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jokeringcutio · 1 year ago

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Helloooo I have a Halloween request for Arthur Fleck x female reader

I was thinking it could take place on Halloween while he's working for Ha Has, so he's walking home in his clown costume not realizing it's Halloween until he's passing a house/apartment party and gets invited inside by someone assuming he's their friend who also dressed as a clown. Maybe he goes along with it because he's never been to a party he wasn't performing at, but doesn't know how to act. Maybe the host pulls him to introduce to the reader and he has to come clean that he's not the guy everyone thinks he is. And she's just really sweet relieved because she didn't like the guy she thought he was, and tells him how she's never dated so people keep trying to set her up.

So they bond at the party and meet up for coffee or something later. Bonus points if they lose their virginity to each other and fall in love.

Sorry if that's too long or not specific enough. I just like a sweet, supportive, Disney princess type girl that brings out the best in Arthur and vice versa 💞

Arthur Fleck x Reader - Sweet Halloween (contains smut)

AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. More stories will follow this month.

Fandom: Joker 2019 Pairing: Arthur Fleck (as Carnival) x Reader Rating: Explicit Summary: You mistake him for somebody else, but that might be the best thing that happened to the both of you, for you end up losing your virginity to each other.

Warnings: Sexual content, Virginity/First Time.

Those downtrodden streets with their faded yellow lights that made everything seem grey and bleak were familiar to Arthur. As he walked his usual route home, hands buried deep inside of his pockets, clown shoes kicking dirt and thrown-away wrappers and cans. He stared at the potholed pavement. There seemed to be more of a buzz around him, more noises. But he gave it no thought.

His Carnival costume hung loosely around him, his body too thin and too slender. He hadn’t had a good meal for the past God-knows how many weeks, and the lack of food was starting to have its effect on him. Arthur had grown easily tired and vexed and felt as if his hunger had left him completely. And so he kept his eyes pointed at the street, careful where to place his feet in case he might trip over the too-big shoes he had been too tired to swap for his ordinary pair. He would do it at home, he figured. He’d wash off the makeup there.

Being completely focused on the ground in front of his feet, he didn’t notice how he approached a house with an open door. A few young people stood on the porch, observing him as he neared. He felt their gazes, however, and made himself smaller than he was. His shoulders up high, hands even deeper inside his pockets and turned into fists – invisibly to their eyes. He tried not to draw too much attention to himself, eager to pass by without being picked on, laughed at, or even worse – beaten. He knew he was an easy target like this. And though the people he passed usually didn’t care, sometimes they would.

“Ah, there you are.” Before he had time to react, a gentle hand laid firmly upon his arm and he was ushered between the youngsters, pushed passed them, and into the house. It all happened so swiftly, that he had no idea how to react.

Soft hands pushed the small of his back, urging him into a hallway where they paused. Low thumps of music came from down the hall. There definitely was a party going on here. He tried to turn around and protest, but everything was happening way too fast.

“Josh, you can find Emma in the kitchen. She’s busy prepping the punch,” Arthur heard a female voice say from behind. It was a pleasant voice. One that sent sparks of warmth down his tummy.

He slowly turned around to face you, prepared for anything but you. A princess in every sense of the word. From your voice to your looks. You were even dressed in one of the prettiest dresses he had ever seen. Surely, if you were to come to work for Ha-Ha’s you’d be paid maximum wages. You’d have a booking every day. You-

You must be mistaken, he realized crestfallen as he watched you breathlessly. His shoulders slumped, his green eyes upon you. You didn’t want him here. You expected someone else. Some kind of Josh. What should he do? What should he do next?

There was a warm smile on your face. “Come on, let’s get going. I know you came just to see her, and I promise, no one is going to come in between the two of you tonight. This house got more than enough rooms for a bit of privacy.” You smiled at him and, once again, placed your warm hands upon him, pushing against his belly, probably to usher him in the direction of the kitchen. Then your eyes turned wide. Had you spotted he wasn’t Josh?

“Oh, gosh,” you gasped. “You really need to get some food in you. There’s some great apple and cinnamon pumpkin-shaped pies.”

So you hadn’t realized your mix-up, he thought. He followed your gaze as your eyes slid down his form. What must you be thinking of him, he wondered? This shabby clown, tired after a long day’s work. Your eyes darted lower and he followed your gaze. “Your shoes are so big. How can you walk without tripping?” The words spilled from your lips, melodious to his ears. Then your eyes sought his again. But instead of the judgment he had expected, your eyes sparked with joy and admiration. “They are amazing,” you said, warming his heart once more.

