trail from his mouth as he took a drag from the cigarette between his lips. With a gentle finger, she traced his eyebrow, down the side of his face, lingering on his bottom lip. She re-memorized the shape of his face, the flecks of different shades of blue in his eyes, the pink of his lips.

“I’m not used to having something to lose.” 

Fuck. She hadn’t meant to say those words out loud. Feeling the way Tommy’s body tensed, the slight hitch in his breathing she knew there’d be more conversation to come. 

“We’re not going to lose, so just get that thought out of your pretty little head.” 

“Are you not taking this seriously?” 

Tommy sighed, rolled away from her to reach the side table, and snub out his cigarette before rolling back over to face Adeline. “Always take your safety seriously, love. We’re the Peaky Blinders, eh? Who’s gonna stop us?” 

“Christ, you sound like fucking Arthur with his insane bravado. Use your fucking head, Tommy. We’ve a host of enemies more powerful than the likes of Billy Kimber that don’t give a toss about some little ragtag band of gangsters from the dirty streets of Small Heath.” 

Tommy sat up. Adeline wanted to reach for him, to rub her hand up his back, soothe the tension from his shoulders. She wanted to go back in time, to before this conversation, to when she was under him. That moment had potential. 

“Thought you had it all planned out. You and Alfie.” 

“Don’t be jealous, Thomas, it doesn’t suit you. And we do have a plan, but no plan is without fault. Thinkin’ it is…means you’ve not done enough thinking.” 

“What do you want me to do, eh? Fucking tell me, Adeline.” 

“Be serious. You underestimate our enemies because you don’t understand. I don’t know how to make you understand either.” 

He glanced down at her. “You’re scared.” 

“Petrified.” 

 Epsom, 1922

Symmetry. Adeline poured herself a large glass of whiskey. She kept the bottle next to her as she settled herself on one of the stools. Part of her wanted to laugh at the situation. All things end as they began. From the corner of her eye, she watched Major Campbell take a seat at the opposite end of the bar. She slid the bottle down to him, heard him pour a portion into his own glass. 

“There’s still one thing I’ve not quite sorted out,” Adeline said as she swirled the whiskey in her glass.

“And here you led me to believe you had everything well in hand, Miss Taylor.”

“Oh, I took care of your Field Marshall; his corpse is the reason the King’s guards are making such a fuss. Seems someone reported it had been an attempt on His Majesty's life, and the good Marshall was simply collateral damage. The Irish are proving to be quite clever, and more daring in their maneuvers of late.” 

“You blamed the Fenians?” 

Adeline tossed back the rest of her whiskey. “I cleared my ledger, not one for leaving outstanding debts.” 

“Is that so?” Campbell asked. 

“Aye. He died quickly - if that makes a difference to you. Wasn’t pleasant, but fortunately, I was short on time.” 

“Did you do it yourself, or did you have one of the Peaky Blinder scum do it for you?” 

“Wasn’t Peaky Blinder business, Major. As you informed me, I was specifically chosen for this assignment. Something about my skill set. Information you shouldn’t have been privy to.” She glanced over at him. “How did you learn about Arke, the truth this time, without that nonsense about finding files inside the SIS office.”

“Ah, the one piece of information you’ve yet to divine. I didn’t lie to you about that.” 

Adeline tilted her head, observing his face, his posture. “Perhaps not, but you’re leaving something out, something important that completes the picture. You’re an important man to an important man, but neither of you is important enough to have access to information about me.” 

“Perhaps you’re not as important as you think you are.” 

She looked down at her empty glass and, missed the whiskey the Garrison served. “I would give just about anything, Major Campbell, to be insignificant.” 

“If there is one thing I am certain about concerning you it’s that you were never meant for an insignificant life. If it hadn’t been my desk your file landed on, it would have been another.”

Adeline nodded her head. Perhaps he was correct in his assessment. Nothing simply landed on someone’s desk, certainly not a file so top secret most of the men who knew of its existence were dead. After all, she’d killed them all. Yet, it seemed as though her and Alfie’s lingering fear was justified; they’d missed someone the first time they killed Arke. She couldn’t figure out who it could be that would know not just her name, but her face.

“Just picked my name from a stack of files on your desk?”

Major Campbell took a sip of his drink. “I’d already met you; that’s what caught my attention when I saw your file on my desk. I’ll admit, I had my doubts given what I knew of you, a school teacher in Small Heath being a wartime operative? Now, after working with you, I think the file did you a grave disservice.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It is my contention that if we’d met before the likes of Thomas Shelby caught your attention, we might have found ourselves on the same side, working together.”

“I doubt you would have enjoyed the experience. I’m told, quite often, actually, that I’m rather difficult to work with, even when we’re on the same side.”

Campbell didn’t respond. He finished the whiskey in his glass and stood. Walking to where Adeline still sat, he leaned against the bar.

“Difficult, but valuable. I look forward to working with you in the future, Miss Taylor. Our mission is far from finished.”

The sound of footsteps approaching drew her attention. A small, bittersweet smile graced her face. Closure never quite worked the way she thought it would. She’d expected to feel something…more. When she saw the boys enter the bar, she slid from the stool to greet them.

“Everything sorted?”

Tommy nodded, his eyes fixed on Campbell, who for the first time since he’d entered the room looked nervous.  

“He doesn’t look like much, pet. Much too tidy, right, too clean, to have been such a problem for you.”

Adeline laughed. “Looks can be deceiving. And you’re one to scold me when you toyed with the Italians for as long as you did.”

“Right,” Tommy said, “Let’s get this done before the soldiers and coppers come to clear everyone out.”

“You intend to kill me?” Campbell asked.

“Aye. I’ve no further use for you. Shame for you since I’m convinced you’re someone’s puppet. I thought telling Churchill about me would pull the right string. Seems I miscalculated. Regardless, you’ve brought Arke back from the dead – I’ll not forgive you for that.”

Arthur grabbed Campbell, hauled him over to a chair, and sat him down. Michael hurried to tie him to it.

“Polly know you’re here?” Adeline asked.

Michael glanced up at her, cheeky grin on his face. “She does. Told me to get it fuckin’ right and make her proud.”

Adeline nodded, pleased Polly’d come to her senses. They’d need every advantage they could muster before the dust settled. Everything with Campbell, the Irish, the bloody Field Marshall had been the opening move, something to test the waters.

“Give me his hat,” Adeline demanded, hand out.

