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thepinkdreamganjaqueen · 1 month ago

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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.

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profeyandere · 5 months ago

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𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒 ─── ☾ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴊᴏᴀǫᴜɪɴ ᴘʜᴏᴇɴɪx ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.9ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴏᴅᴜꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

The soft and warm breeze coming from the deserted Roman streets caused you, as was usual in your slightly anxious and nervous person, a strange feeling of restlessness that many could assimilate due to the strange cool gusts that arose suddenly and chilled anyone who was surrounded by them, but all assumptions disappeared when you stressed to yourself that the reason for your anxiety had begun not long after the sudden death of the former emperor of Rome. Marcus Aurelius, known for being a man as strong as Hercules himself or as wise as the ancient ancestors, had been a second father to you, a man who with his extensive memory told you even the smallest details of each of his adventures in the foreigner and the various conquests that he had managed to make and be victorious around Rome to make his empire one that he had managed to take to Africa, being discovered as a technologically backward continent and very little known by those who were around his Roman kingdom, turning out to be one of the kindest men to those who really knew him, having helped the most impoverished population through various laws and in dire situations, including slaves, women, and children. That man had always taken care of you, he had made you feel protected under his attentive, loving, and proud gaze; He was the father you never had. Although you did not belong to one of the highest social classes, at least you did not belong to one of the lowest, and this, together with the fact that your mother took care of her children since the first of them was born, evidently your arrival into the world. It caused you to spend more time in the Roman palace where the emperor and his children were.

"As thoughtful as always," said a voice behind you that caught your attention, bringing you back to reality with a soft gust of fresh air that made you sigh. "Again, you find yourself thinking, even if you are in the safest place in the whole world, next to me."

That voice, which was usually distant from those who bothered him or showed irritability when directed towards less close people, was now soft and calmer than how you had heard it before. He had been angry before, your husband had been really angry, and now everything seemed more peaceful because he could see your wonderful ethereal figure next to the large balcony of your room.

“I find myself thinking about you, as usual,” you murmured, hoping to show him a little of the affection your heart held for him, slowly turning your body to turn your back to the beautiful view of the empire that loomed beneath your feet, facing the sharp and distant look of the man who had not moved from the main door of the room. "You know I always think about you. I worry about you, especially when you're awake when the moon is so high in the sky."

A soft growl, barely audible, came to you like the roar of a lion. You always liked to show your affection towards him, but you were also aware that he wasn't entirely used to receiving it from anyone other than his sister, even if he had shared his life with you since he was five years old.

Now everything was very different. Commodus was no longer the adorable boy who so often held your hand when he forced you to run with him through the palace corridors, trying to get you to keep up with him so that the guards wouldn't catch you in some absurd game that he thought that it had occurred to him and he would win for being the son of the emperor, even though that was only an excuse to be closer to you and explore that physical contact that he had heard so much about from the cooks; Commodus was no longer the charming boy who so many times tried to sweeten your ear so that you would ride a horse with him despite the various denials you gave him every time he proposed that activity that avoided being malicious, even if the only thing he wanted to feel was it was your arms around his waist. Although, despite all this, and even though Commodus had grown to become the man you know today, there was one thing that had never changed despite the years.

"I don't see the point in waiting up for me. Tomorrow you won't get out of bed until it's late and all I want is to share at least a little of my awakening with my wife's love," he scolded you, trying to be a little serious with you, even if the slight curvature of his lips denoted the opposite. "You do it every night. You wait until I come to the room, whether you long to rest in Morpheus's arms or not."

"You know that I don't like sleeping with light, and I'm aware of how much the darkness terrifies you," you told him, approaching one of the candelabras that rested peacefully on one of the pieces of furniture near your large double bed, ready to make the flames disappear that little by little were consumed. "I don't want you to feel afraid in a place where you should feel at home, much less after the great and important service you offer to Rome."

The emperor felt something strange inside him, he always did when it came to you. Your kindness and serenity, your understanding, and your sweet soul were the attributes that made you the perfect candidate to rule the great Roman empire with him, even if the latter was never to the liking of his late father; He had too many imperfections and had committed terrible acts that not even he would forgive himself if he had to judge himself, but you always seemed to see through it all to the person who was really hiding behind that same layer of grime and horror. You had met a Commodus that no one else was able to see, or perhaps no one wanted to accept that he was there. He had always been despised, you had seen that with the constant rejections of his father as he was always chosen as his last option; He had always been separated and humiliated, being the laughing stock of the guards who were supposed to protect him so much when he was pointed out as a weak man for not being able to withstand the constant beatings when he was trained to be noticed by his own father; He had always been the outcast of his own family, only knowing love through her older sister Lucila and seeing her as the mother he lacked so much during her youth. All of this meant that the only thing he knew, as far as feelings were concerned, was bitterness and loneliness, even if he had you to vent in his moments of greatest weakness.

"As my wife, you are supposed to listen to me," Commodus said in an attempt to appear authoritarian with you, even though he was aware of your stubbornness and how much you didn't like him speaking to you that way, trying to make himself look more strong and imposing in your presence. He was obviously looking for a reaction from you and got it when you raised one of your eyebrows in question. "I can be fine in the dark, I'm not a child anymore."

"Did you stop being a child three days ago? Because remember, my dear Commodus, that three nights ago you were in bed hugging me as if something bad was going to be done to you, begging me for there to be a tiny little flame in sight or a light to illuminate your part of the bed," you answered with a soft sly smile, keeping you close to the last lit lamp that provided light to the room, putting more emphasis on that fear that you had never managed to figure out how to remove; Sometimes it was exasperating not knowing how to help him at times like this. "Your well-being is one of my greatest concerns and, if you do not feel well in the only place where you should by obligation feel comfortable, then it is my duty to do everything possible to make you feel protected."

Moments like those, in which you showed your genuine concern for him, could be very common throughout the days, but he always appreciated them as if they were the first time you said those important and strong words for him.

An attempt at a smile appeared on his face. He gently lifted the cheeks of his lips, which made you feel a little more relieved to see that the tension he had carried with him all day seemed to have momentarily vanished with your short speech. You observed the way in which his tall body, muscled by the various exercises he performed throughout the week and which had apparently begun to deteriorate a little due to the obligation to continue doing other chores, let himself fall, exhausted and exhausted, to the edge of the large imperial bed that had belonged to you since he was crowned emperor, making it bounce softly at how soft it was, while the thin pillows full of feathers sank with their weight towards the defeated side, closing your eyes so that the Darkness slowly surrounded him, and it was only because his eyelids had lowered and not because the last light in his room had faded with the air coming from outside.

Small hands that he would recognize anywhere on Earth, as delicate as glass and as soft as silk, he felt as they were quickly placed on his sharp cheeks that, thinner than they had ever been, showed a slight deterioration in his physical appearance state due to stress. Your hands so loved and tender, gently cradled his face so that he would relax, causing his jaw to relax as he felt your thumbs tracing his bone and there were no longer any frown lines on his forehead frowning from him; Now everything was starting to be different at that late hour of the night.

"How do you do it?" He questioned himself, even though his words escaped from his lips and reached your ears. "How do you make him feel safe with your caresses, more than I could ever be in the company of the entire Roman troop?"

Your laughter flooded his ears in such a perfect way that he couldn't help but accompany your laughter with his own, as if it were an effect that you had on him, allowing you to attract his head towards your body, thus causing his face to be buried on your soft belly covered by a long white silk nightgown.

"I don't know, you answer that question for me."

His greenish eyes, always showing curiosity, slowly rose and drew your elegant dark and slightly moonlit figure to finally meet yours in that dark and dull room in which you were. And that's when he saw it, at that moment he was able to answer himself. Your eyes shone with love, with warmth, with a light so strong that it could guide him back to you if, at any point in his life, he felt lost wherever he went; because you were his light within his world of darkness.

#commodus #commodus x reader #commodus x you #commodus x oc #reader #you #oc #commodus imagines #joaquin phoenix imagines #gladiator 2000 #gladiator

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fleckficgirl · 4 months ago

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Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 12

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: 2093

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

Arthur's Note (see what I did there?): Thanks every so so much for the kind words and encouragement. I didn't realize the new trailer was coming out today but I started writing this fic again about a week ago and I think I'm on a roll! I <3 Arthur Fleck so much and hope you enjoy!

Arthur had insisted on walking you home, had kissed you again at the front door of your apartment building and promised to call you the next morning; you both had the next day off and planned to see each other.

When he pressed his body into you. You could feel he was hard, but restraining himself. Arthur was nothing if not a gentleman. It only made you love him more.

“I'll call you in the morning,” he hummed into your ear.

“First thing in the morning,” you corrected him with a sly grin.

Arthur smiled, blushing. “First thing in the morning.”

You hated to pull yourself away from him. It was crazy: You'd never cared that much about sex, but for the first time in your life, you understood what it felt like to want to ask someone upstairs, what it felt like to actually want someone to spend the night in your bed. But of course, you had your parents to think about and they'd never go for it in a million years.

Arthur watched you get into the elevator. When the doors closed, you felt like you might cry. Reminding yourself you were gonna see him again in twelve hours was the only thing that put your longing heart at ease.

***

It was almost midnight, and your parents usually went to bed around ten, so you were surprised to find them both sitting up on the sofa in the living room, watching what had to be the last half hour of The Murray Franklin Show. They never watched Murray. They never even stayed up this late.

“What’s going on?” you asked as you locked the front door and hung your coat up.

“We’ve been worried sick!” your mother cried as your dad muted the television.

Oh boy. This was already off to a great start.

“Why?” you asked, cocking your head to one side. “I mean, I know it’s almost midnight, but-”

“There’s been another killing on the subways,” she continued. “They think it’s related to what happened to those three Wayne boys a few days ago.”

“You’re kidding,” you sat down on the sofa to face them. “Who’d they kill?”

“A man,” your father answered. “But they don’t know anything else yet. You were out all night and didn’t hear anything about this?”

You shook your head. “No. But it’s getting crazier out there.”

“What exactly did you do tonight?” your father raised an eyebrow.

“Met up with friends,” you answered breezily. Technically you weren’t lying. Arthur was a friend. Sort of.

“That’s interesting,” he continued, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Because those so-called girlfriends of yours called here looking for you. Two different times in fact.”

“They did?”

You gulped, trying to scan your mother's face for some kind of hint to help you navigate the choppy waters of your father’s suspicions. But her “worried sick” face had morphed into her “I’m just gonna stay out of it and keep the peace” face.

Typically a bad sign.

“First Tina and then that other girl…” your father said. “The one with the silly name…”

He looked to your mother who shrugged in response.

“Chantelle,” he finally remembered. And Chantelle said she was calling to find out how your ‘hot date’ went tonight.”

Damn that Chantelle. You knew she had a champagne-and-dial addiction - it was why she was still hooking up with at least five of her ex-boyfriends - but you could still murder her ten times with a hatchet. She had no idea how crazy your dad was.

“I told your father it must have been some kind of practical joke,” your mother finally interjected. “You know, those telephone pranks kids these days like to play on one another?”

You could see she was trying to help you out. And for one crazy second, you considered telling them the truth:

Mom, Dad…I’m in love with a beautiful clown.

No, that wouldn’t go over well at all. They’d hit the roof. In fact, they'd go through the roof.

The less you said about Arthur the better. At least for the time being.

“I did go out with friends,” you explained in as even a tone as you could muster. “I don’t know what Chantelle’s talking about.”

“Which friends?” your mother asked.

“Just some friends…from…from…” you struggled to complete the sentence. You never went anywhere besides work these days, so where the hell would you meet any other friends?

“Some friends from GU?” your mother asked hopefully.

It was perfect. You could have kissed her right then and there. Saved by the mama.

“Yes!” you nodded. “Yes, some friends from college.”

“Honey, that's wonderful!” your mother smiled.

Your father nodded approvingly. “Those are the kinds of people you should be spending time with. People who are serious about their future…as opposed to a couple of strippers.”

“They’re not strippers, Dad!”

He smiled at his own dumb joke and you pursed your lips. Your father never approved of anyone if he didn’t deem them “serious about their future.” The problem was, most of the kids you’d met at Gotham University were entitled assholes from rich families who didn’t actually care about their futures: no matter how badly they fucked up, their privileged parents could afford to yank them out of hot water and they knew it. Your dad had it all wrong. But you didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“How come you look so disheveled?” your father’s voice broke into your thoughts once more.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He pointed at your rumpled clothes.

“Your outfit’s wrinkled, your hair’s a mess. And your makeup…”

“Did something happen tonight, honey?” your mother asked. You could sense the growing concern in both their voices, and it brought you right back to when you’d started having problems at GU. Your poor parents had to watch as their star student daughter - who’d never given them a lick of trouble - suddenly turned into someone they didn’t recognize. Someone they were afraid of.

“Sweetheart,” your mother prodded gently. “You didn’t happen to get into a…a fight or an altercation with anyone tonight, did you?”

You shook your head and laughed, trying your best to put them at ease. “Not that I can remember.”

