Summary: You take Arthur for a night out after having saved up some money. A little bite of trouble and some hurt ensues. Fluff and a speck of angst.
A/N: This was something I basically accidentally wrote when I was doing drunk Arthur headcanons. I wanted to explore Arthur in a drunken state more, so this ensued. I honestly feel like it's one of the weakest things I've written, but it is what it is.
Warnings: Some physical tussle, an attempt at unwanted advances, and childhood abuse mentioned (not as bad in the fic as it sounds but you can decide that).
Originally posted by missis-gingersnap
"Alright, honey. Come on."
"One more," he slurred, then hiccuped, wrapping his arms around you tighter as you tried to get up from the both you both were sitting in, pulling you down clumsily back into his lap. He began to leave sloppy kisses on your cheek, and you turned and returned one on his lips, then sighed.
"Arthur, you've had at least four large drinks. You weigh what, ninety pounds?" Arthur was giving you a sheepish, 'no idea what you're talking about' look, feigning innocence. "How are you not dead right now?"
Arthur only let out a small groan in response and buried his head in your neck. You were pretty sure he didn't even know where he was right now. He pressed himself into your further, and you felt him harden against your thigh.
"I just want to curl up for a little while," he mumbled into your skin, his soft lips grazing the curve of your shoulder.
"Well, if we go home, you can do that right away," you muttered to him softly, smirking as you stroked his hair through his curls reassuringly.
"Mmmok," he mumbled almost incoherently, then lifted his head up. The bags under his eyes seemed heavier than usual. He had a zoned out, goofy look on his face, but you could tell how tired he was. It was one in the morning, and you were starting to wonder why you thought bringing him out on a bar date had been a good idea. You had had an amazing night, not being able to keep your hands off one another, both of you cackling so hard tears had fallen from your eyes, but now you had to figure out how to get this helpless man home safely and into bed.
"Come on, love," you cooed gently, and lifted his face up, wiping his curls out of his face. "Let's go home." You had to start somewhere.
You took his arms off of you and finally managed to lift yourself off of his lap and out of the booth. You had expected him to follow, but Arthur only continued to sit there, staring into space, head tilted downward slightly. Your heart squeezed at how boyish and helpless he looked. Had he even ever been drunk before? Did he even know what was going on with his body?
"Baby," you muttered, then cupped his face up to look at you. "You have to get up."
Arthur looked back at you through glazed eyes, then started to stumble in the most clumsy way out of the booth. He made his way half outside of it, then collapsed on the ground. You quickly rushed to hold him up by his arms. He was so light that it felt like lifting up a young boy. His arms were awkwardly lifted upward with your arms underneath them. He looked up at you.
"Oops," he said meekly, then let out another hiccup.
You huffed and wrapped an arm around his waist, gratitude for how light he was flooding you as you thought about how rough this night would be if he was a man of normal weight. You felt his ribs through his clothes as you lifted him up. He swayed back and forth for a moment, looking lost. You put your hand on the small of his back as a way of getting him to start moving forward, but all he did was look over his shoulder at you.
"There you are," he drawled, a lazy smiling gracing his face, and he turned to cling onto you again as he began to pepper your face in kisses.
"No, baby-" he was like a dog covering your face, hardly allowing you to breathe- "we have to get out."
"Mm?" he smiled against your face. "You're so beautiful."
It wasn't like Arthur not to listen to you. He must really be gone.
"Ok," you muttered, that being the only response you could think of right now. "When we get home we can kiss and cuddle all you want, alright? But we need to get home."
Arthur's sloppy spread on his face further sloppy smile. "Can I tell you a joke?"
You felt a tinge of exasperation, but you also couldn't pass up the chance for him to tell you a joke. He loved it so much, and you never wanted to deny him even the slightest bit of happiness. "Alright. But fast."
"Why is there a wall around the cemetery?
"Why?"
"Because people are dying to get in!" Arthur barley managed the words out before he began to cackle madly at his own joke, letting out a massive bellow that temporarily brought everyone's attention towards the both of you. You could tell that even in his drunken state he was instantly embarrassed, which resulted in even more cackles, and he slapped his hands over his mouth like he had committed a crime. His naturally amused giggles began to turn into forced, tormented ones, and you saw panic come into his eyes.
"Shh, honey," you muttered gently, allowing him to bury his face and hands into your neck, snuffling his giggles from the pubic. "It's ok, baby. You're alright."
Luckily, it wasn't a full blown attack, and the rising and falling of his spasms eventually calmed down within only a few seconds. You caressed his back with your hands until he had collected himself, then lifted his face from your neck, his face red as a tomato, both from the laughing and the embarrassment.
"You didn't laugh," he pouted, marvelously forgetting all his self-consciousness from a second ago.
You smiled. "No."
"I bet Murray makes his girlfriend laugh," he pouted, then impulsively kissed you on the nose. You rolled your eyes lovingly, trying to ignore how turned on you were getting by this side of him, the less mysterious and brooding, but more playful and happy side that proved to you that he felt safewith you, which is all you ever wanted for him. The again, almost everything, if not everything, he did turned you on, even when you were tired and a bit annoyed. He somehow managed to make everything painfully adorable.
Despite your happiness, you felt a small sweat of worry grace your skin as you saw over his shoulder that the waitress was watching you with judgmental eyes. More worryingly, you also saw with a tinge of fear a group of burly guys giving you both glances of even harsher judgement, scoffing as they watched the scene before them. No doubt would Arthur had been a bloodied and beaten up mess by now had it not been for your company.
You gave up trying to reason with Arthur with words and simply and took his hand, leading him out of the bar and into the cool air. You two had been there since eight, you finally having saved up enough money to be able to treat your love to the deluxe restaurant food he deserved. Of course, one thing had lead to another, and, before you had known it, he was on his fourth drink of the night, his mind becoming more hazy and lost in a phase as his clouded eyes looked around him aimlessly, the only thing interrupting the fogged over look in his eyes being gentle film of love he got when he looked over at your face, as if he suddenly was remembering who he was.
As you were starting to lead him home, you realized he was shivering uncontrollably. He was wearing a thin, royal red shirt that just barley managed to cover the top half of his body, his practically non-existent stomach peeking out. You racked your brain as to why the cold hadn't been as issue coming over here, and then remembered-
"Shit!" you cursed, and stopped dead in your tracks, Arthur bumping into you, merely being guided by whatever movements you were currently doing, the drinks having reduced him to a sleepy rag doll.
You had forgotten his favorite yellow hoodie back at the bar. Arthur was currently burying his face into the back of your neck, shivering and helpless. He would be so upset and worried if he didn't have it tomorrow morning.
You pulled him back towards the bar, and shivered with unease as you realized you had to pass under the gaze of the group of men again. They were definitely watching and judging you both, elbowing each other and whispering what was no doubt mean spirited things under their breath.
You just needed to grab his hoodie and go, you thought with gritted teeth. It had been bad enough being under the gaze of these men in the first place, but having to come under their gaze again was a double blow. You mostly worried for Arthur's safety, knowing and how weak and vulnerable he was anyway, let alone hopelessly drunk.
You snatched the hoodie and continued to drag Arthur back out with your hand, muttering curses under your breath, just wanting to get out as soon as possible. You were almost out of the door, when suddenly you felt the warm and comforting touch of Arthur's hand in yours being snatched away and being replaced with cold emptiness. With a gasp, you looked over your shoulder, and with your heart dropping dead did you see that one of the men had taken Arthur by his shirt and was towering over him, forcing him up by his shirt so that he was on his tippy toes.
"Are you bothering that woman over there?" he spat into Arthur's red face. Arthur's eyes were blinking, opening and closing sleepily, like he wasn't really there.
"Mmm, n- no, sir, that's my girlfriend," Arthur slurred quickly, not registering fully what was happening, but clearly frighted as he felt the pressure of the man choking him take hold. "I didn't do anything."
The man laughed, spit flying out of his mouth, and Arthur's head sunk into his neck like a turtle, repulsed. "Your girlfriend?" He bellowed, then threw Arthur's small form across the bar, his body so light that he was thrown like a piece of paper. "No one told me lying was on the menu tonight!" His harsh, gristly voice was booming through the now almost empty restaurant.
You watched mortified, too scared to move, as the others got up and joined him, all of them looking at Arthur like he was a fresh piece of meat.
"We gonna show you what happens to incels who pretend like a woman could love 'em," one of the others bloated in a scorning, shameless manner.
Your eyes darted to the waitress, but she must have gone in the back. The bar was empty except for you, Arthur, and the men. It was damn near two am, and no one was around left to care.
You tried to choke past your fear, a difficult task despite how worried you were for Arthur, and just barely belted out, "Actually, I am his girlfriend." Your voice sounded so shaken and small that not even you were convinced.
One of the men raised their brow, and smirked at the others. "You are, are you? Well, if that's true, I doubt you've ever even had an orgasm. He weighs what, two pounds?" He chuckled darkly and cracked his fingers. "Let me show you what a real man feels like."
Your heart thudded in you veins as he stepped forward and attempted to crash his lips into you, but you dodged him last moment, making him misstep into the air. Arthur had slightly come out of his sleepy, drunken state, and saw through his bleary eyes what he thought was you kissing another man. Instantly did tormented cackles begin to come out of his throat, a mixture of pain from seeing you kiss someone else, as well as the possible broken rib he suffered from being thrown.
The other men that weren't harassing you came and towered over Arthur, looking at him like he was fresh meat that they could torment. He covered his groin and his face, a protective mechanism he had learned when he was abused as a boy.
The man who had made his advances for you tried again, lunging forward. Just as you felt as if you were about to vomit from the man's advances towards you-you imagined meaty touches, saliva and drool covering your mouth in places that were only meant to be for Arthur-did you see with great relief the waitress coming out from the corner. She looked around at what was going on, rage coming over her expression.
"You all!" She bellowed at the men. "Out!"
The men stepped away from you, and the other looked over at her, suddenly feigning innocence.
"You heard me, you spineless rotten boars," she snarled. "Get out of my fucking restaurant!"
And with that it was over. The men made their way out of the restaurant as fast as their stocky legs would carry them, though not even the angry waitress was able to prevent them from giving you some sleazy, repulsively thirsty looks as they left. You gave yourself a moment to collect yourself, feeling your legs shake with relief at how much worse that could have been for you. With a sudden sick realization you remembered your Arthur, your everything, who had had his thin body thrown across the room.
You hurried as fast as you could to pick Arthur up from the floor, the smallest amount of blood leaking from his nose, but other what seemed than a bruised torso, he didn't seem too hurt. The waitress was more than kind to you both, apologetic and offering you a free meal on the house, and you thanked her as a graceful "be careful out there, sugar," left her lips as you took a half conscious Arthur around your shoulders and began your walked home, gently placing his hoodie on him.
When you finally managed to make it home, your body somewhat sore from carry the majority of Arthur's weight,especially going up those dreaded stairs, you stumbled both of you over to the bed you shared and placed him gently down, caressing his locks out of his face. He seemed to have woken up from his daze slightly as he opened his eyes slowly, looking at you through slightly clearer eyes than he had had for hours.
He let out a sleepy smile. "Hi, love," he muttered softly, reaching out to stroke your face. He was coming back to himself again, becoming a little less scattered ad confused. You weren't sure if he had even registered the whole fight; he hadn't said anything on the way home, simply leaning on your shoulder with a numb expression, eyes opening and closing even as he had walked. He had worked a long week, and it was far best his usual bedtime.
"Hello, darling," you responded wamingly, kissing him on his forehead softly. "You really scared me tonight."
Arthur frowned. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault,' you muttered, then placed a kiss on the corner of his lips, wanting him to feel your love without having him to feel like he had to give any in return. "I'm going to get undressed and then we'll go to sleep, ok?"
Arthur beamed and let out a small nod, and you chuckled in your throat in adoration. You left him to lie on the bed and collect himself as you went to the bathroom to get changed.
Your bedtime routine tonight would be sightly different than the others. Where you would usually get bathed together, dressed together, and then collapse together into bed, you found yourself alone tonight. You first attended to yourself, taking off your dress from earlier and changing into softer clothes, washing your face, cringing as you thought about the man who had wanted to kiss you tonight. You felt rage at the fact that someone else had tried place their lips on a place that belonged to Arthur, a place that was his territory. You truly thought of yourself as his and his alone, and you wanted to vomit at thinking of a man touching you somewhere that wasn't Arthur's warm and sweet touches.
With a tired sigh you took a warm, fresh washcloth for Arthur and made your way your way back to the bed, Arthur having dozed off slightly, You kissed him awake with a gentle kiss on his nose, and he blinked at you sleepily as you started washing his face with the warm cloth.
"Y/N?" he muttered tiredly, loving the feel of your warm touches and ravishingly irresistible caresses on his face, every touch feeding his touched starved skin and soul alike. The fog of the drunken state had begun to leave his body, leaving only some stitched, disconnected memories of the night. One kept bothering him beyond what he could ignore.
"Mm?"
"Did you kiss someone else tonight?"
You stopped your face washing dead in its track and looked him in the eyes, completely serious and determined for him to listen to you.
"No, Arthur," you said firmly. "I did not kiss anyone but you tonight, nor did I want to. We were ganged up on."
"Oh," Arthur said simply, then dozed back off into your touches as you started your caressing again.
"Just please never leave me," he mumbled out softly after a few moments of silence, taking your off guard. "I know you're too good for me, and I don't know why you stick around, but please never leave me."
"Arthur, look at me."
Slowly he opened his eyes, gazing into your face, eyes childlike and fragile, begging for something that only you could give.
'I will never, ever leave you. Do you understand me?" Your voice was slightly more strict than any tone you usually talked to him in, but you couldn't help it. You needed him to understand how you felt about him, once and for all. "I know you don't understand, but I love you so, so deeply that I feel like I can't handle it sometimes. You're my world, darling. I never want to be touched by anyone else other than you, kissed by anyone other than you, held by anyone other than you." You finished wiping off the last of the grim of his face with a soft touch. "You need to understand that, baby. You have to."
Arthur let out a small, shuddering breath, the hiccuped one last time. "This is a good drunk dream." He lifted up his worn hands and rubbed his face, the gesture being so fragile and innocent in a way that was exclusively Arthur.
You rolled your eyes, then kissed his eyebrows firmly. He closed his eyes at your touch, and you grazed your lips down his face his eyelids, feeling the oil of them etch into your lips softly.
"Come on, shirt off," you said gently, just barely managing to pull yourself off of him. You helped lift him up, and buttoned off his shirt. You pulled it off him and threw it to the ground, deciding you would worry about it later.
"Pants on or off?" you asked him gently.
Arthur let out a small hum in thought. "On," he said softly. "It's cold."
You smiled, then reached over to the open window and pulled it down. You came over and took him in your embrace, lying down onto the bed as one being, finally being able to melt into one another.
You caressed his curls out of his face. He already drifting off to sleep. His face was so relaxed, his mouth hanging open slightly, as relaxed as a baby in his mother's arms at your touch.
He was truly the most adorable man you'd ever been with, and he was all yours. He may not understand how you loved him right now, and maybe he never would. But you would never stop trying to show him regardless.
a bleeding heart tracking affection
Summary: Arthur has slightly more eccentric ways of dealing with his abandonment issues, and doesn't open up to you about it until you inquire about his habit of counting how many kisses you give him in a day.
A/N: I got inspired for this idea thought of by ajokeformur-ray . There was something about it that just felt was really touching, so I decided to explore it a bit. Thank you for all your great and creative conversations 3
Contains; fluff, slight smut but its mostly just kissing and touching, insecure Arthur
Length: 4,831
Originally posted by antonija89
"Please, darling," Arthur whimpered as your hands were gracing his skin and dancing around it passionately, touching him just enough, but not quite enough to extinguish the burning flame in Arthur's soul, the flame that spoke that he could never, ever possibly get enough of your touches.
"Please more."
There was a tortuous sensation between the two of you always in these heated states; the most bittersweet painful feeling that you two would always be able to access each other, be able to touch each other, but never quite be able to fully quench the unbearable thirst that manifested in the love you had for each other, never to be able to entirely satisfy the seemingly endless starvation you had for the other simply because of how much you loved and adored the other. That you would never be able to quite become one.
Your hands were exploring Arthur's skin and sides; passion ebbing though every caresses and breathless whisper that passed between your skin that was as addicted as his was starved. Arthur raised his arms up and leaned his neck back, rendering himself fully vulnerable and allowing himself to be fully accessible to you. You felt your orgasm strike through you like lighting as you knew how big of a deal this was for Arthur; how big of a deal it was for him to trust you and to allow himself to be fully vulnerable to your touches. Arthur loved you painfully deeply, beyond what he could ever express; you both were completely, fully and utterly dedicated to each other, and you knew just by the way Arthur looked at you with his shy but passionate glances that you were his sole reason for staying alive, for staying decent, good, to strive to be the best man he could be every day despite what he world told him he was; dirty and worthless. Your touches and your whines for his love and irreplaceable touches were telling him otherwise, and you were completely and utterly convinced that Arthur was magic in and of itself; just looking at him overwhelmed you with an indescribable feeling and took your breath away.
"I know, sweetheart, I know," you mumbled softly through your own haze as you spoiled his body in kisses and caresses alike. He was fully naked save for his blue slacks that rested on his thin, bony hips. You were adorning his body in kisses and touches, savoring every sweet taste the feeling of his glistening skin, slick with sweat, left on your tongue and lips. He didn't realize it even himself, but you were just as reenergized from his kisses and touches as much as he was. Your lips were currently trailing up from his belly button to his stomach, leaving patterns of your gentle kisses up from his extremely light haired happy trail up his thin bony body until you reached his chest, which was heaving up and down in painful quivering of lust and desire for any touches you were willing to grant him. You felt your crimson folds ache as your lips engulfed his neck bones pressing against his layer of fragile skin, seeming to want to burst from passion at the way they pushed out of his thin layer of skin as he heaved up and down; sometimes you were convinced they really would burst out in all of the life and energy that Arthur held within him in that small, skinny frame. Arthur's small but undeniably strong biceps were quivering against his skin, both hands leaned behind him as his hands had a white hot knuckled grip on the ends of the counter. His long, romantic eyelashes were fluttering in and out from his striking turquoise eyes, his face spread out in an sweet, gentle, and smooth pattern of pure ecstasy as his head was thrown back while you trailed your face from his neck to the bottom of his chin. As you nibbled and bite at the underside of it, skin just the right amount of loose to make his skin great for nibbling and soft biting and teasing-something Arthur adored-you heard Arthur muttering something softly under his breath. After a few moments of simply letting your hands caress his back and hands did you start to focus on what he was rasping under his voice, so softly and so gently that he was clearly meaning to speak it to himself and to himself alone, not meaning for you to hear him.
"Forty seven….forty eight…forty nine…fifty…"
As your lips continued to nipple at the slightly loose skin under his chin and then up towards his cheeks, he abruptly stopped whispering and muttering to himself as your lips met his. You crashed your lips against his, yet you could still feel the wheels turning in his head as you did so. You would have asked him what exactly he was keeping track of, but before you could ask, Arthur overtook you in his passion and slammed you against a wall, his wiry strength overtaking you and pressing himself down onto you as his hands firmly embraced your face.
You let out a helpless moan, your lips quaking, and you found you could no longer speak. This feeling lasted as Arthur guided your body through your kisses and caresses from the wall of the living room to the bed, lying you down and continuing to kiss your skin until you were truly rendered breathless.
Finally, after a few more minutes of this; it felt like an eternity in the best way; such did every moment with Arthur drag out with you, making time feel nonexistent and the cares of the world unimportant, did Arthur finally let a sigh of hot breath against your face.
"I'm tired," he mumbled gently against your cheek. You giggled at the abrupt and awkward transition from deliriously passionate to casual conversation-but then again, such was the relationship between you and Arthur. Your relationship was wayward and unpredictable, and often did you two act impulsive and indecisive around each other-simply jumping from one desire to the next, leaving the other previous task sloppily unfinished. Arthur was always the most careful and considerate man, but he felt so safe around you that he allowed himself to be his full messy self whenever it was granted to him-taking full pleasure in the safe spaces your love for him gifted him. There were also many times throughout your relationship where you wanted to just simply kissand just be together-no sex, just simply taking the other in taking in all that the presence of the other granted you.
"Alright, darling." you cooed softly as you swept his brown ocean curls out of his sweat slicked face. "Me too."
Arthur smiled at you with some tears in his red rimmed pools of green-always so tired was his eyes, seemingly to be caught in permeant exhaustion-and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you hummed contently at the final touch from that particular episode of passion. Of course, there would be many more touches following throughout the night; neither of you could resist the other for very long no matter how much time passed. He then lied down next to you and pulled a blanket over him, lifting it up and offering you to curl up into the space next to him. You happily obliged, jumping in and allowing his sweet scent and strength to enwrap you, and you hummed one last time as you kissed his thin but strong biceps up and down sleepily.
There it was again-that whispering Arthur did under his breath that sounded like counting. You frowned, but decided you would ask him about it later-for now, sleep overcame you.
After about what must have been about an hour of sleeping, you were awakened by Arthur muttering under his breath and writing something down, his back to you. Arthur had an uncanny way of being sneaky and taking himself out of your embrace without waking you; so gentle and considerate was he in his movements. Through the moonlight that highlighted his fingers you could see that he seemed to be counting on his fingers, then jotting it down. You watched him in curiosity, wanting to know what he was up to more than you wanted to inquire about it; you had a feeling you would get the answers simply by watching. There was something about Arthur when he thought he wasn't being watched that felt like a song, and you hated to interrupt it-you would much rather watch from a distance and enjoy the natural grace he had to his movements even when they seemed laced in anxiety. Arthur shook his head after a few moments, and then rested his head down to sleep, his brown curls sweeping out from his head like a crown of flowers on the pillow. After a moment or two of watching him fidget, he let out a sigh, and then rolled over so that he was facing you, enchanting eyes glinting first in surprise that you were awake, and then a question of if he could cuddle into you or not. You let out a soft whine of love, and spread your arms out to embrace him. Arthur's thin form happily became embraced by yours, and you two quickly fell into a sweet and gentle content intertwining of love and warm embrace.
"What were you doing just now, love?" you questioned softly. You hands started softly stroking his hair backward, and Arthur was visibly melting at your touch, never tired of your gentle touches on yours; whatever you could grant him gave him the greatest of happiness. Despite trying to simply observe him to figure out what he was doing, you hand't quite been able to figure it out.
Arthur blushed slightly, his already flustered face from your recent intimate dance becoming an even deeper shade of red; it always him a few hours to recover after them. He shrugged sheepishly. "It's nothing, sweetheart. I promise."
"Nothing?" you raised an eyebrow in playful suspicion. "Since when is my Arthur up to nothing?" You smiled softly and watched for a moment as he kept melting into your touches. "I know how much goes through your head, darling."
Arthur smiled back at you softy, looking at you through increasingly sleepy eyes. "I promise it's nothing you need to be concerned about, kitten," he whispered softly. To confirm, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your nose, in which you crinkled at him playfully. "Don't worry about it."
You nodded; you would grant him his privacy if that was what he wished.
"Goodnight, Arthur," you mumbled softly as sleep took over you. "I love you more than the world."
—–
The next time you had confronted it was on the elevator the following day. You hadn't seen Arthur all day, and you had bounded out of your workplace and leapt into his embrace as soon as you were able; Arthur got out of work a little earlier than you, so he was able to wait for you from outside the building, offering you his warm embrace and sweet touches first thing when you came out. You sighed softly as you felt his embrace take you in, and then pressed your lips up to his. As you lips broke away from the long embrace, you heard a softly muttered "twelve" leave his lips, so soft that you knew you weren't meant to hear it, yet you had anyway. He underestimated how perceptive he was to all of your observations about him; how much you noticed everything about him.
Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, but you decided not to mention it; at least not yet. Clearly Arthur hadn't meant for you to hear it, and you had already questioned him about it last night. Rather, you simply allowed yourself to enjoy his embrace and his touches.
"How was your day?" you inquired quietly as you two walked your way into the elevator about a half hour later. Your apartment complex wasn't far from your workplace, luckily, leaving you and Arthur more time to spend together when you returned home.
"It was….it was a day," Arthur answered quietly. You could tell from his grip around your fingers that tightened around yours as he spoke that there was more going on than he was letting on. You looked up at him, and his skinny, starved, hollowed face returned your gaze. The right side of Arthur's lip curled up into a small quip, and he knew what you were trying to let him know; that you saw right through the walls that he was building up.
You leaned forward and kissed him softly against the hollow on his thin face. "We'll talk about it when we get back, ok?" you murmured softly. "You can tell me everything."
Arthur let our a small smile, and nodded ever so slightly. He let out yet another rasped word, "thirteen", and you frowned again-that one had been a little louder, and, from the startled look in his dark green eyes poking out from his midnight brows, you could tell that he knew this time that he knew you had noticed. You weren't surprised Arthur kept counting out loud; he was a very naive and unguarded soul despite all his trauma; wise though he was in his own way, naivity took the form in everything he did always first and foremost-his innocent nature couldn't help it, which only made you want to protect his preciousness all the more.
"Arthur-what are you counting for?" you inquired.
Arthur let out a breath and shook his head. "Nothing, sweetheart. I promise."
You felt the slightest anger rise in your chest; this was about the second time he had denied opening himself up to you. He was allowed his privacy, yes, but there was clearly something going on in his head that revolved around your intimacy, and, therefore, it concerned around you-and you should be good enough to know.
"Clearly it's something," you said, not sternly but with a slightly more serious, 'no bullshit' tone than what you usually used for him. Never did you ever get truly angry at him, but you needed to let him know that it hurt you for him to lock away certain corridors of his mind that were clearly bothering him that concerned your relationship. "Arthur, you know you can tell me anything, right? No matter what it is, I promise I won't judge."
As if to interrupt your conversation, the elevator dinged before Arthur could answer you. You huffed in frustration as Arthur took that as a sign from a higher power that he could go, could leave the conversation, and bounded out of the elevator and began running down the hallway to the door like a little kid, arms flying and legs running in an extremely vulnerable fashion. He stopped at the door-fumbled for his keys, and then rushed into the apartment that you shared before you could stop him.
You sighed, and ran down the hallway to your apartment. Arthur was a smart, quick on his feet man, but god help him-he was terrible at thinking out long term plans when he was trying to avoid something. His 'philosophy' when he was in trouble was to act first and think later. He was quick and smart enough to get away with it most of the time-but not when it came to your inquiring, and especially not when he cornered himself into your own apartment that you had your own keys to.
You opened the door to your apartment and tuned on a lamp; it was still pitch black in the apartment. You flickered on the kitchen light, and then a living room light. Arthur was nowhere to be seen.
"Arthur?" you called. "Arthur, sweetheart, I'm not mad. Whatever it is, we can talk about it, alright?"
No answer. You heart ached in love and a bit of sympathy; he was always so scared you were going to be upset with him and leave him. Sometimes being his partner almost felt like being the mother to a child with abandonment issues; he just so easy to destroy, so fragile and dependent on you, yet was so unused to love and so easy to scare, so easy to think he was in trouble. It make you hurt at the knowledge that no matter how much you did, it would never truly help him conquer his demons, nor would it ever help convince him to realize just how much you loved him-how little he could do to scare you away, if anything.
You decided to start searching room by room until you found him. Luckily, being such a small apartment, it wasn't hard to search every corner and cranny, and within minutes you found his form huddled into a corner in your bedroom, next to the master bed you shard. His long, thin, legs were hunched up against his chest, his face buried in his knees, his arms wrapped around his legs. His brown curls were tumbling down his knees. He was trembling. You let out a soft whine of love, and rushed over and began stroking his legs.
"Arthur, baby, please talk to me," you cooed softly. "I promise I won't judge you, ok?"
The only response Arthur granted you, however, was just a shake of his head, back and forth against his knees. You sighed, and, just as you were about to go for the 'wrapping arms around his waist and tickling him until he had no choice but to open himself up' approach, you noticed a worn journal by his side. It was his joke journal-or, at least, it had been. You gently picked it up and scanned the page that it had been left open to. There seemed to be recordings of kisses, his large and shaking handwriting having kept track of what you had been granting him since the start of your relationship months ago.
Teny sevn kises today-Octobur 13th
Foty fiv kises!-Octubr 14th
Thiry kises today-Octbur 15th
SEVTNY KISES! WOW-Octbur 16th
As you read down the list of recordings, you dared to thumb through the other pages-every day throughout the past few months you had been together seemed to be recorded. He hadn't missed one day. Some seemed excited, some seemed neutral, and then, to your horror, some were incredibly sad and self-doubting
Only got tirteen kises today from Y/N. Dos she not love me anymre? Is this wat women do when thy leav their partnar?
And then another one-the one that he must have written last night
Got fify five kises from Y/N last nite. I thnk she is loosing intirst bcuase usally she kises me more during sex. I am woried that she mite leave me soon.
You felt your heart ache beyond what you knew what to do with, and you looked over to the man in question, who was still huddled into a ball.
"Arthur," you said gently. You needed to keep your voice gentle and soft, full of understanding, despite the storms of pain going on inside of you that he had been feeling this way for so long. His pain was your pain. Understanding and sympathy was what Arthur needed the most from you in your relationship, especially now. "Is this what's been going on with you? All this time? This is what you've been counting?"
Arthur made no response for a moment, and then slowly shook his head yes. You closed your eyes, and sighed. You weren't upset with him; you could never be upset with him over his own pain. You were more so upset that he had allowed himself to be insecure for this long, and allowed his brain to fester in this measuring of affection and insecurity for almost the entirely of the time you had been together.
"Hey," you cooed gently. You caressed his arm. "Baby, I'm sorry you've felt like you've had to do this. The amount that I love you isn't measured by how much I kiss you in a day. Sometimes life just…happens, and sometimes I just feel too tired or busy to be able to give a lot of affection. But I always want to give it to you, Arthur, believe me beyond what I can say that I do. I love you so, somuch, sweetheart, that sometimes I don't know what to do with myself."
You stopped for a moment, realizing you were saying a lot without giving Arthur a chance to speak. When he still kept his head buried in his knees, you kept going.
"Arthur, honey, if keeping track of how many kisses I give you in one day helps you somehow, then I want you to know it's ok. I don't mind. But I don't want you to believe for even a second that the amount of physical affection I show you in one day has anything to do with how much I love you."
Arthur raised his face from his knees. He peeked at your through his curls, one of his eyes poking out through them.
"I do it because I know you'll leave one day," Arthur mumbled from the edge of his mouth. "I want to treasure every touch for as long as I can, so that when you're gone, I'll have a piece of you forever."
You felt a strange feeling sweep through you-it was a certain sick feeling, laced in a pained love and an aching for something beyond comfort, feeling both hurt for yourself that there was something lacking in your love to make him feel this way, and also feeling the pain of his soul pour out of him in waves, radiating into your own core as if it was your own.
"Arthur…what the fuck…I-"
You felt your eyes well up with hot tears, and one rolled down your cheek. You swallowed. With a shaking hand, you put the journal down beside you.
"Arthur, sweetheart," you choked, and you scooted yourself forward and wrapped your arms around him fully. Arthur buried his face into your shoulder, and with a heave of a sigh he began to wet your shoulder with his own tears, his thin shoulders hunching in and out, in and out, up and down, his spine jamming against your hands as his body did so-so intense were the waves of pain that went through his body.
"Oh, darling," you muttered softly and you rocked him back and forth gently in his arms, forgetting your own pain in the face of his. "You have so much to learn about how I feel about you."
A few tormented chuckles emitted for Arthur's mouth.
You allowed him to cry.
And cry.
And cry.
And cry.
You allowed him to luxury of expressing his emotions fully until your shoulder and your clothes were soaked with his tears. The entire time you whispered sweet nothings into his ear softy, telling you how much you loved him, not just by saying the three words alone, but by talking about every little thing you adored about him-his clumsiness, his jokes that he worked so hard on, his naturally silly personality, the innocent and simple conversations you two had at night as your fingers were intertwined while you two lied on the couch together. More importantly, you told him how you felt about him-that you felt like your entire life had been a mere trail run leading up to you meeting him and loving him, and that everything he was-his beauty from the inside out, his grace and kindness and all the stars that he was made of-flaws and all- was enough to pour oceans of magic into your soul, an otherworldly kind of sensation that could so easily be stopped and trampled in by the world, but was forever preserved and precious in a way only you two understood as long as you had each other.
As Arthur came down from his cackling and weeping, you softly leaned back so that you could see his face. It was blushing and red with tears, and his normal piercing green eyes were even more breathtaking and beautiful than they normally were, emitting out from his eyes like pools of the eternal elements you knew he was made of as he looked into yours. You shook your head ever so slightly in your awe in affection as you gazed at him.
"It's incredible," you muttered softly as you stroked his cheek gently, thumbing away the last of his tears.
Arthur sniffed boyishly. "What?"
You hummed. "You're so beautiful even when you cry."
Arthur's thick brows furrowed for a moment, but this time in was in an overwhelming happiness, taking the form of serious revelation. Tender affection overcame his handsome features, and he shook his head and laughed softly.
"I love you, Y/N. I hope we last….a long time," he mumbled quietly.
You smiled and leaned forward, brushing your lips against the bridge of his nose as he turned slightly to receive the affection.
"We will. Forever and a day."
Arthur smiled against your nose softly as you spoke his favorite phrase when it came to discussing your affections for the other. You two sat in silence for a moment, simply taking in the other, exhausted from the emotional thrashing of the last hour-the past few months, even.
"If it's not too much to ask," you muttered softly as you caressed gentle circles against his hips. "Maybe, rather than recording every kiss, can you try to just be in the moment? Just be with me, enjoy every little moment we have together the way I do. Can we try that?"
You said 'we" because, truth be told, any challenge that Arthur embarked on was inevitably your challenge as well; so intertwined were your souls that any challenge or pain that the other faced was also your own.
Arthur's heart thudded; the thought of simply living in he moment with your affection without documenting proof that you loved him to look at for later made him terribly nervous. But he also remembered, with some resignation, how much his brain hurt from keeping track all day, how much strain it put on his mind to remember and keep track of every little kiss you granted him. He had wanted to record caresses too-but kisses were so much easier, having a clear beginning and end that could be comprehended into a number. Trying to keep track of every little brush of your lips against his skin did take away from a lot of the enjoyment he spent with you-rather than letting himself simply be, he had to constantly rack his brain to keep track of every little gift granted to him. It did make his head hurt-but he had convinced himself that he wasn't good or strong enough to simply "enjoy" love.
If he was being honest, he truly did just want to enjoy and be in the moment with you-he wanted it to feel as natural as breathing like he knew it had the potential to. Though the trauma from Arthur's life had left him with severe abandonment issues, his father the worst of them, he knew now he had to try to fight them to feel the natural bliss you felt when you were together-no numbers, no counting, no recording. Just unconditional love and gasps of air between blissful intimacy and ever so gentle caresses of love that spoke promises that Arthur's aching and bleeding heart had been waiting to hear from a kind voice his entire life.
Arthur nodded, and swallowed. "I will try, darling. I promise."
You smiled through your own tears, leaned down and kissed his shoulder gently.
Though his natural instinct was to count it off and to spiral into an analysis of how many that had been yet today, and how much that amount equaled to how much you loved him, he fought it this time, and simply allowed the sensation of your warm lips against his to sweep through his body, to feel the healing and therapy from your genuine care swept throughout his body.
"Countless kisses, Arthur," you mumbled against his skin. "You don't need to count, because I'm going to give you so many, until your skin aches and is surrounded with bruises at the amount of time I've touched you."
The echoes of your love was now etched into his consciousness and very skin alike, and undoubtedly the quiet mutterings that you had placed inside of his core helped cash away the demons that necessity poked and prodded the most sensitive parts of his damaged and worn essence.
With one last heavy sigh, Arthur leaned his head into your neck.
For the first time, he allowed himself to believe that it was true.
For the first time, he felt love. Love without a catch.
a bleeding heart tracking affection
Summary: Arthur has slightly more eccentric ways of dealing with his abandonment issues, and doesn't open up to you about it until you inquire about his habit of counting how many kisses you give him in a day.
A/N: I got inspired for this idea thought of by ajokeformur-ray . There was something about it that just felt was really touching, so I decided to explore it a bit. Thank you for all your great and creative conversations 3
Contains; fluff, slight smut but its mostly just kissing and touching, insecure Arthur
Length: 4,831
Originally posted by antonija89
"Please, darling," Arthur whimpered as your hands were gracing his skin and dancing around it passionately, touching him just enough, but not quite enough to extinguish the burning flame in Arthur's soul, the flame that spoke that he could never, ever possibly get enough of your touches.
"Please more."
There was a tortuous sensation between the two of you always in these heated states; the most bittersweet painful feeling that you two would always be able to access each other, be able to touch each other, but never quite be able to fully quench the unbearable thirst that manifested in the love you had for each other, never to be able to entirely satisfy the seemingly endless starvation you had for the other simply because of how much you loved and adored the other. That you would never be able to quite become one.
Your hands were exploring Arthur's skin and sides; passion ebbing though every caresses and breathless whisper that passed between your skin that was as addicted as his was starved. Arthur raised his arms up and leaned his neck back, rendering himself fully vulnerable and allowing himself to be fully accessible to you. You felt your orgasm strike through you like lighting as you knew how big of a deal this was for Arthur; how big of a deal it was for him to trust you and to allow himself to be fully vulnerable to your touches. Arthur loved you painfully deeply, beyond what he could ever express; you both were completely, fully and utterly dedicated to each other, and you knew just by the way Arthur looked at you with his shy but passionate glances that you were his sole reason for staying alive, for staying decent, good, to strive to be the best man he could be every day despite what he world told him he was; dirty and worthless. Your touches and your whines for his love and irreplaceable touches were telling him otherwise, and you were completely and utterly convinced that Arthur was magic in and of itself; just looking at him overwhelmed you with an indescribable feeling and took your breath away.
"I know, sweetheart, I know," you mumbled softly through your own haze as you spoiled his body in kisses and caresses alike. He was fully naked save for his blue slacks that rested on his thin, bony hips. You were adorning his body in kisses and touches, savoring every sweet taste the feeling of his glistening skin, slick with sweat, left on your tongue and lips. He didn't realize it even himself, but you were just as reenergized from his kisses and touches as much as he was. Your lips were currently trailing up from his belly button to his stomach, leaving patterns of your gentle kisses up from his extremely light haired happy trail up his thin bony body until you reached his chest, which was heaving up and down in painful quivering of lust and desire for any touches you were willing to grant him. You felt your crimson folds ache as your lips engulfed his neck bones pressing against his layer of fragile skin, seeming to want to burst from passion at the way they pushed out of his thin layer of skin as he heaved up and down; sometimes you were convinced they really would burst out in all of the life and energy that Arthur held within him in that small, skinny frame. Arthur's small but undeniably strong biceps were quivering against his skin, both hands leaned behind him as his hands had a white hot knuckled grip on the ends of the counter. His long, romantic eyelashes were fluttering in and out from his striking turquoise eyes, his face spread out in an sweet, gentle, and smooth pattern of pure ecstasy as his head was thrown back while you trailed your face from his neck to the bottom of his chin. As you nibbled and bite at the underside of it, skin just the right amount of loose to make his skin great for nibbling and soft biting and teasing-something Arthur adored-you heard Arthur muttering something softly under his breath. After a few moments of simply letting your hands caress his back and hands did you start to focus on what he was rasping under his voice, so softly and so gently that he was clearly meaning to speak it to himself and to himself alone, not meaning for you to hear him.