He blinked at you, confused. “I- I don’t think,” he started, voice too soft and being drowned out by the loud music that came down the hall. The realization came that you hadn’t heard him when you gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder and smiled.

“I know. Size matters! Well, you have an impressive girth,” you joked.

And then you were gone. The crowd had swallowed you, like a phantom. A ghost.

Arthur stood baffled. Had that just happened? As if in a dream, he glanced around him. The hallway was getting crowded as more people seemed to arrive at the party. He looked desperately but found no clue of you ever having been there. Had he entered the house himself? Had you been another delusion?

He leaned against a wall, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Taking deep breaths, he tried to steady himself. Another delusion, he thought. Another dream vision.

But then, an unfamiliar girl came to stand next to him, dressed as a pirate in a very revealing short array. Her red bouncy curls danced around her when she reached up to pull him into a hug.

“Ah Josh, glad you could make it,” the girl said with a smile. Arthur could see how the lipstick on her lips cracked at the motion. “Come on over, there’s food and drinks waiting.”

Luckily, she let go when Arthur started to feel the hug was getting too suffocating, and then she gestured ahead, urging him to walk into the next room which appeared to be some kind of large hall, decorated as a ballroom. He felt the girl’s eyes upon him for a little longer, but when he glanced behind him she seemed to have turned away. He saw her at the far end of the hall. Not a vision then. But not the woman he had dreamed of either.

Carefully, Arthur, still dressed as Carnival the Clown, entered the festive hall. The chandeliers were adorned with bats and cobwebs. Tiny fake ghosts hung from the ceiling and pumpkins filled the corners, all with faces like clowns. He could not help but chuckle when he saw what a wonderful room he had walked into. Everywhere, people were dancing.

Had he held any hesitation, it vanished when he saw the pumpkin pies the princess of his dreams had told him about. They stood on a table in front of him, looking every bit as delicious as you had told. For once, he thought to himself, you deserve this. “Well,” he nasally said to himself. “I suppose one bite won’t do any harm. After all,” here he suppressed the upwelling laughter that threatened to leave his lips. “They invited me in.”

The Halloween party was in full swing, the room bathed in a dim orange glow from the flickering jack-o'-lanterns lining the walls. Laughter and chatter filled the air as costumed guests mingled and danced. You expertly wove through the crowd, your body swaying to the haunting beats of the music. You were no stranger to dancing; it was an outlet that allowed you to escape the challenges of your life.

As you moved across the floor, a man dressed as a clown caught your eye. The colorful frills of his costume juxtaposed against the dark atmosphere of the party. You’d seen him before. At the time you had believed him to be Josh, that friend that Emma had invited because she wanted to date him. You knew better now. The real Josh had appeared half an hour later. It made you realize you’d invited a stranger into the house.

But this stranger, this man dressed as a clown… he was fetching. There was something about him that lured you in. Now that you knew he wasn’t Emma’s to claim, you became bolder, more daring. Moving closer to him, you deliberately started moving along with him, feeling the beat of the song resonate within you. When he noticed you, his eyes lit up like fireworks, surprise and delight radiating from his gaze.

The clown began to challenge you with his moves, his hips gyrating to the rhythm of the music. He had good moves, you noticed. Every gesture was graceful, like dancing came as natural to him as breathing. The rotating of his hips, while his eyes rested firmly upon you, was an invitation you accepted without hesitation. You danced closer, enticed by the mystery behind the painted face. His movements were fluid and surprisingly graceful, drawing you in even more.

As the song continued, you found yourselves dancing together, his arm snaking around your waist as he twirled you effortlessly. Your bodies pressed close, the heat emanating from him warming you as his scent – a mix of cologne and something uniquely his – intoxicated you. A sense of desire bubbled within you, fueled by the passion of the dance and the enigmatic connection between you two.

He twirled you around again and then pulled you in close, until your back was pressed against his front. You could feel his hot breath tickle your ear. His fingers splayed on your tummy, holding you like a lover’s embrace as you sensually pressed your hips against his. Your bodies fit together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle, and you had to suppress a moan.