It was a true enough answer. More true than they needed to know, anyway.

“You can tell us if you’re…struggling,” your father added. “We want to know if something’s going on.”

You shook your head again. “What happened was, the subway was totally jam packed. Maybe it had to do with the killing tonight, I dunno. Anyway, we were stuffed like sardines. I got all pushed around on the train. You know how the people in this city can be.”

“Fucking animals,” he muttered under his breath. You glanced up at the TV where a still-muted Murray seemed to be delivering his closing words. “You’re alright though, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” you assured them both. “Nothing a shower and some shampoo can’t fix.”

You breathed a concealed sigh of relief as you watched your parents breathe one of their own.

You popped up from the sofa and stretched.

“Gonna get ready for bed,” you announced. “See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, sweetie,” your mom called out. “We love you.”

“Love you, too.”

You turned to go to your room and heard your dad unmute the TV, Murray Franklin’s voice ringing out over the orchestra as an organ struck up the groovy chords from his signature closing song:

“Goodnight, and always remember: That’s life!”

You laughed softly to yourself. “That’s life!” you whispered as you dance-glided down the hall and into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

Life really was something, wasn’t it? Especially life in Gotham, a life like yours: one that now had a beautiful man named Arthur Fleck in it.

After the crazy night you’d had, the shower felt like a balm to your soul. You crawled under the cool covers of your bed, still giddy from your date with Arthur and the promise of seeing him tomorrow. As you drifted off to dreamland, you thought about even though your parents drove you up the wall, you loved them and would do anything for them. You hated the toll your problems at GU had had on them - how scared and defenseless they’d been, not knowing how to help you when the shit hit the fan. They didn’t have the resources and privileges of your ex-classmates’ parents, but they’d stood behind you when no one else had. You’d never forget that.

After the nightmare at Gotham U - after everything it’d put you and the people you loved through - you’d vowed to yourself that you’d never be powerless again.

Although you felt powerless to stop the freight train of emotions you felt for Arthur, you decided he was a worthy exception. Arthur also knew what powerlessness felt like. He wasn't like the rest of them. He was the salt of the earth, just like your parents. Just like you.

And as long as you and Arthur had each other’s backs, you told yourself as sleep enveloped your being, nothing could ever take either of your power away again.

Together, you were unstoppable.

***

The phone rang first thing in the morning, just as Arthur promised. Thank GOD your bedroom had its own phone line.

“Hey you!” you answered playfully on the first ring.

“There you are. We’ve been calling you, bitch!”

“Chantelle?” you paused, your breath hitching.

“And Tina’s here,” Chantelle said. “We’re at Ha-Ha’s. You didn’t call either of us back last night so we decided to ambush you first thing in the morning.”

“Oh yeah,” you shook your head. “And by the way, thanks a lot for telling my dad about my ‘hot date’ last night. He was real happy to confront me about that when I got home.”

“So you did come home last night!” Chantelle gasped.

“I told you a million times!” Tina’s annoyed voice rang out in the background. “She wasn’t gonna have sex with him on the first date.”

“So how was it?” Chantelle asked. “Tell us everything!”

“It was…great,” you answered. “He’s…wonderful.”

Chantelle squealed. “Y/N’s going out with a college boy!” She sang.

“Let’s not blow this out of proportion,” Tina countered. “College boys are a dime a dozen. And most of ‘em wouldn’t know how to please a woman even if they majored in it. Gimme the phone, Chantelle.”

You heard the receiver scuffle on their end and Tina’s no-nonsense voice rang in your ear.

“How was the outfit, hair and makeup?” she demanded. “Any mishaps?”

You paused. It would take too long to explain the whole blacking out thing to them, you reasoned. And you didn’t want them to worry.

“Everything went fine,” you said. “You guys did a great job. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I have some very exciting ideas for the next date outfit,” Tina said. “When are you getting here? I’ll fill you in. We’ll try on some samples.”

“I’m off today!” you sang into the phone. “And I’m actually seeing him again this afternoon.”

“What? You slut!”

Chantelle grabbed the phone back. “You’re seeing him again? So soon? Oh my goodness, Y/N, I feel like you’re gonna marry this guy.”

You heard Tina groan in disgust behind Chantelle before snatching the phone back again.

“Then my outfit ideas will have to wait for your third date,” Tina said. “Assuming there is one. What were you planning on wearing today?”

“I dunno,” you glanced around your messy room helplessly. “I haven’t even thought about it.”

“Okay, listen to me, Y/N. You’re an autumn. That means warm skin tones. Understand?”

“Warm skin tones,” you repeated back, even though you had no idea what the hell she was talking about.

“I’m talking greens, I’m talking yellows��come to think of it: do you have anything in peach?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so.”

“Black is fine. Accessorize with those gold hoop earrings. A full face of makeup just like we showed you. But go easy on the blusher, for the love of God.”

“Thanks, Tina.” You laughed.

“Shit. Hoyt’s coming,” Tina warned. “Call us immediately after today’s date ends. We need a detailed play by play so we can mastermind the plan for date number three.”

“I thought you said these college boys were a dime a dozen,” you countered.

“Mastermind your outfit for date number three,” Tina corrected herself. “If you’re gonna date a college douche, the least you can walk away with is a killer wardrobe.”

lmk if you want to be tagged!

✨ Tag list: @fallon779 @mamaferretart @cherryboss713 @lolwey

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knoepfl · 28 days ago

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A Warm Embrace

Characters: - Arthur Fleck (Joker) – A complex and fragile man, struggling with loneliness and illness. - Reader (You) – A loving partner who wants to care for Arthur, showing him compassion and warmth. Trigger Warnings: - References to illness (fever, coughing) - Emotional vulnerability and self-doubt - Mentions of poor self-worth

Masterlist

Summary: Arthur Fleck returns home soaked from the rain and clearly unwell. Despite his resistance, the reader lovingly insists on taking care of him, giving him a warm bath and showing him that he is not alone. Through gentle touches and quiet moments, the reader provides the warmth Arthur so desperately needs, helping him open up emotionally.

Word Count:~5,013

---

The rain poured relentlessly outside, casting a dreary veil over the city. You sat curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the television but not really watching. Your mind was preoccupied, worry gnawing at you as the clock ticked on. Arthur should have been home by now, and the longer he was gone, the more your anxiety grew.

He had been feeling under the weather for the past few days, coughing and sneezing as he tried to carry on with his life. You knew he wasn’t taking care of himself as he should, and it made your heart ache. All you wanted was to nurture him, to be the light in his dark world, but it seemed like every time you reached out, he pulled away, too proud to accept help.

Just as you were about to call him, the front door creaked open, and the sound of dripping water echoed through the hallway. You shot up from the sofa, rushing to see him. Arthur staggered in, drenched from head to toe, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his clothes clinging to his skin. He looked utterly miserable.

“Hey,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Arthur! You’re soaked!” You rushed over to him, instinctively reaching out to help him. “What happened?”

“Just got caught in the rain,” he replied, his voice hoarse and raspy.

“Yeah, I can see that. Come on, let’s get you out of those wet clothes.” You gently took his hand, leading him to the bathroom.

He hesitated, looking down at his drenched attire. “It’s fine. I’ll just change in a minute.

”You frowned, crossing your arms. “Arthur, you’re freezing! You need to warm up.”

He sighed but followed you to the bathroom. You turned on the hot water, letting it fill the tub while you rummaged through the linen closet for a towel and some clean clothes. You pulled out a fluffy towel and a pair of his soft pajamas, handing them to him.

“Here. Just take a quick bath to warm up, okay?” You offered a reassuring smile.

He looked at the tub, then back at you, and you could see the internal struggle in his eyes. “I don’t know. I’m not really the bathing type.

”You chuckled softly. “It’s just a bath, Arthur. You’ll feel better afterward, I promise. Plus, I’ll be here to help you.”

He looked uncertain, but the chill in the air seemed to urge him on. Finally, he nodded, and you stepped out of the bathroom, giving him a moment of privacy to undress. You could hear the water splashing as he climbed into the tub, and you felt a sense of relief that he was finally taking a moment for himself.

When you re-entered the bathroom, steam filled the air, and Arthur was sitting in the tub, his shoulders hunched, looking almost defeated. You knelt beside him, the warmth from the water radiating against your skin.

“See? Isn’t this nice?” you said, your voice gentle.

He offered a small smile, albeit a weary one. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

You took a washcloth and soaked it in the warm water before gently wiping his face. He leaned back a little, his eyes fluttering shut as you worked. “You’re really taking care of me,” he murmured, his voice quiet.

“Of course I am,” you replied softly. “You deserve it. You do so much for everyone else. Let me take care of you for a change.”

His eyes opened, meeting yours, and there was a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. “I don’t want to be a burden.

”You shook your head firmly. “You’re not a burden, Arthur. You’re my partner. I love you, and I want to help.”

He looked away, his expression pained, and you could see the walls he had built up around himself. “I just... I feel weak sometimes.”

You paused, gently cupping his face, urging him to look at you. “It’s okay to feel weak. We all do. But it doesn’t mean you’re not strong, Arthur. Strength is about allowing yourself to be vulnerable.”

He sighed, letting his head fall back against the tub. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It can be. Just let go for a moment.”

You reached for the shampoo, pouring a small amount into your palm before lathering it into his hair. He closed his eyes again, and you could see the tension in his shoulders ease as you massaged his scalp, fingers working through the tangled strands.

“Your hands are magic,” he murmured, a hint of a smile on his lips.

You laughed softly, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “It’s just some shampoo and a little love.”

As you rinsed his hair, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were to have this moment with him. Arthur was often so consumed by his thoughts and struggles, but here, in the warmth of the bathroom, he felt almost at peace.

Once his hair was clean, you turned your attention to his body, gently washing away the grime and stress that clung to him. You took your time, careful to avoid any sensitive areas, but your touch was soft and soothing.

Arthur leaned into your touch, his eyes drifting shut again, and you could see the relief on his face. “You really care about me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

“More than anything,” you replied, your heart swelling with affection. “I just want you to feel better.”

He opened his eyes, looking at you with a mixture of appreciation and something deeper, something that made your heart race. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You smiled brightly. “Well, you don’t have to find out. I’m here, remember?”

With that, you helped him rinse off, and as you wrapped a towel around him, you couldn’t help but notice how fragile he looked, standing there shivering in the warm air. You guided him back to the living room, wrapping him tightly in another blanket, trying to shield him from the chill of the world outside.

“Stay here. I’ll get you something warm to drink,” you said, heading back to the kitchen.

When you returned with a steaming cup of herbal tea, you found Arthur curled up on the sofa, looking far more comfortable than before. He took the mug from your hands, cradling it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a small sip and letting out a soft sigh of contentment.

You settled beside him, leaning into his side. “How do you feel?”

“Better. Much better.” He paused, looking down at you. “You really are amazing, you know that?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I’m just doing what anyone would do.”

“No, you’re special.” He turned to face you fully, his expression earnest. “I don’t deserve you.”

You frowned, shaking your head again. “Don’t say that. You deserve all the love in the world, Arthur.”

He looked away, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts. “It’s hard for me to accept that sometimes.”

You took his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. “It’s okay to feel that way. But I’m here, and I want you to lean on me.”

He took a deep breath, the weight of his struggles apparent in his eyes. “I’ll try. I just—sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in my own thoughts.”

You leaned in closer, resting your head against his shoulder. “Then let me be your life raft. I’ll always be here to pull you back.”

He smiled softly, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, your heart swelling with sincerity.

For a moment, you both sat in silence, sipping your tea, simply enjoying each other’s presence. You could feel the warmth radiating between you, filling the space with a comforting energy.

Eventually, Arthur shifted, looking down at you. “You’re too good for me, you know?”

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh really? Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. “I’m just a mess of a person, and you... you’re so much more.”

You shook your head, sitting up to meet his gaze. “I love you for who you are, Arthur. The messiness and all. You make me happy, and that’s what matters.”

His expression softened, and you could see the love shining in his eyes. “You make me want to be better.”

“Then let me help you be better,” you said softly, resting a hand on his cheek. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. “Okay. I’ll try.”

As the rain continued to patter softly against the window, you wrapped your arms around Arthur, holding him close. He melted against you, the tension in his body dissipating as he relaxed into your embrace.

In that moment, you knew that together, you could weather any storm.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! I wanted this story to capture a softer, more vulnerable side of Arthur Fleck—a side that often gets overlooked. Arthur is a character burdened with pain and loneliness, so I thought it would be heartwarming to explore what it might be like for him to experience real care and kindness from someone who loves him.

If you’re here, I hope this little moment of fluff gave you some comfort too. We all deserve to feel seen and cared for, just like Arthur does in this story. Thank you again, and I’d love to hear your thoughts! Take care, and don’t forget to be kind to yourself. ~♡

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #Joker #fanfic #Joker x reader #Arthur Fleck x you #arthur x reader #joaquin phoenix #joker 2019 #Sick #Illness #Fluff #Love #Fleck #Self doubt #low self worth

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misfitgirlwrites · 5 months ago

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‼️ CLOSED ‼️

It's time!! Thank you to all the likes and reblogs I still get on all my Joker things! I'm excited to add more to what I already have! If you all were here like 500 followers ago, you know the drill:

One reblog is one entry! One like is one entry! Each person can only get TWO possible entries!