With a curious look, Michael snatched it none too gently from Campbell’s head. Alfie handed her a pair of scissors, a knowing look on his face. She took the hat over to the bar and cut it into small pieces. 

“Michael, hold his mouth open.” 

One by one, she shoved each piece into Campbell’s mouth, enjoying the enraged look on his face as Michael tilted his head back.

“I promised myself that day you had me dragged from the house on Watery Lane, that I’d kill you. If you recall, I told you I was making a list of the ways I was going to accomplish that task. Number one was tearing your hat into small pieces, or burning it, and shoving the remains down your throat for you to choke on.”

She finished filling his mouth with as much of the hat as she could fit. Taking a step back, she admired her work. Campbell’s cheeks were red from anger and lack of oxygen, and sweat had begun to gather at his brow. Saliva dripped from his mouth since he was unable to swallow around all the pieces of hat in his mouth. Labored breathing came through his nose and his chest heaved with the effort of it. 

“Tommy?”

He handed her a gun. She placed the barrel against Campbell’s good knee. The fear in his eyes delighted her. Anticipation worked so well in these situations. He knew exactly how it would feel to have a bullet pierce through the delicate bits of his knee. She could linger, draw it out - heighten everything he built up inside his own mind, allow him to be the master of his own torture. Fortunately for him, they were still on a timetable. 

“If you’d had any idea who Arke was, what she was capable of, I think you might have left the file alone, but it’s too late for all that, and I am fond of symmetry. The night I shot you, I regretted only doin’ the one leg as soon as I left the building. Life is too short to live with regret.”

Pressing the barrel more firmly against his knee, just to watch the way he squirmed in the chair, she smiled at him as she squeezed the trigger. His screams were muffled by the bits of his own hat shoved in his mouth. Campbell nearly toppled the chair as he thrashed in his bindings. The movement only made the wound bleed more. Moving to Tommy’s side, she pressed a kiss to his lips.  

“I also wanted to break each of his fingers, and have his tongue nailed to the door of the Garrison, but I don’t want to be selfish. And I know I’ve made you wait to kill him.”

“Pour yourself a drink, eh, love?” Tommy suggested.

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed. “Make yourself all comfy like while we finish ‘im off.”

Doing just that, Adeline walked down the bar, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and sat down on a stool just in time to hear the distinctive sound of a finger breaking. Glancing up, she saw Alfie showing Michael how to do it. Carefully explaining where to pull, to push, which finger to begin with. Tommy and Arthur had both pulled the caps from their heads, no doubt she’d have a pair of eyes to match the tongue

“Do you think you’ve won, Miss Taylor?” 

Adeline looked over just as Arthur knocked Campbell’s face to the side. Mangled bits of his hat sat at his feet covered in blood, and tears, and drool. 

“It’s not always about winning. It could be argued you won, by default or accident, or the hand of God by unearthing Arke,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Can’t change any of that, but this? Our little game of chess, the one you’ve been so fuckin’ smug about, thinking you were winning all along, thinking you were in charge - well, that game I can win. Even if you are just a pawn, removing you from the board might be enough to make the king reveal himself. It’s the long game I’ve been playing, Major Campbell. Shame you never learned that.” 

“This I know,” his voice wheezed from his lips. 

Adeline felt a bit impressed that he could muster words at all.   

“Ahead of you is damnation. But I have the love of God and the certainty of salvation.”

Adeline nodded, finished the drink she’d poured for herself, and stood from the stool, leaving the empty glass next to the gun she’d placed on the bar top. With measured steps she moved to where Campbell hung limply in the chair, supported by the ropes binding him. She knelt down next to him, cupped his blood and tear-stained cheek with her palm, and tilted his head up so their eyes met. 

“Aye. Damnation awaits me, and I’ll greet it like an old friend. And, at that time, I’ll look back on my life, my choices and nod to myself with the knowledge that it was worth it. The sacrifices, the pain - all of it worth it.” Her smile held a sort of mocking pity as she gazed at him. “My dear Major Campbell, when you die, when you embrace this salvation of yours, face your God, will you be able to be honest with yourself, with your God, and claim it was worth it?” 

Oh, the look on his face, the defeat and the anger and the simmering rage would bring her delight for days to come. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I didn’t think so.” 

When she moved back to the bar, she knew the boys would end it quickly. No more sport in it with him so defeated. In the mirror above the bar, her eyes caught sight of Arthur wrapping Major Campbell’s tongue in his handkerchief. She heard Michael and Tommy whispering to each other, and noticed him handing Michael his hat. 

Michael took his eyes. 

Alfie performed a modified circumcision. 

Tommy shot him in the forehead.   

For a moment, the only sound was the distant roar of the crowd. Then the doors burst open and at least a dozen men dressed as coppers flooded into the room. Before they could react, each had at least one gun pointed at them. The man holding her brought his lips to her ear. Adeline’s wide eyes met Tommy’s. Knew he’d do something stupid. Idiot man. She shook her head and watched him grit his teeth. 

“Momento Mori.” 

Ice filled her veins as the whispered words rattled around in her brain. If the man hadn’t had a secure grip on her, she would have fallen to the ground. Impossible scenarios flooded her brain. She’d had this nightmare before. 

Loud enough for the rest of the room to hear, he said, “Come with us quietly, and we leave the rest of ‘em alone. We’re not here for petty gangsters.” 

“Adeline - ”

She ignored Tommy’s shout, shook her head as though it would block out the sound of his voice. She couldn’t look at him. One look at his face and she’d be the one doing something foolish, something that would get them all killed.

Darting her eyes around the room, she caught Alfie’s glance. Silently she pleaded with him to understand. His body tensed, his jaw so tight she feared he’d break a tooth. Squaring her shoulders, Adeline pushed down everything she was feeling. The last bits of herself dissolved as Arke consumed her. She noted the dawning horror of understanding on Alfie’s face. Good. There might still be hope.

“Keep them safe.” 

Taking her statement as agreement, the man holding her began to drag her from the room. She heard the boys struggle, heard them shout after her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she braced herself for the worst. Then, Alfie hollered at them to shut up and she breathed a bit easier. Until she couldn’t hear them anymore. Another part of her heart shattered. Should she have looked at Tommy one last time? Taken in his face? Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Cauterized wounds healed best.    

They loaded her into a police wagon. She snorted as they settled in the back with her. As if she would be going anywhere, or many any sort of escape attempt. They had maneuvered her beautifully. If she weren’t so upset about the whole thing, she might compliment them. 

“You aren’t coppers.” 