The sensation of your bodies colliding with each beat was overwhelming. The dance became a sensual exploration, your bodies speaking a language only the two of you understood. And when the song came to an end, you lamented the fact that Emma stood several feet away, beckoning you to help her bringing the snacks from the kitchen. You reluctantly pulled away, feeling the sudden absence of his warmth. "Sorry,” you whispered, unsure if he could hear you over the starting tunes of a new beat, “I need to go help a friend.”

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you saw the Clown’s lips twitch into a smile. You assumed he had heard you, and quickly turned away, unaware of how the clown doubled over as he watched you go, grabbing his stomach as he tried to bite back the laughter that threatened to spill from his lips. He failed though, and in an attempt to escape the judging gazes from those around him, he turned around and pushed his way through the crowd.

By the time you returned with the snacks, your eyes wandered to find your mysterious dancing clown, but found no trace of him. Crestfallen, you put the snacks down on the table and scanned the room once more. Your clown seemed to have gone. But the tingling sensation deep inside of you still lingered, reminding you of the dance you had just shared.

Time slipped away, the evening deepening as laughter and chatter filled the air. You found yourself wandering outside to get some fresh air. The cool night breeze was a welcome respite from the heat of the party. You’d almost given up on finding him, almost convinced yourself that it didn’t matter, that this stranger you had met was someone you would never see again. But then, there he was.

Sitting on the porch and smoking, was the clown who had captivated you earlier. The sight of him stirred something within you – curiosity, desire, and an undeniable connection that you couldn't shake. You watched him for a moment, silently admiring his enchanting silhouette. Then you stepped closer to him.

"Hey," you called out softly, drawing his attention. “Are you alone?”

His eyes widened in surprise, the cigarette between his fingers momentarily forgotten. As he looked up at you, you caught sight of his vibrantly green eyes and your heart skipped a beat. So beautiful, you thought. You felt your cheeks flush.

"You're a really good dancer," you quickly said, smiling warmly at him.

The man seemed to hesitate, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights, but he quickly recomposed himself. His shoulders relaxed again. "Oh, uh, thank you." He seemed almost embarrassed by the compliment, his cheeks flushing beneath the white face paint.

"Mind if I sit with you?" you asked, gesturing to the empty spot beside him before bunching up your skirt. If you showed him a little leg, well, that wasn’t entirely an accident. You could tell he had seen it, that he must have spotted your bare legs underneath your skirts, perhaps even the outline of your panties, for his cheeks flushed and he quickly glanced away. But you’d seen his pupils dilate.

"Of course not," he replied, snuffing out the cigarette. For a moment he stared ahead while you settled down onto the wooden steps. The warmth of his body radiated through the thin fabric of your costume, sending shivers down your spine.

“I thought I'd dreamed you up." His words caught you by surprise and you stared at him with eyes open wide. When he finally turned to lock gazes with you, his lips carried a shy smile. Almost as if he was afraid to admit it.

“Not a dream,” you assured him. "Definitely real."

For a moment, his smile broadened, an imitation of your own, and you were lost in his eyes. Their depths, their vibrancy… This man made you feel warm and alive.

But then his smile faded like snow in the sun, and he tore his eyes away from yours. Shyly, he looked down at his hands. A deep frown appeared on his face, twisting his features. "I'm sorry,” he said, voice hardly more than a low mumble. “I’d better go.”

He shifted, jumping up to his feet without a warning, but you grasped him by the sleeve, preventing him from stepping away. He turned to look at you, surprise visible on his face.

“Why would you leave now?” you asked, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. Didn’t he feel the same? You could swear he did. You’d seen it in his eyes, how the two of you had been lost in each other’s gaze.

The clown hesitated. You could see the thoughts running wildly inside his head, the deep frown when he licked his lips before he shyly admitted, “Because I am not who you want?”

“Nobody said that,” you smiled, the grasp on his sleeve diminishing until your hand just laid gently upon his arm. There was no pressure there. If he still wanted to leave, he could.

“But I,” his voice had turned nasal, like a whine. Whatever was going through that pretty head of his was making him worried. “I know you mistook me for a friend of yours," he finally admitted, a frown still on his features.

You shook your head and smiled, your hand slipping from his arm for a moment. But he did not run away. Instead, he remained rooted to the spot, standing there, looking down at you with eyes full of uncertainty. It was obvious he wanted to stay. And you did not want him to go.

