#kalistawrites

[these-written-reveries]

Broken Pieces

‣ Pairing: Ledger!Joker/Jack Napier x GN!Reader

‣ Summary: You’re burnt-out and overwhelmed and you’ve finally hit a wall. Now, all you can seem to do is fall apart. Good thing you have a special clown who knows just how to put you back together!

‣ Genre: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, soft!J

‣ Warnings: burn-out, overwhelm, emotional breakdown, negative thoughts, feeling like a burden, lots of tears.

‣ Word Count: 3,050

‣A/N: This is dedicated to my lovely friend, @jslittlebirdie! I told ya I’d get around to writing you something eventually! I know you’re overdue for a proper break, and while I wish I could better help you carry the weight of life’s burdens and give you the true rest you deserve, I’m limited to just how much I can do. I hope this helps, even just a little. I love you, Sukie!💜

‣ Have an idea for a fic you’d like me to write? Send a request here. But first, make sure to read my Request Info!

L!Joker/Jack Napier Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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Heavy sobs and messy sniffles had long replaced the silence of your bedroom as you sat curled up on the bed with your face buried in J’s pillow. You were sure he wouldn’t appreciate his pillow being soaked with your tears, but it happened to be the first thing you reached for at the start of your breakdown, his scent always helping to calm you down whenever he wasn’t around. If you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine him there with you. As for the tear-soaked pillowcase, you’d be sure to wash it later before he got home, whenever that would be…

Jack had been gone for a week now, unleashing his newest schemes upon the city of Gotham. This meant you were home alone, which wasn’t really a problem for you. You had a lot of your own things to do during the time of his absence, so you planned on being busy and distracted anyway. The problem was, you were already overwhelmed and burnt out before you had dived into completing these tasks, and after multiple days of trying to push yourself through your to-do list, you finally hit a wall.

Cue you curled up in a ball on your unmade bed, your salty tears staining your beloved’s pillow as you simultaneously worried about all the things you should be doing while also remaining helplessly stuck in your place. You were utterly exhausted. Yet, the cruel voices in your head continued their endless loops of degrading words, telling you that you’re a failure, a disappointment, you should be doing better, you’re never going to get anywhere if you keep sitting on your ass, why can’t you just get up and do it already?

Your hands gripped the pillow harder as you cried, feeling like there was no escape from the overwhelming hell you were experiencing. All you wanted to do was curl up in J’s arms, knowing he was the only one who could quiet your mind and make everything better.

As if some divine force had heard your yearning desire and generously granted your wish, you heard the familiar sound of the front door opening, followed by J calling out to you in a singsong voice.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Instead of the usual comfort you’d feel upon hearing his voice, you suddenly felt a wave of anxiety fill your being. You couldn’t let this be the first thing he came home to after working so hard all week. Before you could think of anything else, your legs began bolting it towards the bathroom across the room. You quickly locked the door and leaned against it, closing your eyes as you tried to gain control of your breathing.

Jack had happened to see a flash of you go by as you ran to the bathroom and raised a quizzical brow at the sight.

“Hm…So we’re playing games, are we? I see how it is…”

He dropped his large purple coat and suit jacket on the edge of the bed before walking over to the bathroom door. He tried the handle, only to let out a huff once he discovered it was locked. Swiping his tongue over the edge of his scars, he glared at the wooden door that stood between him and his love. Immediately, he could tell something was wrong. You always ran to him when he got home and practically smothered him in hugs and kisses —that which he always secretly looked forward to. Never had you run away from him upon him getting home. This was enough to set his nerves on edge.

“I don’t think I like this game, doll. Open up.”

Hesitating to speak for fear that you’d give yourself away, you took a shaky breath as you stared at yourself in the mirror, trying hard to suppress the tears that continued to flow from your red and puffy eyes. You had to find a way to pull yourself together, and fast. This is not how you wanted to be reunited with your love after he returned home from such a long trip. You could talk about your problems later. For now, you wanted to welcome him home and hear about all of his latest antics that you’d only briefly heard about from the news. You loved how excited he got whenever he told you about such things. Seeing that alone would surely make you feel loads better. You quickly tried to spit out an answer, hoping he wouldn’t be too suspicious.

“S-Sorry! I’m just…g-going pee! I’ll be out in a minute!”

Jack did not buy your lie, rolling his eyes as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest. He knew you were in there crying. He could hear your muffled sniffles and unsteady breathing. It made him practically vibrate with agitation; protective alarms going off in his head as he tried to ignore the part of himself that suddenly wanted to murder whoever could’ve hurt you and focused his attention instead on getting through the stupid slab of wood in front of him.

“Sweetheart…If you don’t open this door, I’m gonna have no choice but to blow it wide open.”

“You wouldn’t do that. I’m in here…” You mumbled, your voice managing to sound a bit more stable that time. But it wasn’t nearly enough to convince him that you were okay.

Jack snorted in amusement, though his tone remained overall serious. “Don’t tempt me, doll. I will take down this door one way or another.”

You took a deep breath, a final attempt to calm down and get a hold of yourself. While you’d barely managed to stop the tears, your red and puffy eyes, along with your runny nose, were a dead giveaway that you’d been sobbing for the last half hour. Realizing you wouldn’t be able to make this disappear, as well as the fact that Jack’s patience was wearing thin, you decided to try your best to appear like you were fine and opened the door to the bathroom.

Jack remained leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed as you quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek before scurrying across the room, his eyes following your every move with close observation

“Welcome home, baby. I’m sorry; I’m really busy. I have to get this work done before the end of the day. Just give me a minute to sort through some things.” While this was an excuse, it wasn’t technically a lie. You hoped J would believe you and leave you be for just a moment so you could better compose yourself. One wrong move, and you’d be a heaping pile of tears all over again.

As you stood there, pretending to sort through the papers and notes on your desk, you could feel Jack’s footsteps growing nearer. His silence was deafening. Oh, how you hated it when he got so quiet. It always meant he was onto you.

To avoid what was to come, you began rambling about anything that came to mind, trying your best to direct his focus to anything else but you.

“How was your day? Did things go well? I saw you on the news earlier.”

“Doll…”

J was growing increasingly frustrated with the way you were behaving. He knew that you knew just how well he could read you. He had practically become an expert at understanding all of your little emotions and how best to handle them. So why were you still trying to hide from him? Surely you didn’t think he was so stupid as to fall for whatever trick you were attempting to pull on him…

“Oh, I found the tie you were looking for last week! I put it in the-”

Before you could say another word, Jack let out a growl and grabbed your wrist, tugging you to his chest and holding you securely in place. Carefully brushing a strand of hair out of your face with one hand, he examined your features closely. You stood frozen in place as his firm eyes softened a little. He let out a ‘tsk’, followed by a heavy sigh.

"You know I'm not a patient man, doll."

This was true, except when it came to you. Jack had always shown a lot of patience with you —as much as he was capable of giving. It remained one of the many ways he showed you just how much he cared about you. But such patience did not extend to moments like these, where you actively tried to avoid him and hide yourself from him. He hated this. It made him angry, but more than that, it made his heart ache. And he didn't like that one bit.

“M'sorry,” you muttered quietly, looking away as you felt the tears begin to fill your eyes again.

“Uh, uh. Look at me,” J ordered. Your lip quivered as you looked back at him. His eyes were much softer now as he bent down a little to reach your eye-level.

“Don’t apologize. Just tell me what’s wrong. Can you do that for me, toots? Hm?”

“If I do, I’ll fall apart,” you said, your voice cracking as you desperately held back the lump in your throat.

“I’m here. I’ll put ya back together.”

You whimpered at the soft tone of his voice, paired with his thumb gently grazing over your cheek. So badly did you want to fall apart in his arms, and now he’d given you full permission to. You could no longer resist the one thing you’d been needing during your entire time apart.

The moment you melted into his embrace, the floodgates re-opened in full-force. Jack wrapped his arms around you tightly as you spoke through your sobs, telling him all about your week without him and how much you’d been struggling. When asked why you didn’t tell him sooner, you responded by saying you didn’t want to be a bother. A bother? Jack’s brain glitched as he tried to understand why you would ever feel this way. Despite this, he remained silent as you continued to talk, and felt a twinge of pain in his chest as he realized just how much you’d needed him this last week. He felt guilty for not being there and angry at himself for not recognizing sooner the severity of your burnout and overwhelm. If he had just paid more attention, he never would have left you alone in the first place.

You could argue that you were just good at covering things up, but that wasn’t an excuse for J. He held himself to quite a high standard with you, knowing that someone like you, someone willing to ignore his massive flaws as a person and love him anyway, deserves so much more than the minimum that he could give. Jack knew he wasn’t able to give you a lot of things that he wished he could, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to find every other way he could to please you and make sure you were well taken care of. And whenever he failed to keep you happy, as presented to him in moments like these, it tore him apart inside with anger and guilt. Although he’d never tell you this, you could see the swirling emotions behind his eyes which told you all you needed to know. That he truly did love and care about you more than anything else in the world, even if he didn’t always say it.

When you were done speaking, J let out a soft coo. “Sounds like my dove had a rough week. Good thing I know just what ya need.” He pulled away from the hug with a goofy smile, the same one he always put on whenever he was trying to make you feel better.

“What?” You pouted as you wiped your eyes, playing into whatever he was trying to get at.

“A break.”

His serious response quickly turned your pout into a frown. “What? No. I already spent all day doing basically nothing. I have to-”

“Noo, you don’t. You need a break. A real one.” He took your hand and began pulling you over to the bed.

“But-”

“No buts! Except for this cute little tush parking it right here,” he said as he pointed from your butt to the bed.

You stood silently and unmoving. Jack rolled his eyes with a huff and clapped his hands insistently.

“Ahem, get a move on! Or do I, uh…have to make you?”

Knowing there was no way you could possibly win against J’s demands, you slowly climbed onto the mattress. You sat awkwardly with your legs pulled up to your chest and looked up at him through your eyelashes. J kicked off his shoes and removed his vest, tossing them both to the side. He took a glance at you and shook his head, letting out a light-hearted scoff as he loosened the tie around his neck and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt.

“Ya know, if you weren’t so dang cute, you’d be annoying. Now scooch!”

You made room for him as he climbed into bed. Once he was positioned with his back and neck supported by pillows, he turned to look at you.

“Well? What are ya looking at? Get over here,” he said, arms opened wide towards you.

Jack felt the air leave his lungs as you immediately dove into his chest, a breathless chuckle passing through his lips as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your hair.

“Alright, listen up, toots. Ya can’t keep chugging along without proper breaks-”

“You do that,” you muttered into his chest.

“Ah, very funny, sassy pants…Well, you should know better than to compare yourself to me. I’m not exactly what one would call a, uh, “good example”,” he said, smirking slightly at your pouty attitude.

“Now, before I was so rudely interrupted, I was gonna say that ya need to take better care of yourself, doll. That pretty noggin can only take so much at once, you know. Same goes for your body. And if everything is too much and ya can’t handle it, you need to tell me. I don’t like this whole “hiding how you’re doing” schtick ya got going on. So it better stop. Oh, and you’re not a burden. Not to me. So, get that out of your head. Got it?”

You nodded and sniffled into his neck. One of his hands ran up and down your back comfortingly while the other cradled the back of your head.

“Good.” There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, this time much softer and less stern. “Ya know…If you told me sooner, I would’ve come home right away…You know that, right?”

“But there’s nothing you can do. And I didn’t want to interfere with your plans,” you spoke, your voice wavering in a way that made J’s chest hurt.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, toots. See, I may not be able to take all your problems away, but I can help where I can. Even if it’s just to make sure you get proper breaks. Or to give ya a good squeeze.” He hugged you tighter in that moment, making you giggle. Jack smiled at this, having missed the sound of your laugh up until this point. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, leaving a small trace of red paint in its place.

“You’re more important than any of my plans. You come first, doll.” He pulled you away so he could look into your eyes once more and playfully wagged his finger in your face in a reprimanding manner. “So ya better call next time. Capiche?”

“Capiche…”

“Good…Now, uh, where’s my big smooch? I can’t wait forever, ya know.”

This elicited another giggle out of you as you eagerly leaned forward and pressed a fervent kiss to his lips. When you pulled away, you were smiling. Jack grew even softer at the sight.

“I missed you. Thanks for always putting me back together. I love you so much, J.”

Instead of responding with words, Jack showed you exactly how he felt by cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a loving kiss, followed by a bunch of sloppy kisses all over the rest of your face. You laughed, which only egged him on more. He chuckled as he continued until he felt satisfied with his work. When he finished, you had little marks of red and white paint all over your face and a big smile. Jack held your face between his hands and looked at you like he was admiring a piece of art.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. You almost melted into a puddle with how tenderly he was treating you. Heat quickly rose to your cheeks as you suddenly found yourself shy under the ardent gaze of his eyes.

Burying your face into his neck, you snuggled into him as close as you possibly could. He smelled like a mix of gunpowder, smoke, sweat, and gasoline, but you didn’t care. In fact, by now, you found this smell to be comforting —something you always missed whenever he was gone. It was a unique smell that belonged only to your J.  

You relaxed into him, allowing yourself to let go of your worries and stresses for the time being. As long as J was around, you could trust that everything would be alright. Jack would always watch out for you; he’d always keep you safe and do what was best for you. Above all else, he’d be sure to pick up all the pieces of you and stick them right back where they belonged.

As J shushed you softly while gently running his fingers up and down your spine, you surrendered to his will and drifted off to sleep, knowing that he’d have you and your worries sorted out by the time you awoke. Whatever pieces that remained would be handled together. For now, all that mattered was Jack’s slow breaths and steady beating heart as he held you tight in his arms.

No matter how many times you fell apart, he remained the only true fix, for his love was the glue that the broken pieces of your soul so desperately required.

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‣ If you enjoyed this fic, please like, comment, and/or reblog! Doing so not only keeps my blog alive, but also lets me know what you like and how to improve!

‣ If you’d like to join the tag list for L!Joker/Jack Napier, or be tagged in all of my future writings, let me know by sending me an ask/message!

#ledger!joker #ledger!joker x reader #ledger!joker x y/n #ledger!joker fanfiction #joker #joker x reader #joker x y/n #joker fanfiction #ledger!joker fluff #ledger!joker angst #joker fluff #joker angst #ledger!joker imagine #joker imagine #jack napier #jack napier x reader #jack napier x y/n #l!joker #kalistawrites

[these-written-reveries]

ok but like, the post you reblogged with the pics of ledger putting the makeup on,, imagine you and J getting ready for the day and sharing the bathroom together while he's putting his makeup on. idk just sounds cute and domestic uwu 💖

Omg nonnie, I was literally thinking these thoughts the moment I saw those pics! I knew I had to write them down, so here ya go! 💖

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Getting Ready With J (Headcanons)

*Inspired by this post

‣ Pairing: Ledger!Joker/Jack Napier x GN!Reader

‣ Genre: fluff, domestic bliss w/cute deadly clown man

‣ Warnings: None!

‣ Notes: Besides the rare occasion of J spreading some daytime chaos across the city of Gotham, most of his work would be done at night. Because of that, I don't think he would always feel the need to put on his makeup early in the day if he's just gonna be at home—especially after he's reached a point of being able to drop his mask around you (literally & figuratively). That said, I can see this situation playing out in 2 different ways...

L!Joker/Jack Napier Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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« Scenario 1: » ♡ He and you get ready together in the morning/afternoon.

‣ Maybe you have work or some errands to run, or you're simply getting ready to spend the day lounging comfortably at home.

‣ As for J, he has some important "business" to attend to.

‣ The two of you start by brushing your teeth together, J trying to make you laugh the whole time just to watch you struggle not to spit toothpaste everywhere. He gets a good kick out of this, a shit eating grin on his face as he continues to brush his teeth.

‣ You both share the counter space, your self-care items scattered around as you carry on with your routines. There are very little words spoken during this time, but you still communicate through your own secret language; sometimes being able to read each other's minds just by sharing a simple glance.

‣ You both know each other's routine so well that you hand each other the items you need next before either of you ask for it.

‣ On days where J is particularly clingy, he's glued to your side, having such a strong need to be touching you at all times—even if this means just barely touching arms while you get ready in the mirror.

‣ If your daily routine includes brushing your hair, he totally enjoys doing this for you. So much so that he's now in the habit of grabbing your brush and gently running it through your hair while you do something else. He often takes a little longer than necessary, but that's only because he loves to feel the beautiful texture of your hair.

‣ You sneakily give each other occasional kisses on the cheek or anywhere your lips can reach as you continue getting ready. You always love to see the small blush that creeps over J's bare face in the mirror after you've given him a smooch and maybe a gentle caress on his back that just happened to drift a bit lower 😉

‣ Sometimes you play music together while you get ready. A playlist of songs both you and him like. He loves it when you sing or dance to your favorite songs, or even to some of his favorite songs that have started to grow on you too. If you're quick about it, you might be able to catch him looking at you fondly through the mirror just before he looks away and pretends to be focused on something else. Depending on his mood that day, you might get to hear him hum along to some songs as well.

‣ If you wear makeup, you also do this part together. If not, you sit on the counter or hug him from behind while he does his own (he much prefers the latter).