They didn’t answer her as the van began to move. Had Campbell managed to arrange this? Ulster Volunteers perhaps? No, that wouldn’t explain the key phrase so cleverly whispered into her ear. Might be Churchill who sent them to collect her, to ensure his weapon remained within reach. He might be powerful enough to have access to that information. Or perhaps, a different file had found its way to his desk. Her silent puppeteer, working from the shadows. 

She closed her eyes, pictured Tommy’s smile as they drove. She lost track of time as they continued. As the wagon rolled to a stop, she opened her eyes. They handed her down from the van. Glancing around she saw nothing but open fields and a single grave. 

A wry smile touched her lips. Looking up to the sky, she closed her eyes, felt the warmth of the sun on her face. “Momento Mori.” 

Gunshots rang out. 

She heard bodies land near her; braced herself. 

Nothing.

Blinking her eyes open, she choked on the air desperately trying to fill her lungs. 

Impossible. 

The man standing before her was dead.  

“Hello, my dear Arke.”

~FIN~

Master List

Tag List: @stevie75 @mootiemoose​​ @ohshititsfenharel​​ @fairy-witch-bitch @portents​​ @alreadybroken-ts​​ @books-livre @missymurphy1985 @lovemissyhoneybee​ @theshelbyclan @highgardenrosexx @dolllol2405

[ajokeformur-ray]

Sometimes I wanna talk about the very real ways in which Arthur Fleck saved my life in 2019, but I never do so to the full extent because a) it would most likely trigger some people and I don’t wanna do that at all, especially not in the name of expressing myself, and b) some things are meant to stay between you and the bathroom floor at 3am.

It’s impressive how many times Arthur Fleck has given me the strength to save myself, to scoop myself up off the floor at 3am after crying my eyes out, to not follow my intrusive thoughts of cutting all my hair off because I feel so often like I don’t deserve happiness and my hair is one of the few parts of my body I truly love and feel a connection to, to make a meal when I would rather skip and let myself rot, to not want to go to work but doing it anyway because I know it’s what he would want, to take my time brushing my hair because he wouldn’t want me to hurt myself just to get it done faster, to take care of myself when I just don’t care anymore, to try when I don’t think I have it in me anymore… the amount of strength, joy, courage, determination, and “I’ll just do it for one more day” I’ve received from him, is immeasurable. I got a job in a care home, which gifts me with the opportunity of being able to help people because he inspired that in me. I’m doing a psychology with counselling honours degree because I want to help the real life Arthurs of the world, like my brother, who slip between the societal cracks never to return again unless someone is willing to dig them out. He changed my life, saved it, made it better, taught me better ways of being, healthier ways.

Arthur Fleck really DID save my life, he saved me in 2019 and many a time since, and I’ll forever and ever and ever be grateful for the fact that the world got gifted with such a phenomenal character. I’ll truly carry him with me forever, always trying to do and be in ways he would be proud of, as a way to honour all the things he’s given me the strength to do, all the times he’s helped me to save myself. I would not be HERE, I would not be who I am or where I am, if it hadn’t been for Arthur. It sounds so dramatic, but I can’t properly articulate the seriousness of this post. The people who know, though, know.

I just… I’m curled up in bed right now watching Joker and eating coffee ice cream to sign off the end of another busy day which is full of too much work, too much stress, and not enough time. My body isn’t enough, most days, for all the things I have to squeeze into one day every day, but here right now, under my Joker blanket and hugging my Joker cushion while I watch the film and let my body and mind rest, I feel the most at peace I’ve been all week. My chest is still a little tight, but by the end of the film, that’ll totally go away. Arthur literally and metaphorically makes it easier to breathe and that’s everything.

It seems a bit… redundant to say that I love Arthur Fleck, but I do. I really do.

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Subway Obsessions FemReaders POV ch3

Arthur Fleck x Fem!Reader POV

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: Chapter 3 of the Subway Obsessions series from Fem Readers POV. Y/N is smitten with Arthur. This adventure takes them on a date for the first time. After spending hours at the diner, they head back on the subway. Y/N does not like the crowded space in the subway train car and gets claustrophobic. How is it Arthur always knows the best way to sooth her?

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, piv, unprotected sex, breeding, public exhibitionism, begging, groping, mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of violence (murder), swearing, obsession, self-doubt, fem!reader, romantic smut, fluff (super fluffy)

A/N: Couldn't wait to write this one. Wooo!! Spicy! The subway obsession series continues!!! As always, comment, re-blog, I would love to know what everyone thinks. But please be nice. Enjoy!!

Word Count: 7k

Song Inspiration

SERIES: Subway Obsessions

CHAPTER 3: Easy

"I think I love him," you said aloud, awaiting his call as you do daily. Every second that passed ticking by so slowly. You anticipated this every day, and yet you still awaited so anxiously. It had only been 2 days since you saw him, but since exchanging numbers, you two were all but inseparable. You played that night repeatedly in your mind. You could not believe the ways things went, how far you went. You felt feelings of guilt and shame, but not fully. Only because you had never done something so bold before, so... public! But with Arthur, you did it without question. Mostly, you felt invigorated, energized, happy... and above all, in love. You had only hoped it was not a one-time thing. But you had nothing to worry about as he had so eagerly encouraged staying connected. You exchanged numbers with him that fateful evening. You found each other once more on the train as you had hoped to. That night, Arthur and you rode the last train back together. You could feel yourself falling asleep in his arms as he held you next to him. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, the other on your thigh. You rested your head on his shoulder, then fell to his chest. You were not sure for how long you drifted off for. Him holding you tight, the motions of the train, and having just been thoroughly satisfied played a role you thought. All you know is the way his chest rose and fell as you listened to his heartbeat made you feel whole. It was a space of pure peace. You had been embarrassed, but he was so comfortable and reassuring. Kissing your forehead as you rest upon him, wiping hair away from your face blown across by the wind. You had never even thought about sleeping on the train before, but he made you feel safe and warm. It was too easy. Once you laid your head on his chest, you were lulled to sleep by the soundtrack of his beating heart. It was home. Once you had gotten to your stop, he awoke you with a light kiss. "Y/N, were here," he smiled.