"Forty seven….forty eight…forty nine…fifty…"
As your lips continued to nipple at the slightly loose skin under his chin and then up towards his cheeks, he abruptly stopped whispering and muttering to himself as your lips met his. You crashed your lips against his, yet you could still feel the wheels turning in his head as you did so. You would have asked him what exactly he was keeping track of, but before you could ask, Arthur overtook you in his passion and slammed you against a wall, his wiry strength overtaking you and pressing himself down onto you as his hands firmly embraced your face.
You let out a helpless moan, your lips quaking, and you found you could no longer speak. This feeling lasted as Arthur guided your body through your kisses and caresses from the wall of the living room to the bed, lying you down and continuing to kiss your skin until you were truly rendered breathless.
Finally, after a few more minutes of this; it felt like an eternity in the best way; such did every moment with Arthur drag out with you, making time feel nonexistent and the cares of the world unimportant, did Arthur finally let a sigh of hot breath against your face.
"I'm tired," he mumbled gently against your cheek. You giggled at the abrupt and awkward transition from deliriously passionate to casual conversation-but then again, such was the relationship between you and Arthur. Your relationship was wayward and unpredictable, and often did you two act impulsive and indecisive around each other-simply jumping from one desire to the next, leaving the other previous task sloppily unfinished. Arthur was always the most careful and considerate man, but he felt so safe around you that he allowed himself to be his full messy self whenever it was granted to him-taking full pleasure in the safe spaces your love for him gifted him. There were also many times throughout your relationship where you wanted to just simply kissand just be together-no sex, just simply taking the other in taking in all that the presence of the other granted you.
"Alright, darling." you cooed softly as you swept his brown ocean curls out of his sweat slicked face. "Me too."
Arthur smiled at you with some tears in his red rimmed pools of green-always so tired was his eyes, seemingly to be caught in permeant exhaustion-and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you hummed contently at the final touch from that particular episode of passion. Of course, there would be many more touches following throughout the night; neither of you could resist the other for very long no matter how much time passed. He then lied down next to you and pulled a blanket over him, lifting it up and offering you to curl up into the space next to him. You happily obliged, jumping in and allowing his sweet scent and strength to enwrap you, and you hummed one last time as you kissed his thin but strong biceps up and down sleepily.
There it was again-that whispering Arthur did under his breath that sounded like counting. You frowned, but decided you would ask him about it later-for now, sleep overcame you.
After about what must have been about an hour of sleeping, you were awakened by Arthur muttering under his breath and writing something down, his back to you. Arthur had an uncanny way of being sneaky and taking himself out of your embrace without waking you; so gentle and considerate was he in his movements. Through the moonlight that highlighted his fingers you could see that he seemed to be counting on his fingers, then jotting it down. You watched him in curiosity, wanting to know what he was up to more than you wanted to inquire about it; you had a feeling you would get the answers simply by watching. There was something about Arthur when he thought he wasn't being watched that felt like a song, and you hated to interrupt it-you would much rather watch from a distance and enjoy the natural grace he had to his movements even when they seemed laced in anxiety. Arthur shook his head after a few moments, and then rested his head down to sleep, his brown curls sweeping out from his head like a crown of flowers on the pillow. After a moment or two of watching him fidget, he let out a sigh, and then rolled over so that he was facing you, enchanting eyes glinting first in surprise that you were awake, and then a question of if he could cuddle into you or not. You let out a soft whine of love, and spread your arms out to embrace him. Arthur's thin form happily became embraced by yours, and you two quickly fell into a sweet and gentle content intertwining of love and warm embrace.
"What were you doing just now, love?" you questioned softly. You hands started softly stroking his hair backward, and Arthur was visibly melting at your touch, never tired of your gentle touches on yours; whatever you could grant him gave him the greatest of happiness. Despite trying to simply observe him to figure out what he was doing, you hand't quite been able to figure it out.
Arthur blushed slightly, his already flustered face from your recent intimate dance becoming an even deeper shade of red; it always him a few hours to recover after them. He shrugged sheepishly. "It's nothing, sweetheart. I promise."
"Nothing?" you raised an eyebrow in playful suspicion. "Since when is my Arthur up to nothing?" You smiled softly and watched for a moment as he kept melting into your touches. "I know how much goes through your head, darling."
Arthur smiled back at you softy, looking at you through increasingly sleepy eyes. "I promise it's nothing you need to be concerned about, kitten," he whispered softly. To confirm, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your nose, in which you crinkled at him playfully. "Don't worry about it."
You nodded; you would grant him his privacy if that was what he wished.
"Goodnight, Arthur," you mumbled softly as sleep took over you. "I love you more than the world."
—–
The next time you had confronted it was on the elevator the following day. You hadn't seen Arthur all day, and you had bounded out of your workplace and leapt into his embrace as soon as you were able; Arthur got out of work a little earlier than you, so he was able to wait for you from outside the building, offering you his warm embrace and sweet touches first thing when you came out. You sighed softly as you felt his embrace take you in, and then pressed your lips up to his. As you lips broke away from the long embrace, you heard a softly muttered "twelve" leave his lips, so soft that you knew you weren't meant to hear it, yet you had anyway. He underestimated how perceptive he was to all of your observations about him; how much you noticed everything about him.
Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, but you decided not to mention it; at least not yet. Clearly Arthur hadn't meant for you to hear it, and you had already questioned him about it last night. Rather, you simply allowed yourself to enjoy his embrace and his touches.
"How was your day?" you inquired quietly as you two walked your way into the elevator about a half hour later. Your apartment complex wasn't far from your workplace, luckily, leaving you and Arthur more time to spend together when you returned home.
"It was….it was a day," Arthur answered quietly. You could tell from his grip around your fingers that tightened around yours as he spoke that there was more going on than he was letting on. You looked up at him, and his skinny, starved, hollowed face returned your gaze. The right side of Arthur's lip curled up into a small quip, and he knew what you were trying to let him know; that you saw right through the walls that he was building up.
You leaned forward and kissed him softly against the hollow on his thin face. "We'll talk about it when we get back, ok?" you murmured softly. "You can tell me everything."
Arthur let our a small smile, and nodded ever so slightly. He let out yet another rasped word, "thirteen", and you frowned again-that one had been a little louder, and, from the startled look in his dark green eyes poking out from his midnight brows, you could tell that he knew this time that he knew you had noticed. You weren't surprised Arthur kept counting out loud; he was a very naive and unguarded soul despite all his trauma; wise though he was in his own way, naivity took the form in everything he did always first and foremost-his innocent nature couldn't help it, which only made you want to protect his preciousness all the more.
"Arthur-what are you counting for?" you inquired.
Arthur let out a breath and shook his head. "Nothing, sweetheart. I promise."
You felt the slightest anger rise in your chest; this was about the second time he had denied opening himself up to you. He was allowed his privacy, yes, but there was clearly something going on in his head that revolved around your intimacy, and, therefore, it concerned around you-and you should be good enough to know.
"Clearly it's something," you said, not sternly but with a slightly more serious, 'no bullshit' tone than what you usually used for him. Never did you ever get truly angry at him, but you needed to let him know that it hurt you for him to lock away certain corridors of his mind that were clearly bothering him that concerned your relationship. "Arthur, you know you can tell me anything, right? No matter what it is, I promise I won't judge."
As if to interrupt your conversation, the elevator dinged before Arthur could answer you. You huffed in frustration as Arthur took that as a sign from a higher power that he could go, could leave the conversation, and bounded out of the elevator and began running down the hallway to the door like a little kid, arms flying and legs running in an extremely vulnerable fashion. He stopped at the door-fumbled for his keys, and then rushed into the apartment that you shared before you could stop him.
You sighed, and ran down the hallway to your apartment. Arthur was a smart, quick on his feet man, but god help him-he was terrible at thinking out long term plans when he was trying to avoid something. His 'philosophy' when he was in trouble was to act first and think later. He was quick and smart enough to get away with it most of the time-but not when it came to your inquiring, and especially not when he cornered himself into your own apartment that you had your own keys to.
You opened the door to your apartment and tuned on a lamp; it was still pitch black in the apartment. You flickered on the kitchen light, and then a living room light. Arthur was nowhere to be seen.
"Arthur?" you called. "Arthur, sweetheart, I'm not mad. Whatever it is, we can talk about it, alright?"
No answer. You heart ached in love and a bit of sympathy; he was always so scared you were going to be upset with him and leave him. Sometimes being his partner almost felt like being the mother to a child with abandonment issues; he just so easy to destroy, so fragile and dependent on you, yet was so unused to love and so easy to scare, so easy to think he was in trouble. It make you hurt at the knowledge that no matter how much you did, it would never truly help him conquer his demons, nor would it ever help convince him to realize just how much you loved him-how little he could do to scare you away, if anything.
You decided to start searching room by room until you found him. Luckily, being such a small apartment, it wasn't hard to search every corner and cranny, and within minutes you found his form huddled into a corner in your bedroom, next to the master bed you shard. His long, thin, legs were hunched up against his chest, his face buried in his knees, his arms wrapped around his legs. His brown curls were tumbling down his knees. He was trembling. You let out a soft whine of love, and rushed over and began stroking his legs.
"Arthur, baby, please talk to me," you cooed softly. "I promise I won't judge you, ok?"
The only response Arthur granted you, however, was just a shake of his head, back and forth against his knees. You sighed, and, just as you were about to go for the 'wrapping arms around his waist and tickling him until he had no choice but to open himself up' approach, you noticed a worn journal by his side. It was his joke journal-or, at least, it had been. You gently picked it up and scanned the page that it had been left open to. There seemed to be recordings of kisses, his large and shaking handwriting having kept track of what you had been granting him since the start of your relationship months ago.
Teny sevn kises today-Octobur 13th
Foty fiv kises!-Octubr 14th
Thiry kises today-Octbur 15th
SEVTNY KISES! WOW-Octbur 16th
As you read down the list of recordings, you dared to thumb through the other pages-every day throughout the past few months you had been together seemed to be recorded. He hadn't missed one day. Some seemed excited, some seemed neutral, and then, to your horror, some were incredibly sad and self-doubting
Only got tirteen kises today from Y/N. Dos she not love me anymre? Is this wat women do when thy leav their partnar?
And then another one-the one that he must have written last night
Got fify five kises from Y/N last nite. I thnk she is loosing intirst bcuase usally she kises me more during sex. I am woried that she mite leave me soon.
You felt your heart ache beyond what you knew what to do with, and you looked over to the man in question, who was still huddled into a ball.
"Arthur," you said gently. You needed to keep your voice gentle and soft, full of understanding, despite the storms of pain going on inside of you that he had been feeling this way for so long. His pain was your pain. Understanding and sympathy was what Arthur needed the most from you in your relationship, especially now. "Is this what's been going on with you? All this time? This is what you've been counting?"
Arthur made no response for a moment, and then slowly shook his head yes. You closed your eyes, and sighed. You weren't upset with him; you could never be upset with him over his own pain. You were more so upset that he had allowed himself to be insecure for this long, and allowed his brain to fester in this measuring of affection and insecurity for almost the entirely of the time you had been together.
"Hey," you cooed gently. You caressed his arm. "Baby, I'm sorry you've felt like you've had to do this. The amount that I love you isn't measured by how much I kiss you in a day. Sometimes life just…happens, and sometimes I just feel too tired or busy to be able to give a lot of affection. But I always want to give it to you, Arthur, believe me beyond what I can say that I do. I love you so, somuch, sweetheart, that sometimes I don't know what to do with myself."
You stopped for a moment, realizing you were saying a lot without giving Arthur a chance to speak. When he still kept his head buried in his knees, you kept going.
"Arthur, honey, if keeping track of how many kisses I give you in one day helps you somehow, then I want you to know it's ok. I don't mind. But I don't want you to believe for even a second that the amount of physical affection I show you in one day has anything to do with how much I love you."
Arthur raised his face from his knees. He peeked at your through his curls, one of his eyes poking out through them.
"I do it because I know you'll leave one day," Arthur mumbled from the edge of his mouth. "I want to treasure every touch for as long as I can, so that when you're gone, I'll have a piece of you forever."
You felt a strange feeling sweep through you-it was a certain sick feeling, laced in a pained love and an aching for something beyond comfort, feeling both hurt for yourself that there was something lacking in your love to make him feel this way, and also feeling the pain of his soul pour out of him in waves, radiating into your own core as if it was your own.
"Arthur…what the fuck…I-"
You felt your eyes well up with hot tears, and one rolled down your cheek. You swallowed. With a shaking hand, you put the journal down beside you.
"Arthur, sweetheart," you choked, and you scooted yourself forward and wrapped your arms around him fully. Arthur buried his face into your shoulder, and with a heave of a sigh he began to wet your shoulder with his own tears, his thin shoulders hunching in and out, in and out, up and down, his spine jamming against your hands as his body did so-so intense were the waves of pain that went through his body.
"Oh, darling," you muttered softly and you rocked him back and forth gently in his arms, forgetting your own pain in the face of his. "You have so much to learn about how I feel about you."
A few tormented chuckles emitted for Arthur's mouth.
You allowed him to cry.
And cry.
And cry.
And cry.
You allowed him to luxury of expressing his emotions fully until your shoulder and your clothes were soaked with his tears. The entire time you whispered sweet nothings into his ear softy, telling you how much you loved him, not just by saying the three words alone, but by talking about every little thing you adored about him-his clumsiness, his jokes that he worked so hard on, his naturally silly personality, the innocent and simple conversations you two had at night as your fingers were intertwined while you two lied on the couch together. More importantly, you told him how you felt about him-that you felt like your entire life had been a mere trail run leading up to you meeting him and loving him, and that everything he was-his beauty from the inside out, his grace and kindness and all the stars that he was made of-flaws and all- was enough to pour oceans of magic into your soul, an otherworldly kind of sensation that could so easily be stopped and trampled in by the world, but was forever preserved and precious in a way only you two understood as long as you had each other.
As Arthur came down from his cackling and weeping, you softly leaned back so that you could see his face. It was blushing and red with tears, and his normal piercing green eyes were even more breathtaking and beautiful than they normally were, emitting out from his eyes like pools of the eternal elements you knew he was made of as he looked into yours. You shook your head ever so slightly in your awe in affection as you gazed at him.
"It's incredible," you muttered softly as you stroked his cheek gently, thumbing away the last of his tears.
Arthur sniffed boyishly. "What?"
You hummed. "You're so beautiful even when you cry."
Arthur's thick brows furrowed for a moment, but this time in was in an overwhelming happiness, taking the form of serious revelation. Tender affection overcame his handsome features, and he shook his head and laughed softly.
"I love you, Y/N. I hope we last….a long time," he mumbled quietly.
You smiled and leaned forward, brushing your lips against the bridge of his nose as he turned slightly to receive the affection.
"We will. Forever and a day."
Arthur smiled against your nose softly as you spoke his favorite phrase when it came to discussing your affections for the other. You two sat in silence for a moment, simply taking in the other, exhausted from the emotional thrashing of the last hour-the past few months, even.
"If it's not too much to ask," you muttered softly as you caressed gentle circles against his hips. "Maybe, rather than recording every kiss, can you try to just be in the moment? Just be with me, enjoy every little moment we have together the way I do. Can we try that?"
You said 'we" because, truth be told, any challenge that Arthur embarked on was inevitably your challenge as well; so intertwined were your souls that any challenge or pain that the other faced was also your own.
Arthur's heart thudded; the thought of simply living in he moment with your affection without documenting proof that you loved him to look at for later made him terribly nervous. But he also remembered, with some resignation, how much his brain hurt from keeping track all day, how much strain it put on his mind to remember and keep track of every little kiss you granted him. He had wanted to record caresses too-but kisses were so much easier, having a clear beginning and end that could be comprehended into a number. Trying to keep track of every little brush of your lips against his skin did take away from a lot of the enjoyment he spent with you-rather than letting himself simply be, he had to constantly rack his brain to keep track of every little gift granted to him. It did make his head hurt-but he had convinced himself that he wasn't good or strong enough to simply "enjoy" love.
If he was being honest, he truly did just want to enjoy and be in the moment with you-he wanted it to feel as natural as breathing like he knew it had the potential to. Though the trauma from Arthur's life had left him with severe abandonment issues, his father the worst of them, he knew now he had to try to fight them to feel the natural bliss you felt when you were together-no numbers, no counting, no recording. Just unconditional love and gasps of air between blissful intimacy and ever so gentle caresses of love that spoke promises that Arthur's aching and bleeding heart had been waiting to hear from a kind voice his entire life.
Arthur nodded, and swallowed. "I will try, darling. I promise."
You smiled through your own tears, leaned down and kissed his shoulder gently.
Though his natural instinct was to count it off and to spiral into an analysis of how many that had been yet today, and how much that amount equaled to how much you loved him, he fought it this time, and simply allowed the sensation of your warm lips against his to sweep through his body, to feel the healing and therapy from your genuine care swept throughout his body.
"Countless kisses, Arthur," you mumbled against his skin. "You don't need to count, because I'm going to give you so many, until your skin aches and is surrounded with bruises at the amount of time I've touched you."
The echoes of your love was now etched into his consciousness and very skin alike, and undoubtedly the quiet mutterings that you had placed inside of his core helped cash away the demons that necessity poked and prodded the most sensitive parts of his damaged and worn essence.
With one last heavy sigh, Arthur leaned his head into your neck.
For the first time, he allowed himself to believe that it was true.
For the first time, he felt love. Love without a catch.
not an inch between your skin
Summary: Due to unfortunate weather circumstances, you are forced to go to Arthur's apartment after the lights and heat go out in yours. You two are still in the early stages of dating, both of you clueless as to how to take the next step in your relationship-yet both head over heels in love.
A/N: I feel like this is weak denwedkem IDK i was passionate about it at the time?
Contains: smut, fluff, Arthur trying to figure out how to be a 'normal' boyfriend.
Length: 8,171
Originally posted by arthurfuckingfleck
The pleasure from your fingers was driving a delicious sensation through your core as you fingered your folds. You were on the edge of moaning, your hips thrusting up and down as you thought of the person you really should't be-
Your fairly new boyfriend and next door neighbor, Arthur.
It was your guilty pleasure to think of him. You two were still in the early stages of dating-extremely casual. You two had known each other for the better part of a month, casually talking on and off when you passed each other by until one day, something very simple but seemingly life changing had happened-you had held hands for a moment, and everything had clicked into placed that night as Arthur had gleamed a crooked smile at you, deepening the happy lines on his handsome features, You had known from that moment you were entirely fucked. Within weeks, you two were seeing the other whenever life had given you two the chance-which, admittedly wasn't often.
You didn't see him as nearly as often as you would like. You were both working several jobs, Arthur a few more than you, and the very few sections of free time that life granted the two of you was often occupied by other things; for Arthur, it was often tending to his mother. For you, it was often simply trying to pull yourself back together from the pieces the long day you had just had had taken from you.
As you wrapped your blankets around your shivering body in your cold apartment, trying desperately to warm yourself up, you had an deep set feeling Arthur would be much better at that. You two had yet to had any physical contact, but your fantasies helped you with the empty spaces of where the absence of Arthur's touches left. It was winter in Gotham, and even the richest man in the city knew how cruel they would be-the only thing that was keeping you sane right now was the heat in your apartment.
You hadn't asked him if he wanted to hang out tonight because you knew he was probably busy taking care of his mom in this weather. She needed, evidently, a lot of caring. Arthur was just as occupied taking care of her as he was anything else in life, if not more so. You could tell within days the relationship wasn't healthy, but it wasn't you place to say anything-at least not yet.
You sighed, and you were taken out of your fantasy as your organs climaxed. The image you had had of Arthur in your head-romantic curly brown waves, deep set, wise and naive eyes, a stunning contradiction but true none the same, high cheek bones, weathered hollow cheeks, the sweetness that poured out of him in everything that he did. His endearingly thick, knobbly fingers, which oddly stretched out into thin hands. You could-and had- thought about every detail of him for hours, yet somehow, the both of you had hardly touched yet in your relationship. Arthur was a delicate and sweet man, shy almost to the point where it was tragically painfully to see how much he ached to touch you in his begging green eyes, yet refused himself the luxury despite how much he so clearly desired to.
Shit.
As if on cue to match the end of your orgasm and your depression string of thoughts, the lights in your apartment flickered our as soon as your hand came out of your folds. You were suddenly plunged into darkness, and you sighed heavily as you found your surroundings were now as aimless and empty as your feelings. The shivering and cold of your body didn't help, either.
Fuck. How were you supposed to go to bed like this? You couldn't even see well enough to go wash the bodily fluids off of your hand in the sink, let alone get into bed with your shivering, trembling body. You were an absolute mess, and it was becoming far too tempting to give in and to knock on the door of Arthur to see if he was doing any better.
You got up, and clenched your teeth as a husked "fuck" left your lips when your toe stubbed the table leg. You sighed off some of your frustration. You forced yourself to take some deep breaths.
In out, in and out. Deep breaths.
You were tired, your hands were a mess, you were craving a man far more than was appropriate for only a casual month of dating, and shit, your whole body was just shivering and downright cold. Goosebumps were forming up your skin. You closed your eyes and gave your toe one last minute to recover, the throbbing easing up only slightly. You then began to stumble your way towards the kitchen sink. Your eyes had adjusted in the slightest to the dark, though you could still just barely make your way through your crisp and empty apartment. Your hands clung to the walls, trembling with the chill, and you made your way across the living room to the kitchen like you were climbing the side of a rock. Finally, after about twenty more toe stubs on the floorboards that were falling apart and a few more swear words, you found your way to the kitchen sink. You pulled the faucet on, and felt some relief come onto your sticky hands as it washed through the water. The cold of the raw sink water only made you colder, however, and you clenched your teeth as your shivering increased.
Fuck this; this was miserable, completely and utterly miserable. You would go down the hall and knock on Arthur's door. That would be it. A simple knock. If he was busy, you would rush back like it never happened.
With a newfound purpose other than being unhappy and shivering in your own lonely apartment, you unlocked your door and rushed down the hall. You were still wearing your nightgown; it was fairly late at night and you doubted that anyone would come down the already usually isolated, worn and dull hall even more than it usually was. But your body was shivering, and you hoped that Arthur would be willing to either offer your the heat of his apartment, the heat of his blankets, or, even better-the heat from his body.
You shook your head, and stood in front of the door. You tired to shake away any nerves that were manifesting inside of you, and instead took a first and knocked on the door, determined to ignore your insecurities.
A few silent moments with nothing but you and your shivering body. After about a minute or two of this. the self loathing came upon you full force for doing this, and you swore under your breath, reprimanding yourself for embarrassing yourself and for disturbing Arthur.
Just as you were about to admit defeat and head back to your own room, the door clicked, not once but four times; there were many locks on the doors in the complex, being in such an unsafe area. Arthur had always told you about how much safety meant to him: his anxiety kept him up all night otherwise. He was jumped often; you couldn't blame him.
The door swung open, and there he was; Arthur's wrinkled kissed face, brown hair slicked back the way he did after he showered, looking particularly handsome in his relaxed state. He was wearing his usual pajamas; you had seen them once or twice, but you had taken the effort to memorize every detail about them. It was a tan sweater that didn't leave an inch of his skin exposed, covering his thin but strong biceps, and his favorite blue slacks, soft and as gentle as he was. You had fantasied more times that you cared to admit about what it would feel like to cuddle against him all night long, his arms and legs wrapped around yours, gentle clothes upon gentle skin.
The look on Arthur's face was unreadable; you hadn't quite been able to crack the codes open within his eyes yet in your relationship. He looked confused, his face taking on a slightly serious look as he gazed at you.
"Y/N?" he said softly as he gazed at you. "What are you doing here? Usually you let me know before you come over."
You felt a tickle of panic. Despite how clearly shy and sweet, and tragically apologetic, he was, there was something oddly intimidating about him, and you could tell it wasn't just because of your feelings. There was something about his demeanor that screamed that he was stronger than he seemed-not just physically, but mentally as well. Arthur, as mentally ill as he was, seemed to be his own person-holding a wisdom within him that he and he alone had within him. There was something about him that was so set within its own ways, not one of the world. It hadn't been Arthur's choice to be an outcast, and yet, he seemed to have grown into his isolated status with a certain splendor and grace, making him a haunting work of art.
You swallowed, and then shrugged sheepishly. "I'm sorry to disturb you and your mom. Arthur. I just wanted to come over….and…see how you were doing." You cringed at how lame you sounded.
"Oh," Arthur muttered, voice still soft and gentle, albeit a little uncertain. His right hand was leaned against the door frame; a cigarette was placed between his two fingers. No doubt his whole apartment reeked of the smell, but somehow everything about Arthur enticed you-everything about him became attractive. He looked behind him, and for a heart stopping moment you thought that maybe he had someone over, but then he turned back, his eyes even gentler as he looked at you.
"Do you want to come in?" Arthur offered. "I know the power went out in a few apartments. Did it go out in yours?"
You nodded, trying to suppress your eagerness. "Oh, it did. Yes, I would love that."
Arthur smiled and opened the door wider, reaching his arm out with a certain exaggerated theatricalness. "Come on in." Shy thought he was, he natural goofiness never failed to come out every now and then. You found it unbearably adorable.
You laughed quietly, and stepped forward into the room shyly. "Were you in bed already?" you asked. Arthur reached out and slightly brushed your side with his hand as you walked past him; you felt a rush of heat stroke through your body like lighting at the touch.
"I-I actually don't sleep on the bed." Arthur stuttered. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I sleep on the…couch." He bowed his head in shame. Arthur was embarrassed; what kind of boyfriend was he? No wonder you hardly touched him, he thought to himself morbidly. One thin blanket, a pillow, and a thin and worn couch was all he had to offer you.
You turned towards him, surprised at how much shame he felt for simply being him. Then again, the world has a tendency to beat people down, especially gems that were placed in stones such as Arthur. Beautifully out of place he was, yet being different was a dangerous thing within the city.
"Oh, Arthur, that's all right," you quickly rushed out. "I don't mind at all, really."
A ghost of a smile dared to grace Arthur's face, one crooked tooth shining out shyly at your affirmation that it was ok-that everything about Arthur was ok. You were the first person in his life to allow him think so.
"Uhm…" Arthur rubbed his hands down his legs awkwardly, trying his best to come up with something, anything to make you more comfortable. Little he had, but his heart held depths up depths of what he wanted to give to you-little to your knowledge.
"Do you want to take the couch?" he offered. "I could make you something warm too." He was looking at you with all the hope in his eyes simply to make you happy. Your felt your heart melt: he was such a rare, kind soul. Despite your nerves, you felt so safe with him.
"Yes. Arthur," you said softly as your tenderness came over you. "I would love that."
Arthur smiled that crooked smile fully at you that killed your heart beyond words. You tried to ignore the desire to sweep yourself into his arms and forget about everything and everyone, stress, cold, anxiety, and everything else alike. You two hadn't crossed the physical boundary as a couple yet, and you weren't sure how to go about doing so.
"Let me, uh," Arthur ran a worn hand through his slicked hair, clearly at a loss of what to do first. "Want me to help you get comfortable?" He finished awkwardly.
Your heart thudded, and you nodded excitedly. Arthur happily walked over and and wrapped his hands around your waist; his touch was shy and more gentle than a butterfly's wing, but you could sense the desire and strength under it. Arthur's desire to show you how much he cared for you was overcoming his shyness and his conviction that no one wanted anything to do with him. Your toes curled as he guided you to the couch; worn though it may have been, it was covered in Arthur, and that was all that mattered to you. You sat down, and Arthur picked up some of the blankets on the other end and wrapped them around you. You smiled, and snuggled into their warm embrace-the first real warmth you had felt that night. Arthur kneeled down and rubbed his hands on your knees, smiling at you shyly-confident in how much he wanted to please you. If there was one thing about Arthur was greater than his shyness, it was his desire to love and to be loved-and you were more than willing to help him figure out how to emit that part of him and bring it into the open as often as you could.
"I'll get your drink," Arthur muttered, and then dared to lean forward halfway. "Can I kiss your forehead?" he asked, voice as bashful and as kind as always.
You nodded. "Yes, Arthur. Please." Your voice was giving away just how much you wanted this; just how starved you were for his affection as he was yours.
The tip of Arthur's lips curled in small celebration, and he leaned forward fully and pressed his lips to your temple. He closed his eyes as he did so, and his lips seemed to savor the taste of you skin, his chestnut brows curling in a delirious happy concentration as he memorized how your skin felt against his weathered lips. Then, with some regretful reluctance, his lips pulled away, his left hand gently caressing the side of your face as he did so. He then got up onto his feet and made his way to the kitchen.
You let out a trembling sigh of passion, and tried to ignore the pools of heat in between your legs. You were so wet, but you couldn't have cared less if you two had sex anymore; to simply be with him was ecstasy.
You tried to focus on wrapping yourself into your blankets, feeling the first waves of warmth grace your body as you did so. You lied yourself down on the blue pillow that rested at the end of the couch, and closed your eyes momentarily, simply enjoying the feeling of hearing him gracefully clatter in the kitchen as he went about his business. Arthur was nothing if not graceful, every action of his seeming to be a sort of complex dance, turning even the simplest of tasks into magic.
After a few moments he came back with the hot drink. You had fallen into a slight, light state between dreams and consciousness as you had listened to him make it. Arthur bent down and wiped the hair out of your face, and you let out a small moan of the welcomed disturbance as you were taken out of the slight sleepy trance you had found yourself in before his touch. Your eyes opened, and to your happiness he was there right in front of you-Arthur, with his handsome face and high cheekbones and his slick wet curls gracing his face, as sweet as ever. The drink was placed in a cozy white mug, the steam traveling in soft wisps in front of his face.
"I made you hot coco," Arthur rasped softly. "It's a bit hot-be careful drinking it."
You nodded, and took it from his hands. You blew on it softly, and then took a slow but sure sip-it was just the right amount of heat that you needed that spread through your cold body. It went through you like a flame, and you let out a small sigh of relief.
Arthur was gazing at you with some otherworldly fascination all the while, almost as if he was trying to gauge if you were real. Knowing Arthur, he more than likely was; he had opened up to you about his hallucinations some time ago.
There was something about him that broke your heart, just to look at him. Arthur was visibly trembling, despite his clothed form. His tan sweater must have been made from fairly cheap and thin material-it looked like it might have been from one of the homeless people donation stores that were found all around Gotham. The same could easily be said about his blue slacks, which were just barley managing to cling onto his skinny hips.
"You must be freezing, Arthur, even more than I am," you said with tender consideration in your voice.
Arthur shook his head, and laughed quietly. "Don't worry about me, Y/N. I'm just glad you're ok."
There it was against: that sweet, precious flint of desire in his green depths. He rubbed his deep chestnut sweater up his arm, looking down at the ground and muttering to himself as he did so, still trembling. Clearly, he was not as ok as he'd like you to think.
You curled your toes under the blanket, craving his touches more than you craved even the warmth that the blanket or drink gave you.
"Well, Arthur, if you don't want me to worry about you, we're in trouble, because thats all I do," you muttered quietly. "Come here." You lifted the blanket up so that Arthur had room to climb in. Arthur looked into your eyes, questioning your sanity no doubt that you wanted someone like him to go into your sheets. You nodded every so slightly.
It's ok, I love you.
Neither of you had spoken the words out loud yet, but there were other ways until then you could let him know.
Arthur nodded back and obliged, seeming happy but cautious as he climbed into your arms. God help him, he was always so, so worried about displeasing you. You could see it in his every movement, could see it in how he was holding himself back from doing everything you knew he wanted to do to you-affection and sex alike.
Arthur curled himself into your touch, and he dared to snuggle up against your form ever so slightly. His hot breath was against your face, his eyes searching yours in a curious fashion, desperate to know you more-yet too scared to take the leap.
You reached out and curled a hair behind his ear. Arthur's green eyes flickered with desire as you did so, and you physically felt him melt at your touch. His face fell with desire into your fingers dancing along his skin, and he pressed his cheek into your palm. He pressed his lips to the inside of your palm ever so lightly-almost the touch was like a shy caress of his lips against yours rather than a kiss, a gentle promise that he was here-and he loved you in his own quirky fashion, despite how little time he got a chance to show you.
Insecure and ill though he was, you found you only fell in love deeper with him because of his flaws. Somehow, the only added deeper to the richness of how much you simply felt for him. To feel was the richest of gifts, and Arthur made you feel ever emotion on the spectrum.
Your world took on a different kind of perspective as your eyes met when he flickered them back up to yours, striking into you, and you felt yourself letting out a shutter of the lust you were withholding as you gazed into his, his adorable face still practically hidden in your hands. You wanted to claim him in that moment-the desire almost driving you wild. To make him entirely and completely yours. To wreck him in kisses. Your body was trembling, but no longer was it because of the cold-it was simply because of your desire.
"Hey-you're shivering," Arthur murmured gently. Like he was one to talk.
You shook your head. "No, Arthur, that's not it. I just-"
"It's only one blanket," Arthur said determinedly. "Here." Arthur took off his red sweater and his shirtless body was greeted to you-it was so beautiful, as far as you were concerned, but it looked so malnourished and skinny-his ribcage was protruding out of his chest like it would burst open at any moment. He pulled it over to your torso and awkwardly but lovingly managed to get it over your head and onto your body, and there it was-snuggled against your form, tight and loving, smelling like cigarettes, his mother's perfume, hot coco, and, in general, the coziness of Arthur that only he held.
Arthur gently caressed your cheek with his thumb. "That's better," he mumbled softly as he gazed at you. As long as you were alright, that was all that mattered to him.
You sighed in defeat; you knew it was pointless to try and convince Arthur of something if he wasn't willing to comply. He was still visibly shivering, even more so now without his sweater. You couldn't deny that you did feel significantly warmer now with his sweater wrapped around you-and, in general, more comforted. But your heart ached more so at his he was clearly shivering, his skinny biceps and arms wrapped around his body.
"Arthur, come closer," you muttered softy. "If you curl up fully into me, we'll both be warm. Sound good?"
Arthur nodded, and finally his physical discomfort broke through his shy dam. He huddled into you, and pressed his face into your neck, nuzzling against your crevice. You could feel his body significantly trembling against you, could feel his shuddering skin and the ice cold layer of his body against yours. Your heart ached for him, in more ways than one, and you felt tears begin to prick at your eyes at how kindhearted he was, despite how misfortunate he was in the world.
"What?" Arthur whispered as you gazed at him with a sudden seriousness. The revelation of the rich love you felt for him was finally overcoming you with its entirety.
"It's just," you swallowed thickly, then continued. "I think I'm in love with you, Arthur." The words tumbled out before you could stop them.
You had fallen in love with him the first time you had seen that smile with that one wickedly crooked tooth, as crooked as the man that bore it, but just as sweet and as endearing. You had fallen in love with the first time you had heard his laugh-his real, genuine laugh that held as much warmth in it as did the sun's rays.
Arthur looked at you; suddenly reflecting your revelation in his own gaze. He hated to admit it, but he was scared-scared of what was to come, of what loving you, and, in turn, what you loving him would really entail.
Only time would tell.
And then something very simple but irreplaceably special happened-
You kissed.
Arthur finally let go of everything he was holding back that night. He let out a small, defeated whine that revealed just how much he truly craved you then, and that hungry glint in his eye transformed from a small speck in the depths of his enigmatic oceans to an entirely of a universe with the one simple touch of his lips brushed against yours. Your lips were dancing as one together, graceful and irreplaceable heat between you. His hands were awkwardly lying by your sides still, despite your hands being on him, touching and exploring every curve within his body that had only been a dream to you until now.
"Arthur," you gasped as your lips reluctantly cane up for air, gasping and quivering as you felt the desire aching in your bones at how much you simply longed for him. "Please, Arthur, please don't hold back. I lov-"
Arthur clumsily but passionately crashed his lips against yours yet again, and you let out yet another moan as his hands began to explore your body like a waltz of starved hands. The explored everywhere they could touch all at once, and you could feel the loathing Arthur felt at the human condition that he could only touch you in so many places at once at the sane time. Finally, after fluttering around and considerately grasping your body parts in a way only Arthur could, his right hands found their most satisfying-and, to your happiness-heated places on your body. His right hands was lightly grasping your rump, his left shyly hesitating at the entrance of your folds.
"That's right, Arthur," you urged softly as you started bulking your hips against his, slowly rocking yourself against his hips in an alluring but subtle fashion. You wanted him to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you wanted him, that he was all you craved, while at the same time not wanting to scare away whatever little confidence and safety he felt with you. Arthur was a sliver of gentleness in the city of Gotham, and for that he was far braver than any bellowing or violent man you had come to encounter in Gotham-which, as it turned out, was most of them. Arthur was taking that shaking gentleness, fluttering and scared like a hummingbird, and using it to try and figure out what love was-to try and figure out how to love you.
Arthur whined again and pulled himself on top of you; the throbbing of his cock against the wet of your vagina was becoming too much to bear. You pulled your lips away from Arthur and nodded at him, staring into his face that was deep in concentration over how to simply properly love you the way he so desired.
"Please enter me, Arthur, please, please," you were begging now, your words mere whispers under your breath as you gazed into his eyes, longing for him to hear what you were trying to tell him beyond your words-how much you needed and treasured him, and, more so, how much you believed he deserved so much more than what his life had given him. To grant those blessing to him you could not, but if having him be yours was one gift you could grant him, you would more than happily do so.
Arthur closed his eyes and let out a shaking breath, then muttered something under his breath, almost as if it was to himself, and then opened them and nodded at you. His face was brooding and serious, dark with revelation at simply how much he loved you, how much he wanted this to be good for you. He dared to press his cock against your inside, and you nodded again, wanting him to know how much you wanted-needed-this. You pulled your pants down, and in turn Arthur pulled down his, no rendering him fully naked in front of you. You were still wearing his sweater, and you were more than glad to be surrounded by Arthur in more ways than one.
You grabbed the firmness of the thin biceps of his arms as you moaned and leaned your head forward. You nails dug into his skin, and Arthur swore under his breath as you did so. Arthur then dared to enter into you, and the look of his face being in deep concentration as he began to thrust into you made you groan with complete lust and desire. You threw your head back and allowed the orgasmic pleasurable waves to begin to make their build in your body. The feeling of thefullness of Arthur inside of your folds was almost too much to bear-so long had you wanted this, that now that it was happening it was more than you could stand. You legs wrapped around his bony body, trying to find some relief in build of lust was that building up inside of your body now, more than you knew what to do with. Your shoes pressed against the spinal bones of his back, and the fragile delicateness of how his thin back was so easily enwrapped around your legs, how it felt so delicate and breakable and fragile, as if even you could crush him, and yet felt so strong and so protective at the same time alone was enough to make you cum. The love you had found with Arthur was truly something special-you had discovered within him everything that made life worth living-tenderness, attraction, a bittersweet worry for the other, love, a fierce desire to live and protect something other than yourself. Your hands were still gripped into his biceps as he pounded into you, looking at you with the deepest concentration as he did so, chestnut brows frowning on his gorgeous, perfectly crafted face. Though he had the more breakable soul, making everythingabout him feel breakable, he regardless kept making sure that you were safe within his grasp-to make sure that he never broke you. Much stronger than you was Arthur physically, despite how skinny he was, yet you never felt more safe enwrapped in someone else.