‣ If you ask, he'll definitely let you do his makeup for him. He loves to just sit back, relax, and soak up your touch during this time. He particularly enjoys the part where you draw the smile over his lips and scars with red lipstick and the concentrated look on your face while you do it.

‣ Beware to makeup wearers, Jack will steal your red lipstick if he's suddenly run out or lost his! And he's definitely not gentle with his application. But it's alright, he'll steal buy you a new one!

‣ If you choose to sit back and watch, you'll witness him create his personal masterpiece with nothing but some lipstick, greasepaint, and his fingers. He only uses one brush and that is to dab on a little bit of setting powder at the end (a trick he learned, thanks to you), though if he's in a rush, he'll sometimes skip this part. After doing it for so long, it takes him less than 5 minutes. But he'll often go slower just so he can spend some extra time with his love.

‣ When he's all done, he chases you out of the bathroom, threatening to cover your face with sloppy red kisses. In the end, he settles for a small peck on the lips before the two of you part ways for the day.

« Scenario 2: » ♡ Darkness has settled over Gotham city, which means it's time for J to clock in.

‣ You're already settling down for the evening when J gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. You're right on his tail, following in his footsteps. He smirks when he realizes and playfully comes to a halt, just to get you to bump into him. When you whine/pout over this, he coos teasingly at you and gives you a kiss on the forehead before taking your hand and leading you the rest of the way there.

‣ You perch yourself on the counter or the toilet while he sits in a chair in front of the mirror. You watch him work, admiring the focused look in his eyes and the way he contorts his face to apply the paint to his skin.

‣ He occasionally glances over at you and scoffs at the heart-eyes you're giving him.

‣ Don't you dare give him a flirty compliment unless you want to see him roll his eyes and brush it off all while trying to hide his flustered smile (do it, do it, do it).

‣ The two of you talk about whatever is on your minds and J finds himself lingering on the black around his eyes for far longer than usual just to keep listening to your sweet voice.

‣ Once again, if you ask, he'll let you finish his makeup for him. This time he'll have you sit in his lap while you do it, giving your thighs a light squeeze and running his thumbs over your soft skin.

‣ Upon finishing, you press a little kiss to the tip of his nose and fix his hair a bit. He watches you with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips, reaching up to cup your face in his hands. You stop what you're doing as he pulls you in for a kiss that speaks on behalf of words left unspoken.

♡ J loves you. And he cherishes these little moments with you more than you know.

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‣ Have an idea for a fic you’d like me to write? Send a request here. But first, make sure to read my Request Info!

‣ If you’d like to join the taglist for L!Joker/Jack Napier, or be tagged in all of my future writings, let me know by sending me an ask/message!

‣ Taglist: @jslittlebirdie @alittlesmartcookie

#ledger!joker #ledger!joker x reader #ledger!joker x y/n #ledger!joker fanfiction #ledger!joker fluff #joker x reader #joker x y/n #joker fanfiction #jack napier #jack napier x reader #jack napier x y/n #jack napier fanfiction #ledger!joker headcanons #jack napier headcanons #l!joker #k.answers #kalistawrites

[these-written-reveries]

J Needs You to Need Him

‣ A/N: This was originally written as a response to one of my lovely friends @alittlesmartcookie but I feel like more people out there might need to hear this reminder as well, especially those that have a tendency of feeling like a burden to others. You're not a burden to J. Never, ever. Don't believe me? Well, too bad. It's the truth. He told me himself 🤭

‣ Taglist: @jslittlebirdie

L!Joker/Jack Napier Masterlist

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J loves you so much more than his work. As he sees it, it's his job as your partner to be there for you when you need him. It's okay to need him. J wants you to need him. It makes him feel special and loved. And although he believes there isn't any objective meaning to the world we live in—that any attempts to seek meaning in any fashion is, at its core, absurd, he still can't help but find purpose and meaning in being your partner and loving you and being there for you in any way he can. So please don't starve him of the opportunity to provide you with the love and care you need in these moments. He'll probably never fully admit it, but it's what keeps him going every day. So yeah, you best believe J will drop anything for you. And you better let him. This broken clown needs you just as much as you need him. 💜

#ledger!joker #l!joker #jack napier #ledger!joker x reader #jack napier x reader #ledger!joker drabble #jack napier drabble #k.drabbles #kalistawrites

[these-written-reveries]

Hello! i’m wondering if you could possibly write an Arthur Fleck fic where it’s y/n’s first time meeting Arthur. Possibly at one of his comedy shows, or in the apartments, which ever. In the fic, i just want them to possibly feel a connection between each other. Hopefully you see this!

Hi there!! Got a little carried away with this one, but I had a lot of fun writing it! I read comedy show or apartments and I was like “why not both!”😂 I hope I did your idea justice! Thank you for your request!

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The Spark ✧.*

‣ Pairing: Arthur Fleck x GN!Reader

‣ Summary: After years of searching and failing to find ‘the spark’ that lovers always talked about, you began to think it wasn’t a real possibility for you. That was, until you stumbled into a man by the name of Arthur Fleck.

‣ Genre: Fluff

‣ Warnings: None!

‣ Word Count: 5,158

‣ Have an idea for a fic you’d like me to write? Send a request here. But first, make sure to read my Request Info!

Arthur Fleck/P!Joker Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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You absent-mindedly swirled the straw inside of your drink, one elbow positioned on the dimly lit table beside it as you supported your chin with the palm of your hand. Glancing around the room for what had to have been the hundredth time that night, you let out a disappointed sigh.

"Stood up again, huh?" You muttered to yourself. "Just my luck…"

The crowd around you laughed, and if you didn’t know better, you would’ve assumed they were laughing at you. Rather, they were all focused on the pretentious man standing under the spotlight on the small platform stage. It was a Thursday night at Pogo’s, which meant the mic was open to any comedian daring enough to take on the task of trying to make the dreary people of Gotham laugh. This particular comedian seemed to have knocked it out of the park. Everyone was practically rolling out of their seats with laughter.

Everyone, but you.

You wouldn’t say you were a hard person to please when it came to humor. There were many things you found funny —even a lot of the darker stuff. Your humor just didn’t align with the misogynistic and overall bigoted jokes that seemed to be ever-flowing from this guy’s mouth. Having arrived at Pogo’s nearly an hour and a half ago, you could confidently say that the jokes from everyone else that had taken the stage that night had been no different. Quite frankly, you were bored.

It wasn’t even your idea to come to Pogo’s that night. Your date recommended it, raving about the comedian who went by the same name as the one currently on stage before you. According to him, this guy was the "comedian of the century".

You could feel your eyes threatening to roll into the back of your skull just thinking about it.

Dating in Gotham had left you jaded, and this was one of the many reasons why. You just couldn’t seem to find someone you truly felt a connection to. After being on so many first dates with multifarious characters —all of which never led to a second, you began to lose hope in finding that special someone to share your life with. At first, that reality stung like a hundred paper cuts on your lonely heart. But after some time, the loneliness faded, and you realized you didn’t really mind being alone. You enjoyed your own company better than most others’. And you never disagreed with yourself on things like whether pineapple belonged on pizza, if cereal was a soup, which superpower is the best, which jokes were funny and which were plain bad —you know, the important stuff. Whether or not you found a partner in the future was no longer a top priority on your list, as not only had you given up on the terrible dating pool of Gotham, but you had also finally found contentment within yourself and the prospects of being alone.

That was until last week, when you met the no-show date of yours in person for the first time. Your friend had mentioned him in conversation before, so you weren’t too surprised to find he had joined your scheduled get-together with a few of your other friends that evening. He introduced himself, and the two of you seemed to hit it off quite well. You didn't talk about very much, but you swore you felt something.

The spark, perhaps?

You had always been told about a special spark that you’d feel when you met "the one." However, nobody could seem to tell you what exactly it felt like. All you were told was, "You’ll know it when you feel it."

Unfortunately, you’d never get to find out whether you were right about that spark. You even stayed far longer than you normally would have for a no-show date like this. As much as you had yourself convinced that you were totally fine with being eternally single, you couldn’t deny the fact that you were still a hopeless romantic at heart, always seeking out that special connection, that special spark.

That’s why you stayed as long as you did, suffering through ninety minutes of ridiculously bad jokes —though you seemed to be the only one in the room with that opinion. Looking back, you were glad your date didn’t show. You deserved better than someone who thought the jokes you’d heard all night were the pinnacle of humor.

Cheers from the crowd around you pulled you out of your thoughts and back to the center of the room as the previous comedian could be seen waltzing off the stage. The announcer took his place at the mic, reading off the information for the next comedian in line. A disgruntled huff left your lips. The last thing you wanted was to stick around for another insufferable act filled with the same jokes. Besides, it was getting late, and you’d already waited long enough for a date that was never going to happen.

Getting ready to leave, you took one last sip of your drink and collected your things. You pulled out your wallet, fishing for a tip to leave the waiter, just as the announcer finished reading their script.

"For his whole life, was told that his purpose in life is to bring happiness and joy into this cold, dark world…Uh…Right. Everyone, please help me welcome Arthur Fleck!"

Your ears perked up at those words. That introduction was much more interesting than any of the others you’d heard. Still, you continued to search for the five-dollar bill you knew you had somewhere in your wallet, not paying any mind to the clapping around you or what was happening on stage.

That was, until he spoke.

"Hello, it’s good to be here." His velvety voice was laced with nervousness. He chortled, but it didn’t sound natural at all.

Forgetting about the tip, you glanced up at the man in the spotlight. Your heart unexpectedly fluttered in your chest as you observed the man —Arthur, was it?— closely.

He wore a merlot-colored vest over a white button-up shirt, paired with matching red slacks and brown loafers. His hair was slightly brushed back, little brown curls framing his face that stopped just a couple inches above his shoulders. Dark eyebrows highlighted a pair of eyes so strikingly green that you could distinctly see them from the back of the room where you were seated.

Arthur… He was certainly handsome. What concerned and intrigued you was the veil of pain over his smile and eyes and the underlying strain in his voice. There was something about him that drew you in —made you want to know more. Your wallet laid disregarded on the table as your eyes remained focused on him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡̷̷̷ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Arthur swallowed back the growing lump in his throat. "Not now. Remember your practice." He repeated these words over and over in his head, begging the laughter not to take over again. He had performed this act once before a couple of months ago, but his condition had stolen the show from him, which left everyone laughing at him and not his jokes. He was embarrassed, but he couldn’t help but think, "What’s new?". Yet, after that failed performance, he somehow felt more determined to try again. He practiced and practiced any time he had the chance, often in the mirror or in his living room in front of an imagined audience.

He really felt like he had it down pat this time. All he had to do was get ahold of his laughter long enough to get through it.

Clearing his throat, he glanced down at the journal gripped tight by his trembling hands before looking back up at the audience.

"I h-hated school as a kid." One line down, and he only slightly chuckled. He made sure to smile like he rehearsed.

"My mother would say, 'You should enjoy it; one day you’ll have to work for a living.'"

Arthur could feel his throat closing up again. Sweat began to bead on his forehead from the stress and the hot stage lights above. He took a deep breath, trying to center himself before moving on to the punch line.

"N-No, I won't, ma’, I’m gonna be a comedian!" He held his arms out with a smile.

Scanning the silent audience, he began to feel his confidence crumble. As it did, the laughter became harder to suppress. He awaited his own doom…

A giggle could be heard somewhere in the distance. Arthur felt a bolt of excitement run through him, reviving his dwindling composure as he quickly began searching for the owner of the laugh amongst the dark sea of judging eyes around him.

Finally, they landed on you.

Arthur was immediately captivated by your beauty. You were all dressed up, your hair was done up nicely, and your radiant smile was pointed directly at him. You even laughed at his joke! Or were you just laughing at him like everyone else typically did? He wasn’t the best at reading people, but your smile seemed warm and your eyes friendly. And honestly, with your eyes locked on him in that very moment, he didn’t really care much whether he was misreading that or not. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that drew him to you —made him want to keep making you smile like that.

Arthur took his newfound confidence and continued with his act, trying his hardest to illicit more of that wonderful sound you made earlier.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡̷̷̷ ⋆⁺₊⋆

For the first time all night, you laughed. Not even a pity laugh, like the few you’d heard sprinkled amongst the quiet. Arthur evidently had some sort of condition he struggled with, but despite that, he was genuinely funny. The more he continued with his act, the more you found yourself laughing. You didn’t even care if you were the only person in the room who found his jokes hilarious. They clearly had terrible taste, and dammit, you were actually enjoying yourself!

It seemed like after he and you made eye contact, his laughter subsided a bit, enough for him to get through things a little more smoothly. Even so, you still felt deep concern each time he seemed to choke on the laughter that forced its way past his lips. You had never heard of such a condition, but it was clear to you that his laughter was not voluntary. You found yourself admiring his bravery and persistence, even when he was continuously cut off by his painful laughter, and eventually, the announcer, telling him his time was up.

You felt your blood boil at the announcer for interrupting his act so rudely. The other comedians had been allowed to finish their full acts, even if they went over their allotted time. They just wanted Arthur off the stage.

A pang of worry hit you as Arthur’s laughter finally got the better of him and came out in full force. You felt the urge to leap out of your chair and help him as he buckled over with his back turned against the audience, covering his mouth as if trying to stuff the laughter back inside himself. You didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was, so instead, you clapped. Not once did you clap at the end of the other comedian’s acts that night. But Arthur, he made you truly laugh. If any one of them deserved praise and support, it was him.

You clapped loudly enough to fill the deafening silence in the room, standing up in your chair with a smile. Arthur turned his head to look at you, his lips tugging into a genuine smile that reached his eyes before he was abruptly taken over by another fit of laughter. Your eyes followed him as he quickly scurried off the stage, heading into the backstage area. Your heart tugged against your chest at the sudden absence of him, a sensation that confused you.

It couldn’t possibly be the spark you’d been searching for…right? You barely knew the man.

You didn’t give yourself any more time to think before you tossed a random bill onto the table and rushed towards the backstage area you had seen him vanish into. Your feet moved quickly down the stairs, your eyes scanning around for him. Stopping in an unfamiliar room, you found it to be filled with nothing but framed photos of popular comedians who had performed at Pogo’s and a TV hung in the top left corner by the stairs from which you came. It was quiet and empty, but there was a hallway ahead that you hoped might lead you to the person you were seeking.

This time, you hesitated before moving your feet. Was this weird? Creepy, even? All you wanted was to speak to him face-to-face. Tell him his act was great. But would a normal person come bursting through backstage all for that?

"Hey!" You jumped at the booming voice behind you. "Didn’t you read the sign? Performers only!"

You spun around on your heels, not even looking the person in the eye as you mumbled an apology before quickly racing back up the stairs and heading straight for the exit of the building.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡̷̷̷ ⋆⁺₊⋆

For days after, you couldn’t stop thinking about how ridiculous an idea that was. You were certain that if you did happen to meet Arthur then, he would’ve thought you were crazy. You didn’t know him at all. He definitely didn’t know you. All you knew of him was what you observed in less than 7 minutes of his act. You made eye contact a few times, he smiled at you, whatever. Nothing special.

So why was it that you couldn’t get him out of your head?

Weeks passed, and the thoughts of Arthur Fleck persisted. You went over the memory of him from that night about a million times. Not just that, you’d been catching yourself imagining what he was doing at any given hour, as well as what kind of person he was. The thoughts kept coming and coming, frequently hindering your focus and only growing louder in the darkest hours of the night. You were beginning to question your own sanity a little. Obsessively thinking about a stranger you barely knew surely wasn’t normal. You knew this, yet you couldn’t seem to separate him from your mind, no matter how hard you tried.

There was just something about him. The way he shined so brightly against the depressing gloom of the city, despite the odds stacked against him —that which you knew you’d only seen the smallest glimpse of. He was a rare gem in Gotham, and you felt lucky to have witnessed him in person. Your only regret was that you never got to officially meet him.

With Gotham being so largely populated, you knew the chances of seeing him again were slim to none. If only you hadn't missed your chance. You’d debated going to Pogo's again in hopes that you’d catch another one of his performances, but you lacked the time, money, and, quite frankly, the willpower to sit through any more of those other dreadful acts. You may have been bordering on crazy when it came to your interest in this complete stranger, but you weren’t THAT desperate.

So, you let him go. Tried to, at least. He still popped into your head frequently throughout your days, but you managed to accept the grief of never getting to know who Arthur Fleck truly was, telling yourself that he was probably not as special as you made him out to be in your head. Arthur Fleck was just a stranger you projected your deepest desires onto, making him out to be the kind of partner you’d always wanted to share your life with but could never seem to find out in the real world. There was no such thing as the ‘spark', the magical connection people always talked about in the movies and that your friends and family raved about. Maybe it was real for them, but not for you. Foolish, were you, to think otherwise…

⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡̷̷̷ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Arthur had been distracted lately, more so than usual. He frequently spent a lot of time in his head; contemplating life, crafting jokes, having conversations with himself, daydreaming scenarios that helped him cope with the harshness of his reality. But as of late, most of his mind had been consumed by one particular subject.

You.

He didn’t know you. Didn’t even know your name. But something about you left a lasting imprint on his mind for days, weeks after his last gig at Pogo’s.

Your beauty, your smile, the way your eyes perked up when they met his. Even at the far end of the dark room, you stood out so clearly to him. And the things he felt when he heard your laughter...he couldn’t possibly describe in words. Never had he been filled with such warmth from a stranger —and all you did was laugh at his jokes! Nobody ever laughed at his jokes.