You two wandered for a while, walking the streets closest to your home, not wanting the night to end. You had found a small park nestled in between some of the apartment buildings nearby with swings and stopped there for a while. You talked and swung, enjoying each others company. You kept sneaking in comments about your earlier activities. Trying to get a rise out of him. How he made you feel so good, how he felt so good, how fucking sexy he is. Just pouring positivity into him any chance you got. He made you feel special, and you wanted him to feel the same. You contstantly worried what he thought of you. You by no means perfect or truly healed, he just made you feel that way. He would chuckle sheepishly. He was still so timid, so shy. It was endearing. It only made you want him more. His smile was so kind, his whole being and the air around him just felt better, easier to breath. You stood, getting off your swing, stepping over to him as he slowed, grabbing his legs and leaning in for a kiss. You and him had kissed for what felt like hours, it was only moments. He would grab your face, your sides and your back. His touch, so tender, so purposeful.

As the night went on, you two eventually parted ways. He walked you to your door from the park, a block or two away, holding hands as you walked. He initiated holding your hand and insisted you walk on the inside of the curb. He was literally so cute. He was the most enchanting man you’ve ever met. You two stood at your door, not wanting to leave. You wanted him to come inside, to stay the night, but you knew he had his own responsibilities. He looked at you with a coy smile before suggesting you exchange numbers. The way you fumbled your bag to get your phone out to put his number in must have looked ridiculous, you thought. He seemed not to care, trying to help you manage your things and not drop anything. He put his name in your phone with a little heart, and so did you.

After exchanging numbers, he pulled you in once more for a long, passionate kiss after saying goodbye, his hand at your lower back, leaning you back and kissing you intensely. A newly discovered weak spot you had for him, when he did this, you melted within. You knew you’d see him again but still kissed him as if it was the last time you’d ever get to, wanting to make an impression that would have him coming back. You didn’t want him to leave and felt the pangs of loneliness the second his foot left your porch. He descended the steps, his hands holding yours until the distance became too much, and he let go finger by finger. You watched as he walked away, gingerly giving him a wave. "Be safe, Arthur! Let me know when you’ve gotten home." You called out after him. "I'll text you when I get home and call you in the morning," he reassured, turning back to see if you were still watching as he left. Just like the first night, you helplessly watched as his figure shrunk into the distance.

After he left, you collapsed into your bed in a sigh of content and joy. You remembered fondly how his hands touched your body, each finger, exploring you with curiosity. Replaying the gentle touches in your mind like a broken record and giggling at the thought. You traced where his fingers touched, re living those precious moments. How they tickled you and teased you. How he looked at you so tenderly, his beautiful eyes devouring you, a look of hunger so inviting. He attended to your every need and more in those special moments. You both completely opened up to each other. How he kissed you so gently yet so feverishly, like he needed you, longed for you. Just thinking about it made your hair stand on end, and chills would race up your spine, your heart, so full. You felt wholeness. Not just with him, but just having known him both personally, as a friend, romantically and intimately as a lover. Replaying those moments within your mind almost constantly. Hoping to feel those sensations again. To feel his touch, his breath on your skin, and his eyes wandering your body, gazing into you, loving you. It made you want to wake up every morning. He was your last thought before drifting off to sleep and your first thought as your brain started waking up in the morning.

The days you went without seeing him were dull, empty, and full of anticipation. You were able to hold yourself over knowing you would see him again, and that you get to speak to him daily. Every morning he would send you a text. "Good morning pretty". You looked forward to that text everyday. Knowing he was thinking about you melted your heart, the feeling was mutual. Each day, growing closer and closer to him. You two would spend hours talking on the phone about everything. There was so much to learn about one another, so much to talk about. There was never an awkward silence. You would ask about his day, how he was doing, and when you would see each other again, he would ask the same. Scheduling was a bit difficult at times with him working days and you working nights so you spent a lot of time talking. You didn’t mind, it gave you the opportunity to continue growing your connection with him. Sometimes you or he would be busy with errands or household chores and would just leave your phones on to hear the other person, being there for each other even if you couldn't be physically, but still being a presence. You wanted so bad to see him again. To feel his lips pressed against yours. A deep sense of longing and loneliness filled the air when he wasn’t around. Like a stormy cloud following you around all day. He brightened that for you, made the negativity disappear.

Every time your phone chimed for a message or rang the tune you had set as his, your heart fluttered, and your stomach flipped. Like riding a roller coaster, he made you giddy with excitement and childlike fascination. You always picked up the phone with a boisterous "Arthur!" Unable to contain your happiness. He always laughed and repeated back, "Y/N!" While you both laughed for a moment. Even on days he found it particularly hard to be positive, he remained so for you, you could tell. You could always hear it in his voice underneath. You've gotten to know him pretty well over the last couple of days. It seemed like a short time, but you truly felt like you knew him, like you’d known him forever. A long lost love, like the other part of you. A missing puzzle piece that fit so perfectly with you. When he was upset, you felt it too, and it hurt. You internalized it. Always trying to find ways to help him or make him feel better. A lot of times, it just meant listening to him. Letting him vent. He would follow it up with such praise. Happy you were there to just be there and listen. Something he says no one does for him in his life. You hated how the world around him treated him and the cards he had been dealt. He may have vowed to protect you, but you had sworn to yourself you would protect him as well. Protect his peace, be his peace. When he told you about how he was jumped you all but got up yourself to go find those low life mother fuckers and deal with the problem. It brought out parts of your psyche you had dealt with so long ago. The anger that consumed you was lethal. And you would do whatever you needed to. Healed or not. You wanted to be his safe space, the person he could come home to. No judgements, no anger, no hate, just love, compassion, and understanding.

On the days that were particularly hard for him, you were his person to vent to. No matter what he said or did regardless of the context, you were there for him in any capacity he needed. You would run to him at the drop of a hat if he needed. Sometimes you felt like you needed it too. You wanted to go to him, to sooth him. However he wanted it. But just like you were his comfort, he was for you as well. On bad days for you, you would await his call. Eager to hear his voice, it soothed you. Just knowing the person on the other end of the phone cared enough to listen meant the world. Arthur was your world, you didn’t deny that. Every thought, every decision you made wasn’t done without thinking of him. Would he like this? would he want this? what would he think or say or do in this situation? etc. etc. No decision was made by you no matter how small or simple with considering Arthur.

Today Arthur was free! No booking from the job, and you were off as well. Taking some much needed PTO after your little discretion the other night after not showing up. They’ll live, you think. You'd honestly throw it all away for him, but you know he’d never want that of you, so you settled on trying to make it work. Today was that day. He wanted to take you out. "A real date," he had said. His words surrounded you like an orchestra. Date? You giggled like a little girl internally, practically squealing. You were beyond elated, foaming at the mouth from excitement while lust tinged in your core. You took the time to get ready and find a nice outfit, nothing too fancy. You settled on a fitted black button-up sweater and a matching black pleated skirt and a pair of sneakers. If Arthur was going to put his hands on you tonight, you thought you wanted him to have easy access. Just the thought made your palms sweaty.