There will be three winners!

First Place: A self-insert. Not just the regular reader inserts that I usually write, tell me as much about yourself as you feel comfortable giving away and I will write a story personalized just for you :)

Second Place: An imagine. Much shorter than the self-insert (my max for this will probably be around 400-500 words) and this one will also be personalized if you want!

Third Place: A set of headcanons! This one will also be personalized but much shorter

I WILL write anything NSFW (smut, violence, etc.) but if I do not feel comfortable with a request I WILL NOT write it!

As of now, I write for THESE specific Jokers:

Ledger’s Joker (The Dark Knight)

Jerome and Jeremiah Valeska (Gotham)

Arthur Fleck (Joker)

If there is a Joker you want that isn’t listed just ask me and we can talk about it :))

If you’d like a story for something other than Joker CHECK HERE to see what other fandoms I will write for!

If you happen to like the shows Helluva Boss & Hazbin Hotel, feel free to try your hand at that giveaway too! You CAN win here and there if you're lucky!

This giveaway starts today (June 24th, 2024) and ENDS on Thursday (July 4th, 2024) at 12 p.m. (EST)!

Everyone who enters will be put into a generator and that’s how I will choose the winners!

Good luck and thank you all!!!

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rosesloveletters · 2 years ago

Text

midnight rain.

pairing: Commodus x Fem. Reader

word count: 3,777

warnings: toxic/unhealthy relationship dynamics(?) and mentions of specific gender roles (I don’t know how else to describe it)

summary: A retelling of the ‘frightful dream’ scene . . . Your husband Commodus requests some time alone while he reads scrolls from the senate. When night comes and he still has not sent for you, you take matters into your own hands; you find him fast asleep, but never at peace. // Reader stumbles upon her husband Commodus who’s been crying and offers him comfort.

author’s note: I never thought I’d write for Commodus again and I am so pleased that inspiration struck! A few things before reading: I am not trying to promote toxic masculinity or the idea that men shouldn’t cry or express emotion, but at the time, it would have been viewed as a weakness especially from someone of Commodus’ social standing. I wanted to delve into his mind a little and write a softer side to him that he surely has, but that we did not see too much of onscreen. His descent into madness intrigues me and I wanted to explore that in this fic somewhat. All seriousness aside, I just want to hold Commodus while he cries and writing this allowed me to do so, at least, in some form. If you read this fic, I hope you enjoy it.

Edited.

The emperor was midnight rain.

Winds rich with humidity blew through the open palace halls, carrying the pungent scent of fresh herbs, smoke from guttering torches and the heavy rains yet to come. Storms were brewing on the horizon and while the people of Rome slept, unbeknown to them, there too was a cacophonous melody playing inside of their Caesar’s tired mind.

It was far too late for you to be wandering the palace alone, but Commodus had bid you leave; he was to spend the twilight hours poring over scrolls from the Senate, as his father was apt to do in the past. The young emperor sought not to follow in his father’s footsteps, but be that as it may, some things cannot be helped.

You had busied yourself in the gardens earlier, when the light still stretched across the sky and plunged the Roman landscape in a vibrant orange glow that slowly faded until the wispy clouds high above your head twisted into a mesmerizing purple-pink majesty. You found solace amongst the flowers, watching idly as little bees busily buzzed from bloom to bloom.

When the light died and you still had not been sent for by the emperor, you took leave of the gardens and reentered the palace through the open doors.

Inside, you made yourself comfortable in the library for a few hours to delve into a book or two, devouring the words on each page like your mind was starved of food for thought.

Immersed in another world were you and did not pay mind to the bustling which took place beyond your imaginings.

Servants passed through the halls, completing their evening duties, lighting torches for ease of sight as the night set in, cleaning the already spotless floors, checking and rechecking stock to be certain there was enough of everything… Even the ghastly praetorians and their looming, statuesque figures faded while you were so captivated by ink on a page.

As the pitch black of midnight bled in through the outer walls of the fortress, the hustle and bustle of evening had dissipated considerably and the only prevailing sounds were those of the whispering winds through silk curtains billowing in the minor disturbance or a barely imperceptible clink or grate of armor as a praetorian moved from his post.

Still, no word from your emperor.

That fact disturbed you, though you knew he was safe. The palace would have been thrust into chaos had anything been amiss, yet it still gnawed at you that this was highly unusual.

Commodus was protective to a fault and rarely let you out of his sight for any length of time, but he had been pulled in many a direction for the duration of the week at hand and you had to find entertainment where you could. The Senate and the people of Rome needed him now; you could wait.

When Commodus became emperor, everything changed like midnight.

You put your book back in its place on the shelf and quietly crept from your sanctuary. Your guards, stationed at the door, fell into step behind you and trailed you down the hall like phantoms of night. It felt silly to be so cautious inside the palace, but it was Commodus’ orders; what was the use in listening to him if he was just going to forget about you?

Turning, you dismissed them and, with a shared, confused expression between the two of them, they branched off and left down a side hall.

It appeared that you were finally alone, but such was never the case in Commodus’ domain.

You forged ahead beneath the watchful gaze of praetorians you knew were there, but you could not see them. They were there for your protection, to diligently guard the palace and the emperor, but their strict stoicism and the serious air about them made you nervous. The unwavering loyalty between emperor and his personal guard was strengthened by one man’s resolve, though your Commodus had been plunged into manic paranoia until it became oppressive.

Your footsteps carried, heightened by the fact that there were no other movements or sounds coming from elsewhere to blend with yours.

You took yourself straight to Commodus’ chambers.

There were two guards posted at the doors that were still shut tight. All was as it had been when you left, except these guards were fresh and bright eyed, having replaced the two that had been there before.

You approached them and bid they let you enter, “I request that you allow me access to the emperor’s chambers,” you said.

“Caesar has requested that he not be bothered,” one of them spoke, unconvinced to let you pass despite your connection to the emperor.

“I can assure you that, should Caesar be displeased by my admittance, it will not fall upon your shoulders.”

They seemed uncertain, but soon relented, stood aside and allowed you to enter.

You did not want to disturb him and you did your best to keep any sound of your entrance to a minimum as you slid through the doorway and into the vast room.

The cold floors were contrasted by the wet winds that blew in from the open terrace. Night was well under way and you were worn, though your walk from the library to your emperor’s chambers had accelerated your heartrate considerably. It would be nice to relax with him, alone, if he had found himself at a proper stopping place with his scrolls.

Upon initial inspection, the room looked relatively unchanged. The desk was still covered with open scrolls, parchment and ink. His quill rested idly by and, though all appeared well within your initial inspection, the only thing out of the ordinary was that the emperor was missing from his workspace.

You cast a look over your shoulder, noting the miniature scale of the colosseum was unchanged, and your searching gaze landed on the bed. Commodus was curled in on himself tightly, his back to you, as he snoozed lightly on the plush mattress.

You smiled to yourself, reasoning that he must’ve gotten so absorbed in his work that he’d not realized the time, grown exhausted and retired for the night before he could send for you.

Odd as that may have been, it was plausible. Commodus had never been known to have forgotten you before, but things were different now. He made a conscious effort to please the Senate and that meant spending extra time revisiting scrolls, passing legislation and participating in, as well as negotiating, Rome’s politics with the dry old men your emperor had once been so critical of.

Commodus rarely slept, at least, undisturbed sleep was near impossible for him to achieve. Perhaps the scrolls kept him from thinking of it, you thought, and that was why he had been able to visit the land of dreams, but you were relieved that he had finally found peace.

Your fingers skimmed one of the jade marble pillars as you shifted about the room, uncertain of how you should bridge this gap. Torchlight streamed in from the carved stone latticework, coating half of the room in a spectacle of oddly shaped shafts of light, including the curtains which framed the imperial bed.

To avoid the embarrassment of awakening him, you swiftly removed your sandals so that the noise of you walking would not echo. You shivered as the chill of the marble floor penetrated your skin and sank deep within you – a pleasant reprieve from the humid air.

However, when the wind blew in through the open terrace particularly hard, you drew your yellow stola in closer about your shoulders. You noticed that Commodus’ own garb had been removed – his cape and armor lay on a table not far from the colosseum model – and he slept in just his tunic.

It puzzled you that he lay on top of the linens and your brow creased in thought.

Tentatively, you approached the bed, careful to remember to step up onto the raised platform; the thought of tripping and unceremoniously toppling onto the emperor of Rome as he slept was not a pleasant one, but the thought still made you smile. If something of that nature were to happen, it might make Commodus shriek in terrible fright and send the guards at the door into a frenzy, but once he realized it was only you, there would have been no repercussions, only gentle laughter as he pulled you into the bed beside him.

You had fallen in love with the young Roman prince, before he had become emperor, three summers ago when the heat of late August was not the only thing which left you feeling breathless.

There was nothing he would not have done for you then and that was still the same now, even if everything else was different.

You remembered fondly how he had courted you, eventually asking for your hand in marriage and how you had eagerly accepted. You were wed the summer before this; little did you know those few months would be the last time that things would ever be so simple.

You sank onto the bed and the mattress dipped beneath your weight.

Commodus murmured softly and folded in on himself a bit more, instinctively protective of his vulnerability. It pained you to witness his paranoia, even while he slept. The ever-present thought that at any given moment someone might burst through the door and try to hurt him kept him from ever letting his guard down completely. That, among other things, kept him awake most nights.

The torches and oil lamps still burned bright; the fuel had been replenished earlier by some servants while Commodus was busy with his scrolls. Your heart ached for the young man who never slept in the pitch black of night; he was afraid of the dark and maybe that was why he never would look in the mirror either, because that same darkness lived in him, too.

You were compelled to reach out and touch him, then, gently stroking your hand along the curve of his face and as you did, you gasped in surprise, almost drawing your hand away; his warm cheek was damp with tears.

It had not been long since the emperor had fallen asleep, cried himself to sleep, you painfully reminded yourself.

Why had he not sent for you?

Resisting the urge to wake him, you shifted your weight as you settled in behind him and draped an arm over him. Soon, the solid press of his back against your front eased your nerves and you carefully and deliberately reached up and combed your fingers through his dark hair. He cooed softly in his sleep, sniffling a little as he relaxed beneath your touch. The tension flooded out of his shoulders while you held him like this. Even in his sleep, he could sense that the comfort was yours, brought to him by his cherished wife who loved him more than his own father ever had.

His father.

Commodus had tried to be the son that the great Marcus Aurelius had wanted. He had tried to make his father proud, but nothing he had done was good enough and, what was worse, he did not know why. Why did his father not love him? Commodus did not know the reason, but in the end, it was clear: Marcus Aurelius had longed for a different son.

Since then, Commodus had tried to squeeze love from various sources but it never satisfied him.

Not until he met you.

“My love…” you whispered to him, careful to lift him gently out of his dreams, “please awaken and talk to me.”

Commodus moaned and for a moment you were not sure if he had heard you until he responded with a full-bodied stretch and the rustling of fabric met your ears as he turned to glance at you over his shoulder.

His eyes were green like freshly sliced limes and just as bittersweet; they were red-rimmed and tired, lined with dark circles that alluded to the many nights he had suffered through without sleep.

He said nothing, but turned over until he was able to wrap his arms snugly around your shoulders. He remained that way for a time, clinging to you while his body adjusted to wakefulness after the impromptu nap.

His heavy eyelids fluttered and his head dropped to your shoulder, “I’m sorry…” the apology was whispered into your skin and you almost did not hear him.

When he looked up at you with an almost childlike expression on his face, you cupped his cheek in the palm of your hand and stroked across it with the pad of your thumb, “Commodus,” you started, “is everything alright, my love?”

He craned his neck and kissed your palm, “it is,” he said, “now that you are here.”

Your hand fell away and reached for his, sliding your fingers into the spaces between his own thicker digits. He squeezed you tight, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he looked away again, “I meant to send for you, but I was in such a state…”

He did not need to tell you more. He had been crying, that much was confirmed by the drying tear tracks upon his smooth cheeks and the redness in his eyes. Commodus’ emotions were often left unchecked; he felt so viscerally, violently and brutally and the tears would come, whether they were born out of pure sadness, or frustration and rage.

It was one thing to express emotion, but it was another entirely to witness it from the emperor of Rome.

The only time he could fall apart was when he was by himself.

He was supposed to be a fearless hero but instead he cried more than some women did and that was unacceptable.

At least, it had been for the stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius, who had once grown tired of his son’s outbursts. Commodus doubted it would be any different now. The palace was his own, but this new life was not.

He did not want his servants or his guards to see him crying while asking after you; that was not an image he wished to paint for them.

While he waited for the tears to subside, he had relaxed on the bed until he succumbed to his exhaustion.