Nobody, but you.

And you didn’t laugh at him once. He paid close attention to see if you would, all while hoping with everything he had that you wouldn’t. Instead, he was met with an expression filled with joy and kindness, and at certain moments, deep compassion for him.

If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have been able to get through his act. Your laughter was what kept him going and inspired him not to give up. That’s why he wanted to be a comedian in the first place. To make people laugh. To give people a sense of happiness that he himself had been cruelly stripped of his entire life. As Arthur had regrettably learned time and time again, most people found that sense of happiness in laughing at him, seeing him hurt, beating him down —but not in his jokes. Even his own mother didn’t think he was funny.

But you did. And that mean the entire world to him.

Since then, there was seldom a moment in which thoughts of you weren’t floating around his head. He pondered over everything he could remember about you. He imagined what you were like, what your name was, what made you smile, if you had a partner. He selfishly pretended you didn’t for the sake of the daydreams he created of you and him together, despite knowing that if you were to meet him, you’d probably want nothing to do with him. Hell, he wasn’t even convinced you were actually real. How could someone as perfect as you exist? Nobody in Gotham had a smile that bright. Nobody in Gotham would ever openly show him such kindness and warmth. It was impossible…right?

Arthur carried on with his life, knowing that you were likely just a part of his imagination, and he once again confused fantasy with reality. He had been watching too many romantic films lately, and it got to his head, that’s all.

But that certainly didn’t stop the persistent thoughts of you and the deep desire that you did really exist. That, for the first time, he had been truly seen by someone real.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡̷̷̷ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"Shit. Dammit. Come on," you cursed under your breath as you struggled to lock your friend’s car with one hand, all while performing a balancing act with an overflowing box of items in your arms and two bags slung over your shoulders.

You felt lucky to have such great friends —the kind that would let you borrow their car when you suddenly got evicted from your apartment. You weren’t feeling too lucky about that, but at least you had people you could rely on to help you through it.

It didn’t help that it was such short notice, leaving you scrambling to find somewhere else to live. Your friends had offered to let you stay on their couches while you searched, but as it turned out, there was only one place within reasonable distance of your job that you could afford, so your search didn’t last long. It wasn’t a great place, by any means. It looked to be practically falling apart, and it was in a terribly dangerous area of Gotham, but you would take that over being on the streets any day. Besides, it was cheap enough that you would conveniently save a few bucks a month. Not much, but it was better than not being able to afford the rent at all.

After successfully locking the car, you walked carefully towards the entrance of the apartment building. With how exhausted you were from frantically packing everything at the last minute, the last thing you wanted to do was take multiple trips to and from your friend’s car for some basic necessities. That said, you made a mental note to move your friend’s car to a safer location before the end of the day. Apparently, the area was known for a lot of car break-ins and robberies.

You walked through the entrance of the building, not having much time to look for where to go before you abruptly collided with someone in front of you, causing most of the items in your arms to fall onto the dirty checkered floor below your feet.

"God, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t really looking—I mean, I couldn’t really see where I was going, and I...I’m sorry," you said as you rushed to pick up all your belongings off the floor. Wanting to avoid witnessing the stranger judge your frazzled state, you kept your eyes glued to the ground and focused on putting things back together in a way that would allow you to carry it all again.

"It’s alright. I wasn’t looking where I was going either," the stranger responded. They seemed surprisingly understanding, something you were not used to receiving in the merciless city you resided in.

"Sorry. H-Here, let me help," he added, just as you noticed the familiar brown loafers on the stranger’s feet. Suddenly, the rest began falling into place.

Wait a minute…That voice. You knew that voice.

You shot your head up just as the stranger crouched down to help you pick up your things. Your eyes met in that moment, leaving you both frozen in place for an unknown amount of time as you each took in the familiar face of the person before you.

It was Arthur. The man you had been thinking about for an embarrassing amount of time. It had been almost a month since you’d seen his act at Pogo's, and thoughts of him still remained active in your mind all this time later, despite your many attempts to lock them away and forget about him.

The chances of you two seeing each other again were so very slim, and yet, there you were, crouched at eye level on the floor, staring at one another in shock. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you realized you had been blatantly staring at him for what would definitely be considered too long and scrambled to find something to say.

"You’re Arthur Fleck from—"

"You were the one who—"

You and Arthur laughed sheepishly, heat rising to your cheeks as you looked into each other's eyes.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡̷̷̷ ⋆⁺₊⋆

There was that laugh he’d been craving to hear all month. It filled his ears and soothed his soul. Even better, your speaking voice was the most heavenly sound he’d ever heard. The way you said his name was enough to have him on the verge of melting into a complete puddle on the floor, and it took all of his conscious energy not to do just that. He was surprised you even remembered him at all. ‘Memorable’ was not a word Arthur would even think to associate himself with. Arthur was invisible to much of the world around him. But strangely, miraculously, not to you.

Not only that…you seemed to be real. The fact that he was so shocked to find out you were the person he ran into pointed more to the possibility of you not just being a figment of his imagination. Never in a million years had he expected to find you in this dump, of all places.

"Y-Yes, that’s me. I’m Arthur." He nodded timidly. "Why are you here?"

"What a stupid question. You didn’t even ask for their name!" he thought. He tried to think of the right things to say in this kind of situation. He had imagined many scenarios of meeting you, but never like this. It became harder to breathe as he realized he had already said the wrong thing. Now you probably thought he was rude and a loser. Why did he always have to mess everything up?

Surprisingly, though, you laughed.

"I swear, I’m not stalking you!" You joked, putting your hands up in playful defense. "I’m actually moving in today." Arthur felt relief fill his being, but the threat of a laughing fit still loomed over his head. You were just so pretty, and perfect, and so much better than he had imagined. He would never forgive himself if he messed this up.

"I’m Y/N, by the way. It’s nice to officially meet you…I’m assuming you live here?" You smiled at him, radiating the same warmth he had received from you at Pogo’s all those nights ago. If he could bask in it forever, he would.

Y/N… Your name definitely suited you better than any of the ones he came up with in his mind. He avoided the temptation to repeat it aloud in front of you. He wanted to know what it felt like rolling off his tongue.

"Yeah, eighth floor," he said. "What floor are you on?" 

Your eyes grew wide, and you blinked a few times in what appeared to be shock.

"E-Eighth floor…"

Now it was Arthur’s turn to feel shocked. What a strange twist of events that seemingly led you both here. Arthur thought he’d given up on fate, seeing as his life had only been filled with one traumatic event after another, no matter how hard he tried to change things for the better. Either fate had a nasty grudge against him or everything was all random chance, and he just so happened to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time. For Arthur, it was easier to believe the latter. At least that way, he still had some sense of control over his life. He’d take his chances in a battle against bad luck over some divine force that he surely stood no chance against.

As he gazed upon you now, he couldn’t help but feel conflicted once more. Maybe he was wrong about fate. Sure, it was his performance at Pogo’s that caught your attention, but Arthur certainly wasn’t the one that led you to being at the club that night, nor the reason that you were moving here —on the same floor of the apartment building he lived in, no less. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was a crazy coincidence, or maybe it was something more…

A glimmer of hope filled his heart as he smiled at you. Maybe you were real, and maybe fate was too. If all the terrible things he went through were the exact things required for him to end up here in this very moment with you, then it was all worth it to him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡̷̷̷ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Arthur was surprisingly not much different than what you imagined him to be like. He was very sweet, and you found his timidity around you charming. Your heart fluttered every time he smiled at you. The smiles he presented you now were not veiled with pain like the ones you had seen from him on stage. They were soft and sincere, and they accentuated the wrinkles around his pretty green eyes.

You accepted his offer to help you carry your things up to your apartment. He claimed he was headed that way anyway, though you swore he had been exiting the building when you ran into him. The possibility of him dropping his plans to help you instead released a whole swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

Arthur pressed the elevator button for the eighth floor, shifting the weight of the box in his arms as he did so. He had insisted on carrying both the heavy box and one of your bags for you, leaving you to carry a few smaller items and the other bag slung around your shoulder.

"I, um…I never got to tell you how much I loved your act! I wanted to speak to you afterwards, but…I guess I missed you," you said.

"Uh, yeah, sorry about that…" He shot you an apologetic look.

"Don’t worry about it." You smiled. "I’m just glad I get to tell you now. You’re really funny, Arthur. Funnier than all those other comedians, if you ask me."

Arthur’s cheeks turned a rosy pink as he looked down at the box in his arms, a big smile taking over his face. "Thank you. That means a lot."

The elevator door screeched open, and the two of you walked down the hallway of your shared floor, your conversation continuing on the way to your door. You both found yourselves walking slower to avoid the inevitable end of the moment you were so immersed in.

Something about the way Arthur spoke to you made you feel special. His tone was gentle, and his eyes held a deep curiosity for every word that you spoke in return. The more the two of you talked, the more comfortable you began to feel around him, and you could sense Arthur felt the same way; his previous nerves now diminished as he casually walked alongside you.

Eventually, you arrived at your destination, but that did nothing to cease your talking. Arthur amusingly pointed out the fact that your apartment was directly across from his and joked about bringing a shitty casserole to your place to welcome you to the neighborhood. You noticed Arthur’s face brighten even more as you laughed at this.

He even offered to help you gather the rest of your things and bring them into your apartment, which you happily agreed to —not only for the help but for the extra time you’d get to spend with him. You were ever so curious to know more about the mysterious Arthur Fleck, who had nearly consumed your every thought for so many days. He intrigued you more than anyone else you’d ever met, the bright light of his soul drawing you nearer like a moth to a flame.

It was at that moment that you finally understood. The spark you’d been seeking your whole life was neither a thing nor a feeling. It was a person.

Finally, you had found your spark.

And his name was Arthur Fleck.

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[these-written-reveries]

Just You and Me

‣ Pairing: Arthur Fleck x GN!Reader

‣ Summary: You show up at Arthur’s door, struggling and in desperate need of him and his love. Don’t worry, Arthur will take good care of you.

‣ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

‣ Warnings: Emotional breakdown, heavy feelings (no specifics mentioned)

‣ Word Count: 1,363

‣ A/N: This fic is dedicated to @ajokeformur-ray and anyone else who is struggling and in need of a bit of Arthur lovin’. Allow yourself to be present in this moment, just you and him. Forget about the rest of the world. You can let it all go, at least for now. I hope you can find a little solace in this piece. ♡

Song of Inspiration: “Don’t Worry” by The 1975

‣ Have an idea for a fic you’d like me to write? Send a request here. But first, make sure to read my Request Info!

Arthur Fleck/P!Joker Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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There you stood, tired and dejected, in front of apartment 8J.

You had found yourself face-to-face with this door so many times that it was practically routine at this point. Whether it be to visit Arthur during the day, or in the evening to watch Murray, to check up on him, share leftovers, or to meet up for your weekly dates. Many times, you came to give Arthur his mail that was frequently placed into your mailbox by mistake. You lived just across from Arthur, and it had become apparent that the mail person didn’t care to actually look at the proper apartment numbers when placing mail in your boxes. You didn’t mind, in fact, you looked forward to such mistakes as it always gave you yet another reason to see your lover’s sweet face again. Who could complain about that?

This time, though, was different.

You had no mail to deliver, no leftovers, no smile, or warm greeting. You could barely muster the strength to bring your trembling hand up to knock on the old paint-chipped door. You hesitated. The last thing you wanted was to burden Arthur with more heaviness and pain. If Arthur was in your head, he would be ever so quick to shut those thoughts down. You knew this, but it didn’t stop the feelings burrowed deep within your chest; the same ones that almost stopped your hand from knocking upon the steel wall separating you from him. Your heart so ached for him. You needed him.

Three feeble knocks nearly went unnoticed by Arthur’s ears. It was late and he was immersed in his own mind, a pen in his hand as he wrote down a joke he had been mentally crafting all day onto the scribbled notebook page before him. Despite this, he still managed to be pulled from his focus enough to realize someone was at the door. The thought of it being you instantly sent his heart into an eager frenzy, his body moving out of his chair and towards the door without him even commanding it to.

He always looked forward to little visits from you. Opening the door to reveal your beautiful face and warm smile was the highlight of all his days. The two of you had a running game in which you’d show up at each other’s places with the most random of reasons as to why -all of which were highly important and definitely not just excuses to see one another.

But this time was different.

The moment Arthur opened the door, he sensed the grave importance of the situation, and so quickly did his smile disappear; the eager fluttering of his heart mutating into a throbbing pain at the sight in front of him. Your hunched shoulders, head hung low, hands trembling at your sides, hair covering your face. He didn’t need to know what your face looked like to know exactly what was going on. He knew, but oh god, did it still crush his soul to pieces when you finally did bring your teary eyes up to meet his. Despite his best efforts to say anything, do anything, he was frozen. All he could do was stare with a face overflowing with concern for his love.

It was your weary, somber voice that finally kicked him into action.

“Can I come in?” You quavered, looking up at him with desperation in your eyes. He could see so clearly. You needed him.

Arthur nodded quickly, stepping aside, and pulling the door open wider so you could enter. You looked so fragile, he felt scared to even touch you in fear of breaking you as he led you to the couch for you both to sit, hastily moving the blanket and TV remote to make room for you. Only when you were settled, did he allow himself to sit beside you.

He wanted so badly to wrap you up in his arms and shower you with loving words and kisses, but he found himself holding back from doing so. This was a delicate matter and the last thing he wanted was to make the wrong move. Instead, he chose to be ever so careful with each touch and word that he offered you, allowing you to guide the situation as to what you needed from him. Whatever it was, he would give it to you, without question. Anything to soothe the pain and suffering you were experiencing.

Gently embracing one of your shaking hands in both of his own, he glanced up at you, trying to meet your eyes, though they remained focused on your lap.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You can tell me,” he spoke tenderly and right away you felt the last bit of composure you had left completely collapse to dust.

Soon you were a mess of sobs and tears and between them, your words came spilling out, albeit a little hard to understand, but Arthur did his very best to listen intently to every one of them. Not once did he utter a single word himself, only nodded and gave your hand a little squeeze here and there. At one point, he placed a hand on your back and began rubbing soothing circles into it.

If it hadn’t been for the constant flow of tears blinding your vision, you would have noticed his face contort as different emotions filled his being. Jaw clenched, forehead wrinkled with tension, lips drawn down into a frown, tears pricking his eyes. At times, his tightly knitted brows would raise with concern in response to something you said. Other times, a spark of anger flashed in his eyes. He couldn’t help but find himself indignant at the circumstances that led you to this much suffering and he held an even greater resentment against anyone who hurt you. Whatever was so heavy on your soul filled Arthur with the most intense desire to strip it all away and take on the weight of it himself. And he would, in a heartbeat.

There was a brief moment of silence after you finished speaking as Arthur tried to collect his words. Finally, he let out a sigh, and shifted himself so that he was directly in front of you, knelt upon the green rug on the floor. Looking deeply into your eyes, he gently wiped a few stray tears from your face before speaking.

“I’m so sorry, honey. You know…it’s okay to feel that way. I think anyone would in your situation. If I could take it all away and make it better, I really would, baby.”

Holding your right hand in his left, he once again reached up to wipe your tears away, his right hand cradling your face as his thumb softly caressed your cheek. You let out a shaky breath as you relaxed into his touch. Arthur felt a small smile tug at his lips.

“I can’t make it all go away, but I can take care of you. Will you let me take care of you, please?”

He looked up at you with warm, loving eyes as he brought your right hand to his lips, placing the softest kiss atop it. You nodded your head, feeling a new wave of tears prick your eyes as your heart burst with love for the man who was literally on his knees for you, practically begging to take care of you, to make you feel better, to love you.

"C'mere, sweetheart," he cooed, his arms reaching out to you.

Arthur didn’t waste any more time as he wrapped you up tightly in his arms. You melted into his peaceful embrace, allowing him to move you both into a more comfortable position on the couch, where he finally indulged in showering you with kisses and loving whispers. He traced his fingers up and down your arms and spine; occasionally caressing your hair and face and banishing any tears that escaped your eyes with his lips.

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got you. Just you and me, baby,” he murmured into your ear before pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

And for the first time since you’d knocked on the door of apartment 8J, you didn’t.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

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[these-written-reveries]

Shouto’s Sizzling Night of Rebellion

‣ Pairing: None (some minor unserious hints at various ships if you squint), *EraserMic* (extended content at the end -optional read)

‣ Summary: Shouto Todoroki has had enough of his father interfering with his life. Tonight is his night, and nobody, especially Endeavor, is going to stand in the way of him having a good time.

‣ Genre: crack/comedy

‣ Warnings: alcohol/marijuana use, Shouto using his hot side to cook bacon.

‣ Word Count: 7,008 (8,048 -including extra EraserMic content at the end)

‣ A/N: This is genuinely the most chaotic and ridiculous thing I’ve ever written. I was inspired by this video by MorphyVA. Between listening to this video and writing this fic, I found myself laughing harder than I have in a very long time. Hopefully it can at least make you laugh half as much as I did while making it. Now buckle up and get ready for a slow burn into full-blown chaos and absurdity!

─────────────── ･ ｡ﾟ🔥: *.🥓 .* :🔥˚.･ ────────────────

"Shouto! Your shorts are too short!”