That night Arthur had showed up to your door to take you to Paulines Diner with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, yellow lilies tied up with a white ribbon. It looked like he picked them and arranged them himself. How thoughtful! He was wearing his yellow corduroy jacket, a button down white dress shirt and brown slacks with Romeos. His hair fell in tufts of loose curls about his face and neck. His smile beamed at you as you opened the door. You took the flowers and embraced him heavily, breathing a long sigh of relief as you swung your arms around his neck and held him in a long hug. Finally, you thought. Finally, you are whole once again. He was chivalrous in the way he courted you. A true gentleman, pulling out your chair, taking your jacket. You imagined his face between your legs again, this kind face sitting in front of you that was a couple nights ago, ravaging you mercilessly. Heat rose in your cheeks as you sat at the table. Trying to push the thoughts aside for the sake of the date, you continued on. The night went off without a hitch. Arthur was the light you so needed in your life.

The dinner was a mostly pleasant experience. A small hole in the wall type of establishment. A neon red sign reading 'Paulines' in a cursive font lit up the entrance leading to an open dining area with red velvet seats and round brown tables. Bright white LED's lined the ceiling while yellow and white checkered tile lined the floor from wall to wall. It was bright and inviting with the smell of fryer oil and marionberry pie still hanging in the air. You both opted for a booth to sit as the waiter handed you both a menu. At one point during your evening after ordering, Arthurs food had come out wrong. He peeked under the bun of his burger and a look of annoyance then resignation crossed his face. With him being too timid to say anything not wanting to cause problems, you spoke up for him. Telling the waiter he had asked for no tomatoes on his burger, and sending it back kindly. The waiter apologized and came back with the correct order without further issue. Arthurs smile beamed with appreciation as if no one had stood up for him before, however simple of an act it might have been. You smile back and wink as you two continued your evening. The food was great, but you two only finished about half of your meals before splitting a slice of pie. You spent most of the time talking and enjoying each other’s company. You watched in amazement at how kind he was, how he spoke, his cadence and tone, always so gentle. It was freeing being with Arthur. You never felt like you had to hide or pretend with him. Being with him was just... easy.

He talked about work and home life, you did as well. He expressed he felt terrible about making you miss work the other night but you reassured him it was a blessing and only wished it had happened sooner. You could see him blush slightly. Not only is that place highly toxic and full of bullies, it all led you to him. He jokingly said you should quit, not knowing you were truly considering it. He brought about new drives within you, made you feel like you could do anything, pursue new goals, new hobbies, new dreams. He was a space of inspiration, your muse, you loved him. After careful thought, yes, you really did, and only felt that love grow every day. Gazing on as he spoke so openly with you, you were fully enamored with him. As the night went on and his coffee kept getting cold, the two of you opted to leave before closing. Bellies full of food and hearts full of content, a night of endless laughs and genuine conversation. All in all, the best date you’ve ever had honestly. Once outside, the rain began to darken every surface. At first a few spots here and there, but soon it was pouring and you found yourselves running for the subway station. It was a short walk, an even shorter run but he stopped you before you reached the stairs, quickly getting soaked under the downpour. He took the moment to kiss you, pulled you close and pressed his lips to yours. One hand holding yours and the other at the small of your back. He quickly stepped forward dipping you and pulling you back up for another kiss. He then spun you around, watching a smile cross your face, your hair clinging to your now wet skin. You kissed him back, deeply, and passionately. He was nothing if not a complete romantic. He had you swooning. The two of you began descending down the long escalator, stealing a kiss from Arthur as you got closer to the platform. You couldn't go long without touching him in some way, he was irresistible.

It was earlier in the evening when the rain had started, still you had spent a good four hours at the diner with him. Upon approaching the subway platform, you noticed there were a lot more people around. It was about 8pm but there was a lot of traffic. Quite noticeably, a lot of people wearing clown masks. You and Arthur had spoken candidly about the cities unrest and the ongoing protests. You just hadn’t seen it for yourself yet. You two related on a lot of the political stuff going on in Gotham. He spoke about it so passionately, something that related to him on a deep personal level. He was noticeably uncomfortable when you brought up the murders that happened a night ago on the subway, but who wouldn't be honestly. A lot of goings on in the city. You never pushed conversations that were possible triggers for him or were just plain uncomfortable. It was something to be mindful about around him, especially knowing you tend to trauma dump and have no filter. Candid conversations could come across as blunt or insensitive and you wanted nothing more than to make sure Arthur felt he could trust you and depend on your kindness. You tried everyday to be better not just for him but for yourself. Having worked on your own mental health struggles for so long, it was a learned behavior you developed having hurt others in the past. We all make mistakes. But with Arthur, you never wanted to, ever. Even though he was so kind, he would probably forgive you.

You knew there were still things Arthur kept from you, but you didn’t push or expect it from him. You knew in time he would come to open up even more if he should so choose to, but you also understood he is still him, and the personal things he’s dealt with were his stories and his alone. You wanted to give him that respect and just hoped he would trust you when he needed. You always reassured him you weren't going anywhere and that no matter what, he can always come to you in any capacity, and you would never judge him. A mutual respect you both shared. Something he deserves.

You both stepped to the platform for the train heading back towards downtown, maybe Arthur could come in tonight, you planned on at least inviting him in for a drink, a little night cap if you will. Sure, you wanted him intimately again, but you also just wanted to hold him close again, to hear his heartbeat as the air from his nose drifted across your forehead. What a sensation and feeling that had been. How close you had felt to him. You haven't been close like this with anyone in years. You found it a chore to be yourself and open up to new people. Being vulnerable was too scary with a past like yours. But Arthur accepted you with open arms.

A yellow stripe lines the ground two feet away from the subways ledge. Arthur held your hand as you two stood there. You leaned slightly against him, resting your head upon his shoulder. You could feel him rest his head upon your head. Such a welcome touch, so affectionate, so wholesome you thought to yourself. Your heart filled with felicity. A familiar hiss and screech approached from the distance as a push of air whips past you and Arthur. The subway train abruptly hauls to a stop, aligning each car door to each platform entrance seamlessly. Immediately you spot a free seat in the back, you two could share. Most of the others were taken up by people sleeping on their sides, scrolling their phones, or talking with others. Those that weren’t sitting swayed with the subway as they held on to rails and the straps that clung to the ceiling poles. Spaces like this made you claustrophobic. There were too many people for your liking. It made you nervous. You could feel your body tense and heart rate increase. As if sensing your fear, Arthur squeezed your hand and led the way, pushing through the crowd of people lining the subway car, finding the elusive empty seat in the back of the train car.