Your hand reached out once more to gently touch his arm. "I want you to stay," you whispered.

In the dim light of the Halloween-lights, you could see how his eyes widened in surprise. You felt his body grow slack underneath your hand. "All right.”

Slowly, he sat down again. His hip slotted against yours, the warmth instantly returned, making you breathe a sigh of relief. He was here again, where he needed to be.

“My name's Arthur, by the way," he hesitatingly said, as if he were shy to introduce himself to you.

"Nice to meet you, Arthur," you replied, your heart racing as you studied his face. Beneath the makeup, there was a vulnerability that drew you in. Your thoughts raced, emotions swirling as you tried to make sense of the magnetic pull between you two.

"The boy I confused you with, he is Emma’s new friend,” you confessed, your gaze drifting to the ground. "She’s always dating, never able to go without a boyfriend for long, so I hadn’t really seen him yet.”

Arthur remained silent, just watched you, his gaze enough to encourage you. “She keeps trying to set me up, but it never feels right," you quietly admitted, feeling how Arthur shifted by your side. He placed his hands in front of him, fingertips touching.

“Truth is, I've never had a boyfriend before," you continued, voice a soft whisper. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I've never even dated.”

Your eyes gently slid back to seek his. He was still looking at your face, his eyes desperately seeking yours. And when your gazes met, you could tell there was a quiet understanding in his. A deep warmth.

“How come,” he started, but had to pause to clear his throat. His voice was hoarse, filled with emotion. “How come no one ever claimed you as their own? Who wouldn’t want you?” he asked you, warming you up inside because that was a high compliment. Who wouldn’t want you? Who would? Then again, you shrugged and shook your head.

With a small smile, you looked up at him again. “It’s not fully up to them, is it?” you said, a small smile curling your lips. It took him a moment to understand what you were saying, but then his lips curled into a smile as well, the red of his makeup curling upward even more.

“You didn’t want any of them,” he concluded, and you let out a sigh of relief that he caught your meaning.

“Never really felt a click with any of them,” you admitted. Your eyes drifted down to his hands. Carefully, you sought out his hand with your own, placing your palm on top of his. He allowed you to touch him, even waited till you liked up again before he flashed you another smile. Emboldened by his reaction, you gently squeezed his hand.

"I meant what I said earlier on,” you started, shyly but suggestive. “Maybe we could, uh, find some privacy inside?" Your voice was playful, teasing. "There are plenty of rooms."

Arthur's eyes sparked with mischief as he met your boldness head-on. "I'd like that." He returned the squeeze with his hand, then carefully rose, holding your hand in his own. He waited for you to lead the way, an unspoken invitation that sent a thrill through you. With your heart pounding, you led him back into the house, your warm hands still touching. You could hear his rapid breathing and realized he was excited too.

Upon entering one of the unoccupied rooms, you closed the door behind you and locked it, your heart pounding with anticipation. The room was clean enough, pleasant enough for sure. A cream-colored bed, ordinary and plain, invited you to take this further. If Arthur hadn’t wanted to go this far, he would not have followed you in, would he? And so you turned to face Arthur, who stood there, hesitantly shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"Go on," you urged gently, "take off your costume."

He looked at you oddly, as if you had said something preposterous, but then slowly started to unbutton his waistcoat. “You want to do more than just talk,” he murmured, and you blinked at him. For a moment he had you confused.

“I mean,” you started, suddenly feeling insecure. Where you going too fast for him? Was this the right thing to do? “Only if you…”

A deep groan tore from Arthur’s lips, interrupting you before you could finish. The waistcoat slid down his shoulders and without hesitation, he started to unbutton his fly. “You think I’d say no?” his voice was husky and low, thick with arousal. Hearing it sent a spark of lust deep down your core, making your pussy slick and moist at the sound of him.

“Oh no, my beauty,” Arthur continued, the words drawn and a low hum. His hand revealed his aching cock, firmly stroking up and down the hardened flesh. “No, pretty girl, I am going to make you all mine.”

Your mouth had turned dry at the sight of him. So eager. So wanting. “You’re beautiful,” the words spilled from your lips, earning you a groan as Arthur squeezed his cock hard.

“Don’t lie to me, princess. I am not much to look at,” he grunted, moving his hand up and down his shaft. His eyes never left your frame though, silently undressing you with his gaze. “Too thin, too meager. Not much of a man at all.”