"Shouto! Answer my calls!"

"Shouto! Don’t go to parties!”

"Shouto! Stop ignoring me!"

The grating voice of his father rang in Shouto’s mind. After all these years of Endeavor being so distant and treating him as anything but a son, he suddenly decided to compete for the “father of the year” award. He certainly wouldn’t win; Shouto knew that for a fact. All his attempts up to this point had been pathetic and useless, especially considering he had hardly built an honest relationship with Shouto to begin with.

What pieces were there left to patch up, anyway?

Ever since Endeavor decided to be more of a present figure in Shouto’s life, his daily existence had truly become the definition of “hell”. He couldn’t seem to escape him. Even if he managed to run away and hide somewhere else, he’d be plagued by near-constant calls and texts from his father. He couldn’t even escape his father’s voice, that seemed to have something to say about everything he did.

In many ways, Shouto much preferred life before Endeavor suddenly grew a conscience. At least he had become comfortable with the distant and abusive nature of his father before his recent change of character. It was much more predictable, and this made things a lot easier for Shouto to handle, especially in moments when he was forced to be around him. He was used to it. But this? This was a whole new level of torture. And Shouto’s sanity was steadily slipping by the day. He needed a break from his father’s constant badgering and pitiful attempts at “bonding” with him. He needed to let loose and reclaim the autonomy that his father was trying so hard to strip away from him under the guise of “fatherhood.” He’d had enough.

Tonight would be the night that Shouto truly broke free from his father’s chains…

Loud music and the sounds of people talking and singing filled the common room of the Class 1-A dorms, bodies buzzing past Shouto as he stood as a quiet observer in the middle of the room. He was wearing his shortest pair of black gym shorts and a white t-shirt that he had cut into a crop top, showing off his toned midriff. In his right hand was a red plastic cup filled with a mysterious liquid. Mina had offered it to him not long after he walked into the room. She said it was punch, but Shouto was pretty sure it was spiked with alcohol, based on the bitter aftertaste. He had no problem with this. In fact, it made him smirk a little while he drank it. His father would never approve of this, and that only made him want to do it even more.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He sighed as he pulled it out and saw the text from Endeavor.

“Don’t forget our family dinner tomorrow at 5pm.”

Shouto growled in frustration, typing out a sarcastic response in return.

“How could I forget? You won’t seem to let me, no matter how hard I try!”

His phone continued to vibrate as messages from his father came through, one of them telling him to come to the dinner “dressed with dignity," clearly referencing the shorts Endeavor saw him wearing the other day. The same ones he was wearing now, just to spite him. Shouto barely scanned the rest of the messages before rolling his eyes and powering off his phone, which continued to vibrate until the screen finally went black. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, now feeling even more irritated than he was before.

He downed the rest of his drink and headed towards the punch bowl to refill his cup, stopping in his tracks along the way when he heard his name being shouted over the music. Turning his head towards the direction of the familiar voices, he spotted Izuku, Uraraka, Mina, Tokoyami, and Tsuyu smiling and waving at him. He offered them a small smile and joined their circle.

“Todoroki! How are you liking the party so far?” Izuku asked.

“It’s good. Are parties usually this loud?” Shouto answered, trying to speak up over the music.

“I think so!” Uraraka said.

Tsuyu held a small cup of punch in her hands as her eyes scanned the room. “Where’s Iida?”

"We sent him away. Convinced him he should visit his brother for the weekend." Mina confessed on behalf of the rest of the group.

Izuku scratched the back of his neck, a guilty smile on his face. "Yeah, I kinda feel bad about it…"

Uraraka placed a reassuring hand on Izuku’s shoulder. "It's for the best, Deku. You know he couldn't handle something like this.”

Mina nodded in agreement, bringing her cup to her lips and taking a sip before she spoke. “He’d definitely get us all busted.”

"I guess you're right. I thought I wouldn't like parties, but this one is fun!" Izuku smiled.

Tokoyami looked around at everyone else having fun at the party as he spoke. "Mm. I agree."

"Me too!" Uraraka chimed in.

"The punch is good."

The others chuckled at Shouto’s random comment, agreeing with him as they drank from their own cups. Shouto looked down at the empty one in his hands.

"You want a refill on that, buddy?"

Shouto looked up to find Denki by his side, smiling at him with a half-full pitcher of punch in his left hand and a stack of empty cups in the other.

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Kaminari."

Denki bowed dramatically after filling Shouto’s cup with more punch. "My pleasure! As the host of this party, it's the least I could do!"

"What?! Who put Dunce-Face in charge?!"

Unlike everyone else, it wasn’t hard to hear whatever the explosive blond had to say. His booming voice easily surpassed the volume of the music. Denki turned around to face Bakugou, who was glaring at him intimidatingly. Kirishima moved to stand beside him, nudging him with his elbow.

"Be nice, Bakugou! He's done a great job so far!" Kirishima said, attempting to tame the wild beast that threatened to be unleashed upon Denki and the rest of the innocent partygoers in the room.

Denki flashed a proud smile at the two of them.

"Thanks, man! And before you ask, Bakugou, I took care of the surveillance problem before the party even started! Called in a favor from an old friend. He managed to loop the live camera feed seamlessly! It'll last until morning! I also talked to the other dorms, and they said they’d keep quiet about it, so long as we return the favor for them in the future!"

Bakugou scowled. "If that's the case, then you extras better make sure everything is cleaned up before then! I don't wanna deal with the consequences of your stupid actions!"

"Nothing's going to happen, don't worry! Come on, Bakugou! Have some fun!"

Denki held out a cup of punch towards Bakugou, who was quick to push his hand away. Denki stumbled a little as he tried not to spill the liquid onto the floor.

"No! I'm going to bed! Last thing I’m gonna do is be an idiot with a hangover during tomorrow's training.” Bakugou muttered before turning his focus to Kirishima. He pointed a threatening finger at him as he spoke. “You better go easy on the drinking, Shitty Hair! You're going to train tomorrow, whether you like it or not!"

"Alright, alright!" Kirishima put his hands up in defense, one of them holding a full cup of punch.

Denki rolled his eyes as Bakugou took a step past him. "Fine! Go to bed, gramps! It's clearly way past your bedtime, anyway!"

Bakugou’s jaw clenched as he turned back towards Denki. "You better watch your mouth or I'll put you to sleep right now, Dunce Face!"

"Ooh, I'm scared!" Denki smirked, half laughing as he spoke.

Watching Bakugou fall into Denki’s trap caused Kirishima to let out an amused sigh and step in between the two of them. "Alright, both of you settle down! Katsuki, you can go to bed now. We'll be fine down here."

Begrudgingly pulling his crimson daggers away from Denki to glance at Kirishima, Bakugou rolled his eyes with a huff and turned to walk away. He made it a few steps away from the crowd when Shouto spoke.

"Goodnight, bestie."

Everyone tried to hold in their laughs, Denki snorting and Kirishima covering his mouth to suppress his own laughter as Bakugou visibly tensed and clenched his fists, his speed increasing as he stomped towards the elevator in the back of the room.

“Man, he is such a party pooper!” Mina spoke once he was out of sight, an amused smile on her face as she shook her head. Everyone else tried to recover from their laughing fits.

“I know! It’s like he’s allergic to fun!” Denki said, still chuckling a bit.

A party pooper? Shouto had never heard this saying before, but it reminded him of his father. His dad was not fun, by any means, and he always found a way to ruin anything Shouto considered to be a good time. But tonight was different. So far, he was having a decent time, but not yet a good time. He needed to do more fun things that his father wouldn't approve of. After once again pushing away his father's nagging voice in his head, Shouto set out to do the next thing his father wouldn't approve of...dancing.

He took a large gulp of his drink and turned to face the other end of the room, walking towards where everyone else seemed to be dancing to the music.

“Todoroki! Where are you going?” Izuku called out to him.

Shouto looked over his shoulder. “Dance.”

“Ooh! I’ll join you! Come on, Uraraka!” Mina chimed in excitedly.

“Okay! Deku, let’s go!” Uraraka grabbed Izuku’s hand and pulled him towards an empty space on the dance floor.

“B-But! I’m not really good at dancing!” Izuku said, his face blushing a deep red.

Shouto stood in the middle of the dance floor, looking around at everyone curiously. He’d never danced before, and he’d never really paid any close attention to how others danced before either. He saw Tokoyami leaned up against the wall across from him, bobbing his head to the beat of the music, so he started with that.

“Do you need help? With dancing, I mean.”

Shouto nodded at Momo. “I don’t know how.”

She giggled. “I could tell. Let’s start with something simple, then! See how Kirishima is moving his shoulders? Start with that!”

Shouto observed Kirishima and tried his hardest to replicate this move. He was a little out of time with the beat of the music, but he began to get better after a couple of minutes.

“You got it! Great job!” Momo clapped and danced alongside him.

A small smile tugged at his lips. This was more fun than he thought it’d be. It felt…good. And very scandalous. His father would never approve of this. He took another big sip of his drink while continuing to dance.

･ ｡ﾟ🔥: *.🥓 .* :🔥˚.･

After a while of dancing his heart out, Shouto had learned a couple more moves from Kirishima and Denki. Aoyama had attempted to show him some moves too, but they were too advanced and flashy for him. By now, Shouto was feeling really good, and it wasn’t just because of the dancing. He had nearly finished his third cup of punch when Kirishima stepped in, noticing him stumbling around on the dance floor a little too much.

“Hey, man! I think that’s enough dancing for now, don’t you think?”

Kirishima slung his arm over Shouto’s shoulders to steady him. Shouto glanced up at him, still bobbing in time with the music.

“I’m having fun.”

“Well, I think we should have fun together over here! We can dance more later!” Kirishima pointed towards the lounge area.

“Okay.” Shouto tilted his head back as he gulped down the rest of his drink, leaning his weight against Kirishima slightly as he did so.

“I think we should also take a break from drinking. What do ya say, buddy?” Kirishima suggested, eyeing his friend with slight concern in his eyes.

It was strange for Kirishima, seeing Shouto drunk and acting differently than usual. He wasn’t sure what to think of it. He tried to take the cup from Shouto’s hand, only for him to pull it away from his grasp.

“No! I like it!” Shouto argued, his voice raising slightly above his usual neutral tone.

Kirishima raised a brow at this, a small, amused smirk tugging at his lips. He held his hand up in playful surrender.

“Alright, man! No worries! I’ll refill your cup for you! Let’s just get you situated over here, okay? Then we can hang and have fun together!”

Shouto nodded and allowed Kirishima to guide him to the lounge area nearby. The moment Shouto spotted a bean bag someone had placed in the room, he insisted that he sat in it, grumbling something about how his father never let him have a bean bag growing up and he’d never approve of him sitting in one. Kirishima didn’t question him and helped him sit in the bean bag, before leaving to fill Shouto’s empty cup with water, almost positive he’d be too drunk to notice.

He was right. After 2 more cups of plain water, Shouto decided he’d had enough. By this point, Sero had joined the two of them in the lounge area, and Shouto had started a drunken rant about his father. Kirishima and Sero listened intently as they took small puffs of the joint Sero had brought along with him to the party.

"I can't even wear my favorite shorts without my dad getting onto me about it! Ughh! I hate him!" Shouto let out a frustrated sigh, his fists clenching at the thought of his father.

Sero took a puff of the joint pinched between his forefinger and thumb, his face scrunched up in opposition to what he was hearing.

"Well, that's stupid. You look good in your shorts! They, uh…accentuate your features nicely, if you don't mind me saying."

Shouto could feel his internal temperature growing warmer, and he wasn’t sure if it was simply because he was angry or if there was something else to it. Too drunk to think any harder about it, he shook his head.

"I don't mind. That's also why I like to wear them. I feel confident in them. And they're good for playing volleyball."

Sero passed the joint to Kirishima, who took another hit of it. "Then you should keep wearing them! Fuck what your dad has to say about it!"

Kirishima let out a large puff of smoke before speaking.

"Yeah! He's right! It's your life and you can live it however you want!"

Shouto smiled at the two of them. "Thanks, guys. I feel very heard and supported right now. You're the best."

"Good! We got your back, man! Whatever you wanna do, we support you!" Kirishima smiled, giving him a thumbs up from his reclined position on the couch.

"I want to get high,” Shouto confessed.

Sero chuckled and leaned forward on the couch, the joint held in his outstretched hand towards Shouto. "Hell yeah, my dude! You clearly need it more than either of us."

Shouto took the joint from Sero and listened closely as he explained to him how to take a proper hit of it. Shouto nodded in understanding, staring at it between his pale fingers.

"My dad would never approve of this.”

"Are you really gonna let that stop you?" Sero challenged, a smirk growing on his face as Shouto shook his head and spoke his next words.

"Fuck no.”

He took a small drag of the joint, coughing a few times, but quickly recovering from it. Kirishima and Sero proudly clapped and cheered on their friend. Shouto took one more hit before passing it back to Sero.

“There you go! How ya feelin’?” Sero asked.

Shouto sat awkwardly in the bean bag chair, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think. “I feel the same.”

Kirishima chuckled. “Just give it a minute, buddy. You’ll feel it.”

･ ｡ﾟ🔥: *.🥓 .* :🔥˚.･

By the time an hour had passed, Shouto was sprawled out in his bean bag chair, neck tilted back as he stared at the party lights dancing along the ceiling. Denki joined the group shortly after Shouto got caught up in this mesmerizing trance and helped Sero and Kirishima finish off the joint. It wasn’t long after this that the party ended and everyone else had retired to their rooms for the night, leaving the four of them alone in the common room. The three boys on the couch were chatting and giggling about things Shouto couldn’t make out. He was completely lost in his own little world. That was, until they started talking about food. This seemed to reach Shouto’s ears and his stomach, which responded with a loud growl.

"Dude, you know what sounds so good right now?" Kirishima said, looking over at Denki and Sero to his right.

"What?" Sero responded curiously.

"Bacon!"

Denki gasped. "OH MY GOD, YES!"

"Do we have any?" Sero asked.

"I think I saw some in the fridge the other day. But the stoves are still broken. Maintenance hasn't fixed them yet,” Kirishima explained with a sigh.

"We could microwave it?" Denki suggested.

Sero scrunched his nose in disgust. "I'll pass on that, thanks."

Kirishima pouted. "Man, I really want bacon…"

"I can cook it," Shouto announced, sitting up in the bean bag too fast and causing his head to spin a little.

Denki jumped at the sound of Shouto’s voice, whipping his head around to look at him. "Woah, dude. How long have you been there?"

Sero rolled his eyes, unfazed. "He's been there the whole time. You're just an unobservant blob."

"I am not an unobservant blob!"

“Guys, shut it! Todoroki, that's nice and all, but like we were saying before, the stoves are still broken, remember?" Kirishima said.

Shouto shook his head. "I don't need that."

"Huh?" A look of confusion spread over Kirishima’s face.

Denki seemed to be the first one to catch on. "Ohhh, you mean you'll use your hot side to cook it?!"

Shouto gave a nod of confirmation. The three boys looked at him curiously as he started to ramble, smirking at the uncharacteristic nature of Shouto’s current behavior, which only appeared more animated now that he was drunk and high.

"I haven't done it in a while, though. My stupid dad won't let me. He's always like ‘SHOUTO! DON'T COOK BACON ON YOUR HOT SIDE! USE A FRYING PAN!’” He lowered his voice and put on his best angry face to fit the impression of his father, slurring over his words and causing the boys to giggle.

“Last time I was caught, I was grounded for a week for ‘behaving dishonorably’. I just don’t get it. What’s so wrong about using what we have been blessed with?”

“A-freakin’-men! Dude, that's so cool! We gotta do it!" Denki said excitedly.

Kirishima looked between everyone, a slight look of hesitation in his eyes that was quickly overtaken by his own curiosity. "Fine. But we gotta be quiet! If we get busted while using a flammable quirk inside the dorms, we'll be in deep shit."

“Chill out, man! It’ll be fine! I’ll check to see if there is any bacon left.” Sero stood from where he was once seated and walked over to the kitchen on the far end of the room behind them.

A couple minutes later, Sero called the three of them over, waving the pack of bacon in the air excitedly. Denki quickly jumped to his feet, followed by Kirishima. Shouto struggled to get out of the bean bag chair. Denki and Kirishima each grabbed one of his arms and hoisted him up, helping him to remain on his feet as he stumbled towards the kitchen. Upon seeing how unsteady Shouto was, they collectively decided it would be best if he wasn’t standing during this experience.

“Kaminari, help me move this stuff off the island. Sero, hold onto Todoroki while we do this,” Kirishima said, letting go of Shouto to grab the plates, cups, and food trays that sat on the island and move them out of the way.

Denki followed suit, grabbing a few leftover cups of punch and turning around to make his way towards the nearby sink. But as he spun around and took a step forward, he found himself nearly colliding into Kirishima, who was headed his way with a large bowl of punch in his arms. Denki’s eyes went wide as the punch splashed back onto Kirishima’s chest before the glass bowl went crashing to the floor, shattering to pieces. The four boys stood there in shock, staring at the floor with mouths hung open.

Sero was the first to break the silence. “So much for being quiet, huh? Do you think anyone heard?”