“That is alright,” you assured him, “I was reading in the library for a time because I thought you were still at work.”

“No,” he responded, the dulcet tones of his honeyed voice was indicative of sleep, the vestiges of which still clung to him like ivy on stone, “I finished with that some time ago. These senators demand more from me each passing day that I have no choice but to work as I do now, just like my father had done.”

That sentiment hit some nerve within him and was certainly the source of these tears and what had brought them forth, “Commodus,” you repeated his name but the sound of it did not reach him.

He was looking through you, unsettling as that was, he was prone to it. Often did you wonder what he heard and saw in these moments that were lost to the wind and rain. These elements were, too, present within the emperor who was waning into crescent, tearstains glittering like stars on his cheeks – this man was made of midnights and he was hauntingly beautiful.

Only, when the darkness had overtaken him, he did not reemerge anew.

You tenderly kissed his forehead; his skin was warm against your lips. He drew you closer through the barely imperceptible inhale as his nose rested at your collarbone and you tilted your head back, allowing him to find comfort where it was needed.

He had dropped your hand in favor of holding you while his full lips pressed bruising kisses against the bare column of your neck. Your fingers found his hair again, giving it a gentle tug of affection that made him groan appreciatively.

He lifted his head and leaned close, his sweet breath fanning across your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. His eyes flickered in the lamplight as he looked at you, “do you know what my father said once?”

You languidly chased his lips with your own, but he eluded your desires, resolving to let you capture and conquer him in his own time, when he was ready.

“I don’t,” you replied, “won’t you tell me?”

“He said that it’s a dream…a frightful dream, life is.”

You looked into Commodus’ eyes, but he was somewhere else. You did not have the courage to speak up until he asked you, “do you think that’s true?”

You hesitated, momentarily assessing how best to respond.

“Sometimes it is,” you settled on a half-hearted agreement for now and his shoulders slumped into you as though out of some sort of relief.

“And I have only you to share it with…” Commodus’ eyes brimmed with tears and he bit back a sob, “but I have no proper time with you now. It is all like some great nightmare!”

Your arms encircled him comfortingly and you rubbed his back to soothe him, understanding that his tender state was in part the fault of his father who had failed him as a child, but also because Commodus was just so tired. In his fitful sleep, it was difficult to reach him, but even more when he was awake because he could not escape his nightmares even during the day.

There was a slowly burning madness inside of him and soon it would boil over.

But, not tonight.

“Shh, Commodus.”

You held him close while he cried, shoulders shaking with the force of each painful sob that carried and reverberated off the palace walls and made it seem all the louder.

You pulled him in against you, your bodies flush to one another and you could feel his heart beating rapidly against your chest.

Commodus scrounged for love in every aspect of his life, searching for fulfillment in dealings with his guards, the people of Rome and occasionally even the senate. He desired love himself, but he also wanted to be the provider of love to his people because if they respected him then perhaps, they might love him, too.

It was you who gave him what he needed, only, it seemed that it was not enough.

He had an empire to run, scrolls to read, legislation to propose and citizens to care for; Commodus was meant to be an emperor first and a husband, second.

His sobs grew quieter and more restrained, changing from full-bodied cries to soft whimpers. Your cheek rested against the crown of his head, your hand still rubbing his back as you held tight to him.

Many times had you found yourself in this position, but few of them were like this.

The tearful emperor would have been perceived as weak by anyone who might have seen him like this, but not you. You knew what he was capable of, even if no one else did. The moon might only reflect the sun’s light back upon the shadowed earth, but there were things one could only dream of that lurked in the darkness that not even the light of day could brighten. There, too, were demons veiled by the emperor’s dark side and once in a blue moon they were revealed by the light.

He was quiet now, but he breathed deeply, dragging in oxygen harshly through his nose while his cheek rested gently against your chest. He could listen to your heartbeat in this position and his lips bore a marginal smile.

“You know I love you,” Commodus whispered to you in that unassuming, hushed tone his voice took on when he was calm.

His lips found purchase on your neck again and you released a pleased sighed, “and I love you, too.”

The storm had passed.

The drought had been the worst, but the rain was over and the clouds had begun to part; Commodus was returning to himself, and after the downpour, you both would flourish again.

When he was overwhelmed, Commodus had to purge the emotions that consumed him.

“Shall we ready ourselves for bed, darling?” you posed the question as not to disrupt him; he seemed comforted by your closeness, satiated and remedied now that you were in his presence once more.

You felt him nod once, “I think that would be for the best,” he agreed, lifting his head when the sound of rain suddenly flooded into the room.

Beyond your chambers, the sky opened and rain came down from the heavens like you had anticipated might happen into the night. The gods were crying with the emperor, watering the lands of rich, fertile soil for the flowers, plants and food that would grow here.

Commodus smiled wistfully as he gazed out to watch the droplets fall to earth, “What did you mean?” he asked.

The sudden question perplexed you.

“Meant what, darling?”

“That life is a frightful dream, only sometimes,” he clarified, “implying that it is not so all of the time.”

He had turned to look at you and your heart skipped a beat. Your lover’s eyes held their usual mischievous brightness that enchanted you, sparkling like springtime and full of icy vitality. His full lips parted as he waited for your response and you had to steel your imagination against kissing him instead.

Your fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck that had grown long enough to curl a little, “well,” you began and felt him press even closer, if that were possible, as he hung on your every word, “life does often feel like a dream to me, but not always an unpleasant one.”

“Yes,” he appeared childlike as he agreed with you, “I suppose that for all of the unpleasantness, there are still good things.”

“Like you,” you said, “us.”

Commodus expelled a brief, lighthearted chuckle, “you are right about us, my love.”

That is a good thing. We are a good thing.

You heard the admission in his voice, he did not need to say it because you felt it. It was there, in all that he did. You were enough for Commodus and you always would be, even on days when he was pulled in different directions that did not lead to you; he would always come home.

The love was present in the way he held you, kissed you, made time for you, loved you.

Yes, Commodus loved you.

He always had.

#commodus #commodus x reader #commodus x you #emperor commodus #joaquin phoenix #joaquin phoenix x reader #gladiator #gladiator 2000 #biblio :: 📖

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antis-hell · 7 months ago

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Okay yall the autism has gotten to me

(The style I use under the cut)

#dc joker #joker (2019)#the dark knight #heath ledger #joaquin phoenix #batjokes #batman x joker #<- tagging yall for thr special kind of mentally ill you bring to the table/pos

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akasaka · 7 months ago

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galos-writing · 1 year ago

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hey, y'all, uh sorry for my absence but i was so damn busy with uni im sorry T_T i had completed a request i received a long time ago but i accidentally deleted the message, fortunately i copied n pasted the request above the ff itself, so for whoever asked it to me, im so sorryyy and i hope the ff arrives to you Q-Q enjoyyy

Request: Hi! May I ask for Arthur Fleck x gn (*gender neutral) reader where the reader has green eyes and how would he react? Thank you!

You were standing right in front of a vast apartment block completely dumbfounded, you couldn’t believe such a majestic building could erect in a trashcan of a city like Gotham. Indeed, the poor lifestyle was mirrored by the appearance of what would become your new home: broken windows, a neglected shared yard full of trash bags, roaches and sewer rats, and the paint outside grayed or even consumed in some spots.

You made a face at the view, but it was all you could afford at the moment: you would have surely moved as soon as you would have found a job with a good salary. However, the luggage you were holding reminded you that you weren’t living somewhere better than this. You could almost dare to say your new home would be a mansion if compared to your parents’ house; even the rudest flatmate would be nicer than the ones who were supposed to love and support you no matter what, but that instead kicked you out, not even letting you collect all of your stuff. ‘Just your clothes’, they said, ‘and then get the fuck out.’.

Their words were carved in your memory and will probably be forever, you took a deep breath to hold back tears.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the taxi driver behind you, until he honked, startling you. You turned to him, he was visibly pissed, angrily smoking his cigarette butt and then throwing it at your feet, not even putting it out.

“Ya deaf, pal?! I fuckin’ said it’s 50 bucks! Ya gon’ pay me or not?”, he shouted at you, sticking his hand full of rings out towards you, expecting his money on his callous palm. You turned pale at how angry he was and quickly pulled out your wallet to give him his money.

Your anxiety turned into full panic when you saw your wallet was completely empty. Fuck. You were sure your brat of a little brother stole all your money, oh how you wish you were still at your home to strangle him.

“So?”, the taxi driver insisted, pressing on the accelerator to increase the price according to the taximeter. His judgmental beady eyes were scanning you while you started emptying your backpack, in a desperate attempt of finding a single cent in the bottom of it. Nothing, just old stuff, some comic book and clothes. You let out a defeated sigh that made him visibly angrier, and your lips quivered as you opened your mouth to speak the only words he was hoping not to hear.

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t…”

You got cut by a bony and shaky hand extending next to you, handing some banknotes at the taxi driver, who smirked and snatched them from it.

“H…Here…”, a thin male voice shyly stuttered before the money had been literally ripped off his hand. The driver filled his thumb with his gross saliva to start counting the bills, and when he was over he just left in a hurry, not saying a word.

You were at a loss for words due to everything that happened so quickly, but you managed to snap out of your trance and looked at the guy who just saved you from an unpleasant situation.

You were stunned when you saw the appearance of your saviour: a short and slender man who was still standing next to you, his arm was still extended and his eyes were wide open, staring off into space. He seemed to be in his mid-forties but you weren’t sure.

He flinched when you touched his shoulder, and slowly turned his head towards you. His eyes looked so sweet, but they were now so wide, still in shock at what just happened.

“Hey…”, you softly called him, trying to calm him down by awkwardly stroking his shoulder. “A-Are you okay? I’m so sorry you had to get through this, really… I’m willing to give you back your money, for sure, sir.”, you kept telling him, your tone was soft to sooth him, and you sketched an embarrassed smile when he looked at you. He first babbled some letters, as if he was starting the engine of his brain to reconnect and formulate a correct sentence, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. His gaze soon flustered you, making you look away.

“Well, then… It's been a true pleasure to meet you. Thank you again, sir.”, you politely saluted, grabbing your bags and walking to the entrance of the condo where the landlord was waiting for you.

As weeks passed by, some threatening letters from your father didn’t manage to break the new cocoon of comfort you built up all for yourself. You were so proud of your job of house decorating that you couldn’t resist but invite some friends over. What an idiot you felt by seeing your fridge was empty, how were you supposed to have guests over with no food in the house?

You found yourself forced to go emergency grocery shopping the day before their arrival. As you were walking to the grocery store, you had the crippling feeling of being observed, but the thing didn’t scare you too much: lots of people in Gotham were weirdos, or just envious bored fellas who enjoyed watching others to judge them without a reason. When you arrived at the cashier to pay for your stuff, your eyes met a familiar face: the nice nervous man who paid for your taxi! You instinctively smiled and poked his shoulder to catch his attention. When he turned around towards you, his cheeks turned a deep red as you joyfully waved at him.

“We haven’t talked much since you helped me that day, huh?”, you giggled, holding your bag of groceries as you were walking out of the store, followed by Arthur. He didn’t respond, he was too flustered to speak. You turned to him, tilting your head, your face showed concern. For a moment, you decided to ignore your worry and resumed smiling, extending your hand at him.

“I’m (Y/N), by the way. (Y/N) (L/N). We didn’t manage to introduce each other. It’s a pleasure to know you. We do live in the same condo, right?”, you happily asked, patiently waiting for the man to shake your hand. But he didn’t.

“I-I’m Arthur, Arthur Fleck… nice to know you too…”, he shyly murmured after a few seconds, trying to avoid eye contact. You worriedly looked at him again.

“Hey… are you okay? Did… did I say something that offended you?”, you asked, trying to approach him, but he stepped back.

“I have something to confess to you. I, uhm… I followed you… like, stalked you for a while. It’s better you immediately know, I don’t want you to find it out by yourself and get even more scared…”, he admitted, making your face turn pale; that explained your feeling of being observed all the time.

“... why?”, you just asked, feeling numb. You were confused, that man seemed so kind, silent and polite during condo reunions, you couldn’t believe someone like him could do something like that. But you appreciated his honesty, despite the fact you were definitely creeped out by him.

“I… just wanted to make sure you were real. And, y’know, not just some… some kind of delusion.”, he bluntly answered, as his face turned even redder. “It’s just that…”, he kept saying, “ … you quite… caught my attention, not gonna lie. You feel like a fresh breeze in this trash-stuffed pit.”.

His words hit you like a hammer, those were the first kind words someone outside your friends group had told you in weeks. Your eyes filled in tears, but you firstly refused to let them out, giggling.

“I… I don’t know what to say… Just… Thank you so much, Arthur. I’m glad you’re my neighbor. You’re the kindest man I’ve ever met in a long time.”, you told him, touching his shoulder. Your words made him blush even more, but this time a relaxed and genuinely joyful smile appeared on his thin and scarred lips.