You closed your eyes as your rode your high; Arthur kept his open, preferring to take the entirety of you in. Of you being completely and utterly his in this moment; wearing his sweater, face scrunched up in a feverish haze as he rawed himself into you, hair slicked into sweat and desire. There wasn't an element of you in this moment that wasn't his, completely and entirely his.
"Arthur….Arthur.." you were whispering his name under your breath as you came, and the sound of your doing so was enough for Arthur alone to burst into you. To hear his name spoken in both love and affection, in desire, was enough to drive him wild. You felt his fluids sweep into your folds, and the sensation of him, Arthur, the gentle man who lived across the hall who had a preciousness naiveness to him that made him both impossibly valuable but also unbearably breakable, claiming you as his by pouring himself into you, was enough for you to finish climaxing. Your high spread through your whole body, warming your toes and up to your legs and torso alike.
Arthur felt his arms shudder as he finished coming into you, and his head fell and rested into your shoulder. He pressed a few sweet, soft kisses to your neck, and you leaned it backward so that he had full access. He took full advantage, leaning his lips into yours and gently placing kiss after kiss down your neck like he was starved.
You two lied there for a few moments, simply breathing and taking the other in. You could feel the slight tremor of Arthur's lips against your neck as he kept it against your skin, slick with sweat and desire. Your fingers were curling inward and outward, having traveled from his biceps to his brown curls as you tried to find some sense of focus, some sense of coming back down from your delirious passion; it had wrecked inside of you so deeply that you felt as if your soul was flying within itself, no longer having any specific location, merely thrashing and flopping about like a reckless lion at just how savory the richness of the intertwining of the touches of the man you loved so deeply to your own were finally being granted to you.
Finally Arthur lifted his head, and enough moments had passed that your trembling had calmed down the slightest bit. You wanted to laugh out loud at the fact that you had felt cold only a few moments ago-the concept seemed so unbelievable to you now. Your entire body was broken into a sweat, heat radiating off if your body as you tried to calm yourself.
Arthur's thin and sweet lips smirked as he looked at you-it wasn't a cocky kind of smirk-it was a tender kind of smirk, a smirk that asked the simple question of; What have I done to you, my love? Do I really make you feel like this? He spoke words through his expressions that he wasn't bold enough to speak aloud yet; there were languages in the bodies of you two that held conversations that words yet did not.
You let out a sigh, and it seemed to be the final seal of the fire of the passion you two just shared. Peace came over the both of you then; a deep inner sort of content agreement that you two had just encountered a sort of ceremony together, sealing the deal that you two were truly each other's and each other's alone-no longer did doubt ebb at the two of each other's mind how much either wanted the other.
Arthur reached out and gently caressed a strand of hair from your face. "Do you want to stay over with me, or would you rather I walk you home?"
You scoffed. "Home is only about a few feet away, Arthur."
Arthur smiled softly, and a few genuine laughs emitted from his mouth. The sound was a sweet melody of innocence. "Yeah….I was just trying to be romantic. I know the good boyfriends do stuff like that-walk their girlfriends home." He shrugged.
You heart almost gave out from affection then-from just how adorable, sweet and clueless he looked, hunched over you with his skinny frame and his sweaty brown curls falling over his face. He was, quite simply, the very definition of sweet and tragic-so eager to please, having so little to give, but more than willing to break his back to give anyone anything in his life who he cared for in the world.
"Arthur, you are the sweetest boyfriend I ever could have hoped for. I promise." You caressed his biceps lightly; though his arm was thin, the muscles he had in them were sturdy and round. "I wouldn't want anyone else in this city but you."
Arthur's eyes lifted up towards you, and that gentle smile more precious than the richest of the gold in the world graced his features; crooked teeth showing again this time, a rare sight and phenomenon, something he only saved for the most precious of moments-such as now.
You hummed in soft affection, forgetting yourself as you became lost within him. Arthur leaned his face forward and began to lightly nuzzle his nose against your face, tracing it gently from your cheek to your lips, then gently bringing your lips to his. The light white stubble of his face scratched against yours. His hot breath on yours mixed in with the gentleness of touches was the sweetest sensation, making you believe even for just a moment that maybe heaven really did exist, not in the sky with fantastical elements, but right here, with the man you already loved as a husband lying on top of you, skin upon skin and love traced into every irreplaceable touch.
You didn't even know it was possible to love this much until you had met him.
"I think it would be best if we went back to my place, come to think of it," you whispered softly against his skin. "I have a bed-I know your mom sleeps in the other. I know it's cold there, but I think we've found a way to keep each other warm." You smirked softly.
Arthur lifted his face and nodded at you, eagerness flickering in his face that he was invited to see your place-his girlfriend's place-to a place where someone finally loved him simply because they did.
Arthur didn't talk to women. Or men. Or anyone, for that matter. As a matter of fact, he didn't even know how. But you thought it suited him well. He was far too precious to deal with the damage of the world, far too hopelessly romantic to dedicate himself to multiple lovers, or to navigate the scenes of the romantic scene, which was often superficial and cruel. When Arthur fell for someone, he fell, and there was no turning back. The world didn't understand the simple romantics of his mind, not would it ever. Arthur had a precious, rare, and fragile soul that didn't fit into conventional standards or the ways the chaotic dating scene approached love. Arthur approached love stumbling and unsure, but always, always was he beautifully heartfelt in every word and movement. He didn't mess around. He was ready to be married to you already-he was the most unconventional of lovers, but passionate and true nonetheless. He didn't date-he wanted the entirety of one lover and one alone, forever and a day. Though many words were unspoken, he spoke the truth though his eyes. He was a mysterious work of art in and of itself, his gentle back eyelashes and high cheekbones that were beautifully worn gracing his every feature. The way he showed love was fumbling and uncertain, whether it was from the damage his brain, suffered of the trauma he endured, of whether it was simply the wonderful waywardness of his soul, he would never love normally. He would always be incredibly clingy. quirky and eccentric, and a little too much for most. But how rewarding it was when someone such as you dared to see him, to know him, and you were so honored that he had seemed to chose you, which was now confirmed by this night.
You guided Arthur to your apartment, never letting go of his hand once. It hadn't been too difficult to get some clothes, wipe off the sweat, and throw on your old clothes to go from one apartment to the next.
Evidently the power had come back on while you were gone; it was now sightly warmer, and the dim lights were dully shining in your apartment once again.
Arthur's eagerness gradually turned to amazement as he took in your place-which you found oddly humorous and adorable. Your place almost looked identical to his, holding the same furniture and wallpaper placement. You found his more impressive-where Arthur had a more cozy, motherly themed apartment, everything tidy for the most part-he was so good at caring for it-your apartment was more stagnant and lifeless, almost resembling a jail or a bland catalog example picture of how to live as depressingly as possible. Your walls were tan, the floor a generic cement color. Yet Arthur was looking at it with all the love in his eyes-you had a feeling that he adored everything about you that you were willing to show to him. Your heart glowed-he made you feel special, and that was something you treasured about him deeply-how he didn't take the slightest thing about your or your presence in his life for granted. You knew that even the slightest amount of love you showed he he would appreciate tenfold.
"My room's in here," you said as you guided him into the bedroom. You could fee Arthur's pulse beating in his hand as he was led to your bedroom-despite your extremely recent dance of intimacy, there was something a little more special and intimate about being in a bed.
Arthur cleared his throat and swept his hand through his hair again, the strands that were previously wet and slicked back now dry curls, damped from sweat.
You pulled the sheets out from their neat placement, and sat down on the bed. Arthur came over after a moment and gently pressed his hands against your torso, pushing your body down onto the bed. He kissed your forehead as your body went downward, his firm hands feeling so comforting against the side of your body. Nervous thought he was in society, there was a immoveable stockiness and braveness about him that came to the surface when it came to making you feel loved. He then took the blanket and pushed it over your body softly; you felt yet again the tickles of infatuation prickle at your skin as he lifted the soft material over you shoulder. He tucked it snug around your shoulder, and then leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead once more.
"Arthur," you giggled. "Are you tucking me in?"
Arthur smiled wearily as he gazed down at you; he was resting on his elbow as he lied next to you. "I guess so," he said sheepishly. "I-Is that what I should do? As your boyfriend?"
You laugh quietly. "Whatever comes naturally to you, sweetheart. There's no right way to be a boyfriend."
Arthur bit his lip at the word 'sweetheart', and you could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes. Your suspicion was confirmed when they started to roll down his cheeks, and you let out a soft hum of sympathy, reaching forward and gently brushing it away with your hand.
"You are too good for this world, Arthur," you whispered softly. Arthur smiled a trembling, weak smile, and took your hand and gently kissed each fingertip, one by one. There were no words he could express that could show what that meant to him, so he instead chose to show you through his body, through the dances and music in his soul. You felt your own tears start to fall down your cheeks as you felt his warm lips against your tips. You stared at each other for a few moments more, simply taking the other for a few precious, silent moments.
"I should get going," Arthur mumbled against your fingertip. "You need to rest."
Your heart leapt with disappointment; wasn't it already agreed that you two would spend the night together? But as you looked into his eyes, you saw that fear again; that fear that maybe he wasn't really wanted, that maybe you wanted him to leave. He needed that confirmation again, that love, that double reassurance that you wanted him here.
"Actually," you muttered tenderly. You thought about the thin couch Arthur lied on, about how terrible it must be for his back. "Maybe-if it's alright-would you mind sleeping over here?" Your voice, for once, wasn't trembling with uncertainty or an embarrassing amount of clear intimidation-but rather it was finally calm and steady, endearing and inviting, just the way you had intended for it to be right form the start.
Surprise flickered in Arthur's eyes. He looked down for a moment, knitting his eyebrows together, muttering to himself again if he was talking to himself in some deep thought, and then turned his sea green eyes back up toward you. They were no longer engines of mysteries to you-you could read him now, truly read him. His eyes were begging for this to be true, for it to be real and serious and wonderful, the way he had always imagined it to be, ever since he laid eyes on you, ever since you had made it evident that yes, you wanted this, and yes, you wanted to spend every moment as much as he did.
"I…." Arthur swallowed, and then tried again. "I would really love that, Y/N."
You smiled back him. The messages of what was happening between you two was speaking life unto itself, and like a creek flowed through a forest would the knowledge you two desired to know the other begin to trickle it's way into the lives of you both, until there was nothing but love and desire for the other, as real and as true as the sun set and rose, felt as tangibly and as refreshingly as the breezes that flowed through trees. No more distance or insecurities; just true, genuine love.
"Well, What are you waiting for?" you teased gently. You spread your hand around in circles onto the space next to you. "It's waiting for you, Carnival boy."
Arthur blushed an even deeper shade of red at being called his clown name in such a seductive fashion, particularly by you. He felt his cock harden in his pants yet again. He eagerly moved his body over and cradled up next you. You nodded slowly at him, letting him know that it wasabsolutely alright for him to get as close to your both as possible. Just as you were before. Arthur let out the smallest of shy smiles, and then allowed himself to nuzzle closer into your entire embrace, nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck. You gently wrapped your hands around his thin waist, feeling the warm and soft sweater greet your touches. You loved the feel of his own touches against your body: the way it graced and touched your skin, covered in his smell of cigarettes, a mix of cologne and his mom's perfume, and a sweetness that you were sure to associate with Arthur and Arthur alone from then forth.
You felt Arthur's strong arms against your skin, and it made your skin shiver with goosebumps-but this time with desire rather than cold. On the contrary, your entire body was still aflame with desire, and your velvet folds were clenching in small waves of desire. You could feel the hardness of his cock against your legs.
You smiled, and pulled Arthur closer into your embrace, until not even an inch of space was between your skin. Arthur hummed into you, clearly loving the sensation.
"I don't think I'll have to worry about being cold again," you whispered jokingly into his wake brown hair. You were stroking his curls back and forth.
Arthur chucked into your skin.
"Y:N?" Arthur said suddenly. His was was soft and childlike.
"Mmhmm?"
"Do you ever have….doubts about me?"
You paused. "What?"
"You know….just doubts about whether I'm good for you." Arthur shrugged sheepishly, seeming ashamed for even asking.
You thought for a moment as you continued to stroke your fingers through his hair. Though the love you felt for him scared you, you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was for you. Doubts did came in soft and gentle whispers, doubts of whether your strength would be enough to keep you both together on his worse days, whether it would be enough to calm the storms in Arthur's soul. But never did they go louder than that-just cowardly, false whispers. There was no storm you would rather take on than his.
"No, Arthur," you said softly. "I am certain that whatever challenges we may face as a couple, it will be all be worth it, as long a you're by my side." You gently pressed your lips to the top of his head.
Arthur hummed softly, but almost it seemed like a soft cry of relief. "Living in this city may have been unfortunate," Arthur mumbled onto your neck, "but finding you wasn't."
That was it; the tears began to roll down your cheeks. You felt your throat clench in pain, and you pressed still yet another kiss to his head; you could never grow tried of kissing every inch of his skin. There was only one way to quench the burning fire of your addiction to simply touching him, and it was by getting even closer than ever before.
"I think I may need to be warmed up again in that….method that you showed me earlier," you confessed with only the slightest amount of reluctance this time. Thee was no more time for shyness or emotional apologies-you knew he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You knew.
You could physically feel your heart leap to your throat with happiness when Arthur raised his viridescent eyes at you, looking at your through the curls that were adorning his brow like a work of art, leaving gentle tickles on his forehead.
"I'm going to have to agree with you on that," Arthur husked, traces of that small, tender excitement entering his voice again already.
The cold outside continued on as the two people on Gotham found happiness inside their small and cold apartments-no money, riches or even family, just the simple skin upon skin of eternal warmth that only the purest of love could bring.
a part of society
Summary: A month into your relationship and Arthur can't keep his hands off of you. You start to wonder if he may just be using you.
A/N: another self indulgent pathetic attempt at healing myself through fiction. this is so personal and self indulgent its almost embarrassing. i'll probably regret this dqjqnwqnj, but it was nice to write. I have a lot of pain in my heart, maybe some people can relate to it idk. i almost cried writing this. I may not ever have romanic love (I dont really want to) but its nice to pretend through Arthur.
Contains: smut, angst, fluff?
Length: 5,355
Originally posted by joaquins-phoenixs
The door clicked, and there he was-the handsome, innocent man that was a walking contradiction of tragic and corruptible and yet still the most beautiful and pure being you had ever seen.
His hair was flopped in front of his face, his brown curls poking at his eyes gently. His seagreen eyes glinted as they poked through his hair and looked at you-really stared straight into your soul. He smirked darkly, sheer lust taking over his form as he gazed at you. Arthur was a peculiar combination of switching between a helpless, boyish demeanor to manly and unapologetically intimating within minutes-right now, it was certainly the second. He looked like he was ready to wreck you until your helpless wails of lust filled the apartment. His hair was mostly slicked back save for the few curls in his eyes, showing off the sharp manliness of his face and the high of his cheekbones being fully exposed. He bite his lip in his dark passion as he looked at you, taking you in fully-you were in the routine of getting out of your bath, your naked form being fully exposed as the towel you were wearing draped lazily over your hip. Your body was mostly exposed-the only thing that prevented you from being fully naked was the towel that just barely covered your breasts and torso.
Arthur had two moods when he came home-he either was completely distraught and melted into himself, simply wrapping himself around your waist and burying his face into your shoulder, not speaking a word. The heaviness radiating from him came in waves on those nights. But his other mood-the one that didn't happen quite as often at first when he had been shy too touch you, but was becoming more common lately-was the one he had now.
"There you are," he rumbled seductively, hungrily, as he looked at you. The day must have been particularly rough on him; the greater the inside of his pain was, the more he wanted to release his frustrations and fuck it into you. You were more than glad to help him process his emotions through whatever means he desired-similarity, you couldn't deny how much you enjoyed being touched and fucked by him-even in Arthur's hungriest states were his touches gentle and considerate.
He strutted over, casting his work bag aside with reckless abandon. He unbuttoned his sweater and threw it aside in a similar fashion as he whisked over to you in a breathless movement, so quick and graceful that his skinny legs running across the floor made no sound. Before you could even greet him, he embraced his hands against your face and his naturally graceful lips met yours. You were thrown back into your haze, and your hands naturally found their way to his hair as you allowed yourself to be entirely claimed by him. He bit and nippled your lips and neck, trailing it up and down like a starved animal against your skin that was trembling in response to his touches.
You wrapped your legs around him as he bent you over the edge of the couch and began to fumble with your boobs and grace your neck in kisses. He was layering hickey upon hickey on those that were already on your neck, rendering your skin a blistering and throbbing mess of his kisses and bites. His clown make up was still on, and, as you felt the greasepaint cover your own skin, as you tasted his own saliva with the mixture of his paint, you felt a heat build up in your core. You wantedhim-you wanted him and this so desperately.
Yet you also felt empty.
Arthur's eyes flickered to the porn that was wide open on his journal on the living room desk-his eyes glinted darkly, and you felt a wave of sickness crash over you. You two had only been together for four weeks-a passionate and wonderfully passionate four weeks they had been, and already you felt attached to him in a way you couldn't quite describe. But more often than not, lately, your days had been more about touches and sex. Once he had gotten comfortable around you, the precious few moments you had together were becoming more about physical intimacy than anything else. You understood; or at least, you thought you did. Arthur was clearly the most touch starved man that you had ever met in your life. You knew it went deeper for him than just having a high sex drive-he needed your touches to feed the abused and aching skin that was etched out from his soul and onto his physical body and spirit alike. You were proof, his only proof, that he was worthy of love-that he deserved to be here as much as anyone. Your touches were an extension of the kind words you spoke to him, and allowing him to enter your was the greatest reward you could ever grant him-letting him know that he was good enough not just to be allowed to enter you and, in a certain way, claim you, but that he was good enough to be intertwined in the physical dance that love claimed as the ultimate matrimony between two bodies and souls that confirmed, even if just for a few minutes-in your case, a few hours-that you two were bounded as one, completely and utterly connected to the other, belonging to each other, beyond a shadow of a doubt.
The issue of Arthur's addiction to your touches and your baggage with being used for your body was something that clashed head first into the other like bulls ragging for the red flag of what they wanted the most. Though you loved the intimacy you shared with Arthur just as must as him, there was more insecurity and damage inside of you than there was excitement. There was a lukewarm sensation of what felt like age old damage inside of you that prevented you from being able to fully and entirely enjoy the love Arthur clearly desperately wanted to grant you-both for yourself and himself.
It wasn't that you didn't understand peoples attraction and, in some cases, such as with Arthur, the addiction to being intimate and and sharing sex and your bodies with one another. It was innate in the majority of the human souls to connect in a way that was deeper than just emotional-there was some deep set joy, something ethereal, in finding a connection so deep that it transcended words and simple conversation alike. You felt that heated passion and magic too-just as much as he did.
And yet.
You couldn't help but keep track of how many days you were intimate within the afternoons. How there were more afternoons were he would simply crash into you and start nibbling and eating at your skin, and then, shortly after, would enter you, pushing up and down, up and down, until you were both exhausted, then crashing himself down next to you, speak a few soft spoken words, and then falling asleep. There were only a few shy times were you both would be together simply for being together. Those nights were wonderful, but had been most common at the start of your relationship. They had been just as loving and as passionate, his hands caressing your hips as you were placed so simply into his lap, Arthur muttering and giggling into your hair as you two spoke quietly until sleep claimed the both of you to take you both to bed. But they seemed few and far between now from the passionate afternoons where sex was often and words spoken little as Arthur learned that he could touch you and claim you as much as he desired.
You saw the porn in Arthur's journal through a few accidental glances over the weeks. You knew how how was wired, perhaps better than he thought. You knew how he craved sex. You knew how he felt outcasted from society-how little he asked women out, if at all. Or anyone, for that matter. He seemed open to all genders-and just as equally confused with all of them in regards to how to ask them out.
You felt like, perhaps, he was using you. Using your for sex, for confirmation that he was good enough to have a partner. That maybe he saw you as an asset, rather than a person. You saw the slightly distracted look in his eyes when he talked with you at times. Maybe he himself didn't even realize it. Maybe he was just so desperate to have anything at all-that he would've dated a literal piece of dirt if he knew it would give him some credibility in society.
Arthur's soul was surrounded in insecurity, and your were finding out, far too soon, that his insecurities were becoming your own, even as your own insecurities that you had already carried within you from being used threatened to swallow you up from the inside out.
It was all becoming-to sum up fully- a little too much pain.
"Arthur," you spoke suddenly. "Arthur, are you using me?"
You felt you had no choice but to be blunt. There was no other way to go about asking-it was what it was.
Arthur froze where he was; his lip were currently tracing the side of your breasts in a lost haze of gentle kisses and soft affection. Normally you would've melted at the sensation, but tonight you were too lost in your tormented thoughts. His face froze, his hunched over body stilled in its wiggling that Arthur had a tendency of doing when he was turned on. It was as if you had stricken him.
"What did you say?" Arthur mumbled against your breast. You could feel his voice vibrating into your body, could feel his heated breath against your skin.
You let out shaky breath. "Like, for sex," you said, a bit meekly. "Are….are you using me for sex? Is that why….is that why we're a thing?" Your were sweating, but not from the intimacy. You were fucking nervous for saying your worst fear out loud. You loved Arthur, god help you, you know you did.
Which is why you needed to find out if he felt the same.
Arthur looked up from where he was delicately kissing the the gentle hill of your breasts. He blinked a few times, seeming dumbfounded, confused. Confused with what seemed like….shock. Slowly but surely, he transitioned from a man full of unrelenting, passionate lust to a man that seemed quiet, reserved, and, dared you believe, even a little angry.
As if he was betrayed.
Had you figured out his secret of what he wanted to use you for? Is that why he was reacting like this.?
"I can't believe you would ever ask that," Arthur muttered quietly under his breath; there was a single tear that had formed from the edge of his long lashes and sudden pained eyes. The words were spoken almost as more of a melancholic sort of shaky song of words strewn together brokenly, rather than a sentence.
"A-Arthur, I'm sorry," you stuttered apologetically. You weren't even sure what you were apologizing for-but the way he reacted was so clearly heavy on him that you were feeling guilt come at you in waves.
Arthur smirked darkly without humor and lifted himself up from your body. He chuckled a few times, and then tuned from you entirely. He walked into the kitchen, muttering to himself.
"Why are you angry?" you asked as you shot yourself up from the couch.
"Not angry," Arthur muttered. He had taken to leaning his hand against the island of wall that was next to the entrance of the kitchen.
There was a long silence then. You felt a strange guilt ebb at your core, though you weren't sure why. You deserved to acknowledge your pain and insecurities.
"I just…" You sighed, pulled up the towel from the floor, wrapped it around you, collected yourself, and then tried again. "I'm sorry, Arthur, I just need to know that this isn't-I don't know, just something where we have sex for a couple of weeks or months, and then you grow bored and-"
"I'm devastated," Arthur whispered suddenly. His voice was still that quiet spoken melancholic dance of sadness, a tragic sling of sighs rather than words. He was staring at the ground, as if in the deepest defeat. "You don't realize how much I love you."
He felt a shudder of self loathing wash over his own body even as he spoke the words. He had been loving you, but evidently not in the right way. Arthur didn't know how to love romantically, by all technical accounts-he had never had a partner, had only kissed once in his life as a teenager. Despite his lack of experience, his illnesses, and his hatred at himself, he couldn't fight the conviction that although Arthur didn't know much in this life, he did know one thing-how to give love. He just hasn't been doing it in quite the right way-he had allowed his own need for touches and kisses to get in the way the gentler and quieter love that you both needed just as much as the heated and passionate love. He felt the self loathing come upon him strongly now, but he needed to fight back his urge to hurt himself to focus on the most important thing-loving and taking care of you.
Arthur turned his head towards you, and the first thing you noticed, breaking your heart in two, was the bloodshot red of his eyes-there were tears streaming down his hollowed face. His worn lips were trembling, the dip in his cheeks soaked in tears. He was the definition of a broken man in that moment; for the first time in his life, not for himself, but for someone else. To feel pain for a being other than oneself was enough to make him feel a strange, twisted and ironic sort of beauty-but pain it was nonetheless, and it was choking him from the inside out.
You felt your own tears begin to form in your eyes and you choked, pulling the towel from the floor up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable. You felt embarrassed-you didn't know quite why. You knew Arthur was a good man, you knew it, but you couldn't quite convince himself that he loved you. You felt maybe he wanted to love you, but he was more in love with the idea of being in love with you than truly loving you-that he just wanted to have your body be next to his, heat upon heat, helping him forget the empty cold of his soul for even just a little while.
Your thoughts were abruptly chased away when Arthur suddenly ran across the room towards you. He sat down and wrapped his arms around you; his wiry arms were trembling with how much he wanted to love you, to treasure you and hold you-yet he felt he had cheapened it by his own thirst to be loved and touched by you, to be inside of you always. Oh, he needed to you understand how big of a deal this was for him as well-that he didn't just love you, specificallyyou, beyond what he could express, but that him touching you was simply an extension of that love. He needed you to understand that, despite your past partners, if they could even be called that, there was absolutely no ties to the way your past partners had treated you through sex-that though their touches may have been empty and passionless, only seeing you as an object of skin to fulfill their empty desires, his were only adorned and bursting to the seams of the almost painful love he felt for you. Your waist was a little strained as you felt him warp himself around you-you wanted to melt into him, but the trauma from your past relationships made you strain slightly-there was something that happened when to you when you had experienced those relationships, some wall had been built up between you and someone you loved even as deeply as Arthur; something that needed to be either broken down or climbed by someone who was brave or determined or willing enough. The wall had been inside of you for so long that you had begun to wonder if maybe you just didn't deserve love-or perhaps, maybe, the act of loving you had become too challenging for most to ever give a damn about trying to take on the seemingly impossible task. Like you were being too difficult; had become too difficult to love because of your pain that you couldn't heal.
But even with all your seemingly never ending, terrible thoughts, you couldn't help but feel like they were being extinguished at the way Arthur was looking at you right now, the deepest of pain in his wet eyes at your own pain. Maybe not quite extinguished, but they were quelled for now; the thoughts and heaviness of your damage temporarily being pushed down by the loving man in front of you, who's gentle eyes were trembling with sadness-agony-as he gazed at you with all the love in them-so obvious was it that even your insecure, bleeding heart couldn't deny it. Arthur spoke, and the words came out whispered and hushed, trembling and broken, but full of passion and reassurance that he so clearly wanted to grant you-as if he would die if you didn't understand what he was trying to tell you. His throat convulsed, but he fought it-the first time he had ever been able to fight them now that he was looking at you and taking in your own pain.
"Why I kiss you," he began, swallowing thickly, fighting off one more attack before continuing. Tears were streaming down his face, his face red and mottled with his own pain. "It's not because I want to use you." He frowned deeply as he spoke the words, as if even speaking it out loud threw him into an episode of disgust. "It's because I love you. It's because I need your touches. Darling.." He reached forward and gently wiped away one of your tears; you allowed yourself to lean into his touch ever so slightly. You nuzzled against it gently, and Arthur let out a soft whine of love.
"You need to understand." The desperation in his words made his voice shake.
You felt a stab of pain in the deepest part of your heart. You felt eternally heartbroken because of your past relationships-you felt like you would never be able to entirely convince yourself that Arthur's touches were born from love and not mindless lust, even as he sat in front of you now with his own tears and words of pain. There was a heaviness over you that was always there because of the pieces people had taken from you. Even on your best days did the heavy pain bleed through every hour of your day; you couldn't help it. The heartache seemed to have become a part of what you were. Arthur's own trembling fingers that were full of his own insecurities and his own damage did their fumbling best to grant you whatever acts of love they could-but your scars went too deep to be healed so easily. You swore he eyed other women and men-you saw the way he sometimes would eye his journal when you two were having sex, such as he was tonight. You could swear when you were out that he eyed other people, even when you two were in the midst of holding hands. Arthur was a handsome enough man that he could get many other women or men- clearly he was attracted to both. He had so many possibilities. He had many sicknesses, but there was a rare sweetness in his soul that made his irresistible. You knew that once he overcame his social awkwardness, which no doubt he would be able to with you as time went on and he learned from you, just as he had with sex, he would have enough social experience to be able to start asking other people out, to start seeing and sleeping with other people. You felt you were just a stepping stone into Arthur's dating life-that you were the "gateway drug", so to speak. You were Arthur's first partner, and you knew how emotionally and sexually deprived he was, and you felt he was merely projecting that deprivation onto you until he had got his fill. It was normal for people to date multiple people throughout their lives. It seemed far, far to obvious that you were only a phase in Arthurs life-if that. The deeper you fell in love with him, the more it hurt-there were nights where your chest would clench with emptiness all night long even as his arms wrapped around you that this couldn't possibly last forever the way your love stricken heart so deeply desired.
Arthur seemed to be searching your own wet eyes, and he was shaking his head slightly. Though he couldn't know entirely what you were thinking, he knew damn well the negative thoughts that were currently persisting in your head-and he felt a heated passion inside of him to help you fight them.
Arthur reached out and gently wiped some of your tears. "I could go days just being with you, sweetheart," Arthur muttered softly, his warm fingers a stark contrast between your cold, wet cheek. "I only like to be inside of you you because I can't imagine life without you. I just love to…be as close to you as possible." He paused for a moment, letting your tears fall as he looked at you considerately.
"Just how I like to kiss you like this…"
Arthur leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to your face, melting away at least one tear with his own tear soaked lips. Arthur hummed against your face in the most pure way of showing his love; although Arthur had his own scars that needed attending to, yours needed just as much comfort from him, and he was more than willing to give it all to you. His kisses this time were so tender, so passionate, so heartfelt, that even you struggled to convince yourself that it was simply out of lust that he was doing it. The breathless kisses against your face, the hot sensation of his breath against yours, the way his tears were melding with yours as his face nuzzled and brushed against yours-it all spoke the most power love language of all-the language of selfless action-that showed beyond a shadow of a doubt that Arthur treasured you beyond sex. There were multiple love languages, and this language was between the act of sex and sweet words, which was the exact formula you needed now. Ever so gently did Arthur trace his face down yours, not kissing you now but simply allowing his face to comfort you, to allow his touches to speak the purity of his emotions; you didn't needed his full blown touches right now, just the simplest and most pure touches of simple skin upon skin affection. How ironic that your trauma from being touched was being healed by a very similar act.
"It's just….I've seen the porn in your journal. Sometimes I feel like…I'm just another thing on your checklist. Another thing to make you apart of society." You knew the words were harsh, but you needed to allow yourself to pour out all of your emotions now, all the deep ugliness of them.
Arthur chuckled darkly against your lips.
"Is that what you think me loving you is about? Me trying to fit in?" There was disgust in his voice; if there was anything that disgusted Arthur, it was a few simple things; lack of kindness, and bad, superficial intensions. That must be where your guilt came from; underestimating his character when you knew he was so, so much better than that. Infinity so.
You didn't know what to say, so you simply let the words that came first tumble out of your lips.
"That's what my insecurities tell me."
Arthur closed his eyes, as if trying to collect himself. When he opened them, several more tears fell down. "Sweetheart," Arthur whispered with tears in his eyes. His tone had taken on a different seriousness now. "I will love you forever and a day. I could spend the rest of my life without having sex with you-making out, or anything of the sort. At the end of the day, I just love to hold you"-a restrained nuzzle against your face-"…love you...touch you…" His voice broke at his last words. You could tell him not being able to touch you would be the upmost torture for him-and yet he would do it for you, if that was what you wished.
"…Darling, please believe me."
I love you so much.
Though he hadn't spoken the words aloud, you could hear it in every breath that he uttered, every soft whisper against your skin that he spoke.
"Touch is my love language. Please believe me, sweetheart."
You swallowed, and closed your eyes, letting the last of your tears fall; they had been falling inwardly for so long that you almost forgot what it felt like to have them expressed outward. The gentle words whispered by Arthur was quelling the screaming that had been inside of your head for years. Although you could never quite conquer your demons and insecurities, at least not for a long while, Arthur made it far easier. Just as you longed to heal his wounds, he longed to heal yours-and in turn would you both become better versions of each other, feeling the pain you both held release like rain left grey clouds- a dark and gloomy ordeal, but one that would inevitably end in warmer and brighter days.
"We're one and the same, you know," Arthur whispered as he thumbed your tears away gently. "I can't trust people either-not easily."
"I know," you choked out through a shuddering breath. The words were enwrapped in the heaviness of the sighs of your pain. "I know you are so good, Arthur, and so kind. And I know you have your own pain. I'm so sorry I project my damage onto you."
"No," Arthur hummed gently. "Don't apologize. I have bad habits that I need to get rid of now that you're in my life. Now that I have something that's…good." He sighed out the last word in a sort of bittersweet pain, sounded boundlessly tired.
You let our your own bittersweet smile, and nodded softly.
You two had reached a precious understanding. You were starting to understand your pain now-and were starting to understand his-and how they intertwined and melded together.
"I promise, from now on, I'll ask you every day how your day was….tell you how much I love you. Before anything else," Arthur whispered with the upmost tender affection. His voice was laced in pain, regret; he was fighting the urge to hit himself against a wall over and over for making you feel this way at all. Never had he spoken to you like this quite before now. He was seeing himself in you now, realizing fully how alike you two truly were. Tears were still streaming down his face as he spoke the words, his entire face damp with his aching heart for your pain and his alike, but mostly yours. He felt he had failed you in some way, and his heart was throbbing that he had done so-he would do everything in his power to make it up to you in any way he could.
He was falling even more in love with you now, seeing you a little differently.
"I would like that," you whispered. There was something healed in your voice now; it was less wobbly, less broken. Still shaky and uncertain, but there was a certain stability and confidence in there now that wasn't there before. You had a feeling that it was reaching down to your soul.
Arthur smiled at you softly, sharing the moment.
Suddenly, a flash of excitement few across Arthur's face. You looked at him in curiosity.
"What?"
Arthur simply smiled at you and kissed your still damp cheek, then hopped up and grabbed his journal lying on the table. He was holding it close to his chest, a firm look of determination on his face.
"I'm throwing this out," Arthur declared as he looked into your eyes. He looked so damn adorable with his curls in his face, his face still red with tears and his eyes still having left over traces of sadness, his thick brows set in a firm concentration.
You shook your head, and laughed sadly. "Arthur, no. You don't have to do that. I know how much that journal means to you. It got you through tough times."
"And now it's causing you pain," Arthur said with fierce determination. His face had taken on a set, stern face that spoke that he would take no arguments."It's gotta go." Before you could say anything else, Arthur bounded over to the trash in the kitchen. You watched him with some amusement and a warm glow as he started to rip up the pages of his porn and throw them into the can. You could tell it took some visible effort from him to overcome his attachment to it, but within moments it was nothing but shreds in a garbage can, Arthur's hands holding nothing but empty cardboard. He looked up at you, smirked lovingly, and then threw that into the trash can too.
You shook your head; you could feel some laughter bubbling in your throat.
"You're crazy," you whispered softly, wiping your tears from your face. You let out a couple more bubbles of laughter as Arthur ran back over to you, sitting next to you and wrapping his arms around you, putting his chin on your breasts and looking up at you adoringly
"That's true. Crazy about you," Arthur mumbled tenderly, and that serious look came upon his face as he gazed at you, the depth of how much he loved you overcoming his features again. You were still giggling, and Arthur couldn't help but feel himself get hard at the noise-he loved making you laugh, loved hearing you express happiness-especially when he caused it. The sound was the sweetest sound he had ever heard in his life-and although he had always wanted to bring joy and laughter to the world, bringing joy and laughter to you was the best feeling he could ever be rewarded- it gave him his own joy tenfold.
You felt his boner against your leg, and this time you felt excited by it rather than saddened-you stroked Arthur's hair out of his face as he looked up at your through his green pools with helpless, apologetic, sad eyes.
"I'm sorry, baby," Arthur whispered apologetically. "I can't help but get turned on by everything you do."
You shook your head, and leaned down until your nose was nuzzling his. "It's alright, honey. I feel the same way."
Arthur nuzzled you in return. "You have no idea what you do to me. Only you."
The night seemed to fade into a haze of kisses and soft words, and there was something about that night that stitched together all the other nights until they all came together as one-each night had been wonderful, but there had been something missing, something that had made your heart bleed with doubt at the end of the each one. Now there was no longer anything missing-sexual passion and sweet, loving words alike melted into one, transcending definitions or worldly boundaries as you came together into a welcomed dance of unconditional love, forgetting the endless chaos of the world in each other's sweet and forgiving arms as you made peace with your own mayhem through the help of the other.
Old With You
Summary: You've grown old with Arthur and he begins to show signs of death much sooner than you. As you watch the love of you life topple over into death, you fight complete despair, desperately wishing you had taken care of him better. This is an AU where he stays as Arthur because he met you. Extreme angst and complicated emotions. Warning that this is not necessarily easy reading in terms of emotions.
A/N: I was originally going to post this as a 20k+ one shot, but it felt more natural to post it into two parts once I got around to editing it. I normally loathe spitting up my writing into multiple parts, but it just felt "right" with this one. I explored some very deep and dark themes in this piece, things that I have not personally experienced, and I hope I won't offend anyone by doing so. There may be large inaccuracies on what its like to experience what happens in this fic, and for that I apologize. I wrote this to explore the deep emotional angst with it. Feedback is always greatly appreciated.
Tags: werewolf-and-go-wild (let me know if you want to be tagged)
Originally posted by benedict-the-cumbercookie
Smoke bellowed around the foggy, well-loved apartment, almost as beloved and worn as the couple that lived in it. The walls had become cracked with the nail digging and pounding that had occurred from years of impulsive, reckless, passionate love making against the walls, counters, and tables. The mirror had been cleaned countless times, but nothing could ever get rid of that crack in it that had been made when you had been lifted up on the vanity and had thrusted your head against it it in helpless succumbing to Arthur's fingers inside of you approximately fifteen years ago. The place had truly become a dairy of your love for one another, the love being etched and ripped into the very walls, carpets, and mirrors that surrounded you.
The windows were open, letting in a blissful, cool breeze to air out the smell that you had come to associate with the passionate temperament of your love. To the average person, it would have looked like a dump, but to you both it looked like the place that had harbored the unconditional and impeccably deep love that had manifested for you both through all the past few decades. His hand was rested on top of yours as he stroked your slightly younger one lovingly, both of your voices murmuring through the sweet air in that quiet and poetic way that you both did first thing in the morning. Arthur's other hand was tenderly using his thumb to stroke your thigh in small, gentle circles.
There was a feeling of complete unreality around you both when you were together these days. Something had clicked inside of you both throughout your years together. Something had shifted inside you both that made your love a little more than love.
Arthur had finished whispering his sweet nothings into your ear and began to lift himself out of the bed. He was wearing a light brown knitted sweater, the clothing covering his old and tired, but disguisedly beautiful thin form.