Denki took a breath to steady his racing heart before speaking. “I don’t know…I mean, it wasn’t that loud, right? Nobody is gonna hear that from their rooms.”

“I don’t know, man. Leave it to Katsuki to hear that shit all the way from the fourth floor. He’s such a light sleeper,” Kirishima remarked. He looked down at his punch-soaked shirt, sighing at the sight.

“Nah, I doubt it. Also, I’m so sorry, dude. I’ll buy you a new shirt sometime to make up for it!” Denki said, looking at Kirishima with guilt in his eyes. Unlike him, he had only a few drops of punch on his clothes from the incident. Kirishima’s white shirt would certainly not recover from the red dye in the punch that had now soaked through the fabric.

Kirishima waved him off. “It’s fine, man. Accidents happen! I didn’t care that much for this shirt, anyway.” He smiled reassuringly at Denki before removing his shirt. “Well, we should probably clean this up now, huh?”

“Sure…But maybe after a little snack? I’m starving!” Denki whined.

The sound of a stomach growling caused the boys’ heads to turn towards Shouto.

Denki chuckled. “Seems like I’m not the only one.”

“Alright. Help me get him up here,” Sero said as he helped Shouto over to the island.

The boys came over to his side, glass crunching beneath their shoes. Together, they managed to get Shouto up onto the island, giggling as they did so. Sero took off his shirt and placed it under Shouto’s head as a pillow. Turning to grab the pack of bacon, he found Denki trying to open it with a chef knife, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he did so. Sero shrugged before looking back at Shouto.

"Dude, take your shirt off. We need to maximize the cooking area."

Shouto complied, and with great struggle, managed to remove his shirt. He tossed it onto the punch-covered floor and flopped back down onto the countertop.

"Uh, is this table flammable?" Denki asked, handing Sero the now opened pack of bacon.

"No, doofus! It's granite! Wait…which is his hot side again?" Kirishima tilted his head as he stared at Shouto.

“Red hair side.” Denki pointed.

“Ohhh, right!”

Sero ignored the other two and decided to strike up a conversation with Shouto as he began placing some of the raw slices on his left arm.

"So, your dad really disapproves of this? What a shame. I think it’s cool you can do this!"

"I know! He won't let me do anything fun! He sucks! I wish I was adopted…" Shouto pouted angrily.

"Man, I feel you. My parents are strict too. They would kill me if they found out I got high on the regular."

"Dude, they totally know,” Kirishima butted into the conversation, an amused smirk on his face.

"What? No they don't!" Sero argued.

Denki laughed. "Yes, they do! You reek of weed all the time! No amount of cologne and incense will cover that up!"

Sero scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever! They haven't said anything, so maybe they haven't noticed."

Denki leaned in towards Kirishima to pretend to whisper to him, but his voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. "Or maybe they just think he naturally smells like a skunk's ass."

Kirishima burst into laughter, along with Denki and even Shouto, who giggled where he laid on the cold countertop.

"Quiet down! Help me finish this up, will you?” Sero tossed the pack of bacon at Kirishima, who nearly dropped it before pulling out a few slices and handing them to Denki.

Their excitement grew along with their giggles as they finished covering most of Shouto’s left side with bacon. All laughter and joy soon came to a halt, though, when a familiar voice sounded through the room, sending chills down all their spines.

"What the hell are you-...The fuck?"

Each one of them froze in place as they whipped their heads towards the owner of the voice, who stood about 5 feet away from them with the most stunned and perplexed look they’d ever seen on him.

"Katsuki, it's not what it looks like!" Kirishima blurted.

"What the fuck do you mean?! I think it's exactly what it looks like!"

"And what's that?" Sero asked with an amused smirk tugging at his lips, not quite convinced Bakugou really knew what they were doing at all, based purely on the look on his face.

This question seemed to throw Bakugou off even more than he already was. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally attempted to give an answer.

"You're…You're…"

Bakugou took a closer look at the scene before him. All four boys were shirtless. Shouto sprawled out on the kitchen island, raw bacon strips laid across half of his chest and left arm. A large knife in Denki’s hand. The floor covered in red liquid, shattered glass, and the boys’ shirts.

It looked like a goddamn crime scene. What kind of crime? He had no idea. For a rare moment in his life, he was rendered completely speechless. It took him another solid minute to muster up the ability to speak again.

"I...What the fuck are you doing to Icy-Hot?! And why are you all shirtless?!"

"He spilt punch on me." Kirishima pointed to Denki like a child tattling on their sibling.

Sero shrugged. "I was hot."

"I didn't wanna feel left out,” Denki confessed, looking away feeling slightly embarrassed.

Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, trying to ground himself amongst the group of intoxicated idiots.

"You still haven't told me what exactly you're doing to Icy-Hot…" He spoke in an exasperated voice through gritted teeth.

Denki answered his question simply. "We're just cooking bacon on his hot side! No biggie!"

"Yeah, don't worry, bestie. I'm fine…" Shouto lifted his head up slightly to lock eyes with Bakugou, who seemed quite the opposite of relieved upon hearing his words.

Bakugou growled angrily, any semblance of control over his temper now out the window. "How many times do I have to tell you to STOP calling me that?! And you! Stop waving that knife around! Give it to me!"

He stepped towards Denki and snatched the knife out of his hand, setting it on the counter opposite of the Island Shouto was lying on.

Kirishima held his finger up to his lips. "Shhhh! You're gonna wake everyone up within a mile radius and get us all in trouble!"

Bakugou scoffed. "Not me! I had nothing to do with this!"

"You're a witness! And you just touched the knife that was used for this act, which also makes you an accomplice," Sero said, pointing at the knife.

"What?! That's not how-"

"Yeah, what he said! You're just as guilty as us! So you better keep that big mouth shut!" Denki said, immediately regretting the words that came out of his mouth when he saw a vision of his own death flash through Bakugou’s eyes.

"Tell me what to do one more time and I'll-”

Shouto groaned, interrupting Bakugou with his next words. "Guys, stop fighting! Bakugou, you sound just like my dad. You're better than him. Stop this.” A couple of bacon strips fell off of him as he sat up to address Bakugou with a serious look in his eyes.

"Yeah, come on, man! Let us do this! You don't have to do anything! Just go to bed and pretend you never saw this!" Kirishima said.

Bakugou looked at Kirishima like he’d gone insane. "No! You guys obviously can't be trusted alone right now! You'll burn the dorms down or something!"

Shouto pointed a finger at him with a frown on his face. "Hey! Don't poop at our party!"

"What?" Bakugou stared at Shouto, completely dumbfounded.

"Uh…I think he means ‘don't be a party pooper’. Pretty sure he just learned that earlier today," Kirishima explained.

"My dad is a party pooper! He poops on everything! He's a life pooper! Don't be like him, bestie!" Shouto implored. Bakugou simply blinked at him, once again rendered speechless by the ridiculousness he had been subjected to thus far.

"Yeah! Come on! Live a little, Bakugou! Don't you wanna see Todoroki cook this bacon on his hot side?" Denki asked, pointing to the bacon on Shouto’s chest.

"No! Because I'm not a freak like the rest of you!" Bakugou barked.

Denki nodded casually, placing a hand on Shouto and slowly pushing him back down onto the countertop as he kept eye contact with Bakugou. "Sure, sure. Well, it's happening whether you like it or not. Todoroki, now!"

Shouto tensed at these sudden orders, but obeyed nonetheless, a strained look on his face as he quickly activated his quirk. The surrounding boys jumped back as large flames extended towards them.

"Dude! Tone it down! It's too much!" Kirishima said, raising his voice slightly.

The flames went out as Shouto deactivated his quirk. He let out a sigh.

"Sorry...It's harder to control right now, for some reason…"

"Hmph, I wonder why." Bakugou rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “This is exactly why you idiots shouldn’t be doing this!”

The boys ignored Bakugou as Sero inspected the bacon on Shouto’s body. "Thankfully, most of the pieces are okay. Let's try again."

"Whenever you're ready, Todoroki!" Denki gave him a thumbs up and Shouto gave him one in return.

Shouto closed his eyes and focused on his quirk. Everyone waited in silent anticipation for a solid minute, until finally, the sizzling began.

Denki gasped. "Oh my god! He's doing it!"

Sero smiled widely at the sight. "Yes! You got this, dude! Keep it steady, now..."

"Fucking hell, this feels like a goddamn fever dream…” Bakugou muttered to himself as he stared at the scene before him.

"You can leave, Katsuki. We promise we won't burn the place down. I'll keep an eye on things,” Kirishima reassured him, but his attempt seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"Pfft! As if I can even trust you right now! I'll keep an eye on things."

While it was true that Bakugou was sticking around to keep an eye on them and make sure they didn’t do anything too stupid, he would be lying if he claimed curiosity hadn’t gotten the best of him too. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t help but feel somewhat fascinated by the way the bacon was cooking on Shouto’s skin.

After another minute or so, the bacon was finally cooked. Denki, Sero, and Kirishima immediately took a piece of their own to try. Shouto smiled as he grabbed a piece from his chest and ate it, his stomach finally happy now that it was being fed.

“Here you go!” Kirishima offered Bakugou a piece, only to have him flinch away from it in disgust.

“I’m not eating that shit! It’s unsanitary!”

Kirishima shrugged with a smile, an amused chuckle escaping his lips. “Whatever. More for us!”

Denki, Sero, Kirishima, and Shouto touched their pieces of bacon together like some sort of “cheers” to what they had accomplished together before eating them. Denki, Sero, and Kirishima’s faces morphed into an expression of pure rapture as they eagerly consumed their treat.

“Dude! This is the best bacon I’ve ever had!” Kirishima exclaimed, talking with his mouth full as he chomped down on another piece.

Denki nodded aggressively. “Me too!”

“It must be something about the way his quirk cooks it that makes it taste better!” Sero said, eyes shining with pure joy and amazement.

Bakugou scoffed. "Yeah, right! It’s just regular bacon. Nothing about the way it was cooked is going to change the flavor that much! You drunk and high bastards would think dirt tastes good right now!"

Bakugou instantly regretted bringing this up as he watched a lightbulb go off in all of their heads before they turned to one another with serious looks on their faces, talking in slightly hushed voices with mouths full of bacon.

"Should we try it?" Denki asked, a daring smirk tugging at his lips as he casually swiped another piece of bacon off of Shouto’s chest without looking and took a bite from it. Shouto laid on the counter in happy silence as he crunched on his own.

Kirishima looked between Sero and Denki with hesitation in his eyes. "I don't know, guys…"

"Come on! Aren’t we doing the whole ‘yes, and’ thing tonight? I've always been curious to try it!" Denki pouted.

"Why haven't you?” Sero asked.

"I was scared."

Sero and Kirishima’s chewing stopped as a look of bewilderment spread across their faces. They both responded in unison. "Scared?"

"There might be bugs in it!" Denki said, voice raising above a hushed tone.

Bakugou growled. "Oh my god, shut up! You're not gonna eat dirt!"

The boys once again turned their heads toward Bakugou. Kirishima put his hand up.

"For the record, I wasn't going to do it."

"Coward,” Denki muttered, shooting him a glare.

Kirishima gasped, snapping his head to Denki with his mouth slightly agape.

"I wanna eat dirt!" Shouto yelled, trying to sit up on the kitchen island.

Sero jumped into action, placing a hand onto Shouto’s shoulder to stop him. "Wait, hold on! One more round! Please?"

“No! You idiots a-”

Bakugou’s protests were interrupted and ignored as the other boys focused their attention on Shouto once more.

"Yeah, please? I wanna see it again!" Denki pleaded, giving Shouto his best puppy dog eyes.

Shouto sighed. "Okay…"

He flopped back down onto the island and the boys immediately got back to work, placing more raw bacon strips on the left side of his body while Shouto giggled about how cold it felt against his hot skin. Bakugou cringed uncomfortably at the sight, yet he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. He had never been so painfully aware of how sober he was than he did in this moment.

Sero stepped back with his hands in the air as if he was stepping away from a delicate masterpiece he had just finished creating. “Okay! Ready!”

They all went silent again to allow Shouto to concentrate as they watched him closely. Since Shouto was warmed up from before, it didn’t take as long for the sizzling to begin. Denki, Sero, and Kirishima looked as excited as kids on Christmas morning as they watched the bacon cook before their very eyes. Bakugou, while not nearly as excited as them, was still watching with some level of intrigue as he stood there with his arms crossed. All of them were so focused on this that they didn’t even notice someone had walked through the front door.

The sizzling stopped.

“Wait, don’t stop! The bacon’s not done yet!” Denki said.

“Did you get tired?” Sero asked.

Shouto shook his head, eyes furrowed in confusion as he tried to activate his quirk again, to no avail.

“Uh…guys?” Kirishima’s voice was quiet and unsteady. Sero, Denki, and Bakugou followed his gaze until their eyes landed on what exactly had him so shaken.

The chill down their spines that they felt when Bakugou entered the room was no match against the one they felt when they saw their homeroom teacher staring at them, menacing eyes glowing red and hair floating around him as he stared at Shouto. Even though he wasn’t looking directly at the rest of them, they could feel him viewing them in his peripherals, and that was enough to make their stomachs drop to the floor.

Aizawa stopped his quirk, tearing his eyes away from Shouto in order to take in the full scene before him. His face remained relatively neutral, as usual, but his eyes flashed with various emotions, most predominantly confusion, as he scanned the room and the people in it. He looked entirely confounded, rendered completely speechless. Bakugou knew the feeling…

None of the boys dared to speak a word, and instead simply stared back at him, frozen like deer in headlights. After a minute or so—which felt like a millennium to the poor boys facing the scrutinous gaze of their teacher—Aizawa finally spoke.

“What exactly am I looking at here?”

Everyone began talking at once, including Shouto, who rambled on nonsense about his dad in the middle of the other boys trying desperately to explain themselves. Bakugou shook his head and ran a frustrated hand over his face.

“Silence!” Aizawa ordered. The room immediately went quiet. Aizawa moved his attention to the only other fully clothed person in the room, standing the furthest away from the scene.

“Bakugou. What happened?”

Bakugou glanced at the boys, who looked away in defeat, as they knew they were beyond screwed at this point. He sighed and begrudgingly told Aizawa the truth of everything that happened that night.

Aizawa stared at Bakugou as he processed this information, before looking between all of them with disappointment written on his face.

“You know the rules. And yet, you’ve broken multiple in just one night alone. What kind of heroes do you stand to become if you can’t follow simple rules?” he scolded. The boys averted their eyes in shame. Aizawa’s icy gaze did not let up as he continued speaking.

“We’ll discuss your consequences tomorrow with the rest of the class. For now, you need to go to your rooms.”

“But, uh…Mr. Aizawa? What about the mess?” Kirishima asked nervously.

Aizawa glanced around the room once more and let out an exasperated sigh. “Tomorrow.”

Sero helped Shouto stand up from the table, bacon falling off his chest and shoulder and dropping to the floor as he steadied him. Bakugou, Kirishima, and Denki shuffled out of the common room towards the elevator as Aizawa placed a hand on Sero’s shoulder.

“I got him. Go to your room.”

Sero nodded and quickly scurried out of Aizawa’s sight.

Aizawa scrunched up his nose slightly in disgust as he reached out and peeled a stray piece of bacon off of Shouto’s chest and tossed it to the floor with the rest of them. Shouto slowly looked up at Aizawa and smiled.

“Are you okay?” Aizawa asked, a look of concern on his face as he watched Shouto wobble unsteadily where he stood.

Shouto nodded. “I had fun today.”

Trying to hold back the tiny smirk that tugged at his lips, Aizawa asked him another question. “Can you walk on your own?”

Shouto paused, deep in thought for a moment. “The floor is moving.”

Aizawa sighed, taking that as an obvious “no”, and bent down slightly to put Shouto’s arm around his neck. After an arduous journey to the elevator and onto the correct floor, he managed to get Shouto to his room. He almost left him there in front of his room, but after walking a few feet away and not hearing the door opening and closing, he turned to find Shouto staring at the door and tugging at the handle, like he had forgotten how to open it.

It was at this moment that Aizawa really wondered how he had gotten to this point. Since when did being a teacher turn into a full-time babysitting job? After helping Shouto into his room, he got him a glass of water before trying to get him to go to bed. To which, Shouto was having none of it.

“No! I’m not tired! I can do what I want!”

Aizawa knew Shouto was going through some kind of rebellious phase the moment he walked into homeroom last week without his uniform tie on, nor his uniform ironed. Shouto was always put together perfectly every day, so while not very concerning to those who didn’t know him, to Aizawa and the rest of his students, it was pretty alarming. That day, Aizawa casually watched in his peripherals as Bakugou accused him of stealing his style. Shouto merely responded with a scoff and a roll of his eyes before opening his notebook and scribbling drawings inside of it. Aizawa later managed to get a peek at those drawings when Shouto wasn’t looking. They were all scribbles and doodles about his dad.

Aizawa immediately recognized this as a cry for help. But what was he to do? He was just his teacher, after all. Even so, that didn’t mean his paternal instincts didn’t wish to help the poor kid however he could.

After bribing Shouto with a bedtime story if he got into bed and closed his eyes, he finally managed to get him to cooperate. Shouto yawned as Aizawa started to tell the story. Before he could even finish saying “once upon a time,” Shouto was fast asleep, soft snores passing through his open mouth.