“I disagree,” you said without giving it a moment’s thought. Your hands moved up your sides, slowly peeling the dress from your body, revealing all that you had hidden beneath it. His eyes lit up at the sight of your skin, then darkened with sinful desire. "You're more handsome than you give yourself credit for, Arthur."

He blushed at your compliments, his cheeks warming beneath the fading clown makeup. Despite his thin frame, you were drawn to him, captivated by the vulnerability in his eyes. The dress pooled at your feet, and then you stood there in just your underwear. His eyes roved over you, eager to take you all in. You loved it, loved the way his eyes took you in as if he wanted to remember all of you.

"Come here," you whispered, beckoning him closer. And when he was within reach, you cradled his face in your hands, looking deeply into his eyes before pressing a sweet, lingering kiss upon his lips, uncaring of the makeup that would surely smudge your own.

When you broke apart to catch your breath, the words that escaped you were a whisper.

"I want you to be my first, Arthur."

Something seemed to shift within him then, as if your words had unlocked a hidden desire. His restraint vanished, replaced by a hungry passion that matched your own. Arthur's hands found their way to your back, pulling you closer as he returned your kisses, tracing the contours of your body.

The two of you moved together as if you were dancing again. His body fit perfectly against yours, his hands led the way. You didn’t even notice that he had led you toward the bed until you felt the back of your knees bump against the mattress. His wig cap tumbled off his head, revealing brown curls underneath. It suited him, you thought. He was gorgeous.

Another kiss as his lips met yours hungrily. His hands ran past your skin, fondling your breasts eagerly, squeezing a bit too hard but making you feel exceptionally good.

Breaking the kiss you were sharing, you murmured against his skin. "Be gentle with me."

His green eyes sparked as he lay you down on the bed. The world outside the room ceased to exist; all that mattered now was this intimate connection between you and Arthur. The way his hands ran past your body and his fingertips danced down your skin, the way his scent enveloped you entirely like an embrace, the way he sunk deep into your core, letting out a shuddering moan.

If there had been pain initially, it soon ebbed away at his gentleness. He allowed you time to adjust, panting heavily above you while his eyes sought out yours. When you felt he was able to move again you gave an encouraging nod. He followed your command without a pause, gently thrusting his hips, first shallowly but deeper and deeper as time and your body allowed.

There was an experimental thrust of his hips, followed by another moan from his lips. His eyes squeezed close and his face contorted in ecstasy. As he slowly started to pick up a pace, murmuring obscenities about how good this all was, you suddenly realized that this might be his first time as well. As your bodies entwined and he gently rocked inside of you, you arched your back, spreading your legs to give him a little more access to rock deeper inside.

Arthur bit his lip and grunted. Another thrust, this time firmer, bolder. He hit a delicious spot deep inside and your walls fluttered around him as a result. It tore another deep moan from him. Again.

“There,” you pleadingly said, “there.” He obliged, seeking the right angle and thrusting inside of you with deep strokes.

“Is that good, princess?” You heard his low voice rasp. He sounded nearly dangerous now, voice drenched with lust. “Do you like my cock deep inside your pretty little cunt?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, hardly able to speak as pleasure overtook your body. Your pussy clenched down hard on his cock, gripping him like a vice, making him grit his teeth and groan.

“Hmm, too tight, princess,” the low murmur sounded near your ear. He was bent over you, rutting into you like a frenzied animal. You loved this wild side of him, his forceful thrusts. They helped sent you over the edge.

The intensity of your shared passion was overwhelming, yet you both navigated your newfound intimacy with care and tenderness. Your breaths mingled, hearts racing in unison as you reached the peak of your shared experience, an exhilarating crescendo that left you both breathless.

Exhausted and content, you held each other close, your body pressed against Arthur's as he cradled you in his arms. As the adrenaline subsided, you looked into each other's eyes, warmth and affection radiating between you.

"Was this…your first time too?" You gently ran a knuckle past his cheek, caressing him as you softly whispered your question.

His green eyes held yours even as he nodded, barely able to speak as he muttered, "Yes...” A pause, a bob of his throat as he swallowed. And then an admission. “I love you so much."

He buried his face against your shoulder, cradling you close to his chest. His brown curls brushed past the skin of your jaw. A smile formed on your lips as you basked in the feeling of being held in the afterglow. It felt good to be held by this man. It felt good to have been pleasured by him and to know you’d given him pleasure in turn.