“Why did you come to live here, though…? You’re so pure and joyful, your kindness doesn’t belong here…”, he asked, blushing a bit. His question upset you more than you wanted to admit.

“... my parents kicked me out because I refused to work for their shitty business. I wanted to escape that narcissistic and toxic environment to start all over again. And for now living here is all I can afford.”, you gloomingly explained.

He got silent, nodding a bit. His silence made your anxiety grow more than when you announced to your father you had no intention to work for his company.

Arthur noticed you were observing him, and stopped nodding. “ …what?”, he asked.

“What?? Aren’t you gonna say nothing?!”, you asked back, in full panic.

“What do you expect me to say? (Y/N), if there’s something I learned by living in this world is that insecure people will insult everything outside their range of comprehension. But believe me, it’s not worth your tears until you’re happy. That’s life.”, he just said, taken by a moment of confidence, he felt oddly comfortable by speaking so openly to you, for once he didn’t feel unfitting or out of line, he felt heard and he knew his words could be helpful to someone he cared for that was struggling.

“And, in all honesty, I wouldn’t be taken by surprise by your family situation, yet… by, uh…”, he kept going, struggling a bit to say what he was thinking of, but just by looking at you, he suddenly found the courage. He was feeling good by spilling all that out right now, and wanted that wellness to keep going.

“Yet by the fact yours are the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen.”, he suddenly blurted out, making you heavily blush. You looked at him, you could see his wave of confidence disappear to make him blush as well, so much he had to pull on the collar of his shirt.

After some awkward second of silence, you smiled. “Do you mind if we… get back home together?”, you asked. Your proposition took him by surprise this time, making him slowly nod. The two of you walked back to the condo, in complete silence, drowning in fluster, but so happy you had met each other at that moment.

Tags: @darknessisafriend @werewolf-and-go-wild @indieblair @pursuit-of-comedy @ajokeformur-ray @fly-like-a-phoenix @five-miles-over @hebimoonlightwrites @jokerflecker @callmejokerr

#joaquinphoenix #joaquin phoenix #jp #imagine #scenario #joker x reader #joker x you #joker 2019 #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck x you

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ledgerserious8 · 11 months ago

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Up | Joaquin Phoenix & Reader

Warning : Don't copy my writing Don't steal my writing. All rights are reserved for my writing

Genre : Fluffy Cut Relationship

Summary : Waking Up Your Boyfriend In The Morning

Word count : 1.1k

It's was 6:00 and this morning your boyfriend Joaquin have a training for his role in filming but you knew very well when he's cuddle with you he will be so lazy and it's so hard to make him leave for his work

This morning as like every day together but it's was different because you wake up first sometimes he is waking up before but he keep staying in the bed just have a fun with you and spend some time while making jokes

When you wake up and you turned to looked at him as he lay soundly beside you he was so peaceful you know you will be tired for so many try to wake him up but it's still your job as his girlfriend you know that he need to be training with his co-stars in the filming place

'Baby..Joaquin" - you shook him gently but there's no answer but a another try won't hurt

"Baby" - you whispered again as keep shook his shoulder gently this time he's awake but he didn't open his eyes

'Hmm" - just a little humming to answer you he was so lazy this moment

"Won't you wake up now you need to leave baby" - you replied as put a smile on your face just to let him remember what he must do today

But suddenly he opened his eyes softly looking at you..you thought he will get up from the bed but you was wrong when he gets closer to you his nose brushed yours and let his lips against yours..soft kisses

You kissed him back of course but in the same time you want to break the kiss to let him control himself and go to the filming place so you pulled away from the kiss made his eyeshadow looked at you with a question look like 'what's wrong'

'Baby" - he whispered in low tone that made your stomach feel like having many of butterflies

'Yes?" - you answered in the same tone want him to continue his talk

"Just kiss me probably" - he whispered as his hands caresses your face softly

His lips meet yours again and the kiss was deep and disparate as your hands around his neck putting him close to you that made you go back a little and made him top on you

He never want to break the kiss but he know that both of you need to breathe so he pulled away and breaks the kiss while his eyes still on you keeping staring at you like you're his world

'Why you're so touchy today" - you asked him calmly because all the time he's calm and shyly but this morning he was someone else

'Because i missed this i miss your kisses" - he answered smiled at you as came closer against you and kissing you

This handsome guy this morning was like a baby who need attention and love cuddles and kisses from you so when he kissed you again he feel your fingers in his hair as his hands were on your waist pulling you close to him to feel you against him

"Can you get up now?" - you asked him between the kiss and you can feel him smirking

"Okay okay" - he replied shortly as pulled away from the kiss but he give you a kiss on your forehead and nose

He get up to get dressed and he was watching you go back and take his side of the bed that made you hear his giggles about it you know how to make him laugh because you know him very much as much you loved each other

Few minutes and he's back and he was dressed and ready to go to training for his role..he walked around the bed and he sat down on your side of the bed let his fingers moved your hair from your face

"Are you going now?" - you asked him as smiling and keep your eyes closed you could hear him let out a sigh

"Yeah darling but i promise i will back soon" - he answered and this word made your eyes open to see if he mean it

'Really? You won't be late like always?" - you whispered as trying to read his eyes and he give you a nod making you believe him

He pulling you in his lap he like to hold you in his arms tightly before leaving for somewhere this one of his habits he was so warm just a silent hug and soft kisses on your face

'I love you" - he whispered as give you a kiss on your cheek

'Love you too suger guy" - you whispered your nickname for him made him smiling to you

He stood up and left for training of his role in his incoming film he knew you will be sleeping some hours after he left because you Loved his side of the bed so much

Joaquin while he made his way to the team of actors he can feel that he's very lucky to have a girlfriend like you in his life for him you deserve the love and everything that could make you feel happiness because he loves you so much

He will love every morning for you as his girlfriend and his future wife

Your job as his girlfriend every morning is making him..

#actors #celebrities #joaquin phoenix #Joaquin Phoenix imagines #joaquin phoenix x reader #imagines #arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck #Phoenix

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thepinkdreamganjaqueen · 1 month ago

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Subway Obsessions FemReader's POV ch2

Arthur Fleck x Fem!Reader POV

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: Chapter 2 of the Subway Obsessions series from Fem Readers POV. You search for Arthur on the train on a daily occurrence now, and it's become routine. You fantasized about him daily and nightly since your last encounter. You haven't seen him since that night. If you do see him tonight, you're making your move!

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, oral (m and f receiving), piv, unprotected sex, breeding, public exhibitionism, subway cruising, praise, begging, mentions of violence, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of mental disorders, mentions of self-harm (past), stalking, swearing, obsession, D/S implications, self-doubt, fem!reader, romantic smut, fluff, aftercare

A/N: Finally getting to the good stuff here!!! First full-on smut! This was so fun to write and quite uh... descriptive and long. I would also like to say that the duality of these stories when read from either POV, compliment each other so well. Its crazy to see the dynamics in how they see one another. Both carrying self doubt but seeing the other as a powerful and confident creature. Seeing the best in each other and the worst in themselves. I hope they find solace in each other to see their own true potential and know they are both loved and worthy of loving! And as always, I welcome tips, ideas, comments, and criticisms, but please be nice. Cheeers!!

Word Count: 7.8k

SERIES: Subway Obsessions

CHAPTER 2: For Him

You awoke early every day this week. Unable to sleep, your rest tinged with excitement, an unbearable urge to make time go faster. You often would reminisce of the moment you met him. Arthur, your mind warbled at the name, leaving you with a sense of lifting off of the ground. A peculiar feeling that could only be characterized by your longing and lust. For days, you have ached to see him again. So many times, you pictured him looming over you mischievously with a crooked smile on his face, like he wanted nothing more than to devour you… and you’d let him. You had imagined him in the most precarious of situations that often made you blush and would shock most. Once again, you ambled out of bed, still fuzzy from sleep, wiping the dust from your eye. You had this urge since you met him to look your best or to try. You had no idea what he liked or preferred, really. You’d hope to find out. You wanted to be his obsession, wanted him to want you as much as you did him. Did he think about you? You thought. You imagined him pleasuring himself to the thought of you, and a shiver went through to your core and nestled in your nethers where you began to swelter under your clothing. Your throat dry, cheeks brimming a rosey red, you tried to gather yourself to bring these lewd images to fruition… that would mean leaving the house!

So, on you went, doting on yourself unremittingly, trying to create a look you thought he would like. You wanted him to crave you, to seethe in your presence. You picked out a cream colored fuzzy fitted knit sweater so soft to the touch and a black pleated skirt that fluttered down and stopped above your knees. You knew it would billow in the wind, possibly exposing your lacey white cheeky panties. Everything you wore was for his benefit. Some silver accents, a ring, and a pair of knee-high chunky heeled boots. The way they crept up to your knees in a slick black laced up leather, every piece of clothing served a purpose. To drive him crazy. To make his senses tingle. You pictured your boots wrapped around his neck, gipping him and pulling him closer to you. You were plagued with these explicit thoughts for days. Tonight, you left your hair down, brushed out the curls, and let them bounce above your waist and over your shoulders. Cascading onto your chest, outlining your shapely breasts. You hoped this wouldn’t be another night you missed him - because you did, you missed him.

You truly started to worry if it was just a one-off encounter. Nonetheless, you didn’t give up. You couldn’t. He haunted your dreams, your thoughts, completely infiltrating your psyche. In your mind, he was already yours. It's time to make that a reality. So funny, you thought. There was so much confidence I pretended to have when I wouldn’t even know the first thing to say. You told yourself, if you did see him again that you’d try your best not to fuck it up. You didn’t want to scare him or turn him off. A dreadful thought crossed your mind. What if he doesn’t find me attractive? What if he doesn’t like my body? My scars… You stopped the thought. Pushing it away like a child putting their fingers in their ears yelling la la la. You wanted nothing to do with that thought. You bottled it up as you always do, trying not to internalize your fears of rejection and body dysmorphia. I look amazing! You declared, self-talking in the mirror. Say it, just always say it, even if you don’t believe it.

Platform 19 was as dreary and dead as it always is. You passed a couple of hooded figures hiding from society in the corners of the platform under the whine of exposed wires and faulty fluorescents. You kept your distance and headed for the last bench again. This was routine for you now. Every night, you retraced your steps in hopes of seeing Arthur again. Playing out scenes in your mind of how things could go if you saw him and how you would respond, etc. Your mind creating endless possibilities, always ending in your ultimate sexual demise. A familiar breeze approaches, pushing harder as it nears. Your heart leaps into your throat. The train has arrived. You grabbed your things and took a moment to steady yourself, to try and slow your nervous breathing that created a small cloud of foreboding against the cold night air. Your hands were sweating and shaking. You clutched your shoulders inward to avoid the brunt of the cold that roared as the train approached. You were restless as the doors began to open in front of you. So slow, you thought. You began your shakey descent through the corridors holding your breath, tense, heart beating in your throat. You did this every day, the same routine, train car after train car, looking for that familiar face. It had been a few days since you had seen him, but he was constantly on your mind, always nearly within reach, but never truly close enough. You needed to see him again, to hear his voice, to feel his touch.

As you approach the last section of the train, scanning the seats, you lock eyes with someone you immediately recognize as Arthur. That’s definitely him! You thought. Although, he looked different, absolutely captivating, and handsome as always. You let out a long breath. Your chest no longer felt tight. Finally! He raises a hand and waves you over, but you were already heading to him hurriedly without a thought. Practically tripping over yourself, your body taking on its own sentience before your mind could think. Being driven by pure desire, dragged to him mercilessly, you happily obliged. You were once again the only two people on the train. How lucky for you, you thought. How lucky for him! You smirked and giggled internally. Unbelievably striking! His face, decorated with white paint, a red smile that extended past his full lips, a red nose, red drawn on eyebrows, and blue triangles above and below each eye. His suit, a contrast of red, with an orange vest and emerald green undershirt. His hair slicked back messily. It curled at the ends in locks of green that matched his undershirt. He was magnificent! You thought. A work of art and everything you desired in that moment. The way he moved, the way he looked, enchanted you. You were the snake; he was the charmer. He moved, and you moved.

You felt a frigid breeze blow past your face and exposed legs. The doors of the subway train clanked shut with a force that blew through your knees and out the front, pushing the fabric of your skirt upwards and exposing your upper thighs to Arthur. You saw him glance down. His lips curled in as he bit his lower lip. He quickly stood, holding on to a rail with one hand and reaching out with his other. You were mere inches away. He helps you sit down, releasing his grip on the rail and sliding his hand across your lower back, guiding you to the seat closest to the window and sits next to you. There are bench seats in front of you both and behind you, essentially caging you in. You don’t feel threatened. You don’t feel claustrophobic. You feel safe, protected, and secure. Your mind searches, you don’t know what to say, but you play it off coyly. You boast as if you have confidence to hide your true inner demeanor. You were a nervous wreck, but also the most excited you’ve ever been. He was here! Literally within reach, the possibilities flood your mind. You finally caught him, and this time, you were not going to let him go.