Aizawa stood quietly, trying not to stir Shouto awake as he carefully made his way towards the door. He froze after only a couple of steps at the sound of Shouto’s voice, mumbling something in his sleep.

“Fuck you, dad…”

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*Later That Night...*

Aizawa stepped through the front door of his home with bleary eyes and hunched shoulders, dropping his keys on the table by the door and taking his shoes off. The sound of his husband’s voice echoed through the house as he was sliding his feet into his slippers.

“Honey, is that you?”

“Yes, I’m home,” Aizawa muttered tiredly as he walked towards the bedroom. There he found Hizashi in bed, wearing his pajamas and his hair in a messy bun, his back leaned against the headboard and a book rested on his lap. He looked up at Aizawa above the reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

“Damn, you look rough. What kind of mess did those kids get into this time? Was it really a party like the mysterious snitch said?” Hizashi asked, eyebrows raised and a slightly amused smirk on his face. Behind all of this was a soft look of concern in his eyes as he took in the sight of his exhausted partner.

Aizawa had been working all day, grading papers and filing paperwork, when he suddenly got a late night call from an unknown number, informing him of some sort of disturbance happening at the dorm of Class 1-A. Aizawa knew for a fact who it was, despite the caller trying to mask their voice. It was Monoma from Class 1-B. How he got Aizawa’s personal number, he had no idea. But that seemed to be the least of his worries at the time.

After checking the camera footage for the dorm, he found that everything seemed to be just fine. But something in his gut told him to check up on things anyway, so he followed his instincts and left to do just that.

Part of Aizawa wishes he’d never stepped foot in that dorm at all. He was dreading the paperwork he’d inevitably have to fill out for this incident.

“So? What happened?” Hizashi asked again as he set his book aside and placed his hand over Aizawa’s, softly tracing his fingers.

Aizawa looked around, confused at how he was now sitting in bed when he was just standing moments ago. He sighed. He was so tired that he was starting to black out. He felt just like Shouto, except he was simply drunk from exhaustion alone. On top of that, he was still trying to process what he had witnessed earlier. Never in his life had he seen anything like what he’d walked in on earlier. Somehow, he was left feeling embarrassed for having interrupted whatever it was that they were doing. He still had so many questions and so few answers.

“Cooking bacon on his hot side…” Aizawa mumbled, eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment as he stared off at the wall ahead of him.

“Say what now?”

Aizawa turned his head to Hizashi. “They were using Todoroki’s quirk to cook bacon on his hot side.”

Hizashi stared blankly at Aizawa for long enough that Aizawa jumped when he suddenly burst into a fit of laughter.

“What in the world are you talking about? You mean the hot and cold kid?” Hizashi asked after his laughter had settled a bit.

Aizawa nodded, sending Hizashi into a further fit of laughter. The perplexed look on Aizawa’s face was only egging his laughter on even more.

“Tell me everything. PLEASE!”

Aizawa sighed and told him the whole story, including the details of what Bakugou explained to him. By the end of it, Hizashi was on the floor, clutching his stomach as laughter echoed throughout the room. Aizawa couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, and as things began to finally settle within him, he began to join Hizashi in his laughter, until suddenly he too was on the floor, laughing uncontrollably beside him.  

“What…” Hizashi began laughing again as he tried to sit up against the side of the bed beside Aizawa. “What are you gonna do with them?”

Aizawa chuckled. “I have no fucking clue. I have to figure something out before tomorrow morning, though.”

Hizashi’s smile turned mischievous as he looked at Aizawa, wiggling his eyebrows. “I have some ideas…”

“No.”

“Come on! You know I can give them the punishment of a lifetime! They’ll never even think about breaking the rules ever again!”

Aizawa paused in thought for a moment. “Maybe.”

“YES!” Hizashi pumped his fist in the air.

If Aizawa wasn’t so exhausted, he’d roll his eyes. “I said ‘maybe’. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Hizashi smiled, letting out a wistful sigh as he leaned his head against Aizawa’s shoulder. “Remember when we were their age? The parties, the fun? Getting caught and being punished by our superiors? Good times…”

“I wouldn’t say the punishments were ‘good’, by any means. I only ever got in trouble because of you. I didn’t even wish to attend most of those parties,” Aizawa muttered, yawning as he rested his head against Hizashi’s.

“Still…looking back, I miss it all. It’s kind of sweet seeing these kids doing the same stupid things we did.”

Aizawa scoffed. “We certainly were not doing whatever I walked into tonight.”

“Maybe nothing that weird, but our class definitely did some strange shit too. Remember that time with-“

“Don’t remind me.”

Hizashi chuckled. “Ah! So, you do remember then, huh? I thought you said you forgot because you were so drunk. Liarrr…” He ended his sentence in a drawn out, singsong voice.

“Oh, I remember. Too clearly,” Aizawa grumbled.

Hizashi laughed and continued to ramble on until he eventually heard the sound of his husband’s soft snores, paired with the weight of his head growing heavier atop his. He glanced up at him, a fond smile tugging at his lips. With little struggle, he managed to get Aizawa into bed without waking him completely. Hizashi was used to having to drag or carry Aizawa to bed most nights; it almost felt like routine at this point.

He couldn’t help but smile at his sleeping form. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to his forehead before turning off the lights and snuggling up beside him. The last thing he did was giggle quietly to himself before whispering into his ear.

“Sleep well, honey. You’re gonna need it.”

─────────────── ･ ｡ﾟ🔥: *.🥓 .* :🔥˚.･ ────────────────

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[these-written-reveries]

might be too angsty but can you write a ledger!joker x reader with a reader who self harms? either catching them in the middle of the act or seeing the scars they were trying to keep hidden?

Hello! First of all, thank you for your request! I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to write this at first, particularly because it's such a sensitive subject. The last thing I'd ever want is to upset or cause emotional harm to those who may be struggling with this themselves. That said, I want my writings to be a source of good and bring solace to those that are in need of it, so I decided to try my best and write it anyway.

I chose to keep things vague and without too much detail to help minimize the triggering aspects of this subject. Please use your own discretion when choosing whether to proceed with reading and let me know if there is anything wrong with this piece that I should fix. I hope this fulfills your wishes, nonnie. Sending all my love to you and anyone else who may be struggling with this. I strongly encourage you to seek the help/support that you deserve ❤️

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-Try-

‣ Pairing: Ledger!Joker/Jack Napier x GN!Reader

‣ Summary: J finally comes face-to-face with the pain you've been carrying alone all this time and tries to help you bear the weight of it.

‣ Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

‣ Warnings: self-harm (no details mentioned of the act/object used), blood (minor references), scars/fresh wounds (no details), panic, breakdown/crying.

‣ Word Count: 2,226

‣ Have an idea for a fic you’d like me to write? Send a request here. But first, make sure to read my Request Info!

L!Joker/Jack Napier Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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It was just past midnight when J unlocked your apartment door and slipped inside. He was dressed in a casual outfit consisting of a black hoodie and jeans, the hood pulled up over his head and a surgical mask covering the lower half of his face. After locking the door behind him, he dropped the hood and pulled the mask off, shoving it into the pocket of his hoodie as he walked further into your apartment.

“Where’s my little dove?” he called out, announcing his presence so as not to frighten you.

It was becoming more of a frequent habit for Jack to come over to your place, especially to sleep. He’d usually let you know when he’d be coming through call or text, but today he hadn’t the time. In fact, he wasn’t planning on coming over at all today. But after the nonsense he’d been dealing with recently regarding work, he wanted nothing more than to pay a visit to his love to set his frazzled mind back in order. At this point, you were pretty used to him showing up at odd hours of the night to visit you, so he figured it wouldn’t be a problem if he stopped by tonight. You were always complaining about not seeing him enough anyway.

While your romantic relationship was still somewhat new, you’d known each other for quite a while by now. He’d spent months trying to woo you, which proved to be a bigger challenge than he had initially expected. Jack knew he wasn’t the most desirable man in the world, but he could tell that wasn’t the only thing holding you back from accepting his affections right away. There was more to you than met the eye, and he was determined to know all the complexities of you.

Jack had no problem taking his time with you. You seemed to appreciate this, so he allowed you to set the pace of your relationship. You hadn’t expected Jack to be so patient with you, yet he was, exceedingly so. He didn’t pressure you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with, and he didn’t judge you for your “odd” tendencies. As J saw it, he was more than a bit odd himself, so who was he to judge? In taking your time to build your relationship together, he’d learned a lot about the little intricacies of who you were, but there was a hidden part of you he had yet to become acquainted with. A mystery he could never seem to solve, until today.

Knocking lightly on your bedroom door, he found it to be unlocked and quietly turned the handle. You hadn’t responded to his previous call, so he figured you were asleep. His assumptions were found to be correct when he spotted you curled up on your bed wearing one of his long-sleeved button-down shirts and a pair of underwear. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you before walking over to the other side of the bed. There you lied, facing the empty spot where he normally slept, the lamp you left on providing the perfect amount of light for him to admire your beautiful features. Though, the smile that began to tug at his lips upon seeing your face quickly faded as he noticed the puffiness of your eyes and tear stains on the pillow you were lying on.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he removed his shoes and hoodie and left them on the floor beside the bed before carefully climbing onto the mattress. Successfully managing to lie down beside you without waking you, he silently observed your face. Seeing you upset or hurt elicited the worst feelings in him. The emotion that manifested most frequently in him was anger. But the feelings he felt in moments like these were much more complex than that; so complex he couldn’t fully make sense of them. All he knew was that it made his chest ache and his stomach twist in a way that made him feel sick.

Deciding to take the risk of waking you, he gently brushed his knuckles against your cheek, his painted lips curling up into a fond smile as you subconsciously nuzzled against his fingers before going still once more. He continued, moving his hand down to trail his fingertips over your shoulder all the way to your fingertips. He glanced down at your other arm, that which lied between the two of you with your hand tucked under the pillow that supported your head. His fingers traveled to this arm, about to continue their journey when they suddenly froze in place at the familiar sight of crimson. Upon second glance, Jack immediately recognized this to be exactly what he thought it was. At first, he considered it to be an old stain—it was his shirt, after all, but it was too fresh for that to be the case.

Alarms began going off in his head as he went through all the possible scenarios of how you could have been hurt. It wasn’t uncommon to experience physical attacks in the dangerous city of Gotham—even more likely if anyone were to find out about your relationship with the infamous Joker. This is why J taught you how to physically protect yourself and gave you self-defense weapons to keep with you in case anything were to happen. He was also very careful when it came to keeping your relationship hidden from the rest of the world. Along with these things, he took a handful of other measures to keep you safe, making sure to cover all the bases. His biggest fear was you getting hurt, or worse, and him being unable to stop it. He’d do anything to shield you from any potential threats or harm that could ever come your way.

Yet, he’d never once considered self-inflicted harm to be such a substantial threat to his lover…

As he carefully pulled back the red-stained sleeve, his heart sank. He remained still as he stared at the scars and fresh wounds that covered your skin. At this point, you had awoken and immediately felt an impending sense of doom begin to fill your being at the sight of Jack looking directly at what you had tried to keep hidden from him for so long. You yanked your arm away and quickly sat up, pulling the sleeves back over your arms and hiding the rest of your body with the covers. Tears filled your eyes and panic manifested within your chest as an inability to breathe, the racing thoughts in your mind causing you to spiral even faster.

“I’m sorry,” your voice cracked as you uttered the words at barely above a whisper. You were trembling now, squeezing your eyes closed as your mind fed you every worst-case scenario in the book.

Silence.

Oh, how you hated to hear it.

It only provided your mind with more room to insert its own terrible thoughts and ideas about what J was thinking of you.

Unable to open your eyes, yet unable to stand the silence any longer, you spoke again. “Please…say something. If you’re mad or whatever, just say-”

“No.” His sudden interruption startled you, but you were still relieved to hear something come out of his mouth.

“Look at me,” he spoke firmly, but there was something else to the tone of his voice that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You were too afraid to open your eyes for fear that you'd see nothing but disgust and disappointment staring right back at you.

You felt the mattress shift beneath you as J moved closer to you. A tear fell from your eyes that was swiped away by the pad of his thumb before your chin was gently grasped between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up slightly. This time, you bravely opened your eyes to look at your love before you. Instantly, you were met with a strange look in his eyes. Different than any look he’d ever given you before. One filled with so much love, yet carried with it a lingering sadness. This look alone pierced your heart and made it even harder not to crumble to bits into his lap.

“I’m not mad at you. Ya got that?”

The truth is, he was mad at himself. Particularly for not recognizing sooner. He was so observant when it came to you and yet he had completely missed this. It made his stomach turn to think that you had been struggling alone this whole time, unbeknownst to him.

Now everything made sense. All the “odd” tendencies you exhibited on a frequent basis. The way you avoided certain intimate interactions with him. He always thought you just didn't like to be touched that much, so he used his touch sparingly with you and only in ways he knew you were comfortable with. The way you remained so covered up, even when it was blazing hot. In his mind, he assumed you were just insecure about your body and after bringing it up once and seeing you shut down in response, he chose not to press on the subject again until you were ready to talk about it. So many things he could now link directly back to this. How stupid he felt for not being able to piece it together sooner. He could’ve been there for you this whole time and he wasn’t.

But as he looked at you now, your lip quivering as you nodded in response to him, he realized that what really mattered was being there for you now.

“Alright. C’mere.” He held his arms out and you blinked at him, unmoving.

"Do ya want a hug or not? Hm?"

Upon hearing this, you wasted no further time diving into his embrace. He pulled you close, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other wound securely around your waist. You finally burst into tears and clung to him tightly, making his attempt to move the two of you into a better position much more of a struggle, but he managed.

"Hush-ush-ush, it's okay, doll. I got ya,” he cooed softly at you.

He was ever so careful now with where his fingers touched you, choosing to keep them stationed at your back where they gently ran up and down your spine. This soothing touch paired with the sound of him shushing you softly between pressing kisses to your head was enough to calm you down much faster than you normally would have on your own. Now your sobs had dwindled down to mere sniffles and your tears were slowing their pace.

Recognizing this, Jack finally decided to speak again.

"Ya know, I'm always here for you, doll. You might think this changes how I feel about you, but it doesn't. Not one bit."

He could feel your body shake with quiet sobs in response to his words, his shirt being further soaked with your salty tears. He squeezed you a bit tighter.

"Will you let me help you? I'm not sayin' I have all the answers or that it'll be easy, ‘cause it won't. But we're in this together now, toots. I'll do whatever it takes to get ya through this. I mean it."

You were silent for a moment before you looked up at him and hesitantly nodded. The vulnerable look on your face was enough to break what was left of your clown’s heart as his eyes begin to sting slightly. He clenched his jaw to hold back his tears and pressed his lips to your forehead before pulling you closer against him. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he continued to speak.

"We'll figure it out together, hm? Ya got me now. So you better come to me when you're feeling like doing it again. Doesn’t matter what I'm doing. Ya know I’ll drop everything for you."

"It's…hard for me to do that in the moment,” you confessed quietly. J nodded in understanding and gave you another small squeeze of reassurance.

"Try your best, doll. That's all I'm askin’. I don't expect ya not to slip up from time to time. I'll still be here when you do. But ya gotta help me help you. Alright?"

"Mhm…” You nodded in agreement.

"That's my doll." He kissed the top of your head, leaving traces of face paint in your hair. "I love you, and all that sappy shit,” he muttered.

You let out a small breathy laugh and pressed a kiss to his chest before squeezing him tighter. "I love you, J. Thank you."

J scoffed, but a tiny smile tugged at his lips all the same. "Yeah, yeah. Listen, I don't need your thanks. I just need ya to be strong for me. Think you can do that?"

"I'll try my best.”

"Good. You do that and I'll take care of the rest. I got your back, toots.” He kissed your head and squeezed you again for good measure, his fingers traveling from your back, up to your cheek, grazing over your tear-stained skin. He stared at you affectionately as you nuzzled against his touch.

Looking up at him once more, you offered him the best smile you could muster in the moment. It was weak, but you were trying. And that was enough.

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‣ If you enjoyed this fic, please like, comment, and/or reblog! Doing so not only keeps my blog alive, but also lets me know what you like and how to improve!

‣ If you’d like to join the taglist for L!Joker/Jack Napier, or be tagged in all of my future writings, let me know by sending me an ask/message!

‣ Taglist: @jslittlebirdie

#ledger!joker #ledger!joker x reader #ledger!joker x y/n #ledger!joker fanfiction #joker #joker x reader #joker x y/n #joker fanfiction #ledger!joker angst #joker angst #ledger!joker imagine #joker imagine #jack napier #jack napier x reader #jack napier x y/n #l!joker #tw: sh #k.requests #kalistawrites

[these-written-reveries]

Arthur Fleck/Phoenix!Joker Masterlist

Main Masterlist

• Unless specified, all writings are character x gn!reader (gender-neutral).

• NSFW/Smut writings will be tagged (18+). Minors, please DNI.

• Have an idea for a fic you’d like me to write? Send me a request here. But first, make sure to read my Request Info!

• If you’d like to join the tag list for Arthur Fleck/P!Joker, or be tagged in all of my future writings, let me know by sending me an ask/message!