You knew that something truly special had just transpired, a moment of beautiful vulnerability shared between two souls in a world where such tenderness was all too rare.

“Happy Halloween,” you whispered.

~ Fin ~

AN: Hope you enjoyed it :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

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jokeringcutio · 2 years ago

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Arthur Fleck/Joker x Reader : Savior Fill (2)

Remember this prompt? Could u please do reader x joker 2019?

Reader protects Arthur (before he turned into joker) from when his sign was taken and she beat the kids up and he won’t ever forget that moment. But now,Arthur turned into the joker, he returns the favour by saving her from bad guys?

And when he saves her, he walks elegantly towards her 😫✨ and says “I missed you, doll” 🫣🫣🫣😭✨

AN: LOOK, it's a second fill to the same prompt 8D I’ve written it in such a way it can also be seen as a modern-day au.

Title: Savior Fandom: Joker 2019 Pairing: Arthur Fleck (Joker) x Reader Rating: Mature for safety. Warnings: Violence, (attempted) sexual assault, Crude Language, Clown beating, Sweet Arthur, Sweet Reader, Blood. ~ Savior Fill : I Need You ~

When you turned the corner down the busy shopping street and into the alley, you were surprised to see a group of five teenage boys hunched over something.

Or rather, someone.

Between the dirt from torn open bins and mud from the fallen rain earlier, lay a man. You squinted to see what was happening but quickly caught on. The boys weren’t trying to help the man up. By the movements they made, your first thought was that they might be dancing. But they weren’t. Not if the only music was the sound of shouts and curses from the boys and the soft whimpers from below their feet.

The man in question lay in the ditch, face shielded from you. But you had caught sight of the oddly colorful curls, a wig, and the oversized shoes. A cardboard sign lay several feet away, folded and covered in dirt and mud. He must be one of those hired promoters, you mused. You disliked guerrilla marketing as much as any other, but beating the man up was going way too far.

These boys were bullying the man, kicking down at his shins and using their feet to bruise him, and perhaps even worse. Behind you, the main street was crowded, and people were shuffling on the sidewalks, but hardly anyone seemed to so much as glance at the sight in front of you. This is the busiest shopping street in the city, why does no one stop? you thought in a panic.

“Hey,” you shouted while sweat formed on your head. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest. Why does no one stop? You thought again. But once they heard your shout, some bystanders turned around and seemed to notice the youths at the side of the road.

Thank God, you tried to calm your wildly beating heart. Your cry made the boys stop their terror and turn towards you. For a moment, you feared they would attack you next, but once they noticed that other people had stopped to look at them, they quickly turned around and fled into one of the alleyways.

Pussies, you thought angrily, but you decided not to chase after them. Instead, you walked over to the crumpled form of the man who lay in the ditch. His arms shielded his chest and face from the brutal attack. But by the sight of him, it hadn’t worked that much. Fresh bruises covered his cheek and his arms, and when he noticed the attackers had stopped and finally dared to look up at you, you saw his lip had been split and blood was running down his nose and into his mouth. He looked horrible. There was no other way to describe this poor man.

“I am so sorry,” you said while kneeling beside him. You brought a careful hand to the man’s shoulder. Your eyes widened slightly when the man smiled up at you. A true bloodied smile. How? you wondered. How can someone who has been hurt this badly still smile? You watched the trail of blood from his nose all the way to his teeth. And then he seemed to lean into your touch.

“What are you apologizing for, love?” the man asked, voice smooth like silk. There was a certain hoarseness to it, a lowness that was reminiscent of smokers. And indeed, a faint scent of cigarettes reached your nose.

What had you been apologizing for, you wondered. And your frown made way for a more innocent expression. “I should have been here sooner,” you whispered.

The stranger in front of you let out an embittered laugh and you waited quietly for him to calm down. His chest convulsed and he brought a first up to his lips. It almost seemed like he coughed, as if he choked on his own laughter, but you kept your hand on his shoulder through it all, trying to give him a little bit of comfort. It seemed to work, and after a full minute or two of painful laughter, the man quieted down.

Once he fell silent, he looked up at you again. Bright green eyes met yours, and you saw the confusion within them. You gently squeezed, mindful not to squeeze too hard in case he’d been bruised there too before you removed your hand from his shoulder.