Arthur gives you the window seat, shielding you from the outside world, once again, your hero. Arthur sets the diners’ left overs they had put in a bag for you two lined with red writing that says 'thank you' on it carefully under the seat while eyeing the crowd. A look of pride perhaps, maybe a look of delight? Crossed his face while scanning the crowd. He wore a devilish smile, only seen by you for a moment before turning back to you. His eyes still kind, searching yours. "Are you okay?" He asked authentically while sliding an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. "Yeah , you know its just the crowds. Its a little overwhelming is all. So many people" you said in earnest while laying your head on his shoulder. He was looking at you with concern. "I’m sorry" he replied as if he were the cause. You reassured him you would be fine. "What can I do?" He asked. Without thinking you reply "As long as your here with me and touching me, I think I’ll be okay." you looked up from his shoulder gazing into his eyes as he looked back down at you. He scooted closer while pulling you closer to him, bodies flush against one another. You breathed deeply, knowing it was ok, feeling sheltered in his hold. He rubbed circles with his fingers onto your arm where he held you. Massaging you delicately. His gentle touch sent chills up your arm and down your back. You began remembering once again the things that you did the last time you ride the subway with him. You mind fills with the moments you held dear, how his makeup smeared on his face and you not wanting to wash it from yours that same evening. How he looked at you, the way his eyes roamed your body, studying every curve, every fold. How his voice held you, his grunts and moans, a melodic serenade made just for you. But most of all, his touch, oh how his touch made you tingle all over, made your blood rush to your face and groin.

For you, everything about him yelled powerful. Like a sleeping lion, you felt others must be underestimating him, taking advantage of his gentle and kind nature. You took that pain on yourself and made it your daily job to make him feel appreciated, loved, and revered. Yes, he was powerful. He held power over you, whether he knew it or not. You admired him for being who he was in this world, and appreciated him more and more as time went on.

The train swayed, and with it, its passengers. The cabin was dimly lit, the walls grey, painted with graffiti, and the low hum of buzzing lights and the chatter of people. A typical environment indicative of a typical ride on the subway. Except this night was different, you were with Arthur once again. And he was making you feel all kinds of bold. Despite the crowd, you had eased into it, acclimating to this uncomfortable setting. It was actually not as much of an issue you thought it might be. It wasn’t too crowded after the first stop or two. Not shoulder to shoulder like it was, but still plenty of protestors donning their masks with the uncanny likeness of your lover. Not that it mattered just a passing thought. You were too busy thinking about all the things you wanted to do to him, to show him. You thought about your night ahead, how it might end if he agreed to come inside when you invite him in. The train speaker bleats above, stating there was a breakdown or something to that effect. That you would have to get on the next one behind in about five minutes. People began streaming out the doors as an employee walked through, ensuring it was empty. You and Arthur stand up, grabbing the leftovers under the seat. The last two people to walk out.

Unfortunately everyone had already started pilling into the next train, leaving you and Arthur no where to sit. He once again stood in front pushing through a crowd of maybe 6 people in the aisle and found a spot to stand in the back near a ledge with a rail. He motioned for you to stand in the corner as he slid behind you to hold you in place as the train began its course. He had sat the leftovers on the ledge behind the bars, you set your purse there as well. It almost created a wall from the other folks but not realistically. Enough that you felt a bit better, a bit more separate from the crowd. You were still a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people you had to share space with, but you knew Arthur was with you which gave you some peace of mind. Arthurs hand was around your waist with the lightest pressure on your lower abdomen, it felt secure. His hands were balmy, you could almost feel his palms sweating through your sweater. What was he thinking about? You wondered. Were his thoughts as dirty as mine?

The train moved on and people got on and off. Each time the train left the platforms, everyone was in near darkness again, only dimly lit by less than stellar lights that haphazardly lined the ceiling. Wires torn and buzzing as the train swayed and jerked. You loved it when the train would jerk or when it would come to a stop. Each time pushing Arthur into you as you both steadied yourself. He held you still, resting his chin on your shoulder. But every sway of the train made you brush against him in a way that was becoming very noticeable. Maybe you leaned into it every time. Honestly, you couldn’t help it. A nice little excuse to move things along further, why not seize the opportunity? Every time the train car swayed, you would emphasize your movement to shift your stance in front of him, jiggling your cheeks against him, brushing against the stillness in his pants. Every time it happened, he would let out a sharp breath.

You could feel him lean back, bracing himself against the wall by the midway doors that separate the train cars. He gently pulls you back only a step or two and you are flush against him once more. You can feel how hard he is as his cock throbs against your backside. Immediately your face is flush with red. An unknown feeling takes over you, your mind going blank as Arthurs hands begin touching you. The hand he so tightly held you close with was now wandering your chest. Squeezing each mound of flesh through his fingers tugging gently at the fabric. His fingers began pressing through the gaps in the buttons on your sweater, his fingers warm against your skin underneath. He gets his hand through the gaps, popping a button open in the process. He begins grabbing your breasts with his bare hands, your nipples, instantly erect and easily seen through your top. He starts to kiss your neck lightly. Behind your ear and on your shoulders, pulling your hair to the side and kissing your ear lobe. Your eyes dart around the cabin. No one is looking. You watch as people chat, sleep, listen to music and read. All while Arthur is openly groping you in front of them all unbeknownst to them. He knew this train car was a bit more packed and that you’d likely be overwhelmed. He was helping you the best way he knew how and the only way you asked, by touching you.

You turn your head to the side to meet him with a half kiss, sloppy and breathy as he continues to paw at your breasts. One hand ventures down, sliding ever so playfully down your abdomen tickling you. Then, slowly dancing its way up under your skirt. Your breathing hitched as you felt his hand slide down the front of your panties. His hand moved down, trailing your slit stealthily, feeling your wetness. You were dripping with anticipation for him. The moment you felt how hard he was the first time you brushed against him had your mind twisted in a pretzel. Ready to do anything he asked. But he had an air of confidence about him tonight. Pridefully taking what now was his. You offered it so willingly. "Arthur" you panted in his direction. "Please". No sooner than the words left your lips was he sliding his fingers into your cunt. Heat washed over your body, a volcanic flood of passion.