*Masterlist Created: 4/9/23

*Last Updated: 4/9/23

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Arthur Fleck

F=fluff, A=angst, (18+)=smut/nsfw

One Shots:

These Foolish Things (F)

‣Summary: A peek into Y/N and Arthur’s day as they notice all the little things that remind them of each other…

By Your Side (F, A)

‣Summary: You forget to call Arthur to let him know you’ll be working late, which results in Arthur spiraling into a breakdown after convincing himself you left him.

Just You and Me (F, A)

‣Summary: You show up at Arthur’s door, struggling and in desperate need of him and his love. Don’t worry, Arthur will take good care of you.

The Spark (F)

‣Summary: After years of searching and failing to find ‘the spark’ that lovers always talked about, you began to think it wasn’t a real possibility for you. That was, until you stumbled into a man by the name of Arthur Fleck.

Series:

Prompts:

Headcanons:

Drabbles:

‣ Sharing Your Deepest/Darkest Thoughts w/Arthur

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Phoenix!Joker

F=fluff, A=angst, (18+)=smut/nsfw

One Shots:

Series:

Prompts:

Headcanons:

Drabbles:

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck masterlist #arthur fleck x reader #joker masterlist #joker x reader #phoenix!joker #p!joker #joker 2019 #arthur fleck x y/n #joker x y/n #arthur fleck fanfiction #joker fanfiction #arthur fleck imagine #joker imagine #arthur fleck fluff #arthur fleck angst #kalistawrites #k.masterlist

[these-written-reveries]

Thoughts About Arthur -`♡´-

@ajokeformur-ray Good morning! 🥰 I was inspired by a particular part of your comment on my fic today and decided to post it as a separate lil' drabble! I hope your last day of work before your week off goes smoothly!

"I feel like you could tell Arthur your deepest darkest most awful thoughts and he'd understand them"

Arthur would definitely understand. He, being well-acquainted with darkness in all of its many forms, has a plethora of dark thoughts himself, and he'd be so grateful to have someone who'd give him the space to voice those thoughts and wouldn't run for the hills when he did. He'd want to make sure you felt safe enough to share your darkness with him too, knowing that he isn't going anywhere. His hands would be holding yours, his arms around you, anything to make you feel anchored to him in the moment. All his focus would be on you. Occasionally, he'd squeeze your hands and hum or nod in agreement/understanding.

Even if you were to tell him something that he couldn't fully grasp at first, he would be so committed to understanding every part of you, including all the inner workings of your mind and heart, that it wouldn't take him long to reach that place of understanding. Above all, he'd never judge you or be put off by anything you said. You'd always been accepting of all the darkest parts of him and served as a guiding light whenever he got lost in the shadows. He would work so very hard to be that for you as well.

Arthur would be the best person to share your deepest thoughts with. He'd be absolutely honored to be your source of safety and comfort -the person you unshackled your darkness around for him to observe freely. And with each piece of your beautiful, complex soul that you shared with him, he'd fall for you even more.

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A/N: I would bare my entire mind, body, and soul to Arthur if he asked me to. There's nothing better than having someone that you can just be 100% you around -no filters, no masks, no nothing. Someone that knows you inside and out and still loves and adores you. Arthur is that kind of person and I love him so so much for that. 😭💖

Arthur Fleck/P!Joker Masterlist

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck drabble #arthur fleck thoughts #joker 2019 #kalistawrites #k.thoughts #k.drabbles

[these-written-reveries]

✧ Main Masterlist ✧

Need an escape from the cold, gripping tendrils of reality? Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Here’s a collection of various reveries written by yours truly. ♡

➺ If you enjoy my fics, please like, comment, and/or reblog! Doing so not only keeps my blog alive, but also lets me know what you like and how to improve!

➺ Have an idea for a fic you’d like me to write? Send a request here. But first, make sure to read my Request Info!

*Masterlist Created: 4/11/23

*Last Updated: 8/8/23

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Jokers:

➺Arthur Fleck/Phoenix!Joker

➺Ledger!Joker/Jack Napier

#k.masterlist #kalistawrites

[these-written-reveries]

By Your Side

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Reader (gender-neutral)

Summary: You forget to call Arthur to let him know you’ll be working late, which results in Arthur spiraling into a breakdown after convincing himself you left him. Fluffy comfort ensues…

Warnings: Dissociation, breakdown, angst, fluff.

Word Count: 2,641

A/N: This is my first fic/one-shot on this blog and I’m very nervous but excited at the same time! The inspiration for this story was the song “By Your Side” by Sade. I hope you all enjoy it!

Arthur Fleck/P!Joker Masterlist

Main Masterlist

It was late in the night when you finally stumbled through the front door of your shared apartment with Arthur. You moved like a braindead zombie, dragging your feet like heavy blocks of cement as you dropped your things by the entryway and trudged towards your bedroom where you assumed Arthur would be. You imagined you’d walk in to find him watching re-runs of Murray while trying to keep his tired eyes open as he awaited your arrival. 

All you wanted was to curl up in his arms and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing and steady heartbeat. It was the reward at the end of your days that made it all worth it. With the long week of work you’d had, you needed him more than anything; for his love was the juice that your batteries needed to recharge at the end of the night and vice versa.

“Art, I’m home…” your weary voice called out as you walked into the bedroom, only to freeze in your tracks at the missing sight of Arthur in your room.

A bad feeling suddenly washed over you as you left the bedroom to check the other rooms of the apartment. You checked the bathroom and the living room to find them both dark and empty; even peeking through the serving hatch into the kitchen to find no lights or signs of life in there either. You tried to recall whether Arthur was supposed to work late, only to quickly toss that possibility out the window when you remembered that Haha’s closed at 7:00 and the current time was nearing midnight.

At this point, you were panicking; your mind coming up with all the horrible things that could’ve happened to him on his way home. What if he was hurt? What if he was…

You prevented yourself from finishing that thought and raced towards the front door, about to open it when something in the corner of your eye caused you to stop dead in your tracks.

Looking to the right of you, your eyes landed on all the shelves and food that had been carelessly tossed out of the fridge and onto the ground. Your heart sank to the floor as you realized where Arthur was. Rushing over to the fridge-which was like a race through an obstacle course as you hopped over many objects to get to the finish line-, you reached for the door and opened it hastily.

Arthur didn’t flinch at the abruptness of your actions; in fact, his eyes remained closed as if he didn't even notice you there at all. His body was curled up in a tight ball, head resting against the cold wall of the fridge with his eyes shut. His skin was the palest you'd ever seen and his whole body was vibrating in a desperate attempt to warm itself up. Tears filled your eyes as you wondered how long he'd been in there before you arrived. Arthur had gotten off work at least a few hours before you, which meant he could've been in there the whole time since he'd gotten home.

"Arthur!" You reached out and placed your hands on his shoulders, trying to tug him out of the cold space, but he resisted, still refusing to open his eyes. "Arthur, please...Baby, look at me," you pleaded desperately.

The sound of your distressed voice triggered Arthur’s eyes to slowly open. He looked at you, eyes dull and empty, but with the slightest hint of emotion flashing through them at the sight of you in front of him. You tried to hold back your tears as you spoke. You didn't want to upset him more than he already was.

"Sweetheart...Let's get you out of here, okay?" you spoke ever so softly, cupping your warm hands over his ice-cold cheeks. You couldn't help your own body from trembling with worry and anxiety as you stared at the man you loved in such a state.

You pushed aside the many thoughts that swarmed around your head, wondering if there was anything you could've done differently to prevent this situation from happening. Right now, none of that was important. Arthur needed you. You needed to take care of him and make sure he was safe.

You weren't sure if he had heard you the first time, for he seemed lost in a daze; wandering about in the imaginary world in his mind. You had witnessed moments of Arthur getting lost in his head, especially during moments of dissociating after a particularly rough day that was simply too much for him to process on top of all the trauma and mental struggles he dealt with every day. But this...this was different. You had never seen Arthur this bad before. You knew something terrible must have happened to throw him this deep into the twisted darkness that lingered around his head constantly; his mind switching off completely to cope.

"Come on, baby. Take my hands." You reached down, taking his shaky hands into yours.

You gave him a little tug and this time he didn't resist, though he didn't help much either. With all of your strength and effort, you pulled him out of the fridge and helped him up to his feet. He wobbled a little, his body still stiff and weak from sitting uncomfortably in the tight cold space for such a long time. You steadied him before cautiously steering him through the mess that was the kitchen floor until you finally reached the bathroom.

Sitting him down onto the toilet, you walked over to the bathtub and turned on the water, getting it to a perfect temperature before plugging the drain and allowing the warm water to fill the tub. You added a capful of lavender bubble bath before putting the bottle away and turning back to Arthur who remained unmoved, staring blankly at the pink-tiled wall in front of him. Letting out a worried sigh, you walked over to him and placed your hands on his face; cheeks now flushed as the warmer temperature of the apartment combated the icy coldness of his skin. His body was still trembling profusely, but you knew that problem would soon be resolved once you got him into the warm bath.

Arthur was still far, far away in the depths of his own mind, but the feeling of your lips pressed against his forehead seemed to bring him a little closer to the present moment. This time he looked at you, blinking as if he was trying hard to focus on you-or perhaps to see if you were real or a figment of his imagination-. You brushed a dark lock of hair behind his ear before speaking.

"I'm going to undress you now, okay?" you said, surprised when he gave you the smallest of nods in response. You smiled softly at him before slowly undressing him, being as gentle as possible with all of your movements as not to overwhelm him further.

Once his clothes were in a pile on the floor, you carefully led him over to the bathtub; being extra vigilant to make sure he didn’t fall as you helped him into it. You turned off the faucet and pulled up the stool to sit in front of him as you grabbed the soft bath sponge that sat on the edge of the tub, soaking it in the soapy water. Arthur sat still as you gently ran it over his body, his shivering steadily coming to a stop after a few minutes. You could see him inching back to reality with every touch from you, his eyes blinking and his head moving every once in a while as he took in a new piece of his surroundings.

Once you finished washing his body, you moved on to his hair. You scooped water into the cup you grabbed from the side of the tub and carefully poured it onto his head, shielding his eyes as you did so. Arthur was now watching you as you grabbed his shampoo bottle to the right of him and poured some into your hands, the fresh scent of Old Spice invigorating his senses and grounding him further into the present moment.

He closed his eyes as you gently massaged the shampoo into his scalp, a fond smile tugging at your lips as Arthur leaned into your touch. You stopped once his head was fully lathered with the soapy suds before grabbing the cup and rinsing his hair once again with water.

"Tilt your head back a bit more, baby," you instructed sweetly, your heart fluttering with inner joy when he did exactly as you said. Your Arthur was finally coming back to you…

Finally, you finished rinsing all the suds out of his hair and soon after pulled the plug on the drain, helping Arthur out of the tub and wrapping him up in a towel. "Stay right here, honey. I'll be right back," you said before running out of the room to grab a pair of his most comfortable clothes.

You came back two minutes later to find that he had dried himself off completely and was now standing with the towel wrapped around his waist. You smiled as you walked over to him, a pair of blue sweatpants, underwear and a grey sweater in your hands.

Arthur seemed to be almost fully present now and aware of his surroundings as you came to a stop in front of him. You helped him get dressed; him assisting but allowing you to do most of the work as he watched you closely. You noticed him staring and gave him a sweet smile, leaning close and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" you asked, the words taking some time to process in Arthur's head as he tried to figure out what exactly he was feeling.

"I don't know...But I'm glad you're here."

Your heart melted at his words and you pulled him into a hug, the crushing weight of your day lifting significantly as his arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer. You felt Arthur bury his nose into your hair and inhale your scent deeply, his muscles relaxing as he exhaled.

"Me too, baby," you sighed into his chest. A long moment of silence followed your words as you both stood there, getting lost in each other's warm embrace before Arthur mumbled into your neck.

"I thought you left me..."

You furrowed your brows and pulled away slightly to look at him, your heart shattering to pieces as you caught sight of his tear-filled eyes. It didn't take long before the tears you'd been holding back all night began rising to the surface once again.

"Arthur...Honey, I would never do that. I could never leave you," your voice came out quieter than you had expected, the lump in your throat preventing you from speaking properly.

All of Arthur's suppressed feelings soon came back to him all at once and you let out a soft whimper as tears began to fall down his face while he spoke. "E-Everyone at work was saying you were going to leave me; t-that you don't deserve a loser l-like me…Then you didn't come home on time. W-Where were you?"

His voice sounded so sad, so vulnerable, your heart could hardly take it. The realization that followed hit you like a ton of bricks. You had forgotten to call to let him know you’d be working extra late that night. You were the cause that led him to spiral into such a terrible state. Knowing this only induced more tears to fall from your eyes as you delicately wiped his away.

"I'm so sorry, Art. I should've told you I'd be working late tonight. My boss offered me a few extra hours, and I couldn’t turn it down. I thought I called but my mind has been so fried lately, I completely forgot. I'm so sorry, baby," you said, trying to keep yourself together and failing miserably.

You felt guiltier than you could ever put into words. You knew how sensitive Arthur was about things such as you coming home at the exact time you said you would. Hell, even you were that way with Arthur.

The two of you had always been so good at telling one another when you'd be home or if you'd be later than usual. It was a good thing to know, not just because of safety reasons, but also because of the deep-seated insecurities that lived inside Arthur and tormented him to no end. These insecurities created small thoughts that could easily spiral into full-blown breakdowns and panic attacks if given even the tiniest hint that they could be true; such as your forgetful mistake causing Arthur to think you’d left him.

Although the idea to you was absurd–you would never even think of leaving the man you loved more than life itself-, to him it was an entirely reasonable idea. He’d always feared the day that you would get sick of him, realize what a poor excuse of a man he was and run far, far away. It was a constant battle between those thoughts in his head and you trying to reassure him that none of them were true. It was tiring at times, yes, but you would spend the rest of your life reassuring him over and over if that’s what it took to keep his precious mind at ease.

You were so busy beating yourself up inside for causing your sweet Arthur to experience such a terrible thing, that you almost flinched when his large hands reached out to cradle your face.

“It's okay,” he whispered, giving you the softest of looks. He was always so quick to forgive you, even when you had caused him so much distress…

You shook your head and took his hands in yours. “No, it's not. You deserve better than that, Arthur. I promise it'll never happen again.” Arthur sniffled as he nodded, watching as you let go of his hands and placed them on either side of his face, looking deep into his eyes.

“No matter what happens, I promise I'll always be by your side at the end of the day,” you spoke tenderly, praying your words of reassurance wouldn’t go right through him like they so often did.

Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be the case tonight as a smile slowly spread across Arthur's face, his heart bursting with love for you. He suddenly pulled you closer, bringing his lips to yours in a loving kiss. You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers through his wet hair. All events prior to this moment disappeared, and all that remained was you and him. You allowed yourself to be consumed by the feelings only Arthur could make you feel; your head spinning from the intensity of it all.

You whined as he pulled away, causing Arthur to chuckle as he rested his forehead against yours. “I love you so much,” he murmured, almost inaudibly, but you heard him loud and clear.

You captured his lips in one last kiss before pulling away and looking into his sweet emerald eyes. “I love you too; more than anything.”

As you pulled away from Arthur completely, you grabbed onto his hands, leading him towards your bedroom where you'd be showering him with endless kisses and reassurance until you physically couldn’t stay awake any longer. It didn’t matter if it took a single day or the rest of eternity to get it into his head; you would never stop showing Arthur just how much you loved him and that you weren’t going anywhere. By his side was where you belonged and you wouldn’t trade your place for the world.

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfiction #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck fluff #arthur fleck angst #arthur fleck x y/n #joker #joker x reader #joker fanfiction #joker fanfic #joker imagine #joker x y/n #joker 2019 #joaquin phoenix joker #phoenix!joker #phoenix!joker x reader #kalistawrites

[these-written-reveries]

These Foolish Things

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Reader (gender-neutral)

Summary: A peek into Y/N and Arthur’s day as they notice all the little things that remind them of each other…

Warnings: Fluff, tiniest sprinkle of angst, kinda plotless, idk

Words: 4,412

A/N: This was heavily inspired by Ella Fitzgerald’s cover of “These Foolish Things” which is one of my favorite songs of hers. At first, this was just going to be a short one-shot of reader and Arthur slow dancing to this song, but it ended up turning into this. I honestly had no idea what I was really doing when writing it, but I had fun nonetheless. I’d love to hear what you think of it!

Arthur Fleck/P!Joker Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Your arms juggled many items as you walked into the old apartment building where you and Arthur resided. Having just got off of work 2 hours before Arthur, you decided to swing by the store and pharmacy. Your kitchen was practically barren of anything edible after having to go an extra week longer without grocery shopping because of finances being so tight between you and Arthur. He and you had picked up a few extra shifts to make up the difference that you needed to pay for your rent and necessities that month. With the extra time you had left that day, you got the groceries, Arthur’s medication, checked the mailbox and would soon be preparing a nice dinner for the both of you to celebrate your week of hard work.

After nearly dropping the two bags of groceries onto the floor while trying to fish for the key to the apartment in your pocket, you successfully managed to get the door open without any food casualties. Kicking the door closed behind you, you made a beeline to the kitchen, dropping the bags onto the counter with a sigh. You walked back into the entryway and locked the door, placing your bag onto the floor near your shoes as you slipped them off of your tired feet before shrugging off your coat and hanging it on the coat rack.