Though you knew you were biased, it struck you today just as every day how devastatingly handsome he was; the years had not only been kind to him, but had refined him in a peculiar sort of way. Arthur was a rare being who's appearance melded with the affects of age harmoniously. His hair had thinned, and it had become straight, grey and simple, only a fews shy curls here and there gracing his brow, a stark contrast to the unruly forest of brown curls it had previously been before. He often slicked it back with just a couple of strokes of his hand, and the thin layer would stay on his head for the day, tame and content. This hairstyle suited him marvelously; it showed the defined cheekbones of his face and the well deserved wisdom in his eyes. His gentle oceans only added to how crushingly precious of a man he had become. You noticed how people took sight of his unconventional beauty that had formed on him throughout the years, coming from within rather than outside. He gentleness had only become more prominent since his youth, leaking out into his essence in the most poetic way. Wrinkles graced his face like gentle kisses of time, making his experience with the world apparent, his fragility in it obvious. His very face was poetry.
He was, without a doubt, your heaven. And you were his, the years having left no doubt of such between you too. You, as an individual, didn't care what death brought you; you life had been worth whatever would come. As long as you had him by your side for the rest of your days on earth, that was all that would truly matter.
Arthur looked over at you and gave you a gentle, wrinkled kissed smile, and took your hands and pressed his lips against it warmly. You let out a hum of affection, and Arthur's eyes lifted up to you in tender happiness. He then started to smirk.
You couldn't help but smirk back, and you eyed his own gaze mischievously. "What is it?"
Arthur beamed that tight lipped smile that reached the corners of his eyes, and leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours, sending a shiver and a heat through your whole body. Even to this day, the smallest of his touches made you made with lust. "Just thought of a funny joke," he chucked against your skin, quiet laughter escaping from his mouth.
You smirked against his lips and pulled your knobby, wrinkled fingers through his curly hair. "You going to tell it to me, Mr. Comedy Man?" You teased lovingly, pecking him on the tip of his nose.
He looked over you as his began to pick himself up off the bed, his eyes glinting with a knowing look.
"You'll have to read my journal to find out."
You rolled your eyes and huffed playfully. "The ever exclusive Arthur Fleck."
You two had been sharing journals for twenty years. There was stacks upon stacks of them in the corner of the bedroom, filled to the brim with both his and your writing. You two knew each other so well, trusted each other so perfectly, that each and every thought was safe within each other's minds, no matter how strange or unheard of it was. There was no judgment between the two of you. You read his side of the journals like it was your own soul. His made you feel more alive and brought you to clarity and understanding with the world, along with a silver lining of witty humor. Arthur read yours like a source of wisdom and comfort. You needed the others thoughts more than either of you understood, constantly guiding the other through life through your own perspectives.
Arthur brushed his hands against yours and intertwined them with his.
"Shall we start our day, Mrs. Fleck?"
You giggled, lifting your body up and letting Arthur wrap his arms around you as he lifted you up out of the bed and swirled you into the living room in a sort of waltz. Arthur's love of dance had only grown throughout the years with his age, and he had become prone to dancing you around the rooms more than walking. Arthur laughed a hearty laugh at your temporarily dazed expression.
Arthur whistled as he sprung himself into the living room and started waltzing with you, guiding your significantly less graceful body step by step. He spun you until you were laughing and dizzy, the walls spinning in the best way. He then brought you back in, rocking you back and forth in his arms, pressing his lips to the tip of your ears and nipping them softly. Despite the incredibly soft and warm comfort of his arms, there was some restlessness in your mind that made you take yourself out of his embrace and head towards the bathroom, Arthur trailing behind you.
You both stood in front of the mirror, and you felt a small twinge of sadness as you looked at you together. Though you had learned the true meaning of self love through Arthur and through loving him, you felt plain, and just blatantly ordinary compared to Arthur, who seemed to be quit literally glowing next to you. There really was something truly otherworldly that had come onto Arthur through your love. He looked like a grey angel, and with his arms wrapped around you, a few inches taller than you, resting his head on yours, you could have sworn he was. You felt a deep joy at how much you'd been able to give each other throughout the years, though you could see the effect on Arthur far more than you saw it on yourself.
"Ugh," you mumbled, pulling at a ragged, grey strand from your hair and tucking it behind your ear.
"What?" Arthur mumbled with his lips in your hair, amusement tugging at his lips.
"It's just….I'm so….old." you said the words bluntly, coming out sounding awkward and comically obvious.
Arthur's smile grew even wider, so amused was he with how ignorant you were to how much of a miracle you were, and he pressed his lips to the back of your head one more.
"You now," Arthur hummed lovingly into your hair, "this whole being old thing isn't as bad as everyone said,"
You laughed softly. "That's easy for you to say," you teased, falling deeper into his embrace. "Age looks well on you."
"Stop that," Arthur said gently, but his intention to reassure you was firm. "You're absolutely, stunningly beautiful, Mrs. Fleck." He bit your neck playfully, and you let out a soft sigh of absolute pleasure as you leaned your head back, allowing him more access to your skin. It drove you mad that even to this day his simple touches could start a fire under your skin instantly.
"Dance with me," he offered gently. He always had his ways of getting your mind off of things. He knew how your mind worked better than you did much of time. With a loving groan did you melt into his arms once again as he pushed you back into the living room. You two often acted like children without an attention span, especially ever since you both had retired. You allowed yourself to be swayed back and forth in his arms for a few moments, not being able to resist his touch or the feeling of his warm sweater kissing and prickling your skin. Arthur was ever so softly humming off beat noise under his breath as he buried his face into your skin, his hot breathe gently lapping against your skin. After a moment, with a regretful tug did you start pull yourself away.
"What?" Arthur inquired softly, and the gentle neediness of his voice alone was enough for you to want to surrender to whatever his impulsive whims wanted.
"You know what you do to me." You kissed the side of his cheek and pushed his face playfully. "Come one. I'll be in your arms all day."
Arthur chuckled "What's wrong with that?" Despite his words, he let you tug his arms off you.
"You need to eat," you said simply, making your way to the kitchen. "And I need to make it for you."
Arthur was about to reply, but with an abrupt, sudden tearing, his throat convulsed violently, and his graceful face contorted into a pained scowl as violent coughs began to tear through his throat. He bent down abruptly and grabbed his throat, his dashing and graceful demeanor gone and replaced with a twisted, contorted form.
You sprung around from walking to the kitchen as you rushed over to him and wrapped your arms around him, comforting him through the attack. He had started having coughing fits frequently, them always being violent and unforgiving to his lungs. They seemed, in a lot of ways, to be worse than the laughing fits he suffered throughout his life, which, much to the dismay of both of you, hand't gotten any better as you had gotten older. Words echoed through your head as you looked at him while he hunched over, coughing into his arm with his dry and sore lungs threatening to collapse at any moment.
He's rotting.
My fault.
Me.
Your own throat was starting to close up as you felt a strong emotion overcome your being. You gently brought your hands to his shoulders and rubbed them comfortingly until his hunched shudders and coughs started to die down the slightest bit.
"Let's take a deep breath, baby," you cooed softly, letting your nails scratch over his sweater in the way he liked. Arthur's hand was still on his throat, his face still contorted painfully. He absolutely hated you seeing him in this state, feeling ashamed, as if he was failing you in some way.
Slowly did you guide him over to the couch, and he sat down painfully, shaking his head slightly as your brought your lips to the corner of his, not asking for anything in return, just offering him romantically inclined comfort, though unconditional love was at the heart of your gestures to him, and he knew it. He leaned into your touch and kept shaking his head, throat scratched and sore still, ebbing with pain.
"This is my fault." you dared to say aloud, echoing the worst of your thoughts. "I should have taken care of you better." You gently picked at some of the debris on his sweater, trying to distract yourself as the dark words fell out of your lips. "All these years, I should have tried better to help you…" You were choking on your words, your throat closing in on what was leaving your mouth, the worst thing but also the most true thing dawning over you, a combination of the worst horror you could conceive of. All those cigarettes that you had allowed him to smoke, day after day after day, And you had let him.
He blinked slowly and considerately, as if lost in some deep thought. Arthur seemed to have mastered the art of speaking through even the deepest of his thoughts, as of he was talking through the deep depth of his thoughts while he spoke to you in a dreamlike, lost state.
"Don't you do that," Arthur said softly, but they were in harsh in intention. He got so angry these days when you were what he deemed unfair to yourself; he loved you far too deeply, and he felt he had wasted and cheated too many years of your lives together denying you love in your younger years when he was more uncertain of your love for him and how much he deserved it, if at all. He had no doubt in his mind that he did now, and he was confident in the most gentlest but fiery sort of way; frustration with himself underlying every hungry caress, touch, and whispered word he gifted you throughout the years. He also knew by now that you knew better, that you knew how much he wanted you to care for yourself in every aspect; physically, spiritually, and psychologically. His love had matured into the most beautiful and charming confidence, but more importantly, into the exact type of stable and sure love that you needed from him that was curled inside of him that you had sensed when you fell in love with him thirty years ago before you had even known it was there.
When you were young you both had allowed such emotional immature luxuries such as insecurities and doubts of the love of the other, but there was no room for that now. It was ridiculous to you both to have even the slightest doubt how deeply you loved the other, having intertwined years ago unto one, pain and joy alike inflicted onto one affecting the other. You two were the same bud now, more than just lovers, but rather a kind of strange oneness with each other.
Arthur kissed the side of your wrinkles face with the gentlest care, letting out amused hums at your soft moans to his touch.
—-
"The damage to your lungs had been permanent." The doctor's face was professional and stark, unreadable and uncaring. "This isn't easy news to give to any of our patients, but I'm afraid there's no easy way to put this. You have about seven months to live, , from what we have concluded from our observations of your state. It may be be sooner or it may be later, but the fact of the manner is your body is dying. The cancer in your lungs has reached a point where there is nothing we can do. It is your choice if you want to stay within the hospital or at home, but you will undoubtedly need to stay once the disease reaches its end."
The artificial lights of the room were glaring down at you both unforgivingly.
Your mind was blank.
You felt like laughing, as if you had just been told some funny joke.
Your lip turned into a thin line, and you felt your bones turn to an immovable stone as an electric shock poured over you. You couldn't feel your face, skin, or bones. There was a layer of dizziness that began to fog your vision, and you felt yourself detaching from reality, almost as if you had been transported to another universe, one that was far away from here, a strange feeling of dissociation and detachment, a blackness souring your soul that went deeper than denial.
Arthur blinked at him like a confused first grader, his mouth opened in a quirky smile of just as equally detached shock as he tried to process what the doctor was saying. He looked so fragile and crushable in that moment, old mustard hoodie of forty years clinging onto his form like a pathetic attempt at a hug. His crooked teeth peeled of his mouth, adding to his boyish and vulnerable look.
"What?" He said slowly, as if he didn't hear the first time, though you know all too well he did. You yourself felt as if you were watching something on a television screen, like you were just a casual audience member watching something that had nothing to do with you take place.
The doctor let out an exasperated sigh, then pulled his board up to his chest. "To be quiet frank, it is a miracle you've made it to this age at all. Though tobacco related deaths can occur in old age, it more than likely starts when you are thirty. At least half die in middle age, each losing at least twenty five years of their life." He stopped for a moment, paused, letting you both take the information in. "My deepest apologizes to you both. Like I said, this is never easy news to bring to any of our patents. Feel free to stay as long as you'd like. We have nurses and doctors to talk to, should you have any questions." He turned his gaze from Arthur and then to you, that same dull, monotoned look in his eyes, cold and uncaring, despite his words. "Again, I am truly sorry."
He then did a small, awkward nod when both of you just sat there, Arthur looking at him with stiff, shocked eyes, you with empty ones. In the most business like manner he opened the door and left, leaving you standing like stiff, indifferent cardboard, as if he had sucked the life out of both of you with his words. Arthur was sitting with his mouth still crooked open in that shocked and confused look.
Neither of you moved for minutes. That feeling of being an audience member watching a show didn't leave you as you finally managed to speak one quiet word, feeling like it was being said by someone else as it left your lips.
"Let's go."
Arthur made no word or agreement or disagreement. He simply got up and placed his hand in yours. You didn't feel it. You didn't feel anything as your hand brushed against the metallic knob, feeling as cold and uncaring as the air that surrounded you. You couldn't process Arthur's face. You couldn't process anything as you made your way through the artificially lit hallways. You almost felt like laughing. A small corner of your mind wondered why Arthur wasn't. Everything had been reduced to a numb, detached joke.
Indeed, the two of you were deathly quiet the entire way home. You sat on the bus seat without saying a word, staring without seeing at at the middle aged lady with a son sitting in front of you, playing with him as if the entire world hadn't just shattered. You didn't look at Arthur, and Arthur didn't look at you. Though your hands were clasped together, you felt nothing, and felt no desire to feel anything, only feeling a cold unforgiving numbness course through your body that you would have hoped would choke you alive, if you weren't so busy feeling and thinking nothing.
You walked up the steps to your apartment with just as much indifferent air. Arthur trailed behind you softly, and the noises around you of people yelling, talking, and shouting, the usual nosies of Gotham, only made you feel more disconnected and indifferent to the world, feeling like you had transcended from a human into some indescribable alien form.
You opened the door to your apartment, and you felt Arthur brush your waist slightly. For the first time in over an hour, you lifted your head up to look into his eyes, but looking up at his face, the epitome of love in your life, brought on a sick wave of emotions so strong and complex you felt as if you would vomit right there. Though you didn't feel them manifest, you felt your eyes instantly brim over with hot tears.
"I'll make dinner tonight, ok?" Arthur offered in a the gentlest of his tones, stroking the side of your face softly. You didn't feel or register his hands on your face for the first time in your relationship, feeling only a ghostly numbness against numbness. "You need to sit down."
Dinner.
Dinner.
The alien words echoed against your detached mind, and you blinked, causing more tears to stream down your face.
Motherfucking dinner?
For the first time since the doctor had spoken did you feel something, but it wasn't tenderness, or forgiveness, or peace, or even the need to lean into his touch for comfort. Instead, it was a feeling you had never felt towards Arthur in your thirty some years together; unrelenting, mortifying and bleeding rage.
"Dinner." You said softly, and Arthur, not interpreting your tears or disposition correctly, gently nodded, and pressed his lips to your forehead. You pulled yourself away as fast as you could manage, and looked at him through sore eyes and tear streaked cheeks.
"All that," you gritted through your tears and teeth, "and you want to make me dinner."
Arthur blinked slowly, his brows knitting in confusion. "If you want to make it, you can. I just throught it might make this easier. We can talk about it while we ea-"
"Fuck you," you whispered through your trembling lips.
Arthur's eyes flashed in an even deeper confusion, and you began to see tears stream from his own eyes. "What?" he murmured just as quietly, not being able to read your expression fro the first time since he had fallen in love with you. A small giggle escaped with his word.
"Fuck you." You spoke louder this time, surer of what you were saying, and Arthur stepped back as if he had been visibly slapped, looking at you with a shocked expression, his face more bleaj and in more pain than he had been at the doctors.
"What do you want me to do?" he whispered, his voice small and extraordinary hurt, as if hearing these words from you were more hurtful to him than to hear that his own fucking body wasdecaying. This realization only made your blood boil harder.
"Leave," the word left your lips before you even knew what you were saying. "I hate you."
Arthur's striking green eyes were becoming more prominent with pain as he gazed at you. "You don't mean that," he said softly, although there was a slight betrayal in his voice despite his words, almost not believing it himself for the first time since he started sharing his life with you. It had taken years upon years to make Arthur confident enough to make himself believe you loved him, and even longer for him to speak it out loud. And now here he was, finally using all of what he had learned about love from you and having you spite at him in his face. His hands were trembling.
You felt a violent surge go through your body as you raced your body around to the kitchen, Arthur watching you with a increasingly shocked expression. You went up and grabbed a plate from a the kitchen cabinet, and held it in your grasp firmly. You felt like a wild animal, ferocious and not in control of your impulses. You felt possessed, still feeling a detachment from your body that was more powerful than you knew what to do with. Arthur looked at you like you were some stranger who had broken into his home, his eyes now devoid of their previous love and understanding, now just panicked and worried beyond what he could express. You didn't throw the plate, but you gripped it in your hand with white knuckles, trembling with rage.
Instead of saying anything further, Arthur's face broke out into extreme cackles and he instantly buried his face into his elbow.
"You're leaving me!" You were screaming now like a person being tortured, your voice shrill and inconsolable. "I hate you-do you hear me? I hate you!" You gripped the plate and it broke in your hands, the glass breaking into your skin, blood pouring from the wounds and onto the ground, creating a red pool. Arthur winced visibility at seeing you in pain, always more concerned about you even in his hunched over, emotionally wounded state.
"You don't realize that I need you! What am I supposed to do without you?" You weren't even aware you were speaking words. You just kept screaming anything you could, feeling the rage being all consuming in your stomach as if it was the only thing you had ever felt. The detached surrealness didn't help. You felt as if you were no longer control of your actions. There were so many white hot tears streaming down your face that you couldn't bring yourself to breathe properly as you continued to scream through your aching lungs. You felt the hurt physically in your lungs, as if it was choking you alive.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" you screamed at him one last time, as if one last bellowing would someone save him. Save you.
Arthur's laughs had taken over his entire body, and he was no longer capable of responding. He only kept shaking his head into his arm, his face red as a tomato, pain lining his every eye and expression in a way that you had never seen. He just barley managed to open the door to the apartment, his whole body shaking so hard it looked as if he could die from that alone, his thin body contorting from the intense shudders. He had given up trying to muffle his laughter into his arm; it was now so loud and so uncontrollable that it was echoing through the thin walls of the apartments. His mouth was openly locked in that haunting tormented look in such a way that you hadn't seen in years, the way he had used to carry himself before he had known your love. Your next door neighbor slammed on the wall.
"Shut up!" They bellowed in their usual harsh tone.
Arthur had managed to open the door and had gone out, his laughter still just as loud in the hallways as it had been inside of the apartment. His mad cackles were the darkest and most tormented you had ever heard them, and you had been with him through the majority of his fits since middle age.
For the first time since falling in love with him, you didn't sweep him into your arms and kiss and caress him until your lips succumbed to a numb exhaustion and Arthur's body melted into a surrendered goo of happiness, forgetting all his pain before as if it had never existed. For the first time, you allowed the dark and bellowing cackles to keep echoing through the apartment, the walls, and everything in between. You allowed them to fill the apartment through the creaked open door, an echo of the way he had been treated as a boy. You closed your eyes and continued to let the red hot streaks come down your face. You slammed the door shut without thinking, just wanting the cackles to be less prominent in your ears. You stood for a few moments more, the cackles still echoing around the walls like a tortured spirt was flying through them. You pulled your arms over your head and moaned painfully, feeling as if his laughs would eat you alive. You shuddered into yourself as you sank on the ground and mentally willed and begged them to stop, no longer hearing them as your beloved's call for your comfort, but only as a cursed and unwanted wailing.
And then all at once then the cackles began to fade, along with the sound of gentle footsteps that only Arthur could make.
With tears still streaming down your face did you take yourself to your bed and collapse onto it. You had hardly ever been in it alone before, and the emptiness matched your numbness that was taking over your body as you fell onto one side without your love's touch for the first time in thirty years. The rage was being taken over by the numbness once again, as of it were the only two emotions you could feel anymore. Pain surged throughout your body, as if the emotional turmoil was transcending into physical pain. You curled up into a ball and grabbed fistfuls of your hair into your hands, and gradually did you succumb to a pained sleep.
—
Days went by, though you weren't keeping track. Every minute went by excruciatingly slow, the clock mocking at you as each second dragged like it was pulling your skin. The numbness had taken over your entire life, rendering you unable to process or understand anything before you, both externally and internally. You spent entire days sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. Occasionally you would grab a blanket and caress it with your elderly, fragile fingers. You didn't eat. What would have been sleep was just you lying in bed in a disoriented haze, not thinking about anything, or, rather, fighting against what you really wanted to think about, which was the man who you loved more than life itself, a man who you would die for if it meant you could change what was happening. You didn't know where he was, you didn't know if he was alright. You knew your thoughts weren't making any sense; you were tortured because you couldn't help your beloved, and yet, you didn't even know if he was currently alright at the present moment. You had the power to help him, yet here you were, making his situation more difficult than it ever needed to be, Your mind and heart was frozen and disoriented, aching and impossibly confused.
You eyes had been reduced to dark hollows, bags upon bags under your swollen and red eyes. Tired wrinkles seemed to crease every inch of your skin, leaving no room for beauty or grace. Your grey nest was a strangled, tangled mess of an excuse for hair. As you gazed at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't bring yourself to believe that Arthur had ever found you beautiful.
You almost tried to get yourself to not think of him-the man who had changed your entire life. You weren't thinking rationally, and you felt as if you had lost your ability to. To even think his name sent you into despair. You knew, somewhere in the corner of your muddled thoughts that was still clear headed that had existed before the news had been told to you, that you needed to go find him, but you felt as if you had lost your ability to simply be a person. You didn't know how to bring yourself to face him again. You were ashamed, you were tormented within your own feelings of confusion and rage.
You did wonder if he was ok, constantly, so much to the point that it drove you same endless, tormented thoughts tumbled through your brain. You knew it was your fault, and you hated yourself all the more for it. You couldn't find an ounce of self love within yourself. You felt as if you were walking a thin line of string; if you toppled too far on one side or the other, there would be nothing but pain, so you balanced on the thin twisted refuge of delicate numbness, a hell in its own way, but at least one where you felt the closest thing to sanity.
You couldn't allow yourself to think too much about his striking eyes, about his warm caress and touch, his almost unbearably loveable lips…hands….mannerisms that still set your soul ablaze just as much as the first day you had tasted and experienced them. To think about him or his love had become excruciating, yet you felt yourself rotting just as much without it.
But that was what this was about, wasn't it? You needed to get used to life without him. This was your ultimate weakness, the one thing you couldn't endure-Arthur being taken away from you. That was the one thing you couldn't handle. That was the one thing that would compelled you put your emotions before his- the thought of life without him. Throughout your entire relationship you had never been a selfish person, and would have been disgusted at being anything other than endlessly gracious towards Arthur. But the anger of having him leave you was too much to endure.
That was, after all, what he was doing. He had chosen his addiction with cigarettes over you, ultimately. Maybe not intentionally, you mused, but the wound was the same amount of pain squeezed the blanket with your nails harder.
You knew, deep down, that you were more angry at yourself than you could ever be at him. Arthur himself had only ever had harbored an addiction that he couldn't have truly helped. You were convinced you had been put into his life to care for him, love him beyond his flaws, and you most certainly had, far beyond what was called for. But ultimately you had failed him, and your punishment was having to face life without him.
There would be no partner after Arthur. Arthur was your one and only. You couldn't imagine, nor did you want to, ever moving on from him.
He followed you everywhere, in an indescribable way. He had always been with you, and in some ways even before you had met you had felt his presence in your life. Even in your dreams had you had felt his comforting and warm presence whenever you were having a nightmare. And when you had awoken, he would have his consoling and loving arms around you in the most assuaging fashion, neither one of you being able to doubt that the other was real. You had become the same soul in one body, blessed with differences that perfectly complimented the other.
"You can't possibly love someone that much," you coworkers and family would scoff. "He's kind of just a commoner, you know? Even a little creepy. Everyone has their flaws. You'll be tired of him by the time your fifty." Laughter.
Your nails dug into your bruised skin for about the hundredth time that week. You had given up a long time ago trying to describe your relationship with Arthur Fleck to others. They couldn't understand how deeply you had fallen for the other. You two were highly spiritual beings living in a spiritless world, and you two had learned long ago that you needed the other to survive, that you had found each other in a way that the average rigged person of Gotham wouldn't be able to understand. You both stopped gushing to people about the other over time. You had needed to protect your love. It was gentle as a dove's wing, but more rich than anything the human experience could have granted you in your life.
Pained breaths bellowed out of your mouth and you felt an unwilling memory etch itself into your fuzzy, tortured thoughts. But this one was a gift, the first thing to make you soul feel the blissful love you felt with Arthur for the first time in days, breaking through the numbness.
"Sweetheart," Arthur had poked his head through your office window, making you jump. His face has still been graced with wrinkles, but they were far less in number and less deepened onto his face.
"Arthur!" you jumped. It was about six at night, and you had been working an hour overtime. "Baby, what are you doing here?"
Arthur shrugged into his mustard hoodie, his raspy voice alone brining you joy. "Just wanted to come see you. I know you said you'd be late, but I got worried." He looked up at you through striking blue eyes, his curly brown locks in front of them.
You sighed and got up from your chair and ran up to kiss him. You hummed continently into his lips. "Well, I'm glad," you said softly between kisses. "I missed you."
Arthur smiled at you happily, his gentle face gazing at you lovingly, giving you a comfort you couldn't quite describe. Falling into his touch felt like you were coming home; it gave you a sense of security you couldn't describe. You didn't need to understand it, simply knowing it was all that really mattered.
"I feel real when I touch you," Arthur murmured, and you instantly understood what he meant.
You stroked his hair gently, and he purred into your touch. 'Thank you," he said softly. You nuzzled into his nose in response.
"I'm not real," Arthur continued. He had had a particularly rough day of sitting in the apartment, alone with his tormented and negative thoughts without you to ward them off. "I don't think I am unless-"
"Shh," you cut him off and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "If you're not real, then I guess the orgasms you give me every night aren't real either, huh?"
Arthur blushed deeply and tried to fight a cackle that was too loud for the workplace, placing a hand over his mouth adorably. His eyes were shining as he gazed at you adoringly. It had been the first real laugh he had had all day.
There was one other person in the workplace, and he glared over at the two of you, his glare summoned by Arthur's loud laugh. He was one of the spiteful people that couldn't believe you were with Arthur; a college graduate engaged to a high school dropout that worked as a clown for a living.
"You two almost done?" he grumbled from his desk. "Some of us are trying to work here, you know. Not that your boyfriend knows what that's like."
You rolled you eyes and shook your head at Arthur, who got a flash of anger in his turned around and went over to your desk, grabbing your bag that was next to your coworker.
"No, we're not almost done," you said in a mocking flirtatious tone. You knew he had a crush on you, and had it not been for Arthur, he would be projecting his entitled attitude onto you to try and 'win' you over. "We have places to go have passionate, screaming and steamy sex at."
You threw your work keys at the man, not bothering to wait for his reaction. You needed to hand them over for the night anyway. Arthur looked at you with some pride in his eyes, beyond happy that he got to claim you as his own openly and that you did it with such pride. You took your hand in his, kissed him, and then headed out the door. Arthur turned around and dared to mouth the words "She's mine." before you both excited the building. To his satisfaction, the man's face was tomato red and infuriated.
You started out of the daydream, and felt another heaving emptiness as reality grabbed you.
After about what must have been three days of not sleeping, not eating, and not thinking did you think it was time to leave your apartment. For what, you didn't know. Even if you were going to look for Arthur, you didn't know for sure where he was. You felt that he might be on a bench in the park you used to visit when he needed therapy sessions-sessions where you would sometimes just talk deeply into the afternoon, your souls intertwining into a perfect understanding with one another, or to simply play and act like kids in the afternoons when he didn't have the strength to be an adult.
Without consciously knowing what you were doing, you picked up your frail, wrinkled and worn form and grabbed a coat-a blue one that belonged to Arthur, you realized with a shudder-and you made your way out the door. You had a craving to find something, though what, your heart didn't allow you to know.
You made your way through Gotham in a numb fashion, being unused to the feeling of walking through the streets. People shoved you and disregarded you. Your skin screamed for the heavenly feeling of Arthur's caring touch. Although Arthur was more open about it, the truth was was that your soul was just as desolate and starved for his love as he was for yours. There was a slight drizzle peeling through the night of Gotham. You felt like a ghost as you drifted to the park within less than fifteen minutes, and your heart leapt to your throat as you saw a familiar handsome man with that battered mustard hoodie.
With a choke you dared to walk over to him, although you felt as if you didn't deserve to do even that much. Arthur has his arms hugged around his body, his beautiful grey streaked hair lying in sloppy curls in front of his tired face, damp and dirty. He didn't look up, too busy was he staring at the ground in what seemed like absolute defeat. You could see his ribs shining through his hoodie, even more prominent than they usually were.
A wave of absolutely and utter self loathing washed over you, and you couldn't believe how utterly selfish you had been. This was the man you claimed to love more than life itself, and here he was, shivering, more starved than he had been in his life, which was saying something, and yelled and kicked out by the one person in his life that he had been led to believe truly cared about him-and to make matters worse, it was when he needed you most. The slight rain was pelting on him like annoying, painful pokers, as if to be wet reminders of what kind of horrible state he was in.
The words left your mouth like they were spoken by someone else. "Hey."
Arthur didn't look up immediately. Instead, he kept sitting there, shivering for a moment longer, as if he needed to process that someone had acknowledge his existence. Knowing Gotham and the luck of Arthur, probably not a single person had since you kicked him out.
He finally lifted his head up and just the sight of his eccentric, unconventional handsome face and his soft eyes on you emitted a sob from your throat.
Fuck, you had fucking missed him.
It didn't hit you until now just how hard you had missed him, craved his touch, and, had you fallen intro your desires right then and there, you would have thrown yourself at him with everything you had.
But you didn't deserve his touch right now, as you knew it better than the back of your hand.
Arthur gazed up at you with exhausted, red rimmed eyes, and gave you a small, soft and loving smile as the tired film of his eyes came to clarity as recognition swept through his form. He had been waiting for you.
He was smiling at you. Lovingly. After yelling at him and kicking him out into homelessness for days.
Your heart almost failed you then. Words did not come. You had no words to express the endlessly complex emotions of what you were feeling towards the man. Infatuation. Love. Despair. Torment. Hope. Disgust.
Disgust. You couldn't process the utterly thick disgusted feeling you had toward yourself. Instead, you turned around, hunched over, and vomited out the first meal you eaten in weeks onto the pavement.
As you felt your throat convulse and heave yourself over onto the pavement, you felt those addicting, warm arms wrap themselves around you. You were still hunched over, but you felt your entire frail body shiver at his touch, and this time it wasn't because of the rain, or because of the all consuming heartache and depression. With a shaky breath did you slowly lift your hips up, Arthur's arms guiding you up towards him. You turned around and looked into his face, and his eyes were horribly, sinfully gentle, too gentle to be looking at a monster like you. Never did you think the emotion of gentle could so emit such repulsed feelings in you so deep. Never did you think gentle could feel so wrong. You were so, so unworthy of his love right now. And yet-
"Hey," he said softly, and ever so considerately did he bring your knuckles up to his lips, and kissed each one by one, not caring about the rain that pelted in your hand, his surprisingly warm lips engulfing any cold that was left behind. Somehow warmth still emitted from his form, despite his cruel and cold circumstances, as if they warmth of his soul was permanently blazing with love because of the affection you had shown to him in his thirty years of life, the man who had been born to be a loving soul saved because of you.
That was one thing Arthur knew you would never realize; that no matter what, he would be forever in debt to you for saving him from being reduced to a monster in the city of uncaring souls, and that, no matter what you would do to him now, nothing could take away those thirty years of love you had granted him, which had not only saved him, but had brought him into the gentle man he had been destined to be since birth.
You choked. You wanted to offer him to come home, but god, you were so ashamed. You didn't know what to say, so you only stood there in shock as Arthur kept pressing his lips onto your tired and aged hand, his eyebrows furrowed in a passion as if he was starved at having felt your touch, as if kissing your skin felt better to his very body than any food or water. You knew, despite your disgust with yourself, that that was exactly the case.
"Let's go home, baby," Arthur offered in his soft, every so beautifully soft voice, and your eyes closed as you felt yourself melt at his words and hearing the specific octaves of his voice again. They had the echoes of disability and damage on them, always sounding a little off, but the poetic beauty of his soul shined through any hardship he could have had with it, making even his challenges in his being something that was devastatingly beautiful to fall in love with, that much more addictive to drink in than any water or bodily need. With a tear that wasn't visible through the rain you realized you weren't a body, you were a soul, and your soul desperately needed Arthur Fleck.
And, though Arthur didn't speak it aloud, he had been craving your touch more than his need for water or food. He had lost a portion of his weight, and had only eaten stale bread on the street for past week. He had been shaking with a sore, dry throat and a starving body, but now he felt stable, focused, as if just your presence was enough to overcome any trouble that came to his body, both physically and mentally. You two were like drug addicts, desperately having a thirst that could only be cured by the other despite any logical reason to stay away.
—-
You pulled him through the apartment door, the old door creakingly steadily as you took him through the darkness of the apartment, the only thing that greeted you two anymore throughout the years, it letting out its creaky groan as a way of weary welcome. There was so much pain lining the apartment and the space of tense air between the skin of you and Arthur, your hands melding in a bittersweet harmony slowly and gradually on the way home, forgiveness speaking itself through touch alone. Neither of you spoke a word, your breathing lesser than breathing, somehow feeling like silence was the only thing that could protect you both as you made your way to the bathroom. Through you were trying to stay calm and trying to focus on caring for him, your entire body screamed and begged for his touch like it was starved. Arthur felt his own hunger in his stomach, a hunger that was deeper than his physical hunger, so much to the point where he hardly noticed the decay of his body anymore until he had had you warm skin upon his again.
With shaking fingers did you take your free hand and start up the water on the bath. You took a shaking breath, than turned around and dared to look at the love of your life that you had failed not only multiple times throughout your relationship, but had failed now again as well in the biggest way possible; abandoning him in his time of absolute need. You thought, no, you knew, you would never forgive yourself. Despite the hurt you inflicted on him, he was looking at you with that otherworldly love and softness that drove you absolute mad. You didn't deserve his compassion, his unconditional love for you, his touch or his empathy. Looking at him made you sick, absolutely sick, with how much you wanted and needed him more than food or water, and how at much hurt and wrong you know you had done to him. You felt your knees give out, and Arthur responded promptly just as he always did, wrapping his bony and strong arms around you, his hint of muscle peaking through which he hid from the world so well.
"Are you ok, love?" he asked in his most soft and considerate voice that he saved just for you and you alone. You were looking down at his lap as your fragile body was taken into his, too ashamed to look up into his eyes. You were shaking beyond what you could control, but mostly out of being so near your own personal drug again, rather than you knees having any physical troubles. Even if they did, in this moment you wouldn't have noticed.
Arthur began to stroke your thin, grey hair lovingly. It drove you downright wild that he did. You were furious with him for allowing himself to treat you like that after what you did, but not as furious as you were with yourself, for not being able to understand anything that was happening with you. He needed you, and yet here he was, him taking care of you. Unbidden tears began to streak down the caves of your wrinkled face, and Arthur responded immediately, kissing each one one by one and they fell down your worn and weathered cheek.
"You must have been so worried," you croaked out through you tired lips. "You didn't know if you would ever have a place to sleep again, if you would die on the street, if I would come for you…" You trailed off as a wave of hot white self loathing overcame you yet again, and you shook you head, feeling the desire to thrash like a toddler in you complicated emotions that you didn't have a hope of truly understanding. You were so pathetic, a thrashing and selfish mess next to this angel of a man. Thrash you would have, such was your unstable and miserable state, had Arthur not cupped your face in his with his beloved, wrinkled and forever abused but well loved hands, making you stare into his striking green eyes that held more of the life and world in them than the real one ever would for you.
"Darling," his slow, drawl voice that was so soft and precious instantly dashed away all of your unpleasant feelings, his very voice serving as the medicine your brokenness had always needed, a revelation you had made long ago."I wasn't worried." He loving stroked your tears away. "I knew you would come back for me. I know you, and you know me."
You shook your head furiously. "I'm such an idiot. I was just so angry, and I'm still angry, and I don't know how to stop being furious." You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Angry doesn't even cut it. I'm beyond furious, at myself, at you. We were given each other, we could have so many years left-" Even just to say the words aloud was too much for you to bear, and you felt another painful sob rip from your throat. It made it real. You couldn't breath as you felt your throat close in around you. You felt a hollow emptiness coming into your chest.
Arthur pressed his own weathered lips onto your face, and your let your sobs outwardly rip through your throat as you succumbed to your desire to just be with him, no longer fighting how undeserving you felt. Arthur's own tears began to fall, and you could't bring yourself to wipe them for him. Throughout the richness of your relationship with him, the role of the caretaker had shifted between you two. You had evolved unto equals; albeit admittedly Arthur had been the one that needed the most help when you had first met, your soul had become more and more melded into one harmonious soul with his, your weakness being complimented by his strengths, and likewise his weaknesses being complimented by your strengths.
"Come on," Arthur urged gently. "Let's get in the shower and clean up."
You scoffed. You had thrown him out onto the streets, and yet here he was, taking it upon himself care of you when his own body was decaying and dying. Truly was he a natural caretaker, for better or for worse. Arthur let your tears fall, letting your sorrow express itself freely now, knowing that not even his comfort could heal the excruciating pain of him being unwell to the point of death. As he picked up your worn and weathered body and guided you into the steaming hot bathe, you felt for the first time a sense of peace, a completeness that you only felt around him, as if things would reverse and go back to normal, like none of the torment from the past few days had ever happened.
He turned the knob of the shower and instantly a comforting, soothing hot water began to pelt your skin. You let our a gasp as your dry skin met the hot water, letting your bruised and calloused soul be engulfed and soothed by it. You couldn't remember the last time you showered. Arthur's damp and vaguely muscular form took you in his arms, his skin more leathered and wrinkled than it used to be, but still very much Arthur, his unique structure and build being just as distinctive as it had always been. You sighed as the sensation of heaven took you as you leaned into his touch, the curves and quirks of your body fitting perfectly into his. Arthur began to kiss your wet hair with slow and gentle kisses, and you couldn't believe that you had survived without his touch for all these days. Your vagina let out an intense squeeze of desire.
Arthur reached down for the shampoo and squirted it into his palm, and then began to crush the soft and forgiving liquid into your hair. You let out a soft moan as you leaned back and tried to memorize every sensation of his fingers brushing against your head, the hot water and suds running down your scalp, a stark contrast to Arthur's gentle and firm fingers that were kneeing gently into your skull. The water was running hot and fast down both of your bodies. You pulled yourself even closer to Arthur until not even air could come between your bodies. Arthur nippled and breathed gently against the tip of your ear, and you moaned as you leaned your head a tilt to the left and felt his hot breath on you. After he had finished scrubbing the shampoo into your hair and let the water throughly rise itself out if you, you turned your face around and dared to stared at the man who's very face made your heart melt through your chest with sheer pain and craving, the fog and rain of the shower adding to his already mysterious persona, something you still couldn't quit figure out even after all these years.
His crooked teeth shined out of his child's face, an inside out poem of a quirky child living inside an old man's body, his wrinkles an odd combination with the naive lostness of his eyes. He gave you one of his childish and naive smiles, his always vaguely playful glistening as you looked at him with your more solemn and sober one. Despite his unrelenting playful spirit, his eyes were always laced in pain, the same way they had been since you had met. He had taken on the role of the more playful one in your relationship, you more thoughtful and matter of fact. Yet there was some evenness that was coming onto you both through this white hot grief. His lost and childlike spirit was becoming more brawny and tougher, somehow, while you took on the role of becoming more childlike and helpless. The dynamics in your relationship had always shifted slightly, but now they seemed to be settling, taking on a more permeant role.
"It's my fault," you mummered under your breath as you took him in, addicted to taking in his entire being, not being able to take him in enough, your heart shattering as you attempted to memorize every wrinkle and blessed line on his face, most of them having occurred from his happiness with you, no one being able to make him laugh more than you. Yet you knew you could never fully memorize the beauty of having him right in front of you.