Your whole body lit up at his intimate touch as if it was starved. A slight moan escaped your lips as you felt his fingers penetrate you. Two fingers pulling you to the edge. You leaned back into him, further resting your weight on him, feeling him throb helplessly against you as he fingered you in front of everyone. Luckily for you, your skirt fell loosely over his hand. No one could truly see anything if they looked, but it was painfully obvious what was taking place. You couldn’t see Arthurs face, and so were hoping he was mindful enough to pay attention just in case. He continued, slowly working his fingers into your sopping wet cunt. Your body ready for him, begging for more. You wanted him inside you fully in front of everyone. You no longer cared in this moment. Everyone else just faded away, no one but the two of you mattered.

You could feel Arthur mindlessly grinding into you with every thrust of his fingers. His length pressed up so hard against you. It was not fair. You wanted more, and your body craved him like a drug, and he was teasing you with your fix. With one hand you reach behind you, tracing the outline of his hardened cock against his pants. He hisses at the touch, sucking in air sharply through his teeth and lifting his head up off of your shoulder. You glance back catching his gaze. A look painted his face, a look of skepticism. As if what he was doing was not already in the realms of wildly out there perversions, what was adding in one more thing? Of course you wanted him inside you, but it wasn’t selfish, you wanted him to experience release as well. You imagined it must be painful to be that hard while he toyed with you. You wanted to help him as well, and truly, you could help each other in this moment.

“Arthur, please?” You ask then mouth the words ‘its ok’ to him. His gaze darkens, and his eyes narrow, that look of want overcoming his eyes as they sparkled at you. A smile curls at his lips, and he takes his hands away momentarily, reaching down to undo his pants just enough they won't fall, but enough to unsheathe his manhood. He pushed his hips back slightly, giving him enough room to maneuver. When he pulled down the waistband of his underwear underneath his still belted slacks, his cock flung up standing at attention and pressed against your cheeks perfectly in the center. He used his hands to squeeze your cheeks around his cock as you swayed with the natural movements of the train. You once more lean back into him his cock pressing against your entrance. He hastily reached under your skirt, pulling your panties aside. He then placed a hand on each cheek squeezing them and spreading you while carefully and slowly pushing himself into you. One hand returned to your breast while the other held your hip to him. His hand groping your breasts, one, and then the other while he slowly rocks in and out of you. Careful not to draw any unwanted attention from the other passengers. With your back to him and pressed against him, it probably just looked like you were both standing there…. Well, with his hand in your shirt. But he was careful to move in a way that wasn’t noticeable by anyone in the vicinity. Slowly rocking his hips to and from. You clenched around him, trying hard not to scream out. Small moans escaped your lips, but not loud enough to alert anyone. The sound of the train itself was a loud white nose with unintelligible chatter.

His chin rests on your shoulder, breathing heavy into your ear and whispering praises. He asked if you were ok, if you liked this, and if it made you feel better. You met him with hasty nods as you tried not to scream with pleasure. He was going so slow, so painfully slow. You watched as people talked and laughed, typed on laptops and phones, slept in the corners, people getting on and off the train. You watched as someone ambled out of the seat and off the train right in front of you without looking back. All while Arthur was inside of you. A sea of people going about their daily lives while Arthur fucked you for all to see. He would let out soft little grunts every time he buried himself in you fully. Every push more intense than the last. You hoped for constant stopping and going as the inertia from the brakes forced you on him harder and faster and vice versa when the train would stop or go. You hoped for a rough ride, literally and figuratively. This was so bold of him too, you thought. From what you’ve got to know about him, this didn’t seem like typical baseline behavior, but it wasn’t for you either! Perhaps you brought these traits out of one another, a sleeping confidence only activated by someone akin to your own soul.

Arthurs thrusts became more pronounced. You noticed him bucking harder, still slowly, but he would slam as he went to the full hilt. Causing you to gasp out. His hand immediately shot up from your breasts and covered your mouth. "Shhh, you gotta be good, or they’ll hear us” he whispered in your ear. You nodded to let him know you understood. Of course you did, but it was easier said than done when he was bringing you so close to your end. He held his hand over your mouth, continuing to slam his full length into you. A little more noticeably, probably a lot more noticeably. Deeper and deeper with a blind man’s passion. You reached a hand forward and grabbed a rail to steady yourself. Arthur reached his hands down, grasping your hips tightly and thrusting you back onto him. He fills you completely, a pain that is too pleasurable to measure. He slams one more time, stopping there and holding you to him. You gaze back at him and see him motion to the empty seat in front of you with his head. He sits down somewhere in the middle quickly, his cock red, swollen and flat against his stomach. You follow his lead, and he pulls you on top of him. Away from the sea of faces behind you, you were no longer facing them but facing him. Your main focus, you place a knee on either side of his legs, shifting your panties to the side once more. You grasp him and hold him right below your entrance, he is looking up at you so innocently. His eyes wide, begging for you as you slowly slide down onto him. Taking him in fully, giving him and yourself time to adjust. You think you’d be used to his size by now but this was only your second time making love with him.

You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck, hoping it just looks like you are asleep on him. Hoping no one walks towards the back of the train, hoping no one looks. He takes his hands and places one on each hip, rocking you back and forth on him. His head grinding into your g spot. You follow his lead, rocking and swaying your hips ever so gently and lifting yourself up before coming back down and rocking back again. You kiss his ear and suck his neck, leaving loving marks behind. You whisper things in his ear to tease him, make him blush, knowing anyone could look over and see his face above the seats. You feel his chest rise and fall with each heavy breath he takes. His breathing getting faster and sparser now. Straddling his full length, feeling him fill you, even in a place as public as this, felt so intimate, so private. You could feel yourself approaching the precipice. His cock, hitting the right spot repeatedly in an up and down and forward and back motion. You cooed in his ear singing his praises. Telling him how fucking good it felt when he was inside you, for him to fuck you hard.