When he sat, your shoulders, elbows, hips, and thighs brushed softly against one another. The movement from the train creates and alleviates pressure randomly between you two. Pushing you into one another. Immediate warmth began brewing in the space closest between your bodies. You turn to each other and shift your bodies toward one another. Your knees, pressing into his outer thigh. You straighten out your skirt and move your hair out of your face, then look up at him. He has his arm extended out on the seat behind you. He speaks out. “I'm a clown” a sudden and unexpected sentiment. He seemed to want to explain. However, you hadn't really thought much about it aside from the fact you found it extremely attractive. It was still Arthur, but the look enhanced his features, narrowing his brow and accentuating his jawline. It just felt right. Nothing seemed out of place about this to you, so you didn’t think too much about it.

“I work as a clown for a talent agency” he said while gesturing towards his face with a hand. You listened attentively as his voice caressed the most starved inner parts of your brain. Scratching an itch you didn’t know you had. “But my dream is to become a comedian. I want to bring laughter and joy to the world”. He spoke so honestly and so beautifully. You could hear the pain in his voice he masked. It was endearing, and you thought, how commendable. Such a simple dream but with such big implications and impact. It meant more than him, you thought, how selfless, and how kind. This man you saw before you, so humble and sweet. You felt primal, urges begin to take over your mind, you let them, but maintained a friendly calm exterior… you hoped. “Arthur!” You jested! “I didn’t know you wanted to be a comedian! I love that! And I love the makeup!” You slapped his leg playfully. He smiled, his cheeks creating wide lines rippling the red paint. “Yeah, I uh, have a book I write jokes in and everything! It's got a lot of personal stuff and stuff from my own life, I think that’s what makes the best jokes.” He boasted sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders as he did.

You two began a long, deep conversation as the train crawled through the endless tunnels under the city, and time stood still. The lights from the tunnel flashing across your faces every so often light up the dimly lit train car. You spoke about anything and everything. One conversation led into the next and story after story as you two began getting to know about each other on a deeper level. You spoke about your past, how you grew up in an abusive household with parents who abused drugs, and how you were taken away at five years old due to neglect. He spoke to you about his past and childhood as well, how he was adopted and didn’t know his dad, how he had a neurological condition that caused him to laugh uncontrollably in situations of high stress or emotion. You two spoke about mental health, and he spoke of his need for medications and therapy. Although he seemed apprehensive to speak about many of the deeper topics, perhaps it was a fear of judgment. Nevertheless, you maintained a presence of safety, to be someone he could speak to safely and openly. You, too, have gone through life dealing with these issues. You didn’t feel comfortable telling him about your self-harm scars, though, at least not yet. You felt it was too intense and ashamed. But you related on your mutual need for therapy and the like and spoke honestly about your own diagnosis. You bared your soul to him without hesitation, knowing you are broken, yet doing your best just like him. You sought to make him feel not so alone because, in reality, that’s how he made you feel.

You thought to yourself how lucky you were to find a soul akin to your own with similar relatable experiences. You could help each other through things, learn, and grow. You spoke about life, politics, hopes, dreams, experiences, travel, etc. etc. You watched his face as he spoke, seeing every detail. How his nose crinkles when he smiles, the shape of his nose, the angular shape of his jawline as he opens and closes his mouth. Every lash that fluttered as he blinked. How his forehead moved when he’d raise his eyebrows. You studied him, wanting to know more, to see more. You noted every emotion you saw crossing his face, keeping the images of his face stored somewhere in your mind. The two of you connected in so many ways. You related so closely to his life stories and had so much in common. You felt even closer to him now. It was no longer surface level, and your lust for him only grew deeper, more complex.

You had an abundant amount of respect for this man. You found him to be a genuinely good and respectable person just trying to take care of his mother and support himself and his life's goals. Just like you, he wanted to make people happy. To help them and to succeed and be respected. It was wholesome. With each minute that passed, time seemed not to move at all. Every time the train moved in a rough manor and bumped you into him, you took the chance to steady yourself on him. Grabbing his thigh, curling your fingers softly inward towards the middle, sliding them off softly as you did, tracing lines on his suit. Every chance you had in the conversation to laugh or jest, you used as a chance to touch him. Putting your hand on his leg, looking him in his eyes when speaking seriously and from the heart, and playfully grabbing his shoulder when he would crack a joke. He was funny without trying, often just being a smartass. His humor was dry and a bit dark. It matched perfectly to yours. You both laughed loudly and wholeheartedly in the less serious parts of your conversation. It was bliss. It was so easy to speak with him. There were no awkward silences, no need to fill the space. You could listen to him speak all day and vice versa you could talk to him all day. The way he listened as you spoke. He was still, eyes concentrated on you and you alone. Watching your lips as you spoke, afraid to keep eye contact. And those eyes peeking at you through the makeup while looking down at you as he spoke, you melted into him. Hanging on his every word, anticipation at its height.

You crossed one leg over the other. The one farthest from him, your leg hooking his knee slightly and brushing past it as you did before resting in that position. Deliberately. You wanted to see if you could make his cheeks flush behind that makeup. You wanted to test the waters to see if, in fact, he was feeling what you were feeling. As much as you preach about communication and expressing your feelings, you were far too scared of rejection to be so forward. Rejection from Arthur would break you. You already felt so close to him. So, you were unsure how to proceed. Perhaps a look crossed your face. Perhaps he could read your mind. He quickly glanced at his leg and then returned his gaze to you. He began to reach his hand toward your thigh when suddenly you recognized the loud speaker announcing the approaching platform. Yours was still several stops away, but it immediately put a panic into your heart.

You wouldn’t have much time left with him now. Reality came crashing in on you, and you sprung yourself upwards, putting your knees on the bench to see over the seats behind you. You turned towards the back to view the closest marquee board, hoping the numbers were a lie. It was quick and sudden. Unbeknownst to you, in doing so, you essentially placed your breasts right in Arthur's face. His hand immediately reached up and held you close, pliantly, pulling you in, holding you still, a loving gesture truly. His hands felt stiff and strong. For a brief moment, you could feel the pressure of his nose in your cleavage and his forehead on your chest burrowing into you and inhaling deeply before you slid back down. Once again, forgetting about the numbers and being brought back to this man before you. You so badly wanted to be with him physically. To touch him in any way, for him to touch you.

You slid back into your seat, looking up at him, a mere inches away, bodies so close you could feel his breath. He was looking into your eyes examiningly. You shifted your gaze, feeling exposed and apologizing profusely, practically babbling. “Sorry, sor-sorry, I didn’t mean to. I mean, I-I completely forgot, I wasn’t paying atte-.” While trying to explain away your actions and trying not to seem like you were being rude- because that’s how you thought he would have perceived it, jumping up in the middle of a conversation like that. Arthur grabs your face with both hands. Gently placing them upon your cheeks with his thumbs resting under your chin, redirecting your gaze back to his and tilting your head upward ever so gently. He didn’t need to push or pull. With him, you were like water. You flowed with whatever movement he initiated. His eyes gazing into yours, your face a mixture of surprise and want. Your lips parted slightly; eyebrows raised. As if answering every wish in your mind, Arthur leans in and pulls you closer to him. One thumb reaches up from your chin and brushes over your lips. The other hand moves from your face and smoothes down your neck, sliding back behind your head and pulling you even closer as he steadies himself, shifting in his seat as he does. He caresses the back of your neck, running his fingers through your hair, squeezing lightly.

Tilting his head to the side, you close your eyes as you feel his lips press to yours. He lets out a long sigh through his nose, and you can hear a hum low in his throat. You immediately loosen, dropping your shoulders and pushing yourself onto him, leaning in fully for the kiss. You turn your body in your seat, getting up on your knees to reach his face more easily. You place your hands on his chest, pulling at his collar, wanting him closer. You moan and exhale pure passion, all of your longing, all of your obsession, finally being fulfilled. He sucked in through his teeth as if inhaling your essence, drinking you in. Your breathing was heavy, heart racing, skin hot. Your body felt like fire. He kissed you passionately, pushing hard into your lips, not breaking contact as he traced his tongue along yours, fighting for a spot in your mouth. Your teeth clanked as you kissed aggressively. Pawing at each other helplessly, taken over by your desire for one another. His hand went from your face and slid down the front of your top, smoothing the fabric as it slid. His hand rested at the seem just above your skirt. His fingers then began to slowly peak under your shirt as you felt his other hand slide from your neck to the small of your back. His fingers were cold against your skin, stinging, leaving a trail of cooler skin as they moved closer to their destination. It was exhilarating.

You kissed him back passionately, breathing hard through your nose, pushing back against him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, moving it to the back of his head where you playfully pulled his hair. You could feel him smile through the kiss. You moved your other hand from his collar to his chest, rubbing up to his shoulder and placing your fingers under his suits overcoat, sliding them delicately down his shoulder. Without hesitation, he took the initiative to follow suit and slid his arm out the rest of the way, pulling it off the other arm without leaving your face. His lips slightly shifted as his body moved. He re steadied just as quickly, dedicating his full attention to you. You acted, and he reacted and vice versa. Symbiotic. As his tongue gently roamed your mouth, his hands continued roaming your body greedily tugging at you, grabbing your skin lightly. Leaving no inch untouched. His fingers danced gently over your skin, but with enough force and authority to hold you in, to keep you there.

With your body pressed up against his, you lift your left knee and slide it between his legs finding a place to rest it on the seat bringing yourself even closer to him, hands in his hair again, tussling his curls playfully as you bit his lip. He let out a small, almost inaudible gasp. He then opened his eyes drunkenly and gave you a pleading look. His red paint smeared on his face, blurring the lines of the smile and no doubt spread onto your lips and nose as well in the heat of the kiss. You smirked, now knowing the power you had over him. Feeling his whole body erupt with desire at your touch. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you. You looked longingly into his eyes, seeing into him. You brimmed with emotions, too many to name, but at the surface was pure love and contentment, you wanted to give him all of you, all of your love. His arms wrapped around your back felt like an extension of your own body. Like he was a part of you, a piece that just fit so perfectly into place. The connection is undeniable. You placed your hand on his face, cradling his cheek and tracing where the lines of his red smile were. He all but sunk into your hand. He was so cute, so innocent, so untouched. You wanted to strip him of his purity, to ruin him sexually in ways that would make a preacher pray. You bit your bottom lip and rushed back to his. They were as soft as you imagined, pouty, and pillowy. They moved softly over yours as he pressed his tongue inward. You pulled his tongue into your mouth sucking on it, tracing underneath with your tongue reaching the tip and letting go. The kiss ended in a smack as you let go of his tongue. His hands had now wandered under your shirt, so precise and sure of his movements. One hand in the back holding you close, putting pressure on the small of your back just above your waist, one in the front, cupping your ample breast. He would switch from one breast to the other, his hand squeezing around them with minute pressure. You could hear a low groan building in his throat.

Unaware the entire time you were kissing him, your hips and legs that were straddling his thigh had begun moving upon their own volition. Rocking and swaying with the kiss, grinding on his knee. You could feel the heat that rose up from your core, moistening your panties as he encouraged you with his hands, holding you steadily, gently moving with your motions. You hadn't had much thought while kissing him. It was almost mechanical, routine. But now, all you could think about was him sliding his hands down there. You slowly nudged your knee closer to his groin, as close as it would go. His legs tightened around yours, and you could feel the stillness in his pants brush against your knee. This nearly sent you over the edge. Made you crazed with passion. He slid both hands around your back, reaching under your skirt, gripping his hands around your exposed bare cheeks, and pulled closer. The tips of his fingers brushing up against the lace of your panties ever so slightly. Squeezing his hands hard gripping your flesh until it spilled out between each finger, you audibly moaned in his ear, gasping at his touch. You flung your head back as he began peppering kisses around your neck. Starting behind your ear and working his way down to your shoulders, then collar bones and back up the front of your neck under your chin and working his way back to your mouth. This man had you in a choke hold, and you were putty in his forgiving hands. The world around you melted away. Unbothered by the frigid air in the subway, unaware that your stop had already come and gone. It was the last thing on your mind and worlds away. Arthur was your focus. You had his attention, and you planned on keeping it for as long as possible, and you didn’t care who saw or who was affected by it. Work who? Work where? Honestly, fuck that place! Nothing made you feel as good as Arthur did right now. Not helping people, not being a reliable coworker, nothing. You would let everyone and everything go for him. He’s the closest you’ve ever felt to joy, to pure unfiltered exhilaration. You were nothing if not enraptured by his touch and charmed by his nature. It felt like a dream in the sense you were content, he felt like home, like a nice warm bed you had drifted off in. He radiated pure comfort. Reality now matching your dreams, your fantasies, coming to fruition. It was destiny.