His dark eyebrows knitted in concern, but this time he wasn't angry. He only wanted to bring you clarity, to make you realize that truly none of this was your fault, that it was just two naive dumbstruck lovers who had clumsily come into each other, him with fatal flaws that eventually would have taken him down.
Of course, he blamed himself as well, and felt his own burning self loathing for leaving you behind.
"Don't you blame yourself," he whispered, gracefully wet white hair dripping in front of his face, making him look like he was some sort of tragic forgotten god of the past. "Don't you dare. I chose to smoke. I chose this life long before you, and this would have happened either way."
'It's my job to take care of you," you said through gritted teeth. "I chose that when I married you, hell, even when I fell in love with you." Arthur had begun to rub some soft material into your face as he gazed at your with that painfully sweet concern that you so didn't deserve, rubbing his thumb with the softest of touches against your wrinkled cheeks. "That's why I was put in your life, baby."
"You came into my life to make me a better man," Arthur said softly, sounding more defeated and vulnerable than he had in a long time. "And that's exactly what you did."
You sighed and focused on his caressing, and Arthur leaned forward and began to press his lips against your form, the water falling between skin upon skin. The hot water was no comparison to what fiery feelings he made you feel, each kiss leaving a burning sensation in its wake. You let out a sad sigh as you felt yourself utterly sinking at his soft kisses and his voice that you missed so dearly.
"Less negative thoughts," he whispered between kisses. "Happiness came to me. The laughing fits lessened." He took a finger and made you look up at him, and you dared to gaze into his eyes despite the pain it caused you, striking into you again as you took in his gentle and sad face.
"What more could I have asked for? You are my angel, and you always have been. I don't regret anything, except that I'm leaving you behind." His words choked at the last few words. Arthur felt his eyes spring into tears at his words, choking himself up, not realizing how heavy and true the words were until now.
You let out a pathetic, strangled sob and buried yourself into his neck. You outwardly let yourself cry into his skin, so intense and so loud that it sounded like you were screaming. You half expected the neighbors next door to slam on your wall and tell you to shut up.
'I'm so sorry," Arthur whispered into your ear, letting you sob as much as you needed, feeling as if he didn't deserve to comfort you anymore. He had lost that right when he had broken your heart. He let you lean fully into the wet crook of his neck, feeling your shuddering back again his crinkled hands.
You lifted your head up, and felt a strange, unforgiving pressure in your throat. Arthur's hands were moving up and down your body in a gentle caress, the water falling down and pattering against your skin. Words were no longer needed. I love you's didn't cut it anymore. You needed each other, the way any animal needed anything basic need to survive. Your souls had formed into one, more intimate and more precious than anything in your lives, though they remained disgusted in how they helped each other with their differences.
Arthur pressed his lips against yours passionately, and you head tilted as worn lips blessed worn lips. His hands were all over you body and back, nails digging into your skin. Arthur couldn't control himself anymore, and he gently thrusted his cock inside of you while the water continued to pound against your parts. The pelting hot water somehow added to your pleasure, making your dead body come alive in a way it hadn't in days. You wrapped your arms around him and closed your eyes as you felt him enter your warm folds, letting him thrust in and out of you with the upmost pleasure. You didn't care how loud your moans were, or if they neighbors heard. You only cared about memorizing and excruciatingly extracting every detail of your last moment with this man, as much as the universe allowed you to.
As he thrusted in and out, in and out, making you delirious with pleasure and desire, the hot rain only making you both more aroused, you gazed up into his eyes. He had a gentle, firm concentration as he gazed back at you, his eyes firm as he considered your pain. He had the deepest layer of love in them, yet he had a distant, firm and hard layer over them, as if he was a doctor looking over his distressed patient. For the first time in your life, you felt as if he knew more than you, as if you were the one that needed taking care of.
He took himself out of you and you gasped at the unwanted emptiness that was left there. Arthur kept his intense gaze on you, and lifted two fingers and slowly took them down to your vagina, sticking them into your folds. You let out a gasp of pleasure as he wiggled them into you, then slowly took them out, putting them into his mouth and tasting your fluids, the sweetest taste he had ever tasted, mixing in slightly with the hot water, a mouthwatering sensation of hot comfort and deliriously delicious pleasure. He closed his eyes momentarily, then opened then back up, vibrant green eyes bursting through the dull color of the bathroom, still open with that firm and hard concentration, fingers still in his mouth for a few minutes more, until he took them out and back around your waist.
You matched his hard and concerned gaze with your own, communicating with your eyes. You mouthed the words through your lips ever so gently but you knew he understood the message through your eyes alone, screaming the impossible request with desperation.
Don't you dare fucking leave me.
Arthur's eyes softened only the slightest bit, and he leaned forward and kissed you on your forehead, almost pitifully, it felt, your sheer desperation going too deep for him to follow, and you shuddered painfully.
"Our whole relationship I've had to prove to you I'm real," you whispered through the pelting warm water. "But now I need you to stay real for me, baby."
Arthur's eyes flashed with some unreadable worry, and he stopped gently kneeing the soapy liquids into your skin and simply stared at you.
God, you were truly his everything. His life had had little genuine meaning before you. He knew that life wasn't meant to revolve around one person or thing, but he couldn't deny that you had been the gift in his life that had made his life worth living. Flawed as you were, he loved you with everything he had beyond what he could express.
"I don't know how to be real," Arthur mummered in the smallest of voices, his voice suddenly taking on his usual childlike octaves. He felt himself melt under your words, devastated that he couldn't give you what he deemed you so desperately deserved. Though you had been the one reduced to a helpless essence up until this point, Arthur was now melting back into his usual helpless state, trying so hard to be strong for the love of his life, but not knowing how to overcome his detachment from reality, his conviction that he wasn't enough, wasn't really here, his psychological damage going too deep even after all his years with you.
"No, baby," you told him firmly, taking his face and forcing him to look you in the eyes. He tried to keep his strong expression he had kept up flawlessly up until this point, eyebrows furrowing as he conjured up whatever shred of strength he had left to be strong for you. "You are real. You always have been. You are real." You emphasized the word as strongly as you could. "You're the most real thing in my life. Please just stay with me, hold me, touch me. Kiss me, speak to me, please just be here."
He stared at you with that intense gaze for a few moments, lost in some deep thought. Finally, he rasped out words, each one laced with pain and a suppressed despair he was trying so hard to hide.
"You taught me how to be enough for this world." He rolled his shoulders, as if physically strengthening himself to the task before him. The hard determination pushed by love came back into his eyes. "I'll take what I learned from that."
He couldn't hold himself back anymore from fully engulfing you, and he lifted you up into his arms. You let out a squeal and you felt the slipperiness of your your body against his, feeling as if you would fall and break your old bones with one wrong move. But you trusted him fully.
"Baby, what are yo-" you tried to squeak; but Arthur shushed you with his lips against yours, the warm water still pelting between your lips like little hot red demons that was blessing your the passion of your intimacy.
"Shh," Arthur cooed once his lips were off yours. "Let me take care of you tonight, ."
You shuddered as it sank him how unconditionally Arthur loved you. You had thrown him into homelessness, put him in danger of being hurt, left him hungry for days. And here he was, looking at you as if you were an absolute angel, the most pure thing that was so worthy of love. He himself was in need of the care that he was speaking of; his ribs were protruding from his form even more so than they had before, as if that was possible. The dark eye bags under his eyes had reached a new level of exhaustion. Yet his eyes shined with love as he looked at you, loved you despite all your flaw and shortcomings. He truly would give you his heart whether you deserved it or not, and it make you feel a sick sort of tender love. He would never deny you his affection, and you know he would die for you, whether it was justified or not.
He had been missing you, craving you, even as his body had shook with hunger and cold. He had drank water from puddles. he had slept on the bench. His suffering was not reduced to simple nothings just because he forgave you. Yet he loved you more than his suffering, loved you even more than your wrongdoings. All he could wonder about was if you were alight. That was all that mattered to him anymore. He was furious that you hadn't been taking care of yourself when he had seen you, taking in how worn and battered your beautiful face had looked when you had approached him at the park. Nothing could ever make you not look beautiful to him, but he could see the bags under your eyes, your unwashed hair and sticking out hair, screaming for his touch. To see you in so much pain put him into a deeper pain. He hardly cared about himself, though he did care about himself because he knew you needed him to. And he had, after all, knew you would come back to him. You two knew each other like the back of your hands, knowing each other and your love even better than you knew yourselves.
In some ways speaking your last name was more of an affirmation of his love for you than any pet name; it reminded him how much you had devoted yourself to you, that you had taken his last name and therefore his troubles, his cares, and likewise he had taken yours. Your names were bound as one. And how he loved to call you by the name that had previously been so wretched to him, so miserable, until the love of his life had proudly taken it and wrapped their finger and spun it into its own meaning, a word now of love and comfort, of devastating, hopeless devotion to the other. He often spoke the word flirtatiously, sometimes more as a joke, but always, always, was the word surrounded in love.
"Take care of me? After everything I did-"
"Forget what you did," Arthur rasped, his voice heavy and lust filled. " I love you, goddammit, I loveyou, and you have every right to be mad at me." He lifted you out of the shower, wet bodies leaving wet stains on the cold floor and carpet as he carried you seemingly effortlessly through the living room and onto the bed, not giving a damn about how soaked you both were. Had you not been shaking with a trembling heat and passion you would have minded, but your entire world had become about being able to get as close to the man that you loved as close you could, drinking in the grace that he was giving you that you know you so didn't deserve.
"I'm leaving you behind," Arthur gasped between breaths as he marked your skin. "We both know we can't stand this world without the other, and I'm leaving you. I'm leaving you alone here alone in Gotham with these wolves," he spat the word, "with this harsh world, I-" cackles began to burst themsleves out of his throat and he buried his head in his shoulder,
"I-I'm leaving you-"
You instantly sprang up to comfort him, the need to be there for him all the more consuming because of how you had failed him a few days before.
"Baby, no."
He was leaving you. But you couldn't allow him to leave you like this. He didn't deserve that.
"I love you," you whispered into the dark. You tried to think of something more comforting to say, but couldn't when you thought about the life that waited for you after he was gone. If you would be strong enough. How would you be strong enough.
Arthur's eyes had been reduced to expressionless, exhausted eyes.
"I love you more than I even understand," he mumbled, clearly ashamed. He looked away as you kissed his bony back.
You knew exactly what he meant. You continued to stroke his back, and you kept rubbing your skin against his until his desire for you overcome him again. He smashed his lips against yours, and you gasped at the force of them.
" " he murmured against your skin. " ." After thirty years, he couldn't believe you were all his.
He was trying to grasp your heart in his rotting and dying hands, but you were so painful to hold, knowing what he was doing to you, like a hot rack that had just come out of the oven for a starving animal.
His self loathing deepened a he realized he didn't have to die like this, so soon. Had he taken better care of himself, he would be able to stay with you as long as you deserved. Well deserved anger, he mused.
You could tell he wasn't all there, but you were determined to be there for the both of you. And so was Arthur, as much as his decaying body would allow him to.
As so Arthur Fleck wrapped his arms around his wife, feeling the body of the one person who had brought him any kind of worthwhile meaning in his life press against his, and, despite your warm touches and sweet nothings into his ear, telling him how much you loved him, a scream ripped inside of him as he knew he was doing the worst betrayal that could possibly be committed between you two.
Arthur cuddling HCs?
anonymous
Thank you for sending this in! Just a reminder that requests are closed, but this was fairly easy to pump out so I decided why not. I added some nsfw because you know, always horny for our Arthur.
Originally posted by jokerous
Before he had met you. Arthur had hardly ever spent time with anyone other than his mom, and was never touched unless it was a strict beating that he received from strangers, or an unwanted shoving from a coworker. Arthur couldn't believe how in love with you he was. You were everything he had been waiting for to heal his damaged and calloused soul, so much more than a partner, by also the friend, the company, and just the overall love that he had been deprived from in all areas of his life. You absolutely adored touching him, but he never made the first move. But oh, how he melted when you did touch him. He craved every small touch from you so much to the point where he thought about it in intricate detail when you weren't around. He always craved your sweet fingertips, the soothing sensation of them against his skin feeling like the magic he had always craved against what he deemed his own unworthy skin, feeling as if the touch alone was healing the the touch starved condition that had been with him since birth. Because he never made the first move, he felt anxious that you thought he didn't want you. But that didn't make him as anxious as feeling like if he touched you where you didn't want it, you would leave him. But you knew your Arthur better. There was something about your connection with him that made you be able to read him like an open book. It also didn't help that he wore his heart on his sleeve, whether he wanted to or not: His eyes utterly melted when you two made eye contact for the first time after a long day. He couldn't suppress the whimpers of lust filled desire when you blessed him a rich, deep kiss. He couldn't latch onto you long enough whenever you granted him a chance to touch any part of you. It all added up to him clearly being hopelessly in love with you, but not knowing how to express it. When you sat down together at night, his legs would just barley be grazing you. But you could tell how much he wanted to touch you. His left leg bouncing up and down almost obsessively. His eyes that were red and about to brim over from tears. The scratches he did on his wrists nervously. His eyes flitting over to you more than the tv screen. These mannerisms would continue until you would pull yourself into him, and he would wrap his arms around you, his whole body suddenly relaxing as if it was taking a breath of fresh air. You were growing a little weary of Arthur feeling like he couldn't touch you, of him not realizing that you were truly his. Which is why you came up with the perfect pan to get the love of you life to finally be comfortable enough to know that you were his and his alone. You spread your body on the couch one night, purposely making yourself as cozy and seductive as possible, spreading Arthur's favorite blankets over your body, while allowing one bare leg to show through them. You purposely wore one of his favorite sweaters just to let him know how much you truly belonged to him, and to show how much you wanted to belong to him. When he walked through the door, he head was down in the way it usually was, downtrodden by the world. When he looked up, his innocent face instantly turned a deep shade of red. "Hi, Arthur," you said seductively, purposely letting his sweater that was too big for you fall off your shoulder. Arthur is a blushing mess and can barely choke out, "H-hi, Y/N." "Come over here, baby." Stumbling, Arthur makes his way over to the couch and awkwardly stands over you. You look up at him and pull him down and onto you, kissing him softly on the nose. He lets out a soft whimper of desire and longing, but doesn't make any moves towards you further. "Arthur, look at me." Shyly does Arthur lift his green eyes up at you, and his entire stiff disposition completely melts as he looks into your eyes. "I want you to touch me, baby." You stroke his face, which he leans and hums into in a cautious but happy manner. "Ok? I'm yours, and I want you to feel like you can touch me and feel me at any time." Arthur shakes his head, but dares to kiss your palm. "I just don't want to scare you away," he mumbles into your hand. You huff at how comically oblivious he is to how much you love him. "Arthur, you could never scare me away. That much I promise you." And with that you guide his hand up your thigh, and Arthur moans into your kiss as he allows himself for the first time to allow himself to love you the way he desires. After that passionate night, Arthur begins to show signs of finally letting himself loving you the way you both crave. He even becomes a little addicted to cuddling, to the point where anytime you're both in your apartment, he wants you in his arms all the time. You're cuddling together in bed and you want to get up for a snack? Arthur picks you up into his arms, stumbling a bit clumsily at how weak he is, but that only make you laugh. For the most part, he manages, and he takes you into the kitchen in his arms and instantly puts his arms around you as soon as he puts you down, resting his chin on your shoulder. He's devoted to asking you to come cuddle as soon as you both eat dinner every afternoon, piling on blankets and pillows on the couch for full coziness. He adores being both little spooned and big spooned. As the little spoon, he feels protected and loved with your arms wrapped around him, and he'll hum songs to himself happily as you both have gentle, whispered conversations and you kiss his hair. But as the big spoon, he feels so protective of you, feeling truly needed and wanted for the first time in his life. He becomes increasingly more bold the more you two cuddle, getting to the point where he begins to bring his hand into your panties while you both are cuddling under the blankets late into the night. Before now, most of your intimate cuddling sessions with anything more than simple cuddling that Arthur had initiated has been soft and warm kisses up and down your neck, mummering softly to you about his day. But now he's feeling more bold and more sure that you really do love him and want him to touch you, so he slides his finger into your underwear and against your clit, making you moan at his touch. He keeps stimulating it and sending shooting waves of pleasure through your body, making you lean your head into his neck in defeat at how deliciously weak he made you. You knew Arthur had so much power over you, but now you were experiencing the full extend of what that truly meant, and Arthur couldn't help but smirk to himself as he realized too."Thank you."
Request: Could I please get a piece where Reader moans "thank you" over and over while Arthur pleases them? (I wasn't sure if the person who requested this wanted to be tagged in the literal post, let me know if you do, lol.)
Warnings: smut, angst
Arthur had had a bad day.
Granted, every day was a bad day for him. At best, he would have a rough day. You had rushed home after he had called you with that quiet, sad voice, a sign that always signaled that he was in a foggy, distant mood. The ones he got in where his voice was distant and jumbled, echoing the chaos going on in his own brain.
"What happened, love?" you had mummered through the phone, knowing that you more than likely would not get a straight answer.
"Nothing," he had lied, trying his best and failing to mask the pain behind his voice. "Just want you." A short pause, his voice quieter and rasper than before. "Please just come home soon, ok?"
And so you did. You cleaned up as soon as you could at your work, then started to make your way home through the train, anxiety eating at you all the while.
Loving the enigma that was Arthur Fleck had never been an easy task.
You weren't sure what it was, but you felt a certain sickness every time you looked at him. It crashed over you like a wave, a feeling of strong bittersweet nausea overcoming you when you stared at him, often in his apartment. You would muse over the man you loved more than life as he sat in front of you on the couch, often dangling a cigarette between his fingers, his skinny spine leaned over, naked torso always shaking visibly, left leg bouncing, his blue pants the only sign of clothing on his body. His brown hair was swept back, and every time a curl fell in front of his face he swiftly pulled a gnarled hand to put it back in its place behind his face. Everything that came out of Arthur was art, down to his hair. He was so damn beautiful that it made you choke. The nausea that you felt looking at him was one born of bittersweet passion. It was the best kind of sickness; you had grown to feel so much love for this man over the course of your time together, that it had developed into a point where you physically could not contain it anymore.
The fact that he was such an ill, tormented soul just made that love that you bore for him that much more harder to bear.
True love bore pain. If there was anything you had learned from deeply loving Arthur Fleck, it had been that much.
"I got you your medication today," you said as you walked through the apartment coming in. He raised his head from staring at the wall, then looked up at you, and the shyest of small, soft smiles graced the inner corner of his right lip as he processed that you were here.
"Thought you really weren't coming back this time," he mumbled between the cigarette caught in his lips.
You let out a gentle sigh. He never thought you would come home to him.
Smoke bellowed out of his mouth with ghostly wisps. He lunged out one skinny arm and took the medication from you. He opened it and looked into it carefully, then looked back up at you. His eyes softened. "Thank you."
You leaned over and kissed him on the top of his head. "I love taking care of you. You don't have to thank me."
Arthur said nothing, just leaned his face into your chest as you leaned forward to kiss him. He began to whisper something into your chest, mumbling softly.
"What's that, my love?" you mummered as you strained to make out what he was saying.
He let out a small scoff. "Just…the Murray show is on tonight, thats all." he said softly, his voice vibrating against your skin. "You'll watch it with me tonight, right?"
You softened and let our a small huff of gentle teasing. "Darling, when do I not watch that show with you?"
Arthur let out a small noise of amusement at your remark. Your relationship didn't have much teasing; it would exhausted and annoyed Arthur to no end. You were his healing from the harsh world, not an extension of it. But you two had finally found some comfortability in one another that you could gently tease each other softly every now and then.
You cupped his hand and gently led him to look at you. His eyes had a film of red, sore water over them, tears spilling from his eyes.
"Oh, darling…" you whispered as you began to stroke the tears that escaped from his eyes and ran down his worn cheeks. Your love for him overflowed in these moments, spilling into unbearable desire to do anything to cure the aches in his soul. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
He only stared, and you wondered if he had even heard you. He then shook his head ever so slightly, and kissed the inside of your palms.
"Just need you," he whispered into your palm, his voice vibrating against your skin and sending shivers into your skin.
You relaxed slightly, the tension of making sure he wasn't dying finally coming down. Every moment you weren't with Arthur made you ache with anxiety that something was wrong. You sunk into the couch and allowed him to fully melt into your embrace, wrapping your arms around his cold, slightly sweaty body.
"Can you tell me something?" he requested softly as he leaned his skinny frame against your chest.
You hummed into his curly brown hair, eyebrows frowning playfully. "Tell you what?"
"Anything." You could feel his lips softly brushing the work clothes of your own chest, you hating how they separated you two from having skin upon skin. "Just want to hear your voice."
You thought for a moment. "How do you stop a bull from charging?"
Arthur considered that for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in adorable concentration. He always took more lighthearted manners very seriously, like a child. "How?"
"Cancel its credit card."
Arthur frowned deeper, comically. "Bulls don't have credit cards."
You let our a chuckle, and stroked his hair lovingly. You continued to stroke and kiss his face gently until he relaxed into your touch.
"Need another joke?"
Arthur let out a huff of amusement, then dared to look up at you. You could tell he was trying to keep off burdening you with his troubles, leaving most of his real emotions at bay. You gently grabbed his chin into your hands, stabilizing his gaze into yours so he couldn't look away.
"Do you want me to get you some water?" you offered gently, just trying to do anything to make him feel better.
A pause. "No," he whispered softly after a moment of musing.
His eyes seemed broken as he gazed into yours, like he was desperately searching for some healing that you weren't sure how to give. You traced his cheeks with your fingertips, then up and around his features; eyebrows, nose, lips, and the caves in his forehead, until he couldn't help but break out into a smile kissed with soft wrinkles.
"How did I ever let the world damage you this deeply?" you spoke ever so gently, your fingers resting on his lips, caressing the chapped skin there slightly. You truly loved every inch of this man, every damage he held, his physical and psychological wounds alike.
Arthur titled his head to the side in a sort of sad defeat, then raised his eyes at you. "As long as I have you, I'll be alright," he mumbled through your fingertips. He kissed the tip of your fingers softly and took the cigarette lazily resting in his hands, placing it into your own. You smiled, taking your fingers from his lips and took a drag of it.
You two loved to share everything and anything. It confirmed that you two were as close as you could possibly be, one of a whole and the same.
Arthur looked at you lovingly, his eyes so warm and soft that you could almost feel the love take a physical form, feeling it surrounding you like a wonderful heat. You couldn't resist not being closer to him, and you leaned forward and pressed your lips into the wrinkles on his forehead. He hummed into your kiss, content and smiling to himself softly.
"Thank you for taking care of me," he whispered gently, and then looked up at you when you pulled yourself away slightly.
"Thank me?" you asked, playfully feigning offense. "Thank me, when it's you that keeps me going through the day? When just seeing you lights up my whole world? When it's you that I've been waiting for my whole life?" You paused, making sure he was looking you in the eyes, really listening to what you were saying. "Darling, it's you I should be thanking." You took him off your chest and got off the couch. You went down on your knees and took his face in yours. "Sweetheart, let me thank you. Please. Let me show you how much I need you." You kissed the tip of his nose, and he closed his eyes in quiet comfort, letting out a shuddering breath at your kindness.
Oh, God have mercy. You loved this man so much, you felt as if you would die sometimes.
He let our an soft noise, overwhelmed by your gratitude for him merely being in your life. He couldn't understand it, nor would he ever. But hell if he wasn't going to try to show you his gratitude for you in his life in equal measure.
"I just don't feel like I show you how much I love you enough," he muttered quietly, leaning his forehead against yours. "You do so much for me, you care for me, you get what I need to stay…me. You love me, you.." he let out a small choking sound, then swallowed. "Stay."
He then let out small, broken, tormented chuckles, and you knew an attack was starting again. You quickly got up and sprang back on the couch, wrapping him back into your arms as you stroked his back and kissed his face softly through his tormented laughter. It was loud and bellowing, and the few times he tried to choke it back left him in even more pain, sounding like a reverse cough going into his mouth. The sounds alone made you wince, and your heart twisted in pain at his torment. His spine was sticking out of his tight clothes like it would burst out, and it was all you could do to not start choking on your own tears.
"Please," he choked out between the aftermath giggles, still painful and choking, but coming down from the heat of it. "Let me show you how much you mean to me."
You shook your head slightly. "I wish I could show you how much you mean to me."
Arthur let out a sigh, then turned himself around and wrapped his arms around yours. He began to kiss your neck gently, slowly making his way down your neck.
You felt an indescribable tingle at his touch, a heat flowing from your body and through your bones. You let out a soft moan, and without even thinking of what you were saying, a rushed "thank you" poured itself out from between the sigh of your lips.
Arthur instantly hardened at that, and he grabbed his hand on your neck and pulled you back on the couch so he was on top of you. He pulled himself on top of you, and looked over you. At his world. He would never fully accept it, but the feeling was entirely mutual. His eyes were shining bright, he now had a comically boyish look of excitement on his face, the pain that was previously suffocating him melting like snow in the sun. His curls were draped over his face like he was some greek god, a delicious combination of beautiful and unbearably adorable.
You let out a small smile, your infatuation that you were convinced would never go away taking over you once more. "There you are, my love."
Arthur let out his own small smile, taking you in for a moment. He brushed his lips against yours, and you both let out your own share of burning desire filled sighs as you drunk the other in. His cigarette had been left by your thigh, and the smell of it reminded you of how fragile and broken he was. You imagined his lungs rotting away just like the rest of him. His own breath was heavy with the smoke of it, and you dug your fingers into his hair, feeling your longing for him growing all the stronger.
"Thank you, Arthur," you mumbled softly into his lips. "Thank you for being here with me, for not destroying yourself and leaving me without you. Thank you for taking care of yourself. You don't see it-" You let out a hitch as he nipped your collarbones with his teeth- "But by taking care of yourself, by merely existing, you take care of me." You arched your neck in pleasure and he continued to bite into you, his famished hunger for you reaching its brim.
Arthur let our a rasped moan, and you felt how hard he was under his pants. He worked his way down your skin, leaving all the bites and kisses he could where you weren't marked in red, blue, and brown loving bruises. Finally, he found his way to your entrance, and, looking up at your slowly, did he begin to remove them. You nodded eagerly, the heat in your vagina already rising.
Quickly, he made his way down to your vagina, eagerly licking your juices up with his wild, thirsty tongue. You instantly let out a moan, your vagina squeezing, melting under the pressure of pleasure that he was giving you. You were helpless under his touches, and the combination of the sexual pleasure he was giving you, along with the tender love you felt for him, caused you to feel as if you would explode with desire.
"Arthur, baby, thank you," you moaned, not caring how loud your voice was from your haze of lust."Thank you for everything. For coming home to me every night." The tongue against your vagina was becoming more passionate, more loving and gentle, but furious in how hard he wanted to taste all of you. "You're so wonderful, darling, you could have so much more, even if you don't see it." Your thoughts flashed to Sophie for a moment, thinking of the pretty, bright and single girl across the hall, but you quickly brushed the thought away. "But you chose me, and I can't-" you let out a gasp as he hit sensitive spot- "thank you enough, angel." You barley managed to huff out. "I just can't imagine myself without you. You make me better, and I wouldn't want to face this world without you."
Arthur nipped the insides of your thighs, leaving a mark upon the scars that were already there from previous passionate marks. He was letting out soft rasps, as if he was trying to contain something inside of himself.
"Don't hold back, honey," you cooed softly as you looked down at him. "Please don't ever hold back. Whatever you have to say, say it."
Arthur leaned forward and smashed his lips against yours again, his brown curls tingling your lips. When he separated himself, you looked at his face and your breath was taken away from how beautiful he was. To you, he was literally glowing, and you couldn't imagine how you had been so lucky to be so madly in love with a man as complex and sweet as Arthur Fleck, that you were lucky enough to have him love you too. Though the world may look down on him, you would always see him as an undiscovered treasure amongst the world.
"I just," he rasped in a deep, heavy voice, "You have no idea how much those words mean to me, sweetheart." He pressed his lips onto your cheekbones, and you embraced his head into your interlocked fingertips as your mouth opened in passionate ecstasy. "How long I've been waiting to hear them my whole life, from so many people. But-" he let out a small, pained gasp at his emotion- 'Never did I think I would be lucky enough to hear them from someone like you."
You let out a sigh of bliss and release, and kissed the side of his face gently.
You two didn't have much compared to the rest of the world, but you had one another, and that was all that would ever matter.
Bittersweet Calamities
Request: Nsfw, you're a librarian in the library. Arthur visits to read dubious works. It's clear the man has certain fantasies about librarians and he gets you hot and bothered.
A/N: Feedback is always appreciated. I hope anyone who reads enjoys x
Originally posted by liagreycrow
It was happening again.
Arthur paced back and forth in his apartment, his slacks clinging onto his bony hips. He had a cigarette balanced in his lips as his thin legs walked themselves back and forth in his apartment, pulling the sea of brown curls back whenever they fell in front of his face.
Arthur was feeling horny again, and after some careful deliberation did he go to the only place he felt safe in the city of Gotham, the only place where he felt he could privately indulge in his fantasies without being caught, judged, or seen. Living with his mom, he had no real privacy in his life. He had run out of pornographic pictures to place in his journal, his favorite hardcore photos having becoming slightly dull and repetitive, being several months old. He always glued over them with new ones, ripped them out, or replaced them whenever his mind began to grow tired of the same ones. Which wasn't very often, given his tendency to indulge in his fantasies that were so detailed and complex that he found himself growing into a state of dissociation with reality with them, a painful but welcome separation and distraction from the truth of his life. But even a spiritually rich soul like Arthur needed new material every now and then.
Of course, the pretty librarian that worked there had nothing to do with his eagerness.
He stepped into the glorious, elegant, and beautiful building that was the old Gotham library, probably the finest building Arthur would ever see in his life, the ceiling high with elegant carvings in the walls and statues in the corners. Almost shamelessly did his eyes began to scan for you, to see if you were working today's shift. Arthur had begun coming here more and more frequently, almost as often as he could when his work wasn't overtaking the daytime hours. He would even rush over here on lunch breaks, even if it meant he could only be there for about fifteen rushed minutes before he had to make his way out again, sometimes risking coming back late into work with Hoyt giving him a disapproving stare as he slouched back into the workplace.
All that, just to see you.
Not that he ever talked to you. That was unheard of. He only started at you trough the corner of library shelves, taking in your essence, your form that he deemed so beautiful, how you carried yourself, your soft voice talking to people. He would carry his observations in his detailed imagination, and would develop scenarios and cradle them in his head until he saw you again. He had developed a raging crush on you, and it certainly wasn't going anywhere.
As he walked a few feet away from the front desk, his heart stopped in his chest as he finally saw you. Your head was down as you were organizing some papers, your pretty brows furrowed in heavy concentration. Your hair was strung up in the usual high ponytail, glasses on your nose, occasionally being pulled up by your finger. Your were wearing a tight, plaid skirt that went down to your knees, and a slightly more loose white button up shirt tucked into it. Your lips were a seductive crimson with your lipstick, making Arthur shiver.
He was almost certain you had never noticed him, nor would you ever.
He let out the smallest of sighs, inaudible to anyone other than him. He made his way through the couches and desks, through the aisles with small spaces between them. There was an obscure corner in the far back full of worn down magazines, most of them torn and forgotten. Gotham was the the kind of city to have a pornographic section in its library, but it was rundown and uncared for, forgotten amongst the four large levels of the building that was full of endless sections and books.
He leaned down on his knees and thumbed through the dirty magazines, feeling his cock get tighter at the sight of the erotic poses he saw there. He bite his lip boyishly, excitement taking over his form.
—
God, he was so adorable.
You had been waiting in anticipation all day to see if your secret admirer would eventually show up. You had begun to notice his presence about a week ago, and had gradually, through sneaking glances and side eyes, began to piece together that the man with a gentle face and gracious hair was stealing glances at you too whenever he got the chance, thinking you didn't noticing. He wore the same soft blue slacks and dirty mustard hoodie every time he did show up, and just seeing him made your heart go wild. He was just so vulnerable, and wore his heart on his sleeve whether he wanted to or not. It made you go cray with desire. You wanted to know what his brown strands would feel like between your calloused, overworked fingers, wanted to see how his soft eyes would light up at your touch. Just looking at him made your vagina burn with a heat that you couldn't deny, but you never found the right time during your days to approach him. Nor did you find the right excuse. What would you say? "Hey, I noticed you staring at me and I would really like have you fuck me against this countertop in front of all these people?"
You shook your head, smirking to yourself softly. Most days you were able to resist wanting to touch the man, but today you just couldn't deny yourself anymore. Maybe you could just go up and talk to him, make some small talk. Everything he did turned you on, but if you controlled yourself, maybe you could at least learn more about him. Hell, maybe he was just a loser, and only the droning mundanity of day to day life had convinced you otherwise. It was a thought you knew wasn't true, so intuitive were you about this man's nature that had enthralled you. It just something you were telling yourself to make you feel better in case it didn't work out, but you needed any comfort you could to get rid of the flaming desire to make him yours.
There was only one way to find out what was the truth.
Pressing your toes further into your high heels in anticipation, you rounded around the counter and began to make your way towards his crouched form that was in the way back. The library was enormous, so it was quite a walk, your loud and dominate heels announcing your arrival. Regardless, you were determined to stay confident as you kept your head high and pretended like you were simply going to attend to some duty while several people, including your boss, looked up curiously for a moment at your slightly out of place demeanor, full of ambition and a hunger you couldn't deny. Your heels clicked against the tile of the floor, glasses pressed firmly on the bridge of your nose.
As you made your way over to the man, who seemed to be completely lost in whatever he was sticking his nose into, you remembered with some amusement that that was the "hidden" pornographic section-a place forgotten by most people, which is the only reason why it escaped the complaints of people who would have an issue with such a thing.
You finally stopped in your tracks and you towered over him. The click of you heels that demanded your presence to be paid attention to snapped Arthur out of his trance, who had been studying carefully a woman being bent over a chair with her legs spread.
His face instantly went red as a tomato, and he slammed the magazine shut as if he had been caught committing a crime. He hugged it to his chest like a child, crouching up into a ball while looking up at you with guilty, naive eyes, brown curls kissing his face.
"I-I'm sorry, ma'am, I-I was just looking, I didn't-"
"It's alright," you reassured him quickly, trying to remain professional and trying your best to ignore the heat building between your legs already. "I just wanted to see if you needed help with anything. I've seen you here frequently lately, just wanted to be sure you were all set." You couldn't believe how awkward you sounded, but at least your voice remained confident and even, not betraying your real desires just yet.
The red in Arthur's face didn't disappear. "N-no, m'am. I m-mean, yes, yes, I am all set." He swept a nervous hand through his hair, and the sight alone made you wild. His forehead was covered in the deep caves of his concerned wrinkles as he considered you. "Wait, you said you've seen me?" he squeaked out, voice shy but unbearably curious at the first woman who had talked to him 'just because' in the longest time he could remember.
The words came out unintentionally poetic, and you felt a smile melt itself onto your face. "Yes, I've seen you. What's your name?"
"A-Arthur." He clumsily placed his hands on his slacks and wiped off the sweat, still crunched up into a ball on the ground.
The smile didn't leave your face. It seemed to be plastered on there."Well, Arthur, would you like to be helped up at least?"
Arthur let out a sheepish smile. "Yes, ma'am."
You lent out a hand and he took it shyly. You were instantly taken aback at how warm and soft his skin was, and the heat you felt radiating off of him made your pussy lurch in a way you didn't even know was possible.
You pulled him up, and his hair bounced in a carefree manner. It seemed to reflected his disposition that he was trying to hide so well. Your curiosity to explore the man was only growing greater.
You found you didn't want to let go of his hand. Nor did Arthur. Instead, you started into one another's eyes, the spark of lust that undeniably sparked between you two only growing greater.
You cleared your throat. "I can, uh, take you back to the front, if you would like that?"
Arthur seemed to be in a trance, and didn't respond. Rather, he gazed at you with curious wonder, seeming to have fallen into a trance at your touch.
You bite your lip. "Or," you said slowly, experimenting, "We could trying something else."
A spark flickered in Arthur's sea green eyes. The world suddenly seemed to take on a surreal, dreamlike state. Here was this extraordinary man in front of you, someone you had been stealing glances at for weeks, and it seemed far too easy how quickly you were clicking with one another.
You pulled him into the nearest, most private and most forgotten aisle. You then pulled him into you, a fire setting his face aglow. With a wordless promise did you start to undo the buttons of his shirt, never breaking eye contact with his fascinating eyes. He watched you as if you were some otherworldly being as you made your way downward. Button by button did the tension and desire between you two rise. With the air getting more tense between your heaving, sweating bodies, you made her way downward. Arthur found himself hyper focusing on the feel of your nails against his skin, and you returned his admiration with a soft smile when you undid the last button. You were more nervous than you let on as you felt your breath begin to shorten in desire and anticipation. He lowered his head and he dared to unbuttoned your own shirt at your nod of encouragement and consent, then leaned down and kissed you between your breasts, then began to run his tongue up your neck. The simple gesture made you moan in pleasure, your head shivering against the aisle of books, trying not to lean too far into the books, should they fall. There was an intensely passionate dance between the two of you that was manifesting in the small, claustrophobic aisle, an unremarkable location being filled with a remarkable connection. His hands gently began to caress your sides as he lifted the shirt out of the skirt and began caressing you skin softly. He wanted to feel all of you under your shirt; your neck, your shoulders, wanted to feel your heated bodies together, skin upon skin.
Your fingers found their way to his pants, and you began unbuttoning them as quietly as you could. As soon as you saw his surprisingly large cock, hard and throbbing, dripping with precum, you felt herself grow excited. You quickly wrapped your hands around it, and Arthur let out a moan that was almost too loud, several heads snapping up to your general direction. You let out a harsh hush at Arthur, who only looked at you with a sheepish grin.
You stroked him until precum began to come out, and then Arthur pulled down your skirt and began to make suffocated but incredibly intimate love to you against the library shelves, trying your best not to topple over the aisle or their books as you grabbed the shelves behind you. Your head helplessly leaned against the corner of the shelf.
God help you if the books fell. You no longer had the sense to care, feeling the essence of Arthur and everything he was giving you surrounding your sense in the most elated fashion. Your mouth opened in a helpless silent moan. Arthur began mummer sweet nothings into your face, mumbling words of sweet promises between the heated, claustrophobic tension between you two as he rammed himself into you. Ironically, the closed in atmosphere was only adding to the passion, making it painfully, deliriously delicious at the taste of Arthur mixed in with the rebellion of doing what you shouldn't. By not being able to take in Arthur fully the way you wanted to, it was only making the few tastes, whispers, and caressing that much more distressingly, mouthwateringly captivating.
It was so damn hard to to utterly succumb to how he was pouring himself into you, both literally and emotionally, to not moan how good he was making you feel. You were being drawn to every aspect of him. He was calling to you through his touches, inviting you into his warm essence, mummering in your ear. Just so. You could have come alone from the delicate, beautiful combination of weighed raspiness and soft vulnerability that was in his voice. You two were about to jump together into your lust that had been held back from the both of you until now. He was with you now, into you, peering into the cracks and the depths of your soul, and he saw you screamed for him through the cloud of your solitude. You wanted to take his hand and fall backward with him into the life that you longed for with him more than you longed to live.