Swallowing seemed hard as you watched him, but your mouth felt dry and you wanted to ask him how he was doing. You saw his eyes dart down to your lips before they slid up to your eyes again. He observed you as if he’d never seen anyone like you before.

“Should I bring you to a doctor? Do you want to report this to the police?” you asked, hand on your chest to calm your own racing heart.

The man’s eyes slid to your hand and darkened. Then he shook his head. The blood was still streaming from his nose. But he pushed himself up, his oversized coat fell with the motion like water cascading down a waterfall. He was dressed as a clown all right. A tiny hat on top of his wig and a plastic flower pinned to the breast pocket of his coat. He brushed his thin hands past his pants, unknowingly wiping traces of blood all over the brightly colored fabric.

“No, thank you, love. I’m fine,” the man said, and you couldn’t believe your ears. He was fine? Had he looked at himself yet? You frowned up at him, all the skepticism visible in your expression. Now that he stood, you could tell that the man in front of you was far from well. There was something frail about him, perhaps that was why the boys had decided to go after him? He seemed skinny, a certain sadness visible in his eyes. The makeup hid most of his true features, but you thought he must be older than you by at least a decade. Perhaps you were wrong though. Most of these jobs were done by young students such as yourself.

He was clearly bruised, his sign destroyed and his skin tattered. His blood had ruined his costume. He looked like he had stepped out of a horror show. “You can’t go back to work like this,” you gently said, and finally rose from your knees.

Standing in front of him, you could see the stubbornness in his eyes. But there was something else in there. As if he was lost and uncertain. As if he didn’t know what to do with himself now.

You carefully reached for his hand, not caring if anyone was still watching. “Come on,” you whispered while you waited for his fingers to slide into your own. “Let me get you home.”

For a moment, his green gaze lay upon you, intensely. You saw his jaw twitch and knew he considered your offer, but you feared he would reject it and walk away.

Then his fingers were in yours and you smiled.

2. You learned the clown’s name was Arthur Fleck when you walked him home to his apartment that day. It was thanks to you that his boss was informed of his absence from the job and the reason behind it. You had gone to the nearest apothecary to get the right band-aids and disinfectant to help him clean his wounds – as apparently his entire medicine cabinet was off limits and he wasn’t going to allow you to look in there. You ended up home at such a late time that evening, that your parents were on the verge of calling the police.

You explained to them what had happened. How you had saved a clown from being attacked and how you had helped the poor man home. Despite being proud of you, your parents were also extremely worried that you’d gone home with the stranger without notifying them. You had to admit you’d forgotten. You’d been too focused on helping the man. This Arthur.

When at his house, you had helped him clean his face. And when the makeup had been taken off, you’d finally seen him for the very first time. He looked handsome, you had to admit. Definitely older than you, but appealing despite it all.

He’d kept your mind busy for months to come and became your secret little crush. You’d daydream about seeing him again, of accidentally bumping into him in the subway or watching one of his performances as a clown. But despite returning to the main shopping street in the weeks after meeting him, you didn’t catch a glimpse of him again. He just wasn’t there. The shop owner had no need for him and wouldn’t tell you where he had hired the man. Though you had spoken to Arthur’s boss, you couldn’t remember what the company he was working for was called.

You knew where Arthur lived but, the exact route to get there was a blur. You’d been too caught up in chatting with him to actually pay attention to your surroundings. So you made an attempt to find his apartment, but the streets all looked the same to you, and you got no closer to finding his house.

It’s better this way, you thought wryly. Don’t want to come off like a stalker. Then a nice boy from your class caught your attention and he managed to distract you from your secret crush.

He was attending the same courses as you. An attractive young man, closer to your own age, and with similar interests. You allowed yourself to get closer to him because it helped you forget about the unreachable Arthur Fleck.

You hoped this new boy liked you. He seemed to give hints that he did. But the two of you danced around each other, both too shy to ask the other out. Instead, you formed a friendship that made you feel all warm inside. And you forgot the clown you had helped scrambling from the pavement. You forgot about him and thought this might be the end of it all.

Just that one faithful meeting.

A memory of a crush that would never come to fruition. It would be all you ever have of him.

It was broad daylight when it happened. It was summer and you enjoyed your free time by going into the city. You’d nearly forgotten about Arthur. Not fully – he was still in the back of your mind, but the ache from longing for him had become dull and easier to ignore.