He continued kissing your face, his hands, one gripping your breast, one gripping the back of your head with his fingers, entangled in your curls. He clenched his hand and pulled you away slightly. A light gasp escaped your lips. He gazed into your eyes with intensity. You watched as his lips moved but barely registered the words. “Come on” a hazy voice spoke in a low whispered gravelly tone. You shifted your leg away from between his as he rose and offered out a hand. Mindlessly, you followed, grasping his hand as he pulled you out of the corner and led you to the seats that lined the side of the subway sprawled out in front of a large window. There was more room here. You were no longer caged in, yet you felt exposed. But those thoughts were not at the forefront of your mind. No thoughts, really. You were drunk with passion and followed his commands without thought. Like a river whose flow is uninterrupted by the current or obstacles in its way, you unabashedly follow.

He lays his suits overcoat on the seat for you. And motions for you to sit. Such a gentleman, you think. You watch him, observing how he looks at you. Reserved, trying to move slowly and take his time with you. But you could see under the surface how much he held back. You could tell by how he loosened his collar, the smile that curled onto his lips. He let out a sigh. Of course, you knew you had this power over him, but you wanted so badly for him to just take control. You didn’t have to ask.

His overcoat lay underneath you; the inner fabric was a soft, deep red silk still warm from his skin. You could feel it on your legs beneath you. He moved to stand in front of you, pushing your legs apart as he did, standing between them as close to you as possible. He towered over you as you looked up at him, trying to ignore the bulge growing in his pants right in front of your face. He must’ve seen you glance. His eyes narrowed, and a smile crossed his face you haven’t quite seen yet. It was darker, more menacing, you felt your heart skip a beat, your breathing quickened. He caressed the side of your face with his palm, and you melted into his touch. Then quickly, he pulled your chin upwards with a push of his index finger. “You’re so beautiful.” He said in a growl through his teeth. “So pretty. And such a good girl.” He chuckled as he let go of your chin. You nodded. “For you” you whispered while roaming your hand up the front of his abdomen. Reaching underneath his vest and undershirt with one while the other traced the hem of his pants and tugged gently. His smile grew wider. “For me.” He stated purposefully. There was more weight behind those words than you had realized at that time, but you would come to know in the coming weeks. You would have it no other way. You were for him.

You looked at him, your eyes, begging him as you traced your hand back down his chest and to the hem of his pants. You placed both of your index fingers within the seem and traced the waistband out to his sides, feeling his hip bones, then back to the middle. Brushing your forearm ever so gently over his now throbbing bulge. You felt a slight twitch as you did, but he didn’t flinch. “Tell me what you want Y/N” He wanted you to speak. He wanted you to say it, to ask nicely. You would beg if he asked. “Please” you say. He remained still, watching as you squirmed. He placed a hand behind your head and wrapped it around your hair once more as you looked up at him. “Please, I want to taste you.” You almost cried out. He bends down and kisses you, deeply squeezing your face, inhaling your breath, his tongue tracing your yours. He pushes himself flush against the seat, looking down at you, and nods. “Be a good girl for me then”.

You immediately began unbuttoning and then unzipping his pants. They catch above his cock and you have to maneuver them over his stiffness to finally free him. The tented underwear slid down easy. Finally revealing what you had only imagined when you were alone in your room. The lights of the subway tunnel washed over his body. The subway was dark for the most part sans the flickering fluorescents here and there. But occasionally an outside light would speed by and light everything up. And in that moment, while you were revealing him, you could see every detail. How his cock sprang up when freed from his clothing, how the tip glistened under tge amber glow of the lights. You grasped his thickness in your hand, reveling at the size and girth. You instantly felt the wetness increase in between your legs as the thought of him penetrating you played out in your mind. His tip leaking precum out of a bulbous head, your hand perched right below. You take a finger and gently smooth it over, spreading the stickiness around his tip. Tapping it, pulling it up, and playing with it. A hiss escapes through his lips. You look up with a smile just as menacing as his earlier. You slide your hand down to his base and lick from the bottom to the tip, cleaning off the precum you made a mess of.

You then take him into your mouth, stretching open as wide as you could to accommodate him. You watched his reaction as you pushed his swollen cock back into your throat, slowly taking him all in. His eyes snapped shut and his head fell back. His hands instinctively reached for your head, his fingers intertwined into your hair and massaging your neck and shoulders while pulling you in. Your hand held at his base and you began sucking his cock slowly and deliberately. Each time coming up to circle his tip with your tongue, then scrapping your teeth along the edge gently as you went down. His breathing was erratic as he lightly grunted while gently grabbing your head and rocking his hips to meet your movements. Letting go of his base you grabbed onto his hips and continued sucking, pulling him deeper into your mouth. Your hands gently playing with his balls, rubbing them and circling your thumb around each.

His size was quite substantial, and the thickness filled your throat, hurting slightly as it passed in and out. You created a pressure inside your mouth while sucking that whenever his cock slipped out it did so with a pop. You pull your lips off and again begin licking up and down his shaft. Cleaning up any spit that lingered. He let out another long sigh then pulled your head away from him. His index finger under your chin again, lifting you to his gaze and standing you up. His member poking your lower abdomen. Immediately your hands were all over each other in a passionate kiss where he tasted himself. Your tongues fighting for space in each other's mouths, as he raised your top off over your head and gently laid it onto the seat next to you. He then returned to the kiss. Pulling you close to him, pressing his hard member against you. “Lay down” he says as he gestures to the seat with his coat outstretched. You follow directions, wondering what's next.

You lay across the seats propped up on your elbows, watching him as he walks toward the end of the seats and stands again in between your legs. He grabs under your things behind your knees and pulls you closer to him with force. He then lifts up your skirt gently with both hands revealing your lacy white panties now soaked with anticipation. He places his fingers under the elastic and begins pulling them down. You look onward observing him. He’s so gentle with you, so lovingly tender. You raise your knees, and he slips your panties over your knees and boots, respectfully setting them on the seat next to you. He then raises his head to you, looming over you with your vagina completely exposed.

He began kissing you gently and lightly when you suddenly felt his hand smooth over your mound. His fingers slowly approached your opening. With your knees raised, your body starts to buck in response to his proximity. You hold your hands on his chest, he loosens his collar, unbuttons a few buttons, and removes his vest and returns to kissing you. You return your hands to his chest, feeling his ribs, his collar bones, and his hip bones as your hands travel, exploring his body further. Your mind is fuzzy and dizzy with passion. You let out a sharp gasp and moan while breathing heavily as he pushes a finger inside you. He slowly moves it in and out while watching your face. You gawk at him in a pleading manor, your breath caught in your throat when he slips in another finger. You moan loudly in his ear. The tension, leaving your body. With one hand, he pulls your bra down slightly, revealing your breasts. He begins lightly sucking on your nipple, his tongue, sharp and circling. His breathing made the saliva from his tongue cold on your skin. A tingling sensation that, paired with his fingers inside you, almost took you over the edge. His pace began to quicken as he watched you from behind your breasts. Your chest, rising and falling with each pant. His thumb rubbed your clit while he methodically moved his fingers within you. He watched for your reactions, the way you moaned told him either more or less. He was so intuitive, learning your body so quickly.

As pleasure welled up within you, you were looking at him. Seeing his satisfaction in the way he made you moan, how he made you squirm. It was almost overwhelming. He watched on and smiled. The red paint still smeared near his lips and cheeks, some of the white smeared too. You watched as he descended to your core. His fingers still working you, tipping you over the edge. You couldn’t image his cock in you if his fingers alone had you under his spell. His face disappeared, all but his eyes remained. Blue triangles peeked out above your lower abdomen. His free hand gripping your thigh. He rubbed over the scars on your legs, kissing them, unbothered. He's literally the sweetest and wants you to feel loved and appreciated. His demeanor and actions showed this. You feel a breeze as your skirt lifts and his face completely disappears. There's a sudden feeling of moist warmth on your vulva from his breath, so warm. His lips pressed against your labia. You felt him lick from where his fingers were inside you, up to your clit. His tongue was hot, and flat as he enveloped you into his mouth fully. Sucking your labia and tonguing the edges. You almost completely lost it. It's as if you could see steam coming off of your bodies against the cold air of the train car. You’ve almost completely forgot you were even on a train. A public train! With your panties off completely exposed while Arthur was eating you out! The thrill settled like a pit in your stomach. You were filled with an intense fear of being caught, but too deep in the throes of passion to care. It may have even excited you a little you thought. You hoped no one would see, however unlikely it may be at this late hour. But you also realized the long window behind you left space to be seen by anyone who passed by. Surely the train would be moving too fast for that though. Another thought interrupted in your mind, that there could still be other people on this train in another cabin, and they could come to this one any time they wanted!

“Fuuuck!” You moan. Your clit began to throb as he sucked it gently with his teeth. Flicking it left to right with his tongue and continuing to elicit moans from you with the work of his fingers. You grabbed his green locks through your fingers and pulled hard while rocking your hips into him, feeling his nose on your mound. As you approached the precipice of climax he just as quickly removed his fingers and stopped sucking. You immediately became aware and tried to pull his head back down. “No, please” you begged in a whispered moan. “Shhhh” he whispered while raising one finger to his lips and standing guard. His face barely had the paint on that it did previously. It had all but smeared off.

The train had stopped at a platform, and the doors had opened. You hadn't noticed, but to be quite frank, you did not care! You were so close, this is cruel! A group of men who seemed drunk and were loudly yelling walked past the window. You both waited in anticipation and complete silence as they passed the train car. You let out a big breath. They were leaving. The doors shut, and the subway began to darken once more. Arthur immediately turned his attention back to you, rubbing his hands from your hips up to your breasts. Still in between your legs. He had been looking down at you, seeing you be so vulnerable, so exposed, so… obedient…for him. You sat up on your elbows to match his kiss. Thrusting your face against his. His hands now back down at your knees. He spreads them wider and pulls you closer to the edge. After anticipating this, you scoot closer as well.

His mouth reaches you once more, drawing in a deep kiss holding your face cupped in his hands. You reach down and grab hold of him, feeling him throb in your grip. You lightly stroke him a couple of times before guiding him to your opening. He pulls his face from yours with a look of many questions. You silence it with one word. “Please?” Hearing you say please was all he needed to hear. He placed his tip at your entrance, sliding it up and down, smoothing your wetness all over his length. He was looking you in the eyes as he leaned over you, your hand on his abdomen. Slowly, he pushed in. You felt your vaginal opening stretch only slightly at first, but just the tip was enough to make you cry out. You jut an arm out and put it around his neck, cradling him to you, forehead to forehead as he pushes in further. You feel him completely fill you. Slowly, but he easily slips right in regardless of his size because of how wet he has made you. He hums in your ear, a low, almost guttural sound that fills you with a primal urge and instinct you can't name, just something in your nature. You eagerly take him in, rocking up to him, unable to take it so slow. You wanted him to fuck you, but he took his time being gentle and careful with you as if you were a delicate glass ornament. He treated you with so much respect and love, even in the midst of passion. You were pulled to him like a binary star system, revolving only around each other.

Every push made you cry out in ecstasy, each time getting further and further inside of you. Finally, his pace began to quicken. He rose from you, now standing. His hands grasped your knees as he rocked his hips into you fully. Each time hitting your cervix. Your walls clenched around him. With every pump, his pace sped, and the thrusts became harder and harder. He watched your face, intuitively making sure you were ok with his pace and how hard he was going. You encouraged him with moans and songs of his praises “yes, fuck, yes” “please don’t stop, fuck” “Arthur please fuck me! Please” and “harder Arthur” followed by cries of utter passion. He mimicked your cries of passion with his own, throwing his head back and grunting with every thrust.

The louder you were, the louder he got. A symphony of passion, dancing to the music created from the instruments of your bodies. Each thrust sent a shiver through your core, traveling up your spine, your legs shook, and you whimpered with relief. Goosebumps radiated and rippled through your flesh; it made you shiver. You arched your back and met every thrust of his with your own. You locked eyes, panting and thrusting in unison. He then grabbed your legs and placed them around his neck leaning into you and pushing even deeper and placing one hand on your lower abdomen in front of your legs where he reached through them and began teasing your clit. His eyes held steadfast on you, feasting on you with his gaze. Stern and focused, gritting his teeth as he grunted pumping into your cunt so hard it began to hurt. The pain in of itself transcended that of something hurtful but only became more pleasurable. It made you want more.

You felt your walls clench and spasm around his length. Gasping and out of breath you manage to get the words out “Ar-Arth” “Fuck, I-I’m gonna cum!” You grabbed helplessly towards him, to bring him close to you once more. Your legs fell from his shoulders, and he leaned in to steal a kiss. You tried your best, meeting his passionate kiss with breathy attempts to connect, to lick. He continued his loving assault on your cunt. A spasm shot through your core, and you lurched forward then fell back again, arching your back and shaking with every wave of pleasure that rippled through your body. You screamed out, cried out in high pitch moans. You caught Arthur's gaze once more, his face smiling with devilish delight. You wrapped your legs around him pulling him in, waves still surging through your body, squeezing him with every contraction of your climax. You softly touched his face “don’t stop”.