"Y/N?" You bosses' voice boomed out from the background suddenly, and you two broke apart abruptly.
"Yes?" you asked, your voice trembling, trying your best to make it sound like you weren't getting rawed by the most precious man you had ever seen in your life. Despite your best efforts, you could hear your voice sounding shaky and uneven, betraying you.
"Someone needs you at the front desk."
You looked at Arthur regretfully, and he let out a small, sympathetic and boyish smile that absolutely melted your heart. "It's ok." he mouthed, then hastily zipped up his pants. Ever being the gentleman, he helped you with bringing your skirt back around your thighs, kissing the bare skin grievously inch by inch before he covered the skin with the cursed fabric, separating the two of you. He then cupped your face in his hands one last time, his lips feeling like a drug as he pressed them against yours.
Then, as if he was a deer in headlights, he bounded out of the aisle, his own heart thudding, loathing the idea of getting you in trouble.
Your legs were shaking uncontrollably with cum still in between your legs, feeling as if you had come out of a dream. With barely controlled steps did you start to make your way out of the aisle, knowing that you were damned beyond what you could comprehend over the man with gentle eyes and a crooked smile.
call me daddy
ask: nsfw request for the reader being younger than arthur and he has a really strong daddy kink
Length: 2,526
Warnings: Just…really passionate smut.
"Where are you going?" Arthur inquired, his brows furrowed as he traced his fingers over the bridge of your nose.
You smiled softly and kissed the tip of his finger as it was going past your lips, making Arthur flush instantly. "Darling, I told you, we need food."
"But its Sunda…"he almost protested, then his soft voice started to trail off, his shyness getting the better of him, simply wrapping his arms around you tighter. Not that it being Sunday really mattered. You both worked all week, Sundays not normally being a day off for either of you, if either of you got a day off at the same time at all, or in general. This quiet, peaceful day you had together was so rare and precious that Arthur almost felt like he was hallucinating it. He was clinging onto you like a koala bear, partially because he needed the reassurance, partially he just couldn't fucking get enough of you.
You were currently being cradled on his lap sitting on the couch. It had been a few slow, short hours, you both rolling out of bed and then stumbling over to each other on the couch, curled into each other, sharing warm kisses and touches as you mummered to each other softly in small talk with ease to each other lovingly. He had only just started to become comfortable enough to start to voice his opinion on how you spent your days together. He was, certainly, becoming more outspoken about how blatantly hungry he always was for you.
"And?" You retorted playfully, kissing him on his nose, making him blush and beam instantly, moaning and shoving himself into your neck, kissing the crook of your neck as a whispered "don't go" left his lips. He was being especially needy this morning.
"Darling, I'll only be gone for a minute," you cooed, stroking his curls sympathetically. "I'll be back before you know it. Do you want to come with?"
Arthur shook his head, you feeling his face rub back and forth into the curve of your neck, He kept snuggling closer into you as much as he could.
"I just don't want to share you with anyone today," he mumbled into your skin. "I don't want anyone looking at you, I don't want anyone interacting with you." He lifted his head from your neck and looked up at you. "Just want you, all day, to myself."
Your eyes softened as you looked down at his face looking up at you. You stroked one of his curls behind his ear, and he almost purred like a cat at your touch. The usual exhaustion on his face was a little less prominent than usual today, a little more boyish, bouncy and alive. Time with you was always refreshing his soul, but he never just never got enough, both of you always working or separated somehow.
You knew his possessiveness wasn't etched in any purposely toxic intentions or philosophy. You knew that in a lot of ways, Arthur was just severely underdeveloped in the area of love. He was like a starved dog when he was near you, always trying to touch you, feel you, and drink you in as much as he possibly could within the time the world allowed him to. Ever since he was child, he had had love taken away and cheated from him. Love that had been rightfully his. His father had abandoned him, his mother has been toxic, had allowed him to be abused until he was only half the man he had originally been born to be. But you didn't see him that way. You didn't see his disability or the pieces that had been taken away from him as a bad thing, something to be cursed or frowned upon. No, instead you loved him deeper, and treasured him all the more for the damage he had suffered, from what had been taken away from him. The empty pieces in his mind and soul had been left empty, bellowing slivers of what had been taken away from him, and into those empty pieces did you pour more of your love, felt more of the precious tender feelings towards his broken essence that you only wanted to love deeper with every passing day. He was a damaged man, that much had become evident throughout your relationship together, but you couldn't help but treasure him all the deeper for it, because he was your Arthur. And you couldn't, nor wouldn't, have Arthur without the broken hallows and shattered pieces that made him Arthur.
"Come on, baby," you muttered softly, leaning down to kiss his lips once more. "Who am I going to talk to?"
"The cashier?" he grumbled, sweeping a few stray strand locks out of his face.
You let out a laugh. "Alright, you got me. The cashiers going to take me away from you."
Arthur let our a small smirk and pressed his lips to your throat. "You never know," he mumbled with a small chuckle, and you knew he was only half joking.
With as sigh did you start to remove his arms from your waist. Or attempted to. You looked at him with a smirk as he stared back at you, you toying with his thin but surprisingly strong arms as you fumbled your hands with his interlocked ones.
"Arthur."
He looked at you with a playful, mocking innocent look. "What?"
You felt a slight heat build up in your vagina at this sliver of confidence he was showing you, but you tried to ignore it, focusing on your task. Finally, he gave in and you managed to slip out of his grasp, and he sat on the couch defeated with his arms lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, legs bouncing.
"Do you want anything?" you called as you grabbed your bag, swinging it over your shoulder. "I'm just getting our usual soup and the like, but I have some extra cash if you want anything."
No answer. You looked around the corner of the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining room, your heart doing a small, painful tug as you looked at him. He had already picked up a cigarette from the table by the couch, staring at the ceiling in a spaced out state. Both legs were bouncing like crazy. He was taking a long drag from the cigarette, his rib cage protruding from his body as he looked upward.
He only did this when he was genuinely anxious. He never missed a chance to interact with you, look you in the eyes, or, quite frankly, love you whenever he got the chance. You both were truly each other's most addicting form of drug.
Which is why you could read so well how unhappy he was about you leaving now. You read him like a book. Though you had never quite taught him how to express his feelings to you, despite how safe you made him feel and how much you shared with each other, it had never stopped you from possessing this innate ability to be able to see almost exactly what he was feeling like the back of your hand.
Something clicked in your head..
You knew what he needed.
"Arthur," you said suddenly, your tone surprisingly serious.
Arthur looked away from the ceiling and over at you, expression cautious, eye slightly wet, the cigarette smell enveloping him, as if he was trying to replace it with your warm touch.
"Make me."
Arthur's eyebrow raised.
"Make me stay."
A dark, mischievous flash flickered in Arthur's eyes. There was a pause, the air heavy with curious anticipation.
A blood rush of craving hunger came over Arthur, and he stormed over to you at a force so abrupt, so vicious, that it almost made you scared. But any fear was quickly dispelled when you felt his lips eating your alive with the famished hunger he always had for you, and always would.
"You're mine," he growled between kisses. "You're mine"-kisses on your cheeks-"no one can touch you but me, no one can love you but me"- kisses and hungry nibbles on your nose, eyebrows, and forehead-"fuck." He let out a hiccup and he continued to devour your face mercilessly, your knees bucking under his force. 'You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want you going anymore, ever-"
You let out a moan and tilted your head back, feeling your vagina squeeze with burning desire. He had the neediness of a virgin, but the confidence that formed from his insecurity of losing you, and the years he spent fantasizing but never experiencing, caused him to burst over to the rim with desire. He lifted you up so that you could wrap your legs around his thin waist. You were just as famished for him now, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting him devour you with everything he had.
He stumbled you through the hallway and against the walls. You let out a painful grunt a bit at the force, and Arthur quickly snapped out of his trace to make sure you were ok, asking you with his wet, soulful eyes. You nodded, and then he crushed himself against you, chest heaving against yours, both of you not being able to be close enough.
He pulled off your pants, then your panties, nibbling and engulfing every inch of your skin that you could, his hands scattering themselves around your body with endless lust and passion. He was biting down hard, on your legs, ankles, feet, thighs, covering you with his teeth like you were his last meal. He was crouched under you as he finished pleasuring your legs and pulled off your panties. Your hands were on his head as he was below you, and you were so turned on you felt like you could vomit. Arthur finished marking your legs with his crooked teeth as he brought up bite after bite up your legs. He continued this all the way up through your body, and then smelled the damp wet of your pussy crying out for mercy.
With a hungry growl he stuck his fingers inside of you. You let out a pleasured wail.
"Harder." You challenged through the shreds of pleasure that were shooting through your body.
Arthur almost didn't hear you. "What, beloved?" he whispered in a husky voice.
"Please…harder."
The look Arthur gave you alone sent chills through your spine. A shade came over him so dark, so full of lust and desire, that you let out a whine as you realized what you just requested.
He slammed his fingers into you even further, with unforgiving speed, the pressure in you building as you lost control of your bodily movements. Your legs twisted, melting under his touch.
He was so fucking good for someone who supposedly had no experience before you. Arthur was so graceful in all his movements, right down to how he pleasured you. He kept banging his fingers into your cunt as it continued to throb hopelessly.
"A-Arthur…" you choked. "Please, please fuck me."
Arthur let the dirtiest of smirks grace his worn face as he gazed into your eyes. It always amazed you how safe you felt with him, even when he was in these moods where he was so possessive that it made you choke. So much had been taking away from him; the love of his life sure as hell wasn't going to be either.
"Call me Daddy," he whispered as he continued to gaze into your eyes, his voice so soft, so gentle, so childlike that for a moment you weren't sure if you had heard from right. He didn't seem to realize he had said it himself, so lost was he was lost in his hungry, red hot state.
"W-what?" you sputtered out lamely. The voice was Arthur's, but the request was so surreal to come out of his uncertain, shy mouth that for a moment, you felt like you had imagined it.
"Call me Daddy," he repeated, this time a little more sure of himself, a little more stable, and this time undoubtedly not something that you had imagined.
"Call me Daddy," he said a third time, his voice now husky and heavy, commanding and dominate.
You felt the heat from your vagina rise all the way up into your face. This confident side of Arthur was something you couldn't even imagine had existed when you first met him, but with the hard and possessive look he was giving you now, you couldn't deny that you bloody loved this side of your man.
"D-Daddy!" You just barley managed to choke out as he continued to fuck you with two fingers mercilessly. 'Oh God, oh fuck, Daddy, please fuck me!"
The dark hunger in Arthur's eyes went even deeper as he pushed his lips onto your neck, groaning at his own lust, and then pulled his fingers out and spun you against the wall. You body was screaming for the touch of his cock now, of having him inside of you. You heard him undo his pants as quickly as he could, felt the air drop along with his pants as they dropped to the ground, and then thrust his cock into your ass like it was dependent on you both.
You let out a wail at his unforgiving pounding. He was pushing into you so deep, so full of desire and craving was he.
"Are you mine?" he growled into your ear. His voice was heavy, raspy, almost angry with desire.
"Fuck, oh god, yes, I'm yours!" you shrieked hopelessly.
He put his hands on your hips and slammed himself even deeper into you. mumbling out small "fucks" here and there. Even in this confident state, Arthur didn't last long over his lust for you, and he could feel himself building up.
However, you could feel yourself starting to come yourself, and you were almost sure that this time, you would be the one coming first.
"Arthur, baby, I'm coming!" You wailed as you felt you legs buckling under the pressure of being ruined by his thursts.
Arthur only moaned in response, and you felt his semen pour into you at the same time as you felt yourself releasing well. There was so much that it dribbled on the floor, and you groaned as Arthur released himself into you the same time that his hold on you did. Your legs fell to the ground, shaking and bones aching with pleasure and exhaustion
Your skin was broken in cold sweat, and you couldn't feel your legs. You were certain you wouldn't be able to walk for the next few hours, possibly even days. Your whole body was trembling, as if you had just climbed a mountain. With a shaking head did you raise your head.
Arthur has stumbled over to grab the cigarette he had left by the table. He stuffed it into his mouth and looked towards the ceiling, his whole form shaking as well, as if he was coming down from his famished, dominate mood. He then looked over towards you, and his gaze instantly softened from that beastly look he had had to a gentle one of love and concern.
Arthur sat down besides you on the floor, kissing your cheek softly, pulling your wet, sweaty hair back. "That was wonderful, my love," he muttered, slowly melting back into the gentle and soft man you were so used to.
"Arthur?" you said with a shaky, whimpering voice.
"Yes?" he responded in his gentles voice.
"You're really fucking hot when you're confident."
Arthur smirked, then stoked your sweaty cheek lovingly, his own sweat melding into yours. He tried to help you up gently, and you instantly fell back down. Arthur laughed, then wrapped his naked arms around you loving, planting a kiss to your forehead.
"What a pair are we, my love." he rasped softly into your ear.
Ask: Got any hc about how Arthur would seduce their crush?
Length: 2,438
Warnings: Stalking
Arthur first noticed you coming home from a gig down the sidewalk as he was walking home from his own gig as a clown for the day. You two momentarily made eye contact, and he was instantly attracted to you in a way he couldn't explain, and he knew he needed to find out more about you. He couldn't shake that there was something special about that brief connection. He reflected on his mental illnesses and knew he was probably just begin his usual unstable self, yet as he tried to resist the urge to know more about you, it got to a point where he just didn't care anymore. As you went about your usual routine of coming home from work on the subway, you gradually started to notice throughout the week a flash of a thin yellow hoodie. At first you were deeply disturbed as you put together that you had a stalker, especially when you came home to your apartment one afternoon with smiley faces drawn all over your apartment door. You even went so far as to call the police and and tell them about it, but they said there wasn't enough to go on to do anything about it. As time went on, you gradually began to become more and more weary of this mysterious man who kept showing up in your daily routine. Yet you also felt a strange warmth towards this man that grew over time, as it became more apparent that he had only romantic and pure intentions, and was merely fighting this desire he had for you, and it seemed increasingly more obvious as time went on that he couldn't help it. You yourself had always been rather lonely, never having been great at making friends or having company. In a twisted way, you almost wished he would do more to make you feel less alone. Arthur himself was only falling more deeply and deeply in love with you as time went on, learning about every habit you did, every detail about how you walked, every movement that you made as you sat on the subway. He was incredibly good at blending into the atmospheres where he stalked you so that you only saw him in glimpses and short bursts. Never enough so that you could confront him. As his love for you grew, he began to make bolder moves, such as leaving fake flowers at your doorstep, the kind that he used at his clown gigs. He drew smiley faces all over your apartment door, sometimes even writing sentences in his messy, misspelled handwriting, such as "i want to kis you very son" Regardless of his promises, he never actually showed up. He was far too shy to go through with what he wrote on your door. He was only doing it because he loved pretending like he was with you, and, as long as you weren't running away screaming, that was good enough for him. To him, it wasn't crossing boundaries, just showing you how much his love for you was growing, which, in his mind, was already a reality just to you as much to you as it was for him. He spent so much time thinking about you to the point where he would start to hallucinate once he got home, cuddling into the couch with a blanket over his body as he wrapped his arms around absolutely nothing, swearing that he felt your skin and your touches underneath him. As time went on, you began to realize that you had never even gotten a proper look of the man's face. One night, you were doing your usual routine of getting takeout as you made your way home. The restaurant was busier than usual. You were planning on simply grabbing a plate and rushing home to bed. As you were handed your food, you turned around and bumped straight into a sulking figure. You realized with shock it was the same strikingly comforting yellow hoodie that had become more familiar to you than any other aspect of your life. You let out a gasp, your first instinct to be frightened. Arthur kept his head down, not wanting you to look at him. He was ashamed of who he was and what he had been doing to you these past couple of weeks, but the hallucinations weren't enough to satisfy his cravings anymore. He wanted you, the real one, and he couldn't stay away anymore, nor did he want to. Slowly, did he lift up a pile of fake flowers. People stared as he began to do a small jig, and you were so dumbfounded that you only stood there and watched, somewhat in horror, somewhat in amusement. As he finished his dance, he held his flowers out to you. Though his disposition was childish and carefree, his eyes screamed a heaviness and a craving that screamed how much he wanted you, how much he had been craving you all these weeks. As your shock melted off, you hesitantly took the flowers, gazing at them quietly. Then, you looked back up at the man, and chills went through your spine as you felt as otherworldly, painful longing to become a part of this man's unconventional but beautiful world. You said nothing as tears began to fall down your face in the gradual realization that this man had been what you were waiting for. Together, you would hold each other and figure out life. You had, after all, always been something of an outsider yourself. You stepped forward and crashed your lips against his, not giving a damn about everyone in the restaurant looking at you as if you were both monsters. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and deepend the kiss furter. Arthur smiled into the kiss, beaming wildly, wrapping his own thin arms around yours. You had been two people with two left feet in the world, and you had finally found each other.—-
You were walking down the sidewalk as you made your way back to your apartment. The smog of the city was making you eyes burn, a wet film of your eyes forming. Blinking, you grumpily wiped your face from some of the tears that fell down your cheek. You hiccuped, trying to fight an onslaught of a mental breakdown that was bound to come over you soon.
Your way back to your apartment was slow and dreary, the world lulling by in a dull blur as you watched it go on the train home. Your head was rested on the window. You reflected on the dull tired ache flowing thorough your bones.
Slowly did you lift your head, looking around the atmosphere before you. You felt a strange separation from everything around you, feeling yourself fall into a strange disconnect from the world, something that was starting to happen to you far too often.
The emptiness of the afternoon was beginning to take your chokehold on you, something that always happened after you left work to go home for the night. Granted, this always happened, and you would be more disturbed if it didn't. The darkness and loneliness of your life had started to take a hold on you and seemed to be becoming a part of you. You thought about going home alone, eating alone, sleeping alone.
Your thoughts drifted to your 'stalker', the closest thing you'd had to a friend in the longest time you could remember. You smiled as you remembered what he had left written on your door last night, scrawled messily like it was done by a four year old, complete with smiley faces draw inside the O's.
You lookd beutful tody
You looked down at the ground as you felt yourself beaming. Warmth flooded you as you thought about the mysterious figure who had been stalking you the past couple of weeks. At first, you had been mortified, and with any other person you knew you would have had to solve the issue by now. But as time had gone on, as you washed off his smiley faces from your door, caught glimpses of his curly brown hair as he rounded corners slightly too late before you could catch a glimpse, as you found notes left here and there complimenting your figure and how wonderful you seemed, you felt yourself being more and more drawn to whoever this man was, who seemed head over heels for you before you even knew him.
As the train stopped with a groan and you got outside into the closest thing to fresh air Gotham had to offer, you felt your stomach grumble. With a low groan you looked at the restaurant that was conveniently placed but crowded as sin across the street from the train stop. The food wasn't fantastic, but it was better than having to make your own after being dead on your feet.
You made your way across the street, ignoring the beeping cars and the incessant yelling from people who would always find an excuse to yell at anybody.
You picked a note from your pocket as you waited in line, feeling slightly suffocated as the people were crowded around each other like sardines and making you feel as if you couldn't breath. You needed to go somewhere else mentally.
There were three of them stuck in your pocket. They each had the same thin, shaky craft to them, and each had a smiley face drawn in the corner. They had often been left on your door, sometimes on your coat that you left hanging at work.
Love how you waked tody
I'm here if yu ned me
You will be alriht
As you fingered through them, you felt yourself getting more and more lost in the man despite, how little you knew about him. You felt your falling into a warm doze, feeling as if you already knew this stranger. You knew it was insanity, but you couldn't shake off this pull towards the person who had grown on your over time.
By the time you placed your order, you were so sick of the suffocating air of the place that you just needed to get out to breathe some fresh air. You sprung around hurriedly, determined to leave as quickly as you could. As soon as you did, however, your face met the chest of a patterned shirt with the same familiar yellow hoodie tugged over it. The man in question let out a soft oof, and fell backwards slightly, running into some people behind him, glares and snorts being shared between them all.
You looked up at the face half buried behind the hood, his face covered as if he had been in hiding. Below the mustard hood was innocent, lost eyes staring back at you, his face bunched up in a panicked shock. He was surprisingly handsome, although his face was marked with early winkles and lines, and he seemed to have a permanent look of exhaustion over his face, a weathered and tired man.
"I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He blurted out, not knowing what else to say. There was a layer of sweat over his face, and you titled your head, unsure of how to react. "I, I , um," He kept stuttering, feeling more panicked than he ever did during one of his attempted comedy shows. Giving up on words, with sweaty palms he reached into his pockets, and pulled up a small arrangement of fake flowers meant for clown acts. You only stood there in amazement, slight shock, and, admittedly, some embarrassment
He began to dance with the little room he had, dancing with incredibly small movements considering the lack of space around him, his feet moving back and forth, one foot in front of the other. He lifted his arms up, one behind him in a twirl, the other holding the flowers out to you. You gaped in amazement at how surprisingly graceful he was. Had any other man done this, it would have been undoubtedly the most cringe event that had ever taken place. But this was graceful and artistic, almost like a piece of art that had been abandoned on the side of the street. The people watched him like one of the street performers who practiced for years to get people's attention. As you watched him, your embarrassment melted, and was replaced with a gentle fascination.
Despite his childlike disposition and playful pose, you could see in his eyes how desperate he was for you. His eyes were rimmed with red, his very irises looking heavy and sad. Did this man ever sleep? Did he stay up all night thinking of the next thing to write to you? Had you been able to read his mind, you would have been able to know that, yes, he did stay up all night thinking about you and craving you. He was desperate for you, desperate for your touch that he craved so deeply, especially after the long, countless nights that he spent curled up with himself, his brain longing for you so much that it created its own version of you for him to try to hold, though it only left him more empty as the nights had gone on.
You took the flowers from him gently, with such cation as if he was a wild animal, and grasped your fingers around it. You considered them, then looked up, considering the man before you. Somehow, you felt as if you knew the man already, as if you had known him since before you could remember. He had stopped dancing and was now simply staring at you, begging for your approval of who he was, of who he wanted to be for you.
You couldn't take it anymore. With reckless abandon did you throw yourself at him, pulling yourself into his lips. He instantly locked his arms around your waist in response, securing himself into your touches as if he had been starved.
Your breath was knocked out of your lungs as you felt yourself coming into a sensation you couldn't describe. You desperately pulled the hood off the man, lips still locked in a passionate dance, your fingers hungrily drawing through his curly locks, feeling as soft as the man who bore them. You let out a moan as his tongue entered your mouth, and you dug your nails into his skin as gently as you could manage while you fought the lust for this man that you hadn't realized you had been craving not just these past few weeks, but your whole life.
Sharing Journals with Arthur HC's
A/N: Something I kept thinking about and wanted to get out of my system. Angst, but mostly fluff. Jealous and insecure Reader because I have a weakness for that sort of thing.
Originally posted by jokerous
As your months with Arthur had gone on, you noticed that he obsessively wrote in a journal on almost a nightly basis. You didn't mean to see them, but through some accidental glances that were bidden by curiosity, you began to see the nudes in his journal, flashing by as he turned from one page to another. You started to become insecure over a period of time as you thought about them throughout your days; they were remarkably sexual, and the women were supermodels; extremely conventionally gorgeous. It made you wonder if he thought about them, lustedafter them, more than he did you. When you questioned him about his writing one night, his head snapped up, and he slammed it shut,instantly self conscious, blushing a deep shade of red. You frowned and stroked his hair. "What is that journal for, baby?" you asked gently. You didn't want to probe any further, but you also couldn't deny that you were dying of curiosity, and wanting some closure on your insecurities. Arthur shook his head. "It's nothing," he mumbled. He shrugged, as if to ease off the weight of what he said next. "I mean, it's just some of my thoughts and stuff. My therapist gave it to me because she said writing my thoughts out would help me." You nodded, wanting to confirm to him that he could be vulnerable with you. A couple of weeks later Arthur hadn't felt like going to bed with you, and you had simple sank into bed on your own, too tired to probe or argue. You felt the tingles of insecurity torture you once more, wondering if this was already the beginning of the end. About an hour after lying down, though, you began to hear soft sobs from the living room, and you instantly rushed out of bed and headed into the living room. "Honey, what's wrong?" you cooed softly as you kneeled down in front of him, stroking his hair back gently. He was sitting in the chair and you knelt beside him, gently tracing circles against his knees. Despite your insecurities, you were going to take every opportunity to love him as much as you could until this relationship was over. You loved him, even if he didn't feel as strongly, as you treasured every time he turned to you for comfort. Arthur shook his head and tried to hide his face from you, but you took his wrists and guided his face firmly but lovingly to look at you. His eyes were red and tear streaked as he looked into yours, full of pain and emotions beyond what you could even comprehend. Arthur didn't respond. He only pushed his face into your shoulder and shook his head. You looked over at the journal page that was open, and felt your heart sink at what you saw on the page. It was simple, but very heartfelt. In three big, block words, the letters, scrawny and childlike, covering the whole page, spelled "I FEEL ALON". The last word was spelled wrong, but you knew all too well what your Arthur meant. "Baby, why didn't you tell me you felt this way?" you asked softly, brushing your hand against the extremely light black stubble of his delicate face. Arthur lifted his head up and looked at you with his sad ocean eyes, leaning into your touch, but looking down as he spoke further. "Because I don't know why I feel this way." "Alone." You completed his thoughts with tender and gentle words. He dared to flick his eyes up at you curiously, eyes searching yours for answers. "I know, baby. I know it's hard. We humans need a greater purpose than the ones we've both been given." Neither of you had many friends, and you both worked abusive jobs, something you had bonded over frequently when you had first started dating. You leaned forward and pressed your lips against his nose, and he hummed into your touch softly. Your heart leapt with joy that he enjoyed your touch. "I've been feeling alone lately too, you know," you confessed, and Arthur looked up at you, the mysterious poems of his eyes that you would never fully understand searching yours. "Really?" he asked softly, his voice so soft and childlike, so desperate to believe your words. You were often his guidance in life, you having taken the role of being the slightly more confident and wiser one in the relationship, him more than eager to cling onto and cherish every word and advice you gave him. You found joy in being able to provide him any gift you could grant him. As you gave, you received; such was the love you had for Arthur that it was impossible to give to him without getting more in return. Often, it was simply seeing Arthur happy that was your reward, and it was the best one you could ask for. "Really." You both being vulnerable was the best gift you could give each other, and you felt your heart thud with happiness that this night was turning out so much more differently than you expected. "You could try writing in my journal?" Arthur offered. "It does help me a bit, getting my thoughts out." You smiled. You heart soared; maybe he did love you as much as you did him, to let you share such a personal bit of his life with him that was so important to him, his wellbeing, and mental health. "I would love that, baby." You then bite your lip, remembering your insecurities that had been plaguing you for weeks. Despite how much Arthur kissed you and touched you, you couldn't help but sense there was an emotional distance between you two, and you needed to address it once and for all, even though it made your heart pound with fear. "But there's something I need to ask you, first." Arthur eyebrows curled up into concern, his green depths urging you to go further. You sighed heavily, and looked down at the ground, feeling small as you spoke your next words. "I noticed you have a lot of…porn in your journal," you said lamely. You then felt a twinge of guilt; Arthur was allowed to find other women attractive even when he was with you, right? Who were you to deny him pleasure? Yet you hadn't been able to shake the feeling that you weren't enough for him, that you couldn't live up to those women. Worse, you felt that if Arthur spent so much time fantasizing about them. did that mean that he would trade you for someone better, if given half the chance? Arthur's eyes glinted with understanding; he was very emotionally intelligent and perceptive, especially when it came to your emotions. His face let his entire guard down, and he brought your hands to his lips, brushing it softly. "I'm sorry you had to see all that, Y/N," he mumbled against the skin of your hand. "If it makes you feel any better, ever since you came into my life, they don't really get me going anymore." He shrugged, looking so vulnerable and boyish, as if a boy being caught by his mother, and you couldn't help but smile slightly. Yet somehow, you weren't quite convinced. You need to let it out all, to speak the ugliest of your fears. "Did you....settle for me, Arthur?" you choked out, and Arthur's eyes instantly flooded with panic. "No, no, baby," he cooed. "That's not it at all. I had these images before you, Y/N. That was when my life was empty. They mean nothing to me now." "I just want to know that I'm enough for you," you muttered softy. Your heart had been breaking over this more than you had let on, and now it was all breaking out like a dam outside of you. You felt a single tear roll down your cheek, which you wiped away as fast as you could, Arthur let out a small whine, absolutely loathing to see you doubt how wonderful you were for him. "Come here," he mumbled, and pulled you into his chest. You let yourself be pulled into his embrace, and felt your walls breaking down as he held your closer, rocking you back and forth in his arms. It was so rare for him to be comforting you like this, but you physically felt the kinks in your soul and relationship alike smooth out as you heaved out a burdensome sigh that you had a feeling you had been holding in for weeks. You started to bawl then, staining his sweater with your tears. "I'm going to be better for you from now on," Arthur mumbled reassuringly, rocking you back and forth. "So, so much better." You tried to choke out words to reassure him that he was already perfect, perfect for you; that you were just insecure and needed to have time to accept the complexity of his mind, but the words died on your tongue. The next couple of months were full of increasingly deeper intimacy between you two. You both decide to spilt the journal on two sides; thirty pages for Arthur, thirty pages for you. The hospital journal is fairly thin, so you two burn through it fast, both having plenty of observations and inner pain to bleed out onto the pages. You quickly ended up buying a new one at least every two weeks, just a cheap fifty cent one at the drug store. At first, neither of you read the others' side. You two had only started dating a few months ago, and neither of you wanted to cross each other's boundaries. But one night, when Arthur was having a particular bad time, he ended up looking through your pages. He found himself instantly cheered up at what he read. Your soul was so good for him and made him feel so alive. Since you two shared as similar sense of humor, he felt himself laughing out loud at a lot of what you wrote. He did feel guilty, though, going through it without your permission. To let you know in his own quirky way that he went through your writing, he put shaky smiley faces near every word or thought that made him smile or laugh. When you went to the journal later to write through the last few pages on your side, you saw the smiley faces in the shaky and eccentric matter that only Arthur could achieve. You felt yourself absolutely beaming at his smiley faces, feeling surprisingly comforted that he went through your writing and found solace in it. It meant he valued you, that you were enough for him. "Arthur, did you go through my writing last night?" you questioned lightly the next morning. Arthur blushed deeply. "Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't-" "Its ok," you said gently, and wrapped your arms around his waist reassuringly. "I'm not mad." You stroked a curl out of his face. "Did it make you feel better?" Arthur let out a small, shy smile, and then an even shyer, "Yeah." You smiled back, tears reaching your eyes. "Then that makes my writing worth more than anything I could have imagined, darling." Arthur smiled, his crooked teeth sticking out, the smilie reaching his eyes sweetly. He pulled you into an embrace. From then forward, you both started reading each other's thoughts and writing in it on the regular, sometimes leaving your own comment or drawing next to a statement as a form of connection or commentary. If Arthur wrote something about about a rude man shoving him on the bus, you'd leave a small frowny face and then a heart, a simple writing of "I love you" next to the venting. Similarly, he would often write simple lines or adorable jokes next to your own venting, often relating to your disappointments with life in some way. You would sometimes give him small snippets of advice in the column when he was confused or had lost his way. These journals made it so that there was no more miscommunication between the two of you. Those weeks that you had spent being insecure with your unspoken thoughts were no longer a problem; if either of you had a problem or a thought you felt you couldn't speak out loud, you would write it on your side of the journal, knowing the other would read it soon. As the two of you continued to fall deeper in love, the commentary on each other's writing only grew, until you were both writing your thoughts on the same page, symbolizing how deeper and more intimate you were becoming with each other, understanding and accepting each other's every thought, no matter how dark. This continued, until one night you came across one of Arthur's scrawled drawings. It was a tentacle looking monster, just a mesh of scribbles mostly, as most of Arthur's drawings were. Most interestingly, though, It was holding in one of its upmost tentacles a screaming stick woman, her face in a horrid grimace. She looked uncomfortable and terrorized, clearly being forced to be in the monster's arms. A simple written side comment wasn't going to ease your curiosity with this one. You took the journal and went into the bedroom, and sat down next to Arthur on the bed, who was engulfed into some old war movie. "What's wrong?" Arthur questioned, slightly distracted as his eyes watched the movie. He had a knack for getting sucked into stories easily; it helped him forget about his own life a bit. You cherished this trait about him, finding it precious how excited he got about a new movie or a storybook when you brought one home. "I just want to know what this is," you started, and, after a moment, Arthur, pulling his eyes from the screen like they were glued to it, looked down at the drawing. You could see through the flash in his eyes that he hadn't been expecting you to ask him about it in person. Arthur shrugged. "It's just…a character," he said awkwardly, the emotions in his eyes not matching the casualty in his words. He then dragged his eyes back to the television, clearly trying to drop the subject. You knew his mind better than that. You shook your head, and then tried again. "Arthur, is the monster supposed to be you choking me?" Arthur's face freezed up, and he didn't take his eyes off the television screen as he spoke his next words, choosing them carefully. "Yeah. The monster is me, and you're the pretty girl forced to be with it," he mumbled softly. You could tell he was trying to remain casual. He then crossed his arms, as if to shield himself from his emotions. "Don't worry about it, Y/N, it was just a stupid little vent drawing I did." You frowned, and took the remote and muted the television. "Hey!" Arthur yipped, and he lunged for the controller. You swiped it out of his reach, and Arthur groaned and put his face in your lap, out of ideas of how to avoid the subject. You stroked his brown oceans curls softly, thinking over what he had said. "Sweetheart, you do know your the best thing that's ever happened to me, right?" Arthur moved his head slowly from side to side in response. "Well, you are. You're the farthest thing from a monster, baby. And I need you to know that." Arthur kept his face in your lap for a moment, then slowly lifted his head and looked at you with his red rimmed eyes. You stroked his cheek, gently, and he hummed into it. He looked so breakable, so soft that it made you choke. He was an angel; there was no other way to describe him. You couldn't let him go around feeling this way. "I keep upsetting you, though, Y/N," Arthur said in his soft baby voice that he only used when he was truly upset. "I made you cry a little while ago over my porn. Who does that to their girlfriend?" "Arthur, that was before you knew me. And you apologized so sweetly. Don't worry about me, sweetheart. You do so much more for me than you realize." Arthur smiled a shy smile at you. "You mean that?" "Absolutely, one hundred percent." You returned the smile, and continued cradled his face in your hands softly. Arthur was practically purring at your touch. "I think we could both use a journaling session now," you hummed softly. Arthur chuckled and buried his face into your thighs. You laughed a bit yourself and continued to stroke his romantic waves, knowing that it was inevitable for you two to only become closer, even through the doubts you both held about yourselves. -Let's Play a Game
Summary: Arthur walks in on you masturbating. A game of wills ensues. Smut.
Originally posted by iamnotjoking
Arthur is one touch starved man, and that's evident from the moment you two meet. He can't get his hands off of you, ever; he takes every moment he can to push his hands on your and show you that he loves you. If there's even the slightest distance from you for too long, anxiety begins to prick at his skin and nerves, and when he finally has his arms tightly wrapped about you again, he possessively keeps you within his grasp, making sure that he has you locked and that he has you as his. Although you were a little better at hiding it; you were just as attached. When he was at work for too long in the afternoons, you would pull out your favorite photos of him and start to finger yourself passionately, touching yourself until you came, although it was nowhere as nearly as satisfactory as Arthur's warm and sweet touches. You're always done before he comes home, however, so he's never aware of this practice and habit you've taken to. Which is why one night when he comes home and hears your moaning in the bedroom with the door shut, he automatically assumes the worst; that you've lost interest and decided to cheat. He barges into the bedroom, furious, his face hot red, fire and tears in his eyes. He immediately calms down when he sees you in bed, clearly by yourself. You're fingering yourself through your lingerie as you stare at a photo that had been taken of him by you when you had gone out in the gardens one day together. You were so lost in your lusty haze that you had barely registered that the real Arthur was home. Arthur couldn't help it, a laugh ripped out of his throat, and he covered his mouth out of habit. He was laughing in anger at himself for barging in like that, but also at how for a moment he actually believed you would ever cheat him so blatantly; he knew deep down despite his insecurities that you deeply loved him. He also just found the whole situation hilarious, his laugh a mixture of his condition and genuine humor. "Hi, baby," you said seductively once he had calmed down. Sometimes you didn't feel the need to comfort him in an attack, for the simple reason that sometimes he just needed space. You could also see the amusement in his eyes as he had laughed; he had actually found this situation genuinely funny. You decided to get him to feel better using a different approach. "Sit down, honey," you directed, and Arthur did so, though his red layer of blush from laughing had turned into a deep blush of desire. How he longed to touch you, deeply so. But he also wanted to listen to your every command, never wanting to displease you. As his eyes trailed to yours, he saw that glint in your eyes. Oh, you were treating him alright, but it was in an entirely different way tonight. "Let's play a game tonight, honey. Whoever caves first and touches the other, loses." Your sweet words were like sugar, so warm and gooey and excited did they make Arthur feel. You guided your hand back down to your panties, and Arthur's hungry and naive eyes followed, memorizing your every move. He swallowed and he watched your fingers began to stick themselves back into your folds, one by one. He looked like a starved dog as he watched you, but somehow, by not getting to touch you, (a rare occurrence) was he feeling a strange but entertaining and richly satisfying psychological pleasure through his mind. By not getting to touch you, he was being put on the pinnacle tip of pleasure and anticipation, and, somehow, that made this all the much more fun. It sunk in fully that he was yours and you were his, and that was exactly why you two could afford these games with one another, knowing that despite the teasing, you both were completely safe and truly loved by the other. You began to finger yourself into an orgasm, continuing to look at the picture of him, your eyes full of love. You couldn't look at Arthur; you know you'd lose as soon as you did. You also wanted him to fully understand what he did to you even when he wasn't here. You wanted him to see the show of how you thought of him when he was late to coming home, to ebb away any doubt in his mind that you were anything less than crazy about him. Arthur couldn't help himself; he unzipped his own pants and grasped his cock, and began to stroke himself steadily. It was nothing compared to the feeling of your delicate hands on his, but he knew that with one word, one request, you would be back on him, delivering his every request, so weak were you for your Arthur to feel the love and pleasure that he so deserved. Knowing this, he decided to continue being on the edge of desire, the flaming "before" of touching you that was usually omitted before it could even begin; but tonight, it was being dragged out at full length, until it was breathing a lusty life of its own. He watched how your beautiful hips thrusted up and down, up and down, like ocean waves against a shore. How beautiful you were under the dim lantern light, as if you were a work of a moving work of art. He was full of both desire and lust as he gazed at you with everything he had. You couldn't stand it anymore; you saw at the corner of your eyes that he took his cock out. You turned your head over from the photo and over to him; the lust filled looked that was in your eyes was enough to get him on the brink of an orgasm. That fact that you were staring at him with such thick passion ablazed his love for you even more, made him feel proud that you were his; is that how other men felt when they looked at you? When they looked into those romantic eyes that he loved so well, eyes that were for him and him alone? Did they feel this much passion and longing? The stimulation of how other men must feel looking at you only turned him on all the more as he continued to stroke himself, knowing that unlike those men, you were his and his alone, utterly and completely owned by him and placed in his grasp, that at one request you would be melted butter at his knees. The game was becoming more intense, a painful but irresistibility rewarding game, somehow getting more pleasure by teasing one another to see how long you could go before one of you caved, knowing that when you finally did touch the other, it would send you both in a frenzy of passion that was all the stronger, simply because you had had to wait. His cum began to leak out of his manhood, though it wasn't from his own stroking as much as it was staring at you. His eternally hungry eyes traced your face, your nose, your lips, your forehead, knowing that his lips had brushed against them countless times, and would brush against them countless more. He moaned. As you fingered yourself into the brink of an orgasm, his moan sending you over the edge, you couldn't take it anymore. The way he was looking at you was a combination of lust, so weak for you, yet so strong and manly, so gritty. He was a combination of ominously haunting and divinely handsome. He was somehow so unique, so outlandish, yet so relatable and human at the same time. Such was the enigma that was your Arthur, and you knew that you would never truly understand him, but that only drew you to him all the more. The way the dim lighting framed and kissed only one side of his face, so tender it was even in his maddening lust, leaving the other in the dark, only seemed to prove your point. "Come here, Arthur baby," you whined. You couldn't possibly resist him anymore. "I can't take it anymore." Arthur smirked in the dim light; he had won the game of resistance you had been playing. Though he seemed on the surface to be helpless and needy beyond what one could even imagine, which in some ways he ways, there was a layer of self control and dominance was hidden somewhere in his complex essence, stronger than anyone gave him credit for, both literally and physically. Arthur pounced himself on top of you, and furiously devoured your begging lips, both of you equally starved now. "Mine," he growled between starved kissed. "Mine, mine, mine." It was true what they said about absence making the heart grow fonder. -Cold Body, Cold Heart
Summary: Arthur is having a particularly bad night of insomnia, and with the combination of you being late for work, he can't take it anymore. He succumbs to a habit he promised you he would quit. When you come home, you are in ruins over the state you find Arthur in, and you desperately try to find ways to heal the broken man you love. Fluff and Angst.