You had promised to get your mom some cash from the bank and stood in line, awaiting your appointment, when a group of men rushed into the building, guns drawn. Your heart nearly stopped and frightened, you obeyed their shouts to hold up your hands and then lie down on the floor.

The cool air circulated by the air-conditioning sent goosebumps down your skin as you lay on the cold tiled floor. You were dressed for summer, after all. Shivering, you saw how the group of men made their way to the counter, ordering the staff to hand them all the money they had. While one kept his gun aimed at the woman behind the counter, the others scattered among the visitors, emptying their pockets and taking anything they deemed expensive enough with them.

One of these men came to stand next to you and pushed his foot against your side, the toes of his shoes poked between your ribs painfully and you winced before you rolled to your side. The man looked down at you properly now and a smirk spread on his lips. “I think I’m gonna need more than just your money, pretty little lady.”

You looked up at him in dread. You didn’t know where it came from, but your reply was a thoughtless stammer. “It wasn’t my turn yet,” you whispered, meaning to say that you had not had the chance to collect your money yet. You were broke. Well nearly. But the man didn’t catch on.

“Aww,” he cooed mockingly, “I think it is your turn,” and he leaned forward to grab your arm in a painfully tight grip. You knew it would bruise but were left with no choice but to follow his movements. He forced you up to your feet.

The man pressed you tight against his chest while he held your arm twisted behind your back. He held a painful grip, too tight for comfort. A clear sign that you were not to get away from him.

“Please,” you begged him. No way you were going to let this man get away with whatever plans he had for you.

It was at that moment, that someone’s voice could be heard echoing throughout the bank. “Hey,” it wasn’t a shout, but it had been forceful enough for the men to shut up. An eerie silence fell in which the men turned their heads to greet the newcomer.

In the doorway stood a man, a red suit on, face painted and hair dyed an unnatural tint. You had heard about this man. The Clown Prince Of Crime. Gotham’s latest and most successful criminal.

He stood hunched, a cigarette between his lips while he held a lighter in his left hand. His right hand was in the pocket of his pants, while his left moved slightly, lazily throwing the lighter up before catching it a few times.

Then he tilted his head to look at the men.

“Boss,” the one nearest to the counter began, but their boss shut them up merely by removing his right hand from his pocket and raising his index finger.

“The Joker,” one of the women behind the counter said, breathlessly. Most of the hostages looked at the newcomer in fear. The Joker had rapidly gained a reputation for being one of the most unpredictable and cruelest criminals Gotham had to offer. It was a given that anyone who was aware of who he was, was fearing for their life at this point. Would he set fire to the bank? Would he take a gun and shoot everyone dead? It wouldn’t be the first time he would do such a thing.

You felt a rapid rise in your heart rate, your chest rising and falling rapidly while you tried to breathe. The man’s fingers were still curled around your arm, digging into your skin. But you hardly felt it now that you came face to face with Gotham’s most dangerous and most wanted man in the whole of history.

Joker’s eyes met yours and it felt like lightning struck you. An ice-cold sword pierced through your spine, keeping you pinned to the spot. Those green eyes, you had seen them before. You remembered them. You thought you would never see them again.

Arthur? But that couldn’t be, could it? He was no criminal.

You stood frozen and hardly registered how the Joker shook his head and tusked. His hair, it was his hair. A different color, but you recognized it anywhere. You had dreamed of running your hands through it so often.

“I think you have something of mine there,” was all Joker needed to say for the man to let go of your arm. The man stumbled backward as if scared all of a sudden. So this Joker, this semblance of Arthur, was truly their leader? And they revered him? They did as they were told by him? This cowering frail man that you had saved from teenage boys was now the most wanted man in the whole of Gotham?

And then another scary thought. Had it been his orders to rob the bank then as well?

But your thoughts came to a sudden stop when you saw Arthur’s hand move. It was him, wasn’t it? It truly was Arthur?

The Clown Prince of Crime. He walked elegantly towards you, taking his time, a cigarette in his hand, still burning. Then he brought it to his lips and took a long drag before he exhaled slowly. Little clouds of white swirled up from his lips to disappear into the summer sky.

“I missed you, doll.” ~_~

AN: I take suggestions for a follow up ;D (perhaps smut?)