You felt waves of pleasure begin to crash, teetering on the surface. You pull back to look at Arthur, his eyes open, feeling you move your head. His head was snapped back, riding the high of pure passion between you two. He was not keeping an eye out, but you couldn’t care less. It looked like both of you were asleep, you hoped. He looked at you, his face full of concentration as you peppered kisses on his forehead and hair. His face grimaces with every thrust between you. As you approached your climax, so did he. The hardest part was not crying out and quietly moaning in his ear as he thrusted, he seed deep within your cunt. Grinding it in with every thrust. You laid your forehead to his, locking eyes as you rocked back and forth with the waves of pleasure that washed over you. Arthur breathed heavily in raspy pants as his cock pulsated deep within you. Your walls clenching tight around him with every pulse that shot through your body making you shiver with each one. Arthur closes his eyes and presses his lips hard to yours in a out of breath kiss. Sloppy, trying to catch each other’s mouths in a kiss while catching your breaths. As the throbbing inside started to subside you remained seated on Arthur. He was still buried deep within you, a spasm erupting every once in awhile sending a shock through him. You had wrapped your arms around his neck holding him close, smelling his essence. The person held in front of you, so vulnerable. It was times like this you could see him clearly, no façade, nothing to prove, but everything to give. So pure of heart and of intention. You glance back, the subway train now nearly empty. When did that happen? Where are we? Did we miss any stops? Shit, you think to yourself. But it mattered not. Tonight, he was coming home with you. You weren’t done yet, unsure you ever would be, but never wanted to be. As you cradled yourself in his embrace and him in yours, you thought right here right now, with him, there was no where else you would rather be. You only wished for the night to continue…

[these-written-reveries]

✧REQUEST INFO✧

ABOUT THE REQUESTS:

Status: Open

➺You can send your request here (please read below if you haven’t already!)

➺It may take me a while to fulfill them and I may not fulfill them in order. I will not give any time frames as to when I will get around to fulfilling requests. I promise I will do my best to get to them asap!

➺Anons sending me spicy requests, you're agreeing and confirming that you're 18+. Users below the age of 18 are not permitted to send such requests and will be blocked.

➺To make things more inclusive, I prefer to keep Reader/Y/N’s gender and pronouns neutral, unless important to the story being told. (Note: I do not write male!reader/amab/reader with male anatomy simply because I’m not comfortable/confident writing that. Sorry!)

➺Just because a specific character isn’t listed below, doesn’t mean I’m not open to writing about them. Ask anyway!

➺If you’re unsure about something pertaining to an idea/request you have, feel free to shoot me a message/ask about it. I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have.

➺I may or may not fulfill your request. I apologize in advance for this. This could be due to a whole list of reasons -such as not having inspiration, too busy with life, it’s simply not for me, etc. I promise it’s not personal!

➺I reserve the right to say no to anything, for any reason, without an explanation.

➺Please be kind and respectful!

MY WRITING PREFERENCES:

➺I LOVE writing fluff/flangst (smut can be a challenge for me, but I’m open to it. *Read below for more info on NSFW content).

➺I specialize in writing happy endings! I do not enjoy writing angsty endings AT ALL and I generally refuse to do it. You want hardcore angst? I’ll give it to you, but it’s coming with a happy ending. Sorry "all hurt, no comfort" lovers, you freakin’ masochists! (jk, I love you, it's just not for me ❤️)

➺I prefer to write romantic reader-insert fics because I’m a huge sap for all the lovey-dovey stuff. That said, I don’t mind writing platonic reader-inserts depending on what it’s about.

REQUEST RULES:

➺No pregnancy/childbirth/etc.

➺No non-con/r*pe

➺No themes such as: inc*st, pedoph*lia, cheating (unless under false assumption, or in the form of a comfort fic, i.e.: Reader’s ex cheated on them and is comforted by -insert character here-).

➺No personalized name fics (reader-insert only).

➺No sad/angsty endings.

➺No permanent death of Reader and/or pairing character (temporary or assumed death for the sake of angst is okay).

*My rules around what NSFW content I’ll write are case-by-case, as well as anything with darker themes. If you have a question about if I'll write something specific or are seeking clarification about any of the info listed here, feel free to ask!

CHARACTERS I’LL WRITE FOR:

*A handful of these characters I have little to no writing experience with, but I listed them anyway to challenge myself! As with all of my writings, I will put in my very best effort to make sure they are as in-character and well-written as possible!

➺My Hero Academia

*I am not fully caught up with the show or the manga, but I know quite a lot of spoilers. That said, I prefer not to write fics that follow in close relation to the plot of MHA. There may be exceptions to this, so don't hesitate to send in your ideas anyway!

Class 1-A:

♡ Katsuki Bakugou

♡ Eijirou Kirishima

♡ Shouto Todoroki

♡ Izuku Midoriya

♡ Denki Kaminari

♡ Jirou Kiyouka

The Big Three:

♡ Tamaki Amajiki

Villains:

♡ Tomura Shigaraki

♡ Touya Todoroki (Dabi)

♡ Himiko Toga

Pro-Heroes:

♡ Keigo Takami (Hawks)

Ships (Poly!Ship x Reader only):

♡ KiriBaku (Kirishima x Bakugou)

*I currently do not have any inspiration to write for the characters listed below, but feel free to send in your requests anyway!

➺Jokers

♡ Arthur Fleck/Phoenix!Joker

♡ Jack Napier/Ledger!Joker

➺Stranger Things

*I will not write any romantic reader-insert fics with Billy Hargrove, Jason Carver, or the kids!

♡ Eddie Munson

♡ Robin Buckley

➺Supernatural

♡ Dean Winchester

♡ Sam Winchester

♡ Castiel

♡ Jack Kline

♡ Charlie Bradbury

REQUEST OUTLINE:

*This is a simple guideline to help get you started with your request in case you’re unsure of what to say.

➺Character:

✧Please specify which character you’d like me to write. (Check list above for which characters I write for.)

➺Premise/Prompt:

✧Include an idea or prompt of what you want me to write about. Be as specific or non-specific as you’d like. If you have a clear idea of what you want, please be as specific/detailed as possible in explaining your request so I can try to write it as close to your vision as possible.

➺Genre/Format (optional):

*If either of these are left out of your request, I will take creative liberty in deciding what it’ll be.

✧Is the story fluff, flangst (fluff + angst), smut, etc.?

✧Would you like a one shot, headcanons, drabble, etc?

➺Pronouns/Gender (optional):

*If not specified, I will most likely keep Reader/Y/N’s pronouns and gender neutral.

✧Specify the pronouns and/or gender of Reader/Y/N. Keep in mind that unless it’s important to the story/context, I prefer to keep things gender-neutral for better inclusivity! (I do not write for male!reader/reader with male anatomy -sorry!)

***

With alllll of that said, you can send your requests here!

♡ Thanks for reading and respecting my rules! ♡