A/N: This is piece is kind of all over the place, I was feeling a lot when I started writing this, so I hope it makes sense. I just love exploring the emotional depth with him, there is so much to explore and I find it so thrilling. I had to edit this thing twice because Tumblr kept fucking everything up, dear god. It's a good thing Arthur is worth it. My wrist hurts. You know you love a fictional character when you're willing cramp your neck and wrist for him.
Contains: Mental illness, hypothermia, heavy thoughts, Arthur gets himself into a dangerous situation
Words: 5,827 (one day I'll learn how to shut up)
Originally posted by a-monami
Arthur wasn't feeling well, and, despite his best efforts to fight against it, he was thinking of doing something he had promised you he would never do again. He was pacing back and forth, mumbling under his breath. The slew of negative thoughts that was etching itself into his brain was overwhelming him, the negativity so unapologetically persistent, so unwelcomingly familiar to him that it had gotten to the point where he was convinced that this was all he was-just a pool of never ending, unrelenting hurt and pain and black despondency, pulling everything down with hi- He hit himself, trying to end his train of thought, but as soon as the slight physical pain resided, the slew of negative thoughts started all over again, like a stream breaking through a dam. In the past, you had cradled him in your hands and cooed to him gently about his habit of locking himself into the fridge. There had been tears in your eyes, you had been choking on your words as you spoke to him. His lack of sleep was driving him over the edge in a deeper way than you ever believed possible. Seeing him hurt himself caused you your own pain deeper than you could express or could even imagine, feeling as if there was a stone cold weight in your stomach as you gazed at the man that caused you a twisted and poetic melancholic sort of love wrapped in pain. You had brought him into your chest, stroking his back softly. Arthur had merely buried his face into your chest, leaned up against you like he was a child and you were a concerned mother-in some ways, often your relationship was such-the carer and the nurturer, Arthur's wounds going so deep that he required a deeper and more complicated love from you than just being a loving girlfriend. Only a soul as damaged and tormented as Arthur, and only someone as desperate to heal him as you, could understand the complex and ever shifting dynamics of the relationship, sometimes needing more from the other than most partners were willing or able to give-but you were more than willing to do what you could, so deep did you love and empathy pour for him. That night, he had just been about to open the fridge, having successfully escaped your arms without waking you and planning on festering in the fridge until god knows what happened. He couldn't have cared what happened to him in the moment, so much pain was he in. It was these dark mindsets that he deemed so selfish that made him believe he didn't deserve you; he knew how much shearing pain you would be in if anything happened to him, and yet, the darkness drew him to a selfishness were he no longer cared what happened to him, or even what happened to those he left behind. He had snapped out of it the second that you own eyes flickered awake, and you had to the kitchen, instantly knowing something was wrong. Arthur never left your arms at night unless something was deeply, profoundly wrong; his favorite time of the twenty four hours of his life was being locked into the comfort of your arms, melded as one for eight some hours until the cruel hours of the day forced you two to be apart again for another ten. He had just been about to climb in when you pulled him back and closed the fridge for him, sealing it shut. You pulled Arthur into your arms, who didn't seem all there, all coherent, simply mumbling tortured nothings into the silky fabric of your pajamas. You had pulled him back over to the bed, the task not being a hard one, pulling the entirely of his weight across to the bed, so thin and light was the man. You had lied him down, then scooted yourself next to him on the pillows, and held him softly as you stroked the sickly curls out of his face. He had broken into a sweat, his eyes closed, face shuddering and heaving. You had brought him to your chest, and stroked his head softly until it seemed he was asleep. You spoke only a few pained words into the darkness, feeling your chest swell with worry as you spoke them. "The next time you feel like doing this to yourself, wake me and let me know. Ok?" You hadn't expected a reply; you assumed he was asleep. The words you spoke were more for your own comfort than his. But then, ever so softly, you heard a raspy and pained, detached but wonderfully welcomed voice reply in a sleepy manner; "Ok." At that simple word you felt your heart leap in your throat with emotion, and you pressed your lips to his head, a tear trailing down your cheek. That had been about five months ago, and it hadn't happened since. But now you weren't here, late from work, and he was feeling bad again; truly deeply bad and reckless in a way he hadn't felt in the longest time he could remember. You didn't heal his wounds, but you certainly made things more bearable than they would be without you, and right now, you weren't here. He chuckled darkly as he leaned his veiny hands against the counter, his skinny body contorting in a way that almost looked outlandish and inhuman. His shoulder blades stuck out of his skinny and pale body like they could burst out of him with one wrong or sudden movement. So fragile was this man, in ever way humanely possible. He knew he needed you, and even in his detached state did he manage to pull the phone and try to call your work place number, but you hadn't picked up. An all consuming darkness and disappointment had overcome him them, and he had let the phone drop to the floor, shaking his head darkly, and couple of laughs emitting from his forced smile, feeling the need to put on a happy face even when no one was there, so deep was the forced performative facade embedded in his system pushed onto him from the world. He was so used to being told who he should be, that sometimes, he didn't even know who he was. His mind was playing tricks on him; dark, tenebrous tricks. Maybe you weren't even real. Even as he rushed to grab one of your sweaters that was left on the bed, reeking of your beloved scent, even as he pushed the fabric into his nose and closed his eyes, breathing in deep the proof that you were real and would be home eventually, even as every second ticked by in a mocking click on the clock, did he convince himself that maybe you were never really here. Maybe he had had an episode and had gone down to the woman's shop, bought some skirts and dresses and pants and cardigans, bought some perfume and had brought them home like the fool he was and had huddled against them in these states as some sort of mocking way to himself to prove to him that his hallucinations were real through the months. Maybe the bills that were on the counter with your name on them was some cheat in the system, some blimp that had manifested when the person who had them had been typing them out, maybe they knew about his illnesses and did it as a cruel joke… Such was his thoughts, and they only grew the stronger, more black and more merciless until Arthur pulled his wiry hands over his hands, kneeling on the floor, sweater still in one clenched and tormented hand. He suppressed a scream, and instead settled for biting down on his lip until it bled. He licked it off, tasting it and pretending it was yours, so desperate was her for a sign of you. He managed to get himself to glance over at the clock. 12:15 AM. You were never coming back, he was sure of it. If you had ever been here at all. With another dark chuckle, genuine and real, such was his dark humor, finding humor only in the deepest of pain, did he manage to get himself up. He would never be able to sleep without your touches, without your loving arms wrapped around him, and he knew as much, troublingly so. Whether the past few months had just been a particularly strong episode, or whether he had truly had you in his life was besides the question now; the point was first and foremost was that he was alone, completely and utterly alone, and not even sleep could overcome or help him now. With the most heavy of steps he dragged his body over to the fridge, the sad small and rectangular thing, the insignificance of it seeming to mock him, reminding him of how small he was. He opened it and began to throw out the small but substantial condiments and the like that lay in there-sandwhich bags, soup ingredients, juice, and-his heart lurched as he did so-your favorite casserole that you had made together, one of his favorite nights cooking with you, half eaten and surrounded in a beautiful glass. He threw it behind him recklessly, only wincing slightly as the glass shattered. It didn't matter now; you had never really been here anyway. He pulled his body into the fridge and closed it with one last dark chuckle. As soon as he entered it, he relished how it numbed his mind and body alike, putting him in so much pain that he couldn't think anymore. He wrapped his arms around his body and began to shiver uncontrollably, his crooked teeth chattering, his beautiful striking pools of pain staring ahead of him at the white walls, somehow more lifeless and unforgiving than even the hospital walls he found himself locked in so often. God, he hated the hospital. He studied the cluster of ice that was formed in the corner of the fridge; it stared back at him lifelessly, indifferent to his suffering. Just as everyone else. His body began to bounce uncontrollably, up and down, up and down, and he seemed to lose control of his muscles as his body went into full panic mood. He was now so cold that he could no longer think clearly, but he still knew enough that he knew he was better off not leaving the fridge. Only one sentence echoed in his muddled and tormented thoughts and blackness overtook his vision: You would be so disappointed. So, so disappointed. He the blacked out, and knew nothing more. You yourself were dragging on your dead tired feet, feeling as if the weight of the world was on your shoulders. This was the first night you hadn't come home around six, and although you felt terrible for coming home so late, you hadn't had a choice. The phone lines had been busy, your boss had been demanding things from you that were out of your control, and you had been behind on paper work. You were muttering under your breath darkly; your own mental health was crossing a fine line tonight; and all you wanted to do was go home to your Arthur and cuddle into his arms. You were worried about how he had handled you come so late; but you were confident that he knew you loved him, that he was finally stable enough in his own head in regards to your love that he wouldn't topple over the way he used to be prone to.. As you opened the door, and were greeted with the shattered plates and scattered food all over the floor, you instantly knew with an intense black surge of regret that you were deeply, deeply wrong. You took a breath of pain and shock and whispered into the dark apartment, "Arthur?" You already knew where he was, but there was some naive hope in the corner of your head that was telling you maybe you were wrong, maybe this time would be different. When no answer came,you decided to stop bullshitting yourself, and you rushed over to the fridge. You felt so sickly worried that you felt numb, almost as if you didn't care anymore what happened to either of you; you were just so tired, so deeply troubled over your love deeper than love for this tortured soul, that sometimes you almost wished that both of you could just die together, to find eternal rest in a world outside of this one that did nothing but bruise and batter you both. But no, you needed to push away such thoughts. Arthtur needed you now more than ever, and the sickly worry that swept through your core made you want to kneel over and curl with despair as your shaking fingers opened the fridge. You felt your heart drop to you chest at what you saw. Arthur was completely unconscious, his mouth hanging open, wet curls slicking to his forehead. His skeletal torso was leaned against the fridge, the back fourth wall holding up his sickly body, stark and uncaring. With a surge of sickness did you realize he looked dead; lifeless. No, no he wasn't, and you wouldn't allow yourself to believe so. You heaved your body in, trying to ignore the surge of cold that greeted you, and pulled him out; he was so light, it felt as if you were picking up as sickly child. His skinny form fell into your arms, his head lolled back helplessly, mouth open, all the muscles in his face relaxed. You tried your best to fight off the rising panic you felt swell up in your chest. As quickly as you could you ran from the kitchen to the bedroom with him in your arms, and laid down his form, cold as ice. Your feet were bleeding from the glass you had stepped on in the kitchen, but at the moment you couldn't get yourself to give a damn. You checked his pulse; it was faint, but still beating. You felt a sickly relief flood over you. You grabbed a cloth, wet it, and threw it into the thirty seconds it took to heat it up seemed like it took ages. Finally it beeped, and you snatched it out and ran back over to Arthur, as lifeless as anything as he lied upon the bed. You couldn't tell if his chest was heaving up or down or not, if he was breathing; he looked like a pale and lifeless statue. With a shaking hand you put the warm cloth over him. You couldn't get yourself to calm down, try as you might. "Arthur, we talked about this. Where are you?" you whispered into the dark. You were trying to convince yourself that maybe somehow your voice would bring him out of his trace, that somehow it would reach out and pull him from the black that his mind and soul alike was lost in. It worked well enough when he was sleeping beside you; you would whisper sweet nothings into his ear as he slept beside you. The upper part of his lip would twitch into a small smile, and you would know that you somehow reach him, even in dreams. Tears began to melt from your eyes, and they trickled down and onto your love's face. You continued to wipe his weathered face, tracing every line with your finger as the swept the ice cold and unforgiving layer of cold on his skin, reminiscent of his thoughts, and replaced it with the loving warmth of the cloth reminiscent of your love. Arthur's face began to wrinkle itself up, and his nose began to twitch. He mumbled out something incoherent, and you felt your heart leap in your throat; although you had failed him tonight, at least you had brought him back. Slowly did his memorizing pools begin to awake themselves from his heavily hooded gaze, like a shred of magic peeking out of a rock. His eyes met yours instantly, and he melted at how much relief flooded through him then, so relieved that for the first time in hours you here, that you were real and tangible. "Are you really here?" he just barely managed to speak through the layer of ice still on his lips, trying his best to talk through the black haze he found himself in. His voice was accompanied by a haunting heaving and raspiness, sounding for a moment like a ghost trying to speak. You heart squeezed painfully. "Yes, baby, I'm real. And I'm here." He beamed his crooked grin, the simple action seeming to pain him, but the smile reaching his eyes. How tragically handsome he was, even with his hair slicked on his face with the cold. Arthur took you chin in his wrinkled and stubby fingers. He tried to rasp something else through his cold and ice concealed lips, but they felt permanently shut from the freezing cold. There was bits of ice on them, and you pulled them off him with a tender finger, the ice making a small pinch as they left his skin. He couldn't-or wouldn't-speak anymore, so instead you settled for gazing into his eyes, continuing to stroke the warm cloth around his face gently. There was so much unspoken pain in his eyes that was transmitting itself into you, and you felt the stark connection imparting itself from his mind and into yours, sending a wave through your body of empathetic shock and sadness. You could tell he wasn't going to get up on his own, and you needed to get his blood moving again. You didn't know much about recovery from hypothermia, but it only made sense to try and get his blood pumping again, his body moving. "Honey," you started softly. There was so much you would need to work through tonight, but you needed to start somewhere. "I'm going to lift you up, ok? I'm going to pick you up and we're going to walk around a bit." Arthur made no move forward, and settled for simply communicating to you with his eyes. They were full of so much loved, so relived was he that you were taking care of him, but also agony. You sighed and you pressed our lips to his temple, a little clammy from the awkward mixture of the freezing cold of the fridge and the warmth of your cloth, but alive and breathing and beating, which was all that mattered to you right now. You intertwined your hands in his fingers and heaved him up. He allowed himself to be lifted, still limp, but your gentle challenge of lifting him up, forcing him to start feeling again, to come into himself again, was enough to get the blood pumping slightly into his skin and bones again, as heavy and as weary as they were. Arthur fell forward into your chest, and you allowed him to put his full weight on you; you brushed your hands against his arms briskly, forcing his blood to warm back up into his system. Arthur let out little adorable mumbles and groans that, despite the seriousness of the situation, made you smile and made you feel that deep warmth and gooey happiness that only the adorableness of Arthur could make you feel, reminding you why you had fallen for him so deeply in the first place, why you had picked up out of all the dirty and lost souls in the corrupted city. Deeper than joy is what he made you feel, without even trying. You lifted him up, and he slightly kept himself upward with his own legs, although they were still shaky and trembling like sea legs. You guided him into the living room and turned on a light, lending some actual, physical warmth into the apartment that Arthur could tangibly process. You brought him into your arms and started swaying him back and forth as way of movement and comfort. He had his chin rested on your shoulder, and he seemed to be leaving small peppered kisses on your shoulder, still covered in the stark work clothes, such a contrast to the loving walls of the apartment. He was so ashamed of how he had failed you tonight, so deeply hurt at himself for how he had given up on himself, when he knew it would hurt you. Like always he had let his illness get the best of him, letting the first wave of insecurity and weakness take over him. He knew he should know better. The small and gentle kisses that was gracing your shoulder right now were so apologetic but shy, feeling like he didn't deserve to touch you, love you, feel you. But you had already forgiven him; in a way there was nothing to forgive, because you had never been mad at him to begin with. You only felt a deep, heart wrenching sadness that he valued himself so little that all it took was one night out of the normal to get him to be so willing to hurt himself. A little anger, too, perhaps, that he would put himself in such danger, and a little more anger still that he would leave you behind. But you knew he only did it because he doubted that he was enough for you; what he needed more than every was your patience, understanding, and, above all, your love. "Baby," you began. "If you're wondering if I'm mad at you, I'm not." It was a bit of a lie, but you had to push down your own negative feelings to lift him out of his dark state. "I did a bad thing," Arthur mumbled into your shoulder. He then buried his face in your neck, as if he was trying to hide from you by hiding into you; you were both the cure and the problem for Arthur's strong emotions many of the time. He simultaneously got comfort from the same source that caused him caused him to feel shame. You were both the solution and the problem to his never ending, confused ways. "I'll never be enough for you, will I?" Arthur mumbled into your hair, the back of your neck tingling at his hot breath. The love in his eyes, still strong despite the hazy ice in them, melted into an empty realization. "I just can't be…strong enough." You two had taken to a small little dance, swaying back and forth ever so gently. It was comforting to the both of you, the movement something to distract you for a bit from the pain and complicated emotion you both were feeling. You leaned him back and stroked the hair out of his eyes, forcing him to look at you. Through his eyes you could see the light in them; despite the darkness of his illnesses that plagued him, Arthur was the happiest of tormented souls; an inside out quirky poem of being so carefree and gentle and playful, surrounded in a firm grasp of unforgiving hard darkness. You took one of his hands and carried it up to your lips, and engulfed each knobby knuckle gently with your warm lips. Arthur's eyelids shuddered, the tender feeling of your lips on his wretched skin always something he that made him remember why he fought at all. "You will always be enough for me, but I need you to be enough for you," you whispered between the kiss on the fourth knuckle. "Please search inside of yourself," you whisperer between the next few ones, voice as gentle as water as you spoke."The answers are inside you baby. You just have to find them." He often felt like his emotions were so unhinged and misplaced, like a thrashing child; where others laughed, he cried. Where others cried, he laughed. He smiled at your words like you had just made a joke, though you could see the pain in his eyes as he did so. Arthur broke down then, and tears and cackles alike began to torment his being. He threw himself back into the crook of your neck, ashamed. You cooed sympathetically, letting him know you understood what he meant by his reaction; he just had his own way of expressing his feelings. You took him into your arms, comforting him the best you could. This man would be the death of you. If not your physical body, your sanity. The night had ended with you offering him all the love and energy you could give that night, offering him kisses, tea, and warm conversation until he fell asleep in that dance in your arms around 4 PM. You had carried his sleepy body to the bed, and had kissed him goodnight, watching him sleep soundly, not being able to find your own peace. Sometimes, in your own torment and insecurities, you wondered if you were truly good for him. If you ever did enough. If he had asked you to leave your life, you would have. You valued his happiness before your own pain, torment, or discomfort. But with a man with a low self esteem as Arthur, who was so tormented and so grief stricken, it was hard to tell what he truly wanted. You knew deep down that despite the shortcomings in your relationship sometimes, that he did love you. He didn't just love you beyond what he could breath or think, he quite literally needed you. The abuse he had suffered throughout his life since childhood made him crave your loving touches, healing him in not just a romantically touch starved way, but as a human being healing a human being. You weren't just his partner; you were his protector, his guider through pain. Ironically, because he loved you so deeply, he often wanted you to find better. He couldn't see himself in the light that you saw him; gentle, hauntingly and wonderfully different, beautiful, real, sensitive, loving, rare. He only saw himself as a monster that needed constant nurturing and caring for, one with needs that no one person could ever give. If only he had known that you only loved him all the deeper for this, in an aberrant sort of way. You were addicted to helping Arthur in any way you could possibly give, no matter how much pain it caused you. In a way, your pain was a twisted blessing, something that made your life go drastically up and down, but caused you a heartfelt meaning that you never find in anyone else, no one elses' soul going down deeper depths than your Arthur's. He would never wholly come back from his torment; that much you knew. He would never be the whole man he had been born to be naturally, before cruel hands and uncaring hearts had grabbed his innocent flesh and squeezed half of the life out of him that he was born with. Your heart felt as if it would give out. What could you say? And an even darker thought followed; If he had never known you, what would have happened to him? It wasn't that you convinced yourself Arthur couldn't live without you. But you knew that he needed a caretaker to make up for all his own neglect in his life; a caretaker for a caretaker. He was always torn between how much he loved you and craved you, yet how much he felt like you deserved more than him. Despite him knowing at how you deserved more, his soul ached and kicked for you, a wrestling between his low self esteem and his literal need to have against his skin upon your skin and loving the pieces that he was, not putting him back together but at least offering a sort of hope, the abuse from both body and soul calling out for so much more from a partner than most were willing to give, but you just happened to be the perfect and most willing march. If only Arthur could understand that. Though you would admit your relationship had started out a big juvenile, in the sense that Arthur has been so starved and blind sick for your touches, to feel the romantic graze of your hands across his, so much more vivid and beautiful it was than the stagnant porn images that had grazed his empty journal pages which had always glared at him challengingly, daring him to express his tormented thoughts in the open to the judgemental world-mainly, his therapist, who didn't give a damn. His fantasies he would have rather filled a majorly of them, he had decided back then before you, though they seemed so lifeless now compared to the very real and irreplaceable warmth of your real, tender skin, that craved and loved him not just physically but mentally as well. You loved his soul, and that was what truly made you so addicting, such a breath of fresh air. Now the love had mattered into a sort of solidified, pained but twistingly rewarding love in a sort of melancholic, unexpected way. You two still loved to be inside each other, to love each other physically as well as psychologically, and lord knows Arthur had a high sex drive. But you interactions were purer now, less frantic, somehow, more serious; they said; I see you, I know you, and I love you for everything you are, good and bad. Of course, there was no such thing as bad in your eyes when it came to your love, for even Arthur's bad was better than most good in your own life. Such was your deep love for him. He felt much the same. It scared him how much he loved you and in turn it scared you. Life was often about fear, wasn't it? Fear cradled in a delicate love. You told Arthur as much one night with his face buried in yours, cradling his hair in your hands, slipping through your fingers like brown ocean waves, As much as he loved you, he couldn't always help you, similar to how you couldn't always help him. His worst nights were when he started bashing his head against the wall when you came home crying from work. He tried to get him to stop, but had been so angry, so furious that people were treating you badly the way that people in Gotham were prone to doing. He could tolerate it for himself, but not for you. There would be days when he couldn't look you in the eyes, when his touches were distracted and distant. You knew it wasn't because of any lack of love for you, but simply how drained he felt fighting his own mind. He never once said a cruel word to you, never made you feel anything less than loved. Forgotten sometimes, maybe, but you knew it wasn't something he would ever chose. Arthur would never overcome his demons, and he knew as much. After a certain point in the relationship, the both of you stopped pretending The love got harder, but it never faded. On the contrary, you only felt your love for him burn deeper as you came to now him, every minute detail of his complex and tortured yet joyful and innocent mind, so complex was your Arthur. You made jokes to Arthur that his hair was so magnificent and so big because of all the secrets he kept hidden in them. He would always blush and giggle, shaking his had at how silly you were. Dancing with him sleepily when he had insomnia became almost a nightly routine after that. It lulled him out of his insomnia, and it comforted you to know beyond what you could express that he was safe, both physically, emotionally, and mentally. His boyish, fragile, and skinny frame leaned against you as you continued rocking him made you feel a protective warmth over the man that you loved so deeply, somehow falling deeper in love. If he had nightmare or a late night a meltdown, you would do much of the same. It was so rare for his mind to allow him to sleep, as if even the simplest pleasures of life were unattainable to him. You knew you couldn't wholly save him. People were not meant to be fixed by another, no matter how deeply the love was brought. You needed to guide him to be his better self. It would be his choice how he saved himself, if he did. You did everything you could to make him smile, even as his worser days increased. You would also read him stories, pulling him up onto your lap in Penny's big reading chair and letting him rest on your shoulder or even have his head entirely on your chest as your soothing voice and playful stories lulled him to sleep. You would grab a blanket and pull it over the both of you, using your gentlest voice to read the words out loud. They were often childrens' books, as Arthur loved the goofy characters and simple stories line so much-long or dark or overly complex stories overwhelmed and agitated him, reminding him too much of the required reading he had been forced to do in high school before he dropped out. Once he was asleep, you would wrap your arms around him and pull him closer, stroking him and murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, hoping somehow he could hear you even in his sweet dreams, knowing that your love could follow him anywhere, even in dreams. That would be the only times he would sleep with a smile on his face. If neither dancing or reading stories worked-luckily, a rare occurrence-you would simply take to going on a walk, letting him breath in the fresh air. You two would play, run, jump into the night of Gotham, feeling a strange but sweet freedom at night that neither of you felt never felt during the day. When Arthur was finally breathless and worn out, nose and cheeks swollen red from running so much, you would rush back into the apartment, breathless and worn out like children after recess, feeling free with blood pumping and just so full of love and healing and sheer happiness at how much fun you had with the other. You would lie Arthur down, and press kisses all over his face until he blushed and giggled manically, cheeks crimson and happy and still the same damaged man, but stronger and surrounded in love and so sure of his worth and how he knew he was loved was beyond a shadow of a doubt. "That's my baby," you would say between rushed and passionate kisses, smelling of fresh air and trees and cold and love. "That's my Arthur that you deserve to be."Pieces of a Puzzle
Request: could you maybe do HCs about a reader who's a lot younger? Like 20, say, and they get to know each other and be friends and eventually she confesses to him, but he turns her down because he feels weird about the age difference, but eventually things work out between them
A/N: I went with early to mid 20′s rather than strictly 20, just because that makes me more comfortable and its more flexible to relate to. I also canon that Arthur is like 30-35 (even though the man looks 40 lmao). It doesn't make any real difference in the reading, though.
Requested tags: weneedwhiskey
Originally posted by 2019joker
He just couldn't resist you. He noticed everything about you; the way your graceful fingers pressed against the elevator buttons while you spoke to him, how gentle and considerate your words were when you talked with him about the dull events of the day-yet somehow everything seemed so much more fascinating when he talked about it with you, as if your very presence made everything a little more bearable. He got lost in a trance when he talked to you, admiring how your skin seemed to be glowing with a happiness and freedom that he could never experience; but more than that, he just adored how nice you were, your insides seeming to flow out from your outsides, just as equally beautiful in both directions. He'd read something once that said immature men fell for younger people, and he winced inwardly in disgust at himself. Was he just a cliche middle aged man who was chasing after younger women to make him look good? He just looked so ugly next to you, with his heavy wrinkles and weathered face. You two just wouldn't look…right together, he realized with some shame as he thought it all over. Arthur was a smart man when it came to how life worked; although he was terrible at school, he had a natural intelligence for people and emotional situations, so intuitive was his spirit. He remembered way it felt like to be in his early 20's; Arthur had had a harder time than most growing up, not having the typical experience. He had worked his ass off on minimum wage since he was 14, after being told by his mom that he would have to be "the man of the house" for now on. He didn't have a social life, hobbies, or any few free time to ever figure out who he was. Maybe that was one of the reasons why he was so attracted to you; you were so carefree and innocent and happy, so comfortable within your own skin, your face free from exhaustion and heavy bags like his had been since he was your age and even younger. You reminded him of everything he wished he was; free, happy, soul glamorous with a nonchalant energy towards life. He had vastly different life experiences from you, as if the age gap didn't separate enough differences between you enough as it was. Unbeknownst to Arthur; however; you were drawn to how worn and masculine Arthur was; finding him so much more experienced than you in a way that was very alluring. You found him so mysterious and adorable, a perfect combination of knowledgeable in area of life you weren't, yet seeming to need something from you that only you could give him. He seemed to lack…love. It was blunt and simple, but you could tell by the way his blue pools practically begged you to talk with him for as long as possible, how he fingered nervously with his medication bag, as if having to physically restrain himself from wanting to touch you, that he craved so much more from you than you were giving. The man needed something more important than just a partner his age, than someone responsible; more than anything, he needed someone fun and full of love, someone who could give back some of which he had been cheated from throughout his life. His soul was scarping the harsh world for the basic essentials of the soul, and of being human; love and human connection. It made your heart ache to fully realize this over time. You lived down the hall, and you could tell he never had friends over. His apartment was always quiet, and he only ever seemed to go inside by himself. You two seemed to fit like puzzle pieces; where he lacked emotional freedom and intimacy, you thrived; where you lacked life experience and a endurance for a consistent brutal work ethic, he had more than enough experience. You felt like you could learn from from each in ways that would build the other up, already feeling the love emit from you two even just from your casual conversations, chattering about gentle nothings to each other until 'reason' split you two apart and forced you two to go to your separate spaces. This went on for several months, and your conversations were becoming a little more rich every time, dragging themselves out for as long as humanely possible, until the both of you were stepping backwards to your doors as you continued the conversation for as long as possible. Despite all this, it was obvious that there was no clear way for either of you to take the next step forward, having, again, no 'reason' or excuse to. It just didn't make any sense to do so. He told you as much when you directly asked him out one day. You weren't a shy person; you weren't afraid to go after what you wanted. This, ironically, was one of the things that drew Arthur to you the most, feeling like he could learn so much from your personality differences. But he had turned you down, rather sternly as well, though that had mostly just been a result of his awkwardness, his anxiety making it come out harsher than he intended. "Y/N, that would look so weird. I just can't be with you like that. What if people thought…something else?" Your good mood that you had had when you had dared to ask him out instantly dropped, and your face fell. You hadn't been expecting such a blatant rejection from such a sweet man. "Oh," you whispered, trying to hide your embarrassment and disappointment. "Alright." You two had stood in silence for the rest of the night until you got to your rooms, not speaking a word. You two still talked after that, but your conversations were more stained now, more forced, the words not moving as naturally as they used to. The sting of rejection had tainted your relationship. A few weeks later of this going on, Arthur stepped into the elevator, pushing his foot in front of the elevator to wait for you. He looked forward to your conversations all day, as flawed as they now were. When he waited five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes, he accepted that for the first in months, he wasn't going to get his daily talk with you. With an inward defeated sigh, Arthur allowed the elevator door to close. When he made it to his floor, he walked out and down the hall. He was surprised-but relieved-to see you in front of your door; you must have come home before him today. His eyebrows furrowed in concern when he saw your shoulders hunched over, your face buried in your hands. Arthur dared to make his way over to you, then stopped when he was only a few inches behind you. "Hey," he said in his soft voice, and you sprung around in surprise. Your face was covered in running mascara and makeup, your lip trembling. It broke Arthur's heart to see you in this state; he longed to comfort you. Despite how he tried to convince himself that he wasn't meant for you, his feelings kept telling him otherwise. "Y-uh, you weren't on the elevator today," he stammered awkwardly. He wanted to be of comfort to you so desperately, but he wasn't used to having such a strong onslaught of emotions greet him; having no friends, he never had anyone open up to him. And he still felt so bad for what he had said to you, feeling like he had lost the right to be your friend the way you used to be. You laughed at the randomness of the comment, then wiped your face with your sleeve, sniffling. Arthur smiled inwardly that you had laughed at his comment; he believed that laughter was the best medicine. "Yeah, I've been home since three. I got fired from my job today," you hiccuped between sobs. Arthur watched you with a concerned expression; you longed for him to reach out and wrap his arms around you, so comforting did they look, complete with the cozy warm sweaters he wore, but you didn't know how to go about asking. "Been here crying since about then…What time is it?" "It's seven," Arthur muttered in his soft voice. His tender feelings for you and his longing to be protect you in any he he could was now overcoming his social awkwardness, and even his conviction that it was wrong for him to love you. You had been here for so long, so upset; you must be starved. "Do you want to come into my place for a bit?" Arthur offered. He blushed deeply as he spoke the words, not believing that he was being so bold, but fuck it, he couldn't stand it anymore; he needed to be everything you needed, even if just for one night. You nodded, and you ignored how your heart leapt with excitement at this prospect of taking the next step with this man you had been crushing on for so long; you knew he didn't want you like that. "Yeah, I'd really like that," you whispered with a small smile gracing your of shaky, crimson lips, red from how hard you'd been crying. Arthur beamed, and he offered out his hand to guide your over-not that you needed guiding, but it was an excuse for you both. As your hand was intertwined into his, you were surprised at how much larger it was than yours; it seemed to engulf your hand in the most comforting way. It was worn and aged with time and experience, but that only made it all the more comforting. His warm skin against your cold and shaking hand hinted at how different you were, but how much you could give the other. His very hands wrapped around yours seemed to give a promise that he was here for you, loved you, wanted the best for you, that he could give you answers to things you didn't even know you had questions for. He took you into his apartment, and you felt a warm glow inside of you at how cozy it was; there was a warm light surrounding the apartment, there were pretty paintings adoring the walls, and pink, soft wallpaper with patterns gracing the room. It seemed as if the apartment matched the man you were in love with; a little old, worn, and forgotten, but soft, warm, and full of solace and a wisdom that could only be obtained through experience. "In here," Arthur mumbled softly. "Try not to be too loud, my mom is asleep." "You live with your mom?" you blurted out. You then instantly hated yourself; the question sounded inherently judgemental, but you were genuinely surprised; Arthur seemed so isolated, seemed like the kind of man who only had to worry about himself. He obviously took care of himself with the amount he worked, relying on no one else to pay the bills and for food, but you never could have guessed that he took care of someone else too, let alone that person being his mom. Wasn't Arthur too young to have to be concerned over his mothers health? "Yeah," Arthur said, and let go of your hand, looking over at you. "I know it's embarrassing." "No, no, Arthur, that's not what I meant," you reassured him quickly. You were both whispering in the warm but dimly lit apartment, which only added to the intimacy, the tension that was growing between you two. "I actually think that's really admirable, Arthur, to take care of your mom like that." Arthur's formerly worried look, a look that seemed to be his default face, gradually eased up into a smirk of happiness. "Really?" You nodded eagerly, so happy you were making these connections together. You had missed these easy, simple conversations, the connections coming as easy as breathing. "I take care of some of my family too. It's one of the reasons why I'm so upset about losing my job." Arthur nodded solemnly. "I understand what that's like. I always worry about what would happen if I lost my job, too. My mom and I really need it." "I bet you do," you whispered, knowing all too well what that felt like; the pressure of the entirety of your family's wellbeing being balanced on one element that could slip through your fingers at any moment. Arthur paused for a moment, the wheels in his head turning. He has been talking to your facing the living room with you by his side in the small kitchen, not quite making eye contact. Now he dared to, and slowly did he turn himself around and face you fully. His breath hitched at how beautiful your youthful but intelligent face looked against the glow of the lamp, how your tears reflected the warm glow of the room, illuminating your face and making you look like an orange miracle that had manifested in his apartment. You were able to read his face well; Arthur was a man who wore his heart on his sleeve. You felt a glow of happiness as you thought about how unique he was; that he was experienced with the harshness of life and so worn down by the world, yet somehow there was something so pure about him, so touch starved and loving with his every move and glance that made you feel like there was a purity about him that would endure forever, so beautifully made was his soul. It would be a crime not to offer him every ounce of love you had to give. "I..um," Arthur rasped quietly, trying to think of something…'reasonable' to say, but no words came. And then, without one more spoken word of what would go in the category of 'reason', did Arthur reached out and stroke your face softly, thumbing away the tears from one side of you face. You sighed and relaxed into his touch, adoring how it felt so masculine and strong, yet so delicate and fragile, as if communicating to you how much you had the power to hurt him if you so pleased. He had an almost ancient benign energy about him, in a sort of way; he seemed so wise in areas of life that were difficult to navigate for most people. You had a feeling he would be the type to keep you laughing through the hard times, to hold you and love you and guide you through your hardships, even when he didn't always have the answers; he had the kind of wisdom that couldn't be read about in books or studied or learned, only lived. The kind that could only be found in his soul and spoken through his lips. And you? You had a fire of energy and freedom that Arthur had never experienced. Arthur had been born in a cage; you had been born into a wide field of insouciant energy towards life. You had always referred to yourself as a free spirit, always finding a playful way out of even the hardest of circumstances. And Arthur was drawn to that energy, so desperate to feel the carefreeness that you felt, something that was inside of you that could be unlocked and transferred into Arthur's soul. With the power of the two of you, you could conquer mountains. You leaned forward and your lips crashed against his, no longer fighting. Maybe you two would be a quirky looking pair, and there was going to be differences between how you two navigated life. But you could tell this man had a heart full of gold and only wanted the best for you, and you felt much the same. You differences wouldn't separate you; rather, they would only add the richness of the complexities of each other until there was nothing but a loving giving and taking for each other. As your lips curled into a celebratory smile against his, your fingers wrapping into his brown curls, feeling his hands explore your torso, you knew this was the best decision you had made in months. As you felt Arthur's hands curl against your body in a heated passion, you could tell he felt the same. As you melted into one another, forgetting the world around you, you could have sworn that the city of Gotham let out its own sigh, as if there had been a strain on the very universe at the two of you resisting each other, a sigh of at last! reining through the night. -I'll Never Leave You Behind
Request: Would you be able to write headcanons where you get hired where Arthur works and "friendly" competition happens between you two? Oh, and crushes happen? (I hope this makes sense lmao)
A/N: This was so fun to write oeiwewio i should wrote about Arthur being a clown more. Also, I wasn't sure what you meant about the crushes thing? But i only have eyes for Arthur so there are no crushes in this fic other than the Reader x Arthur's relationship. Sorry!