You flipped on the lights and began unloading the food from the paper bags, placing Arthur’s prescription bag out of the way beside the telephone. With a few frozen meals in hand, you turned to the fridge, about to open the freezer door when your eyes landed on a little yellow sticky note that was stuck to the middle of it. Written in Arthur’s messy handwriting was a message for you.

“Roses are red, vilets are blue, theirs nothing in the world more pritierthen you.♡”

A large smile spread across your face at the cheesy poem. You imagined he wrote it just before he left after you that morning. Now you understood why he was sporting a sly smile all morning. He had likely been planning it since the night before; probably scribbling many different versions in his journal before deciding on one. Arthur was adorable in the way that he always tried to surprise you with sweet gestures, but his face gave it away every time.

Once you finished putting away the groceries, you moved on to making dinner. Grabbing a pot, you filled it with water from the sink before placing it onto the stove and turning the heat on. You decided to make with Arthur’s favorite pasta for dinner. You still remembered the way he lit up the first time you made it for him. He asked if you could make it every night with every ounce of seriousness in his eyes, which made you laugh out of pure fondness for the man you loved so dearly. While his request was flattering, it was pretty unrealistic. You instead agreed to make it on special nights such as this one, where you both had the whole night and the following day off to relax, eat your pasta and watch Murray reruns for as long as you pleased.

You left the water to boil and walked into your bedroom to change out of your work clothes. Your muscles ached as you slipped on your comfortable loungewear before tossing your dirty clothes into the laundry basket. Walking over to the dresser, you opened a few drawers and grabbed a pair of clothes for Arthur to change into once he got home. It wasn’t often that you got home before Arthur, so you decided to make use of the opportunity to take care of him the way he always did with you. He could argue all day that you did too much for him when it was truly the other way around. Arthur always did such a good job taking care of everyone but himself.

After folding them nicely, you placed his clothes onto the chair in front of the vanity, giggling as you spotted a red clown nose on the floor beside the chair. You picked it up and set it onto the vanity before catching sight of the state of the bedroom through the mirror. You sighed as you looked around the room. Clothes were scattered across the carpet, the bedsheets tangled with half the pillows laying on the floor and the bedside table on Arthur’s side a cluttered mess.

You weren’t surprised by the untidy disaster that was your apartment. Recently, neither you nor Arthur had much time for anything besides work. When you weren’t working, you were at home; much too exhausted to even think about anything but sleep. You hardly had time to spend with one another, which was taking a toll on each of you. Thankfully, you and Arthur would finally get some quality time together once he got home.

Before you got to work on tidying up the place, you slipped on Arthur’s red cardigan that was left on the bench at the end of the bed. Feeling over the slightly faded material, you observed the way the sleeves went down past your wrists, ending at the base of your fingers. Bringing the sleeves up to your nose, you inhaled the distinct scent of nicotine mixed with Arthur’s cheap cologne. The deep musky spice mixed with warm vanilla and the overall smell of Arthur was enough to make your head spin in pure delight. A shiver trickled down your spine as you felt your body temperature drop a few degrees along with the room itself. You mentally cursed the terrible insulation and poorly sealed windows in the apartment as you wrapped the cardigan tighter around you and began cleaning up the room.

You picked up all the clothes and placed them in the laundry basket before walking over to the bed. It was left unmade that morning due to the both of you rushing to get ready for your separate jobs after you had spent too long cuddling and mumbling sleepy words of love between tender kisses. You could never get enough of mornings with Arthur. Lately, they were the only moments of peace you had together to actually talk and just be. The nights prior were more often than not quiet and uneventful, mostly comprising the two of you eating a quick meal together and barely uttering more than a few words before going straight to bed.

You ran your fingers over the slight indent in the sheets on his side, sighing as you pulled them taut and made up the rest of the bed. You then turned to Arthur’s bedside table, noticing the nearly empty pack of cigarettes that was ripped open in a seemingly hasty manner. You assumed this was done when you weren’t around; most likely on the nights you worked later than him -which had become a more often occurrence. Both you and Arthur were used to barely making it from paycheck to paycheck, but since your job had recently cut back on your hourly pay, things had been even more difficult for the two of you. You could tell Arthur was just as stressed as you were about it. Although he wouldn’t tell you as not to worry you further, the little hints left behind around the house -such as the full ashtray that was empty just two days ago- said otherwise.

Taking the ashtray from the table, you left the room to empty it into the trashcan in the kitchen before putting it back in its place. You then moved your attention to the living room, starting with the couch where you spotted the green blanket that was sprawled halfway onto the floor. As you folded it, you couldn’t help but think of Arthur’s eyes. In some lightings, they looked just as green as the blanket; like deep emerald oceans. Every time he looked at you with those striking eyes, you felt your heart skip a beat. You could spend all day looking at them if you could…

You were pulled away from your thoughts by the sound of pattering against the windows. Looking up, you saw small droplets of rain hitting the glass. You hoped Arthur remembered to bring the umbrella you gave him. Even though it was just sprinkling, it was a decent walk home from the bus stop. You hated to see him coming home soaking wet all the time on rainy days, so you splurged to buy him his own umbrella -since he refused to take yours no matter how many times you insisted. The difficult part was getting him to remember to take it with him.

Draping the folded blanket over the side of the couch, you thought of the many times you both lied there together, cuddled close under many blankets as you tried to keep warm during the coldest nights of winter when you couldn’t afford to use the heater -not that it would work anyway. Those nights, though sometimes miserably cold, were some of your favorites. You loved nothing more than having an excuse to be cuddled close to Arthur at all times. You knew he loved it just as much as you, if not more. Even after being together for quite a while, Arthur was still so touch starved. He would move mountains if it meant getting extra kisses and cuddles from you.

You turned around to face the coffee table, bending down to pick up a couple of cups and moving the newspaper from a few days ago to find Arthur’s peppermint Altoids underneath. You let out a small huff of laughter as you recalled Arthur looking everywhere for them the other day when they were right in front of him all along. He ate them often to keep him from smoking 3 packs of cigarettes a day and also to help with his smoker’s breath. You never complained about it while kissing him, but he knew it was much more preferable over smelling and tasting like an ashtray. You placed the tin where he would be able to see them and organized everything else around it.

On your way back to the kitchen, you spotted Arthur’s umbrella lying on the hardwood floor beside the door. Glancing back at the window and seeing it beginning to rain harder, you sighed, shaking your head as you spoke quietly to yourself. “Oh, Arthur…What am I going to do with you?”

You disposed of the cups in the kitchen sink before dumping the box of raw noodles into the now boiling water. You were about to walk out of the kitchen once again when your eyes landed on a picture tacked to the wall beside the telephone. It was one taken about a year ago of Arthur dressed as Carnival with a group of children from the hospital he occasionally worked at. The children loved Carnival, but they seemed to love Arthur more. Unlike the rest of Gotham, the children noticed Arthur and saw him for who he really was; a kind soul with a beautiful heart and a wonderful ability to bring a smile to the face of anyone who had enough humanity in them to give him more than just a passing glance on the street. Adults like that were few and far between in Gotham, but the children who hadn’t yet been corrupted by the dreary heartless city were the ones that kept Arthur’s heart full of joy and passion for what he did.

With a fond smile on your face, you walked over to the record player upon the metal tray next to the TV. You turned it on, leaving it to play the vinyl that was already placed onto the turntable. The Very Best of Jazz was a record you bought Arthur for the holidays. It contained a lot of his favorite songs and a few of yours as well. Arthur loved it so much that he played it nearly every day for 3 weeks straight. You were sure the neighbors were probably sick of hearing it by now, but neither of you cared.

You hummed along to Frank Sinatra as you organized the mess of VHS tapes of old recordings of Murray that sat atop the VCR, placing them in a stack on the floor under the TV along with the many others. You looked forward to watching the newest episode later that night while curled up on the couch with Arthur. You enjoyed watching him more than the show itself. His eyes always twinkled with joy and he would occasionally look over at you to see your reaction as he laughed along to the funny bits of the show. It was impossible not to find yourself in a fit of smiles and giggles every time; for his happiness was simply too contagious.

The song “These Foolish Things” by Ella Fitzgerald began playing, bringing a smile to your face as you thought of Arthur. You tidied up a few more things before going back into the kitchen to continue working on dinner. As your hands did all the work, your mind drifted off into thoughts filled with Arthur, your heart longing to see him again as you awaited his arrival…

                            ——————————————————-

Arthur was genuinely smiling as he packed up his clown attire and placed it inside his locker at Haha’s. After many weeks of persistent asking, Hoyt finally got him another shift at the local children’s hospital. He wasn’t sure what exactly changed Hoyt’s mind after the countless “no’s” he received from him, but Arthur had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with your connection with Hoyt’s wife, who was your coworker and friend. Arthur may have overheard a conversation you had on the phone with Mrs. Vaughn earlier that week, where you brought up the idea casually.

The way you always looked after him -even in the smallest of ways- melted his heart. It had been months since he last performed in front of the children and you knew better than anyone how badly Arthur needed a break from sign twirling in front of places like Kenny’s Music Shop. He received no joy from such work, especially when it always involved some form of bullying from the rude people who passed him on the street. For Arthur, seeing the children’s smiles and hearing their laughter at the hospital was the most rewarding thing. It made everything else worth it.

The other men in the locker room were chattering amongst themselves; surprisingly not picking on Arthur for once. Even if they chose to pick on him, he was certain their words wouldn’t get to him in the slightest. Arthur was in a good mood, and he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin it. Or so he thought…

It was just when Arthur had clocked out and was about to head out the door when Randall’s grating voice called out to him. “Hey, Art! Don’t forget to give Y/N my number so they can call me when they get bored of you!” Arthur cackled along with the other men as he waved and left the room, his face dropping and laughter ceasing the moment he turned the corner. Anger boiled inside him as he walked out the front door of Haha’s with clenched fists.

There was one thing that never failed to get under Arthur’s skin, and that was people like Randall talking about you. The sound of your name alone rolling off of their tongues irked him in every possible way. Not only that, their words also fed the monster of insecurity inside him that told him that every word they said was true.

It was only a matter of time before you got bored of him, right? What if you were already bored of him and you didn’t know how to tell him? What if you ran off to be with someone else? What if that someone else was Randall?

As his thoughts ran wild, his right hand instinctually felt for the beaded bracelet on his left wrist. It was one that you made him a while back as a little way to keep a piece of you with him. Sometimes Arthur needed a reminder that you were real or something to ground him to the present moment and bring him peace when his mind started drifting into dark places. One day, you had the idea of making bracelets for one another. You made them with each other’s favorite colors. Arthur’s was made up of red, orange and green beads. All the bad thoughts disappeared as he looked down at the bracelet, a small smile tugging at his lips at the reminder of you. He picked up his speed towards the bus stop, longing to get home where he knew you’d be waiting.

During the bus ride, he continued to fidget with the beaded bracelet as he tried to keep his mind occupied with thoughts of you. Arthur, having experienced many bad things on the bus, was not very fond of them. Usually, when you were with him, you’d hold his hand and let him play with your fingers as you both talked. If anybody said or did anything rude to him, you’d stand up for him in a heartbeat. It was one of the many things he loved about you, even though a large part of him still didn’t believe he deserved your kindness and love.

When a large crowd of people boarded the bus, he grew even more nervous; his leg bouncing up and down as he felt the familiar twist in his stomach and tightening of his throat, signaling an upcoming laughing fit. He sunk lower in his seat in a further attempt to hide himself, suddenly catching the faint scent of your perfume in the process. He then remembered that you had worn his cardigan the night before -like you usually did with his clothes when you were lounging around at home. He brought the front of the sage green material to his nose, closing his eyes and inhaling your comforting scent. He imagined you sat beside him with your head on his shoulder and your hand resting on his thigh. His leg soon stopped bouncing and his muscles relaxed significantly. He kept his eyes closed the rest of the way as he continued to imagine you there by his side.

It was about 10 minutes later when he finally stepped off of the bus. He was instantly welcomed by the wind sweeping past him; just as gentle, but not nearly as warm and comforting as your breath against his skin. A shiver ran down his spine, triggering his feet to begin movingin the direction of home. He couldn’t wait to be engulfed by your warm embrace when he arrived. It was his favorite thing to look forward to at the end of every day.

The stars were just starting to peek through the gloomy sky as the sun almost set completely; the moon taking its place. Arthur thought back to the time when you called him your sun, lighting up your days with his big heart and bright smile. As he glanced up at the moon, a smile graced his face. You were like his moon, your soft light beaming through the darkness of his mind and replacing his twisted thoughts with sweet ones of you that brought him comfort and peace.

As he turned a corner, he couldn’t help but notice the couple holding hands with smiles on their faces as they walked together on the sidewalk. The couple laughed as they passed Arthur, his smile growing as your laughter echoed in his mind. Your laugh was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard –not to mention how adorable you looked while doing it. He could go on all day about how much he adored the way your eyes crinkled or the way your nose scrunched up or the stunning smile that spread across your face. Arthur could admit to doing many foolish things just to see the beautiful look on your face as the rhythmic sound left your precious lips.

He was pulled out of his thoughts of you when he suddenly felt something wet drop onto his head, followed by many more. Looking up, he saw the big grey clouds had moved in, blocking the stars and dimming the moonlight. He recalled you reminding him to bring his umbrella that day, sighing as he pulled up the hood of his thin jacket and picked up his pace. He knew that if he came home soaking wet, he’d definitely get an earful from you. He wouldn’t blame you for it. You cared so much about him that you bought him an umbrella and he didn’t even bring it along with him. The fact that you still continued to love him after all the frustration and trouble he likely caused you was something that truly baffled him.

He turned the last corner before reaching a straightaway path to the apartment building. Along his left in the near distance, he spotted the same poster ad on the dirty brick wall he walked past every day to get to and from home. It was advertising the new fancy restaurant in downtown. He found it slightly ironic that they placed the ad in one of the poorest corners of Gotham, considering how expensive the restaurant was. Regardless, Arthur saw it as a form of motivation. He wanted to take you out on a proper date that wasn’t to a cheap diner ever since the day you got together. For quite a while, he had been saving pennies from each paycheck and whatever he could find on the street. With how much he had already saved, he hoped to take you out on your upcoming birthday.

Arthur wanted nothing more than to treat you like the gentlemen in the movies treated their lovers. He wanted to be the man he believed you deserved. Although you constantly reassured him that you loved him for him and he didn’t need to do anything special to prove himself to you, he still longed to be able to take care of you and spoil you in every way possible. Seeing that poster ad every day gave him the extra motivation to get through the long, tiring days at work. Every penny he saved and worked for was for you. Every beating he took was for you. Every waking moment he fought against the darkness in his own mind was for you. Every beat of his heart was for you and only you. You gave him purpose -a reason to live and keep fighting. While he knew that one fancy date was not nearly enough to repay you for all that you’d done for him, it was at least a start.

A wave of relief washed over Arthur as he stepped out of the rain and through the entrance of the musty old apartment building. He headed straight into the elevator at the end of the hall and pressed the button for the correct floor before the door shut and the elevator finally began moving. The elevator finally came to a stop, his heart racing with anticipation as he exited and made large strides towards the door of your shared apartment. He could faintly hear the sound of music from the other side, making him smile as he unlocked the door and walked inside.

The sound of you humming along to Ella Fitzgerald led him to find you standing in the kitchen, swaying your hips along to the music as you stirred something inside of a pot of boiling water. Arthur’s lips curled up into a smile as he sneakily walked over to you when you turned your back and wrapped his arms around you from behind. You let out a gasp as you jumped in surprise, sighing in relief when you caught the familiar scent of Arthur as he nuzzled into you.

“Arthur, you scared the hell out of me!” you said, resulting in Arthur chuckling before pressing a kiss to your cheek. He looked over your shoulder at what you were making. “Mm, my favorite,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

“Mhm, I know,” you spoke fondly as you stopped what you were doing to turn around in his arms and press a kiss to his lips.

Arthur moaned as he melted into you, pulling you closer by your waist. He began swaying you to the music, and you pulled away from his lips with a giggle. You followed his lead, allowing him to take your hand and dance with you around the kitchen.

“How was work today?” you asked. His face lit up even more than it already was as he thought about the children. “It was great. Carnival was a big hit.”

Your smile widened as you stood on your toes to press a kiss to his nose. “Carnival is always a big hit. The kids love you.”

Arthur spun you around before pulling you back into his arms, Ella’s voice continuing to fill the apartment and guide your steps. “How was your day?” he asked.

“Same old,” you shrugged. “I missed you.”

The creases around Arthur’s eyes grew more visible as he smiled lovingly down at you. “I missed you too.”

He brought his lips to yours in a sweet kiss; one that you deepened as you wrapped your arms around his neck and ran your fingers through his slightly damp hair. The two of you stopped dancing as you became lost in each other. The taste of nicotine on his lips, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the sweet smell of your perfume, the sound of your hearts beating loudly in your ears. You could never get enough of your Arthur, and he could never get enough of you.

It was the little things that wove your love together; each of them a thread that kept you tied to one another, even when you were apart. They helped you get through your long tiring days and led you back into each other’s arms every night. It was the little things that often seemed so foolish that only made your love grow stronger; for every moment spent apart, you were reminded of why you loved to be together.

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