He began fucking you furiously. He was pulling you towards him with every inch of himself he could fit into you. Bucking back and forth with no rhythm, purely enjoying you for himself, using you to meet his own end. His face clenched and distorted so beautifully as his orgasm took hold. His force remained the same, slamming into you but his speed slowed considerably as he pumped every last drop of his seed deep inside of you. In almost a whisper, he let out the most deep animalistic groan from the depths of his vocal range as he came. His manhood, spasming with every burst of his essence that filled you. You could feel him pulsating within you, feel his substantial hot thick load as he continued to fuck it out of you until he couldn’t stand the stimulation and collapsed on top of you, still inside you.

He lay on top of you for some time. You embraced each other, held him close, and cradled him in the crook of your neck, still reeling from your vigorous activity and taking it all in. He was still inside of you, content, unabatingly so. You didn’t want to waste a moment with him, praying it would last forever. This perfect moment with him, so sublime. You felt at peace, euphoric. You thought since you missed work and didn’t plan on going in now, you had the rest of the night to spend with him. Your mind drifted off thinking of the possibilities when a chime from the platform interrupted your TLC so rudely. The last stop was approaching. You and Arthur exchanged glances, him looking up at you, knowing you would have to both get dressed any moment. But you took the minutes you had left with him to continue to absorb his altruistic nature, to be in his comfort. At least for this short time until you could again.

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profeyandere · 8 months ago

Text

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐅. ─── ☾ 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐃

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴊᴏᴀǫᴜɪɴ ᴘʜᴏᴇɴɪx ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.9ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴛʜᴜʀ ꜰʟᴇᴄᴋ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢ ᴀᴅ��ɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

The first and gloomy hours of the morning were always the hardest for everyone in the small city of Gotham, the city that never allows to rest, regardless of what day of the year it was or the situation that each of its inhabitants was suffering. A place known for its high crime rate and poverty was supposed to not promote human trafficking in it, no one in their right mind would want to live there unless they had enough money to squander it wherever they wanted in the most expensive and expensive places. Anyone could buy a nice apartment in the rich part of the city because that was where there was a lot more security, but there was always some crazy person who thought that settling there would be a good idea just to tell others about how he survived a city where crime reigned, even if it had never been the best option, it was not currently and would not be in posterity to settle there permanently; such a gloomy city, with so much tension and self-loathing, only needed a small trigger for everything it was known for negatively to increase to stratospheric and unsuspected levels or to fade as it had arrived. Its citizens suffered from hunger, sadness, and pain. Each and every one of them had a tragic and horrifying story behind them, whether at some point in their life, they had been insulted by their next-door neighbor for not having shared sugar or salt with him or her, or it was because of some traumatic event that had been considered horrifying enough for oneself that one's mind had completely erased it, even if in reality that person continued to remember it every night in their worst dreams or nightmares that prevented from resting for much more than two hours a day; Living in Gotham was a survival game in which only the strongest or the wealthiest won, and that was what caused the city to be immersed in its small, central chaos.

For Arthur Fleck that was life, a game of survival in which his smile and positivity could not fade no matter how hard the day was. For as long as he could remember, people had always seen him as the 'weirdo', as that classmate who it was better not to approach or talk to because of the strange stupidity that could come out of his mouth and that would cause a great stir in the classroom or as the adult who it is better not to talk to because of how bad he looked, mainly because his extreme thinness and the poor condition of his clothes made people assume that he was some kind of drug addict who could become violent at any moment if they approached him, even if in reality it was quite the opposite and they were only based on prejudices when it came to seeing the people around them. But that was Gotham, a place where it was better to watch your back before some lunatic got the brilliant idea of stabbing you in it. He just wanted to live quietly, with his mother in their small, run-down apartment, and fulfill his dream in that city where opportunities are scarce or non-existent, where everything could be served on a silver platter as soon as you were born, or where you had to work hard to get everything you wanted. Becoming a comedian was complicated, the mere idea of making people laugh was something that truly made him happy because, from a very young age, he had been told that his mission in this world was to make people happy. But making people truly happy was complicated; Gotham was not at its best for its citizens to forget their daily problems because of a joke from a complete stranger, even if the intention was the best of all.

"Hey! You!"

The scream coming from a strange clown that was traveling at high speed through the central streets of Gotham City caused many passers-by to look around with curiosity, seeing the aforementioned running through the crowd of people who were walking in the opposite direction to be able to recover the clown enormous yellowish plank that had been stolen by a group of teenagers who were barely around fifteen years old; people with some education who preferred to make others suffer rather than fix their own problems and face them properly. They all laughed and made fun of the poor adult who wanted to stand up to them, being shouted and called by the one who followed them. It was an embarrassing scene for Arthur. These types of injustices were very typical to see in the city, and no one was capable of taking the step to stop criminals who only wanted to annoy a worker who needed to get his money honestly, even if he was a clown who earned very little at throughout the month; Belonging to one of the lowest social scales in Gotham, no one would stop for a poor person, but if it was someone who worked for one of the most important companies in the city, then there would be someone who would stop those young people. Evidently, no one would do anything, no one would notice the poor clown who was running as if his life depended on that sign, except for an intense and curious look of amber tones that did do it, that did notice that underprivileged person and, very contrary to what many would think, he would help someone else under the false mask he always wore with the intention of scaring someone else.

Arthur Fleck, the clown who walked around Gotham with his fist over his heart and on the verge of an asthma attack if he suffered from that disease, shouted in an exasperated manner as he crossed the avenue without realizing that a huge shadow was looming over him with every step he took, without paying attention to the agile steps of that person who was chasing them over the buildings, ignoring any indication that someone else was trying to help him; No, at that moment it was only him against the group of criminals that seemed so slippery to him. The boys were so young, so agile, and he was already a man barely over thirty years old, with a deplorable physical condition and with the health of a small child; It was evident that he would not reach them unless someone gave him a hand.

"Stop them!" He exclaimed again, accidentally pushing a couple whom he simply looked over his shoulder at an apology before continuing his chase. At that moment he couldn't stop to apologize to the citizens he ran over. "Thieves!"

The clown finally thought he saw a small ray of hope when he made sure that the young people were finally turning into one of the alleys of the street and, praying that this one would not have an exit, and they would be forced to stop and return the sign with which he had been working all morning, slipped clumsily on the soggy pavement and continued his run to reach them, without realizing that one of them was patiently waiting for him hidden between some of the boxes to attack him with his own sign. To everyone's surprise, before the hidden young man could even move to hit Arthur with his own sign, a strange weapon that none of those present could identify managed to destroy the sign before it hit the clown's face, causing the grimaces of surprise and fear appeared on the faces of those present; None of the kids had seen the armed clown, and there were no other people in that narrow place but them, or at least that's what they thought.

"What the fuck, man?" Said one of the teenagers strangely, thinking that the clown who was now lying on his knees in front of them had had something to do with the destruction of the board. "How did you do that? Which has been...?"

The entire group, including the adult who was trying to put together the pieces of the plank wet from the puddles of water around them, were enveloped by the darkness of the enormous shadow of the person who had come to the narrow alley to join the party. His soft whistle and his slow steps, with which the heels of his boots resonated, made the young people feel their hair stand on end, and a great shiver ran through their bodies, even more so when they became sure of who they had in front of them; that criminal, that whistle, that mask with small side horns, that intense pulse that he had to destroy whatever she wanted. Evidently, the boys, making sure who was threatening them with that amber gaze, ran in the opposite direction when they saw who they had in front of them, confusing Arthur into thinking that it had been him who had scared them away in some way; He had been so immersed in his attempt to reconstruct his sign that he didn't make sure who was standing behind him. He clearly noticed the shadow that covered the entire alley, so he turned his head slowly to meet the person who had scared away the young people, gasping when he saw behind him one of the most dangerous thieves in Gotham: Eclipse.

Eclipse was one of the villains that had emerged in the city a couple of months ago, one of the most threatening to tell the truth. Without distinction of age, without distinction of class, she always went after those she considered potentially rewarding targets for her person and extorted them intending to obtain money through threats and slight intimidation; very few had seen her, and people hardly talked about her because of the fear that the simple fact of mentioning her name caused in the hearts of those who knew her, and the only thing they could distinguish about her were her penetrating amber eyes that, before the little light in which she was usually found in Gotham City, they seemed to shine more intensely than the eyes of a feline and that his calm and impassive voice seemed like sharp daggers that he spat from his mouth and that stabbed into the skin of those who met him. They were with her.

"Look at this…" Her slightly threatening voice murmured that Arthur was unable to place. He had never heard her, so she was not a known person to him. "For such a happy man, you don't smile as much now, do you? Come on, clown, show what you have for me."

Eclipse's strange and exaggerated smile was slightly obscured by the woman's dark fiber mask, with which he could barely distinguish a feature of her other than the shape of her face or her amber eyes almost lacking pupils, causing my heart to jump. Arthur's heart was beating hard, and that uncomfortable lump in his throat that he hated so much appeared again for the fifth time during the week, being the first sign that that laughter that he hated so much began to come out from between his lips in such an exaggerated way that it replaced crying in situations of fear, stress, or anxiety. Seeing the sharp fangs of his attacker, his belt full of weapons that could perfectly harm him, and those boots just inches from his face that could leave a big mark on his face if he wanted to kick him, left him breathless. She could be on the brink of death, and he was just going to laugh about it. Just as Eclipse's smile had appeared, he vanished, hiding any trace of happiness or amusement as he saw the situation unfolding before his eyes. Arthur's outrageous laughter began to appear in a soft tone, at least at first, which he slowly increased as he saw death so close to himself; He would have suffered from robberies, from threats of all kinds, among which his own death stood out, but he had never suffered anything more than beatings or insults. He didn't think she could put an end to his own story.

"What are you doing?" Eclipse asked with confusion as he saw how the clown began to laugh. "Stop laughing. It wasn't a joke. Stop it! It's not supposed to be funny to you, damn it!"

Arthur couldn't stop, his attack prevented him from doing so. Contrary to what the villain expected the clown to do, he offered her a laminated card that Eclipse quickly took, turning her back to him so she could read it better due to the lack of light in the alley, while she listened to his scandalous laughter in the background and read what the card had written. It was there that the thief's pupils became more noticeable as she realized the anxious situation in which the clown found herself, which managed to confuse her at times because of how she was reacting contrary to how the rest of the population used to do, because which slowly turned to look at him to confront him, this time squatting in front of him while looking into his eyes, watching how the clown tried to cover his mouth and silence his laughter. It was a sad scene; A scared man laughed in the face of death.

"A disorder?" Eclipse questioned as she gently returned the card to its owner, being careful not to upset him further. "I don't know those things, does that mean you're crazy or something? Not in the sense that you have to be in Arkham, but you do need a person and all that stuff. Aren't there dogs that took care of that shit? You know, the ones that give you hugs and everything."

Arthur's rather hesitant nod made the villainess understand him better, at least in part, but her words failed to calm him down. She had never encountered a similar scene, and it was beginning to terrify her because she didn't know what to do or say.

"What am I supposed to do? There may be something..." Eclipse muttered, trying to get some answers to his questions so he could help the citizen dressed as a clown, watching as he hit his chest to calm down and grabbed his throat to avoid choking due to lack of breath.

The thief, seeing the way the clown looked at her with his enormous greenish eyes full of tears, felt something pushing her to place her small, thin hand on one of the trembling knees of the man who was still sitting on the ground while the other took one of his and placed it on her chest, allowing him to feel the soft beat of her heart through the black suit she was wearing at that moment. Her amber eyes collided again with his greenish ones, this time as if they were mutually in a trance that they hoped would not be broken in a short time, allowing him to guide himself with their breaths so that he could calm down, which he did as the minutes passed, listening to how the sound of his laughter diminished until it finally disappeared through coughs, causing the alley to once again be enveloped in a deep silence in which only the sound of the cars on the nearby avenue and the rapid footsteps of the inhabitants of the city could be heard.

"I have met people who have feared me, there are drunks who have pissed on themselves as soon as they see me, but no one has ever reacted like you," Eclipse murmured with some seriousness, remaining squatted in front of him, without making any gesture that denoted evil intentions towards him.

"And no one has ever calmed me down like you have," Arthur answered softly and shyly, feeling the thin material of the villain's fabric under his fingertips, receiving a frown as he believed he had acted badly. "Sorry."

"Don't say something like that again," the villain threatened, ignoring the gentle caress on his suit before removing the clown's hand from his person in the same way he did from him, standing up again to impose her haughty figure over his trembling one. "I'm one of the villains of this city, you have no right to say something like that. I am cruel, I must instill fear. You must fear me."

Eclipse's voice had tried to be threatening, scowling at him as he bared his teeth, in the same way an aggressive animal did.

"And you have calmed me down, that shouldn't be done by a villain," the clown said again, receiving a soft growl from the person in front of him. "You're not that bad."

At that moment, something seemed to change in Eclipse's eyes, and he saw in Arthur's eyes something more than fear towards her. Eclipse saw gratitude and happiness. Arthur saw surprise and remorse, she wasn't so bad after all.

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