Contains: Insecure Arthur, smut, corniness (lmao)
Length: 3,160
Originally posted by kane52630
You came into the living room, thoroughly exhausted. Your bones ached, your head hurt. You plopped yourself down next to Arthur, who whined softly at seeing you so clearly burnt out. You rest your head across the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. You put a hand to your forehead, letting out a heavy sigh. Arthur scooted up next to you and wrapped his legs around you, arms following closely behind. You let out a hum of the deepest contentment as you felt the love of your life wrap themselves around you, smiling softly as he pressed his warm lips to your exposed neck, the nicest touch you had felt all day. "I hate seeing you this way, love," Arthur mumbled unhappily as he brushed his nose against your neck. "You're always so tired all the time." You sighed. It was no secret between the two of you that you absolutely loathed you current job. You worked at an office firm, and were in charge of picking up the phone to assist customers. What that entailed was constantly being yelled at, patronized, sometimes even screamed at. There wasn't a day you didn't come home with a headache, and not a day Arthur did fawn over you with worried eyes as he saw how bone tired and trodden you were, mentally and emotionally. "I just don't know how much longer I can do this," you muttered under your breath, hand still pressed on your forehead. Arthur took your hand from its place on your head gently and placed his firm hand on top of your forehead instead, applying just the right amount of pressure so that it stimulated the nerves in your skin, sending shoots of pleasure through your body. Arthur was so sensitive to how you touched you, and he did it so well every time. You hummed happily as the sensation passed through your whole body while he rubbed his hand from your forehead to your hair, stroking over and over until you felt the stress leave your body in gentle waves. It was almost erotic. "I hate seeing you like this," Arthur whispered, tears springing to his eyes. He continued to caresses your forehead, fondling his fingers through your hair, easing slowly the ache in your tired muscles and the headache that was plaguing your head. "My baby deserves so much better." "You got any ideas?" you hummed softly, your bad mood already entirely melted from his sweet touches. Every night when you came home your day transformed from mundane and painful to magical the second his arms wrapped themselves around you and blessed you with his warm touches. Love emitted from his every word and touch, healing even the darkest of your wounds. But tomorrow would be another day, and the same toxic cycle would start all over again. Arthur knitted his eyebrows in gentle concentration. His fingers drummed against your forehead as he thought. "Actually, I might be able to ask Hoyt if they're looking for woman clowns. We have all men, and lately we've been getting requests for females. People feel safer around woman, you know?" Your eyes were closed in bliss. You were mostly focused on Arthur's sweet voice and is irreplaceable touch. You had meant the question rhetorically, but you opened your eyes slightly and turned your head in Arthur's direction, looking through him through your own tired and sleepy eyes. "That sounds wonderful, darling, but I doubt that would happen," you mumbled sleepily. "I just have to…accept it." Determination overflooded Arthur then, and he leaned forward and kissed each of your eyebrows, making your eyes close again in bliss. He then leaned down and pressed his lips to each one of your eyelids, as delicate as paper. "I'll try tomorrow," he promised in a soft whisper. "I'm going to get you out of there, baby." It was true that it was driving Arthur mad how worried he was for you every day. Each day he knew that your job was full of nothing but toxic, inconsiderate morons who didn't give a fuck about you. It made his blood boil. He knew all too well what it was like. He could stand it for himself, but not with you. It was the only thing that granted him with enough courage to finally stand up to Hoyt and ask if his girlfriend could start working with him as a female clown. It took some pressing and a few harsh words from Hoyt, but finally he agreed, realizing that it would be best for the business anyway. Your first day of work was intimidating, yet freeing. You got your own locker room, being the only female clown. Arthur was relieved at this, knowing how toxic and rowdy the men in his locker room got anyway. But he was worried sick about you staying safe, knowing how inconsiderate the people of Gotham were, especially in regards to clowns. Because of this, Arthur also requested to Hoyt that you only work in safe places, such as children's hospitals and the like. None of the public street stuff where Arthur got jumped robbed, sworn at, and kicked. He wanted you safe and happy. Hoyt had rolled his eyes and decided to just make you a pair. "You're never gonna stop bothering me about this, will ya? Alright, fine. You'll go to the same place every day. She needs tranin' anyway. I'll post you both up for children's hospitals for the next couple of weeks, see if she's any good at the job." Arthurs heart had soared; he now got to not only be with you all day, but protect you as well. When you came home from another toxic day at work, Arthur told you the news. You instantly brightened up yourself, and threw yourself into his arms. Now you both could love each other not just in the forced hours of the nighttime where you were both damaged, tired, and miserable, but all day as well. Arthur started to teach you how to do clown makeup. You learned quickly, always have a bit of artistry to your touch naturally. As you flawlessly applied the makeup within only a few hours of practice, Arthur, having done clowning his whole adult life and having a passion for it, couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealously. His makeup was always so much shakier and less detailed, despite having done it for years. Even on his best days, it didn't come out as nearly as good as yours. You looked over and saw the slight frown on Arthur's face, and couldn't help but smirk playfully. "I know that look," you said as you put your brush down and turned to him, putting your hands on his knees. "You're jealous, aren't you, Arthur?" Arthur crossed his arms and looked at the ground. "You're just really good at this, that's all, baby," he said in his soft raspy voice, giving away his true feelings as it always did. But you knew him better than that. Gently, you brought your gloved hands to his chin, lifting him up to look you in the eyes. "Darling, what's mine is yours," you said softly. "If I have any talent, I can always teach it to you, ok? Your happiness is far more precious to me than any talent." Arthur's pools flickered up at you. "You promise?" he asked, voice as soft as velvet. You smiled. "I promise, baby." The next day you two were attached at the hip, overjoyed to start your first day at work together. You looked like a funny pair walking through the dull streets of Gotham; two full blown, highlighted colored clowns with outlandish bright colors holding hands and walking through the streets and the subways. Arthur was wearing his Carnival outfit, his official clown getup. You yourself were wearing a bright pink polka dot skirt, large clown boots, and electric curly orange hair to complete the look. The way people stared at you both would've made anyone think you two were the second coming, but neither of you could have hardly cared. Arthur was so damn proudto call you his, so unbelievably happy that he got to work with the love of his life and make sure you were safe, not just today but every day. When you arrived at the children's hospital, the office lady greeted you both with some tired exasperation "She's always grumpy," Arthur had reassured you in your ear. "Don't worry about it." You nuzzled into his bright yellow shoulder in reassurance that nothing was going to get your spirits down today; as long as you were with him, not even the sun falling itself could darken your days. This almost seemed too good to be true. Ironically, as the day went on, what did get in the way of the heavenly bliss was the both of you. Arthur couldn't help feeling the envy; you were just so damn good with the children. They instantly brightened up when they saw you, in a way that they didn't no matter how hard Arthur tried. They laughed even when you weren't trying. You stomped your feet playfully, and they were red in the face. What Arthur had to do tenfold to get that reaction, you merely had to lift a finger. You were just so naturally likable. The nurse even complimented you as you two were leaving, telling you that they had never seen such happy children in their life. Arthur had entertained some children that day as well in his own way; he had a natural talent for making children smile as well. But what you had done today had outshone him by a million miles. When Arthur sat down in the bathroom that night, he didn't bother to hide how grumpy he was. His lips was jutted out in a deep frown, his eyebrows creased in an unhappy grimace. It was his job to bring joy and laughter to the world. He deeply loved you, but he felt you were stealing his show. He was proud of you, but he felt so…outdone. You mocked his grumpy expression in a loving fashion, trying to get him to smile by your goofy face as you leaned down to his eye level to wash his face. But nope, it wouldn't work, not tonight, Arthur thought stubbornly. He tried to focus instead on the warm cloth that was washing the greasepaint off his face, trying to process his complicated emotions. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" you murmured gently as you continued to wipe the paint off of his face. Arthur sighed, finally letting the closed off font fall. He could never do that for very long around you. "You just….were really good today," Arthur mumbled. He felt so embarrassed and ashamed. He should be happy for you, not jealous or frustrated. Understanding came over you, although you already suspected as much just on the way he was acting on the way home. You knew him well. You leaned towards his face and put your hand under his chin, gently making him look at you. "Baby, did you see the way the kids lit up when they saw you? They know you, Arthur. They see your soul." Arthur looked at you with hurt and bewildered eyes, wanting to believe your words. "You're so good at this job, baby. You were born for it. Maybe you can't see it now, but they need you, sweetheart. You're so treasured." Arthur leaned into your palm, staring at the ground. You saw how downtrodden he was, how discouraged and disheartened. You knew this was his passion. Guilt flooded through you, as well as sadness; you would give anything for you Arthur to be happy, even if it cost you your own. "Maybe I should go back to my old job," you said thickly. You felt a black feeling sweep over you as you said the words; you really hated it there beyond what you could express, but you couldn't stand to see your Arthur so unhappy at something that usually brought him joy. Arthur eyes looked up, and panic flooded his eyes. "No, no honey. That's not a good idea. It's terrible for you there." "If me being at your workplace makes you so insecure and unhappy, maybe its for the best," you said, the words almost getting stuck in your throat, but not seeing any other solution. An idea struck you then, and you smiled as you thought of it. "Maybe there's something we could do to make this a little more fun." Arthur eyes lit up in curiosity. "What's that?" "Well," you began, "we both like this clowning thing, and we both love to make people laugh, and we both love each other, right?" Arthur nodded slowly, trying to follow your point. "Well, what if there was some kind of reward at the end of the day? Let's keep score of how many children we make laugh or smile with some tally marks, and by the end of the day, whoever has the least, gets to be spoiled by the other partner. So that way, if you have an off day, it won't matter, because I'll spoil you with something when its over to cheer you up. And vice versa. How does that sound?" Arthur gazed into your eyes for a moment, face blank with thought. Then, slowly but surely, a smile graced the edge of his lip. That was a resounding "yes" in Arthur speak. From that day forward, you two went to work together like you were playing a sport. Arthur started studying how to become a little more graceful at clowning, looking up different ways to be a mime as well as various magic tricks that he never learned before. He didn't realize how muddy his passion for clowning had been before this; even the things that had brought him joy before you had been covered in a layer of muddy indifference because of his depression. You being in his life was changing all of that, inspiring him to do more. Even clowning had mostly been something he did to pay the bills and because the hospital had told him he needed a job when he was released. Now, he was feeling truly invested in it. At first, most days were won by you. As a result, Arthur's requests of being 'spoiled' were almost always something related to getting better at clowning. You taught him how to dance goofier, how to make more natural movements, how to overcome his own dark negative thoughts to be lighter on his feet-this one took a couple of sessions, almost leaking on therapy. Not that you minded, not in the slightest. You truly wanted the best for him. Because of Arthur losing so much, he started to learn so much from you. After about three weeks of this, Arthur started to catch up-once he won four days straight in a row, you began to notice that he was catching up to your winning streaks-and in some ways, even becoming better than you. On the fifth night of you losing, you requested something simple-getting to bottom during sex. It was so passionate, especially so because you two had been so physically worn out from the combination of clowning and Arthur's practicing sessions that it had been the first time you'd been intimate in some time. Arthur's lips adorned your skin as he eased into you, in and out, in and out. You two were lost in a haze as it overwhelmed you, as it always did, how much you loved each other. "We've been really happy lately, haven't we, baby?" you whispered as Arthur was on his forth climax into you that night. You yourself were on your third orgasm; almost as if your bodies were in a competition to see how much pleasure one could get from the other. You smirked at the thought. Arthur nodded, breathing raspy and heavy, conspicuous green eyes looking into your eyes from above you. "You know, Y/N," Arthur breathed against your skin. "I've just been thinking lately,"-a shuddering breath, a thin heaving chest-"how much I love you." You looked up at him, warmth flooding through you. "Yeah?" Arthur nodded, shakily because of his lust, but determined to make his point. "You just make everything…better. Before you, everything felt so dull and average. Even my passions felt muddy. But now….now I'm learning so much, and I'm doing so much better, and I just love everything so much more now." He gasped as he rolled his hips against you, his passion overcoming him. In and out, in and out he thrusted into you. Your fingers, which were intertwined into his curls, dug into his hair as your own lust came over you. "Theres no one I'd rather take care of, baby," you moaned as your felt your own lust overcoming you. "And you do so much for me too, angel. I wouldn't even have this job without you, and every day your precious spirit reminds me why every day is worth living." Arthur's green eyes glinted. "You mean that?" You nodded, complete and unmitigated happiness flooding through you. "I mean every word and more, darling." The next couple of weeks, Arthur cleared his score with you. Soon, you two were even, and after that the game ended. Arthur was no longer jealous or insecure of you; he was only proud of you and beyond happy that he got to spend every day with you doing something he loved. How lucky he was to have such a talented significant other that loved him so deeply to help him out, just as passionate about he was about the same things. He couldn't have dreamed anyone more perfect for him into existence even if he tried. He thrusted you against the apartment walls in his passion for you on a particularly happy and successful day, rubbing his clown gloves all over your skin. You let yourself be claimed by him, more than happy for him to do so. The grease paint of your clown make up and his own melded into the other, until both of your faces were messy rainbows of desire and happiness. You were so happy he was over his insecurities; you truly wanted the best for him, and nothing was more important you than his happiness. And for Arthur, his peace and realizations came over him as he realized he had everything he wanted, and that was more than enough, even if he wasn't always the best at what he did. An amazing job with his passion, decent pay. But best of all, your gentle spirit, how caring and loving you were; it was all the reasons why he had fallen so deeply in love with you. You were everything he had ever dreamed of and more, and he was so, so proud to call you his. -Safe Spaces
Request for you to write about the reader cutting/trimming Arthur's hair. I imagine they'd be all giggly and it'd probably take awhile bc Arthur can't sit still 😢 my heart
A/N: This came out a tad angsty, but i just wanted to keep it interesting. its mostly fluff. Also I've daydreamed about this scenario like 40 times so its nice to actually write it out lmaoo. Also i am melting at this gif rip
Length: 1,924
Originally posted by nuooage
Arthur's hair was truly something else. It was almost an art; it always looked so perfect, so intentionally and marvelously placed that it often looked sculpted. His curls beautifully cascaded down his face, circles perfectly placed in all the right areas around his face as they fell down in gentle curls and artistic waves. You stroked it back out of his face at night while you two watched television together, unwinding from your day. The tv was often kept on low, you two preferring the company of each other and gentle murmured conversations more than the actual shows playing. For the first time in Arthur's adult life, he had something to look forward to besides Murray Franklin reruns-although he would have his nose practically pushed up against the tv when there was a new episode on. Arthur adored the sensation of your delicate fingertips against his scalp. He was addicted to any type of touches you granted him, but he especially loved your gentle fingertips caressing his head and hair, gentle fingers easing themselves through the hairs, nails perfectly scraping his head just so in a way that sent shivers through his whole body and into his core. He could have sworn in those moments that every problem or negative thought that he had ever had before then didn't matter, now protected under a hard layer of your love and sweet touches. His hair was starting to go past his shoulders, and you noticed as much as you set about your nightly routine. Your fingers started at the top of his head and didn't stop until they were almost halfway to his mid back. You also couldn't help but noticed his hair was flopping in front of his face when he bounced into bed-his favorite thing to do. It fell in front of his face, the curls forming a small circle around his head, almost like a river. You would lie there as you gazed at him, taking in the entirely of his sweet presence. He seemed so peaceful and serene tonight, and he made you feel so as well. As you reached out to brush some of the hairs out of his face to see him better, Arthur snatched his own hand out and embraced your hand into his. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed each finger every so gently-you would have loved it, save for the fact that you could hardly see him as he did so-his face was so covered in his curly waves. "Baby," you giggled softly. "How can you see?" Arthur snorted softly as he spoiled your pinkie in kisses. "Just can." "We need to cut your hair," you said playfully but sternly. "You need to be able to see, sweetheart." You thought you almost saw Arthur roll his eyes, but you could hardly tell because, of, well, the hair. You reached out and brushed some of the hairs softly with your other hand, and finally Arthur's sweet and boyish face greeted you. "There you are," you hummed warmly. "I missed you. I feel like I haven't seen that face in weeks. You're always hiding behind your hair now." Arthur shook his head. He was still holding your hand to his lips as if it was a teddy bear. "Not hiding." "Well, I would like to try and cut your hair. Can I do that, baby?" You saw a flash of fear in his eyes. Scissors. He hated scissors. There was something so…sharp and unforgiving about them. If angry enough he sometimes thought of using them as a weapon, but thats exactly why he was so scared of them. He didn't want to put you in even the slightest danger, even though he knew he would never hurt you. He felt like, somehow, you would hurt yourself with them, or that someone would break in and hurt you, or that some horrible accident would happen. It was an irrational fear, but he couldn't stop his heart from pounding whenever he saw you in the slightest area of what he deemed danger. You saw the fear in his eyes, and cooed gently as Arthur nuzzled himself further into your hand. "Baby, it'll be fine. I promise." You leaned forward and kissed his temple, wrinkled with worry, gently. Arthur sighed, but was too tired to argue further. The next day, his heart was pounding in his chest, feeling as if it would burst out of his ribcage. Throughout his entire day he was nervous beyond what he could express, and you picked up on as much as he made his way into your apartment that night. He was fidgeting, rubbing his face, pacing back and forth as you finished making dinner. He knew what was coming as soon as you both were done eating. You recognized the signs, and, knowing that the only way to get it over with would be to just do it, you decided not to bring it up until you both were bathed and cleaned up. You were doing your daily routine of sitting Arthur, naked save for a towel over him, on the couch and gently brushing his wet hair back into a slick mesh. Arthur was humming and smiling gently to himself, as happy as could be, thinking maybe you had forgotten about it entirely. You were mid conversation, talking about how funny certain clouds looked sometimes-such was the innocent nature of your conversations-when you heaved a sigh, deciding it was time. "Alright, baby, I'm going to get the scissors out, ok? It's best to do it now while you're hair is damp and brushed." You felt Arthur tense up under your fingers, which were currently threading themselves through his hair. He had gone from melted puddle of happiness to tensed up wreck within half a second. "It'll be fine, sweetheart," you reassured softly and you pressed your lips to the back of his head. "I would never put you in a situation that put you in danger, ok? Everything will be fine." Arthur didn't relax, however. Rather, he continued to tense up and and even went so far to pull is legs up to his chin, burying his face between his legs. You sighed and went to get the scissors; it was best to just get it done fast and over with. He needed his hair cut; it was so long it was effecting his way to see. Arthur was an amazing caretaker of others, but he hardly knew how to care for himself. You came up behind him and almost set to it; but you just couldn't bring yourself to with the way he was hunched into himself. He looked like a scared child, and your heart gave out in sympathy. "Arthur," you said gently. You walked around to the other side of the couch where there was a space to sit, and sat next to him. You put a hand on his knees, stroking him gently with your thumb. "Baby, why does this scare you so much?" Arthur's face was buried in his knees, so his voice was slightly muffled as he rasped out, "It's like a weapon, Y/N. It reminds me of….out there. I don't like you being around things that are dangerous." Understanding came over you, and you put the scissors down and kissed both knees, and then settled for stroking his arms when he didn't respond. "Darling, I promise you it will be all right. There's nothing in here that can hurt you or me, ok? Our apartment is safe. I love you, and you love me, and I promise I'll do everything I can to make sure everything is quick and safe. Ok?" Arthur dared to lift his face up a bit, and your heart melted at how vulnerable and helpless he looked. "You promise?" he whispered. You leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose. "I absolutely promise." Arthur let a shy smile gradually grace his features. "Ok." he said softly. You stroked his knees one more time and then leapt up, determined to make this a good experience for him. You stood behind him and told him to lean himself up. He did as much, and you set straight to trimming his lower curls. Arthur tensed slightly as you did so, but still kept himself straightened up so you could get easy access to his curls, cutting them evenly. Arthur tensed further whenever there was a loud noise through the open window, but he seemed to be determind now to trust you with this task. "I got the curls that are past your shoulders. I'm just going to trim the hair until its shorter and less in your face, ok, baby?" Arthur nodded slowly in response, seeming to be stuck in a unswerving concentration. You set about cutting the hairs closer to his head, Arthur seeming to almost be shaking with how close they were to his skin. "I'm almost done, baby," you reassured him softly as you cut the curls. Finally you finished, and stepped back to look at your work proudly. "Darling, you look incredible!" You ran around to the other side of the couch to see his face. It looked even better from the front; his high cheekbones, thick brows and long, romantic eyelashes were shining for the first time in weeks. You could really see him now. Arthur still had a pensive, strained look on his face as his seagreen eyes looked up at you. "Really?" he asked softly. You nodded eagerly. "Come on, baby, let me take you to the bathroom and show you." Arthur let you take his hand and you lead him into the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, taking himself in. His expression was unreadable. "I don't know about you," you whispered as you pressed your lips against his thin bare shoulder. "But that is the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life." Arthur's bleak face broke down and he laughed abruptly, burying his face in his hands. "Is this good laughter or bad?" you asked in concern. Normally you could tell by his expression, but it was currently buried beneath two worn hands. Arthur shook his head. "I'm just-" cackling-"I'm just so happy you take care of me, Y/N." His shoulders were hunched up in laughter. You stroked his back until he came down from it a bit. He looked up into your eyes then, eyes as soft as the soul that honed them. "Thank you, baby," he muttered as he looked into your eyes. You smiled your own smiled back at him, and leaned forward and pressed your lips to his every so softly. "I'm sorry I'm so scared all the time," Arthur mumbled between your lips. You shook your head. "Arthur you're the bravest man I've ever met in my life. You go through so much, and you still get up every day and do all that you do. I couldn't be more proud of you." Arthurs eyes lit up, almost daring to be proud of himself. '"Really?" he whispered. "Really." Arthur gradually let a crooked smile grace his features, and you hummed happily and you leaned into him and pressed your lips against his cheeks. "You're always safe with me Arthur, and I'm always, always going safe with you, because you protect me so well." Arthur may never believe it, but it would reign try and true, as long as you two had the other. His worn hand intertwined with yours. Always. - A Very Real And Precious Thing Summary: In which Arthur finally gets shown the smallest act of kindness by his new therapist and falls head over heels in love. Requested and inspired by valentina15. I changed it a bit, but it's still the general outline of what you sent! No warnings, at least not as far as I'm aware of except for smut. Fluffy fluff. Length: 8,596 Originally posted by 2019joker The most beautiful elements in life are not wholly seen or understood. Arthur was one. "It's not gonna work, Ma." "Well, I don't care. You're out of control, and you need help, Happy." Penny had found Arthur's gun by the bedside table. He could have sworn he left it underneath the bed where he usually did; its usual hiding place. And yet, here he was, being scolded by his mom like a teenager. She had sternly sat him down on the bed, shortly after she had screamed to the top of her lungs at the sight of it. She was so dramatic, Arthur grumbled inwardly. Even though he knew in the back if his mind that her anger was somewhat justified, he still felt frustrated. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was unfair for him to have go through all this just because he was found with a gun-the hospital had deemed it unsafe for him to own one considering his 'unstable condition', as they called it. Arthur found the whole thing ridiculous-he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would never harm anyone, at least not unprovoked. He didn't want to hurt others because of his depression-he only wanted to hurt himself. To hurt himself would be the happiest of endings. To die would be the happiest of endings. Speaking of the word happy. "Happy, you're not supposed to have a gun," she scolded with that look in her eyes. She was sat up in her master bed, two thickly fluffy pillows layered on top of the other. Half of her body was buried underneath the sheets. Her night gown, which she wore more often than anything else-of course she did, she never left the damn apartment-was clinging onto her small frame. Her worn, wrinkled face which drooped with age was now graced in disappointment as well. Her blue eyes had that hard look in them that Arthur knew all too well-but always did she look at Arthur hard. If not hard, distant. Like most of the world, she seemed to look right through Arthur, as if he wasn't there at all, or, even worse, as if he was there, but was merely a nuisance that needed to be dealt with so better things in life could be attended to. It didn't matter what it was. As long as it didn't concern Arthur, it was better. Occasionally she would offer him a kind word, or a brief conversation-that was all. Unless she was talking about her own interests, of course. Arthur sighed heavily and scratched his arms. "I promise I didn't meant to hurt anyone, Ma. Randall gave it to me as a gift, and I wasn't going to refuse his gift." He looked up at her through fragile chestnut brows, knowing that what he was saying wasn't a great defense-but at least it was one at all. Truth was, he didn't even know why he had kept the gun. He did know that holding it made him feel some kind of unspoken power, some control that he had never experienced in his life until he had held the cold, shiny metal in his calloused hand, the cold hardness of it greeting him like a friend-the closest thing he had ever had to one. Penny gave him her sternest head tilt. "Randall? Randall's not your friend, Happy. He must know about your metal condition, especially since you took that leave from work when you were in the hospital. If he was your friend, he wouldn't have put you, and therefore me, in danger." Arthur's seagreen eyes rolled inwardly. He knew that Penny didn't give a damn about what happened to him, not really. What she was mostly worried about, what was much more likely, was her own safety, and getting into trouble with the cops. Having to deal with charges, more expenses for Arthur being locked up again. Penny was a woman who liked to think of herself as someone worthy of great respect and of high regard-in some ways, Arthur was convinced that she felt she deserved to be treated like she was some figure of high authority. She disliked, no, loathed, having to deal with anything that related to Arthur's mental health, anything to do with him that might get her and her delusional sense of reputation in trouble. That one of the countless reasons why Arthur felt like a burden to the only person in his life who even remotely resembled love-she saw him more as a sick lion in a cage that needed to be locked and kept hidden from the world, like a chore that needed attending, rather than a son who needed the concept that was almost alien to Arthur now; love. "You need help again, Happy. I already called the Gotham Department of Health. You have a session in three days." Arthur had given up on making eye contact with her, and instead chose to stare at the threads coming out of the wool blanket that lied on the bed. He had quit therapy a couple of months ago; the bills had raised within the past few months before and Arthur had had to pick up extra shifts at his side jobs in order to keep him and his mother afloat. After a few weeks of desperately trying to get himself to pull though therapy and jobs alike, as well as taking care of his mother, he eventually cracked under pressure. He hadn't wanted to quit therapy; Arthur was the kind of man to fight for his mental health-he was highly self aware of his illnesses, and he knew he needed help. He did…miss his therapy sessions, to an extent, but like hell if he missed the way his therapist treated him. It wasn't even the way they talked to him. By all technical accounts, they did their job. They asked all the right questions, they said what they were supposed to. As a matter of fact, that was all they did. Every week was the same. Arthur would think over and over all the thoughts he had in his head a few hours before his sessions, sometimes even days before his sessions. When he had first started, he used to write it all down as best and was able, and, despite all the misspellings and the crossed out words- overall, as cringy and as messy as it looked to Arthur, it made him glow that he was finally at least attempting to help himself. He remembered his first therapy session as clear as day; he had come in with his small but heartfelt journal in his hands, and had sat down excitedly-almost like a child finally being given medicine for their cold. He had answered every question the therapist granted him with all of his inner most thoughts pouring out of him, almost breathless as he finished his paragraphs full of all of his inner most thoughts and torment. At first he felt exhilarated, relieved. Finally he had someone to talk to about all of his thoughts; this almost seemed to good to be true. As it turned out, it was. The therapist he was given last , was so professional almost to a fault, to the point that she came cross as lazy and indifferent. Her expression and gaze constantly had a glazed over, stagnant expression, no matter what he said or did. She looked at Arthur through an unimpressed, judgemental gaze; although her words were kind and caring, there was something about the way she looked at him-god forbid if he had a laughing attack, which only solidified her expression-that made Arthur cringe within himself. He didn't feel safe with her, not within the slightest. As the conversations went on, he began to find that most of what he said fell on death ears. He would say something different every week-a different revelation, a different thought or perspective. Always they were negative, but always were they different; and anyone who knew Arthur would know that this was a reflection of Arthur trying his absolute best to keep simply keep going, that simple and small act that came so easily to others proving incredibly difficult for the troubled soul of Arthur. Though he couldn't quite pull himself out of the darkness, not even close, he was trying, every single day. And how exhausted he was for putting in effort that always came back and slammed him in his face with the unapologetically sheer, unimpressed indifference of his therapist's face. He was carrying boulders, using all of his strength to keep them uplifted, and, rather than being congratulated, or at least being greeted with even an attempt at being understood, he was met with a stationary, hard look and repetitive questions-questions that she was no doubt asking only so she could keep her job. If Arthur poured out his soul, he would get a dry statement of "keep up with your journal" in response, which would be led by some shuffling of thin, dull paper, and then, after a few more blank statements, another flat, just as equally indifferent "see you next week". Before Arthur knew it, he was pushed out the door, feeling more empty and worse than when he had walked in. Arthur knew particularly what the problem was; it wasn't entirely 's fault. He didn't want a doctor. What he wanted, more than anything was a friend. A real, true friend, someone who listened to him simply because they cared about him and loved him. Not for gain, a paycheck, no ulterior motive. Speaking his thoughts out aloud made him feel good in the moment-until he looked up and saw who he was talking to-an indifferent, expressionless, and uncaring face that was sitting there simply because she needed to live. Just like him. Arthur could read people well, and he recognized himself in her tired demeanor. She was just as miserable and as worn as he was, and sometimes Arthur almost wanted to ask her how she was doing-such was his innocent nature. Arthur come across as a fool to many, but it was only the sweetness of his essence pouring out of him and into a world where sweetness was few and far between. Arthur had always found it quite scary that one could never wholly know another's thoughts-everyone was simply hidden in their dark worlds and secret motivations. It was because of this gradual realization that he stopped trusting her, and, therefore, stopped confiding in her, even on a superficial level. As the conversations went on, they had become more skeletal, more superficial, until there was almost an equal amount of apathy between Arthur and his therapist. Being the broken, ever vulnerable soul that Arthur was, he still wore his heart on his sleeve occasionally, an almost funny comparison between him and his therapist-even in apathy was Arthur still almost tragically vulnerable, sweet, and open about his emotions. But he tried to put the reigns on his soul, tried to pull himself back, to act 'normal', to act the way his therapist acted, the way so many other people acted. Soulless, tired, but mostly-humorless. Arthur laughed at everything, and even towards the ends of his sessions did he find himself chuckling and smiling to himself at things that were, as most people would tell him- 'weren't funny'. Similarly, sometimes he would still go off on tangents about his observances about the world, but always would he regret it when he was answered with that same indifferent gaze, shame winning over him simply for feeling, an concept he had been taught by being a citizen of Gotham. To feel was a sin; to feel was to be a fool. He knew he wouldn't find a friend in a therapist, he mused darkly as he kissed his mom on the head goodnight, dropping the subject by simply telling her "I'll be there" in a low raspy voice as he turned off her light. But maybe, perhaps, it would be different this time, Arthur dared to think. It had been awhile; surely they would have had different therapists by now. As Arthur sat down on the thin, worn couch, his back already aching in agony as it dreaded over the long night of lying on it to come, Arthur felt a small smile grace his handsome features as a simple word came to his mind: Hope. — Three days later, Arthur found himself in the same overcrowded, cluttered spaces of the Gotham Health Department. The secretary who had greeted him was the same one from all those months ago-stagnant, unfeeling, bleak eyed, and passionless. There were stacks upon stacks of papers on her desk, so much to the point that her name tag was unreadable. There were flies gracing the thick, polluted air, and, best of all, flies curiously studying unidentifiable sticky substances on the walls. Arthur sat by the greeting desk, cigarette in hand. He letting out a sigh full of smoke as he mused in his dark broodings. "How have you been, Ms. Curt?" Arthur had asked politely as he had walked in. The greeting lady had told him to "just take a seat right there, honey," without looking up as soon as he had walked in, showing absolutely no signs that she used to see him a couple of times a week, treating him as if he was a stranger. Now Arthur was sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair, already feeling like this had been a mistake. After about ten, long and unforgiving minutes had gone by, lifted her head up. "The new therapist just emailed me. She's ready to see you now." Arthur nodded. "Thank you, ," he said in the same polite tone, despite his pensive mood. He got up and began making his way into the office. She made no response, still not even bothering to look up. He opened the door, which creaked dully as he made his way in. He looked curiously around the space; unlike the welcoming room of the building, this office didn't have the same overcrowded, claustrophobic feeling as the other one had. The window was open, letting in a forgiving, soft, and gentle breeze. Even more noticeable; there was a beautiful, fairly young woman sitting in the chair, who was currently intensely scribbling something on a piece of paper, not seeming to have noticed that Arthur walked in-not in the slightest was it surprising that she didn't acknowledge him. No one did. Arthur cleared his throat. "Um, ma'am?" he began, trying not to cringe at the way his voice broke. Your head snapped up, and you instantly began to blush a deep shade of red. "Oh-oh, I'm sorry," you stammered. "I didn't realize-here. Take a seat. My apologies-I've been cleaning up the place a bit. I only moved in a few days ago-not that that's something you need to worry about." Arthur tried his best to fight off a laughing attack, both from how awkward and nervous he felt, but also how…kind you were-and how unexpected this all was. The place just felt….clean. And you looked so…unexpectedly sweet. You were by far the most attractive woman he had ever seen in his life; but it wasn't your face that was beautiful, it was something about your energy, about your very essence that was drawing him in. With a silent renewed hope, he sat down in the chair, suddenly feeling shy about his cigarette. With he had hardly cared; she didn't pay attention to anything he did anyway. But he was already gathering an entirely different energy from you; you were really looking at him, not only seeing him with some sort of respect in your eyes, but were also seeing into him with some sort of gleam of excitement in your eyes, almost as if you were going to find it pleasurable to talk to him. All of those concepts were foreign to him. "Arthur, is it?" you asked as you studied the files you had on him on the desk. Arthur nodded. "Yes, ma'am." You looked up and smiled. "Hi, Arthur. My name is Y/N." You lent out a hand for him to shake; Arthur stared at it for a moment, and then shook it with some disbelief; you had already showed more amiability and kindness to him than everyone at his work and home life combined. "H-Hi, Y/N," Arthur stammered, and then inwardly slapped himself at being so awkward. But your friendly demeanor didn't falter. "So this is your second time returning?" you asked gently. "How does it feel?" Arthur shrugged, and tried his best to overcome the scars from his previous sessions. Just open up, Arthur urged himself. "It's strange," Arthur admitted. "I didn't like it here very much by the time I left." You took in what he said, no judgement in your eyes, no matter how much he searched them. "And why is that?" Arthur let out a small a sigh. "It's just no one…listened to me, is all." To Arthur's surprise, you let out a small chuckle. "Well, that's not a surprise. This department isn't much of step up from the rest of the apathetic city of Gotham, is it?" Arthur only nodded, shock taking over his core that you weren't just asking the same mundane questions; you were reallylistening and making conversation with him. He tired to ignore the hardness that was coming in between his legs; he was so damn easy to get hard, and you were filling up every checkbox on his list, which consisted of very simple elements; kind, and easy to talk to. "That's actually why I wanted to start working here. I've always had this urge to help people, you know?" Arthur looked as if you if you were a ghost. "Really?" You nodded. "Really. As a matter of fact, you're my first patent, and I can already tell that it's going to be a pleasure talking with you, Arthur." You winkled playfully. Arthur's face instantly turned a deep shade of red, and his eyes looked down at his lap. His pants were becoming uncomfortably tight as his cock hardened. His knee began bouncing; he rubbed his left arm up and down, up and down. You panicked slightly, recognizing the sighs of his nervousness instantly. "Oh no, Arthur," you cooed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just want you to feel comfortable." You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling awkward. "Forgive me. I have a…playful personality. If I ever say anything that makes you uncomfortable, you let me know right away, ok?" Although Arthur kept looking down, although he looked like a complete blushing wreck, on the inside he couldn't remember the last time he felt this alive. The smallest sliver of compassion you had shown him had already awakened him through his whole core; he felt truly happy in a way he hadn't felt in ages. He could feel his blood rushing, the cobwebs in his head falling as the wheels in his head started turning again. And, well, his cock was hard. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a real boner-the porn he collected just wasn't doing it for him anymore. He adored how kind you were being to him; he didn't even want sex, it was just his whole body was coming alive with how much you were making him feel-and not making him feel bad about it. "I-It's fine, Y/N," Arthur said softly. "Really. I actually….I really love this. Thank you. You're so kind." Arthur then dared to moved his blue green eyes up to meet yours. You gave him one of your warmest smiles. "I think we're going to get along quite well, Arthur." — The next few weeks were full of nothing but meetings full of genuine conversation and compassionate understanding. Even when Arthur wasn't in the office talking to you, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. He found he began to care about going to therapy again-really care, the same way he used to before blunt and indifferent words dampened his spirit and his will to open up. Your sessions were playful but thoughtful, and always did the two of you end up laughing through the majority of them. But you were always sure to give Arthur tips on how to help him process through his dark and bad emotions. As time went on, Arthur began to feel more clear headed, and a little more secure in his own head. His dark thoughts and feelings never went away, and he was still the same shy, tormented man with the same battles, but with your weekly sessions did he feel himself begin to heal, even if only slightly. What really made Arthur start to feel different, though, was simply how kind you were to him. Your eyes lit up when he entered the room; you would smile, truly smile, and your face would beam as if you were actually happy to see him-Arthur tried to ignore the voice in his head that told him that you were just trying to keep your job. No matter what, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that you were doing this because you genuinely enjoyed every moment as much as he did-he was always too scared to ask if it was the case; rather; he simply tried to enjoy every moment for what it was-insightful, simple, sweet, and, what Arthur loved best of all-fun. There were times when Arthur forgot that talking with you was meant to be more professional and business oriented-your conversations swept together so naturally, and almost seemed too enjoyable to be anything other than something you both willingly chose to do together. Almost as if you were…friends. Or maybe something more. Despite himself, Arthur could feel himself falling in love with you. With every session did he leave with sparks of infatuation in his mind, and that beautiful, indescribable and floating feeling stayed with him throughout the week until he got to see you again. He would fall asleep thinking about you, would wake thinking about you; when he finally got to see the real you, you seemed so unreal, so natural and glowing, that Arthur couldn't bring himself to believe that you were real at times-he was so taken aback simply by how stunning you were, how you almost seemed to have this otherworldly glow to you. It was about your sixth session in when the dam in Arthur's brain finally broke. It was just a statement. One simple, seemingly simple and innocent statement. Looking back, Arthur reflected, it really wasn't any different from the other kind of things you had told him throughout your sessions together. But there had been something about the way you said it-there was something in your eyes as the words left your pretty lips. Arthur had been bouncing his leg slightly-despite how safe he felt with you, his anxiety still got the best of him when he said some of his dark thoughts out loud. Arthur had even gone so far in this session to talk about how he felt people looked at him like he was a bad man-and, in many ways, he felt he deserved to feel that way. He had, after all, done bad things in this life-he put children in danger by bringing a loaded gun to the hospital. He had considered breaking into his neighbor Sophie's apartment a few times just to feel the warmth of the apartment-of her child drawings, of the innocent and sweet toys that graced the tables, of Gigi's sweet laughter and happy innocent energy that Arthur had been robbed of. To just be in that space of a good mother protecting and caring for her child would have helped him immensely. You listened to all of his inner most thoughts without interruption-quietly and respectfully taking it all in. "I just feel-" Arthur stopped, and shook his head slightly. He had just finished tell you a particularly dark thought of his-something about how he felt like nothing he did truly mattered, like he was just another awkward nobody mucking through life, unseen and unknown, not mattering to anyone or anybody. "Like nothing I am or ever will be matters. And that I even…deserve to feel this way." He let out a sigh of smoke; he had learned quickly that you didn't mind the cigarettes. "I'm not even worthy of love," he finally finished with another heavy, deep sigh. And there it was; his deepest of insecurities out in the open. He was looking down as he spoke the words; the conversation had taken a dark turn of energy, an unusual thing between your sessions. But something felt different today. Arthur felt more tired, more solemn, more serious today; more musing and thoughtful, a little less giggly and childlike than he usually was around you. You had picked up on his heavier, more serious mood soon as he entered the room; ever the intuitive, emotionally perceptive person. You also couldn't deny that you felt connected to Arthur in a way that was almost indescribable. Arthur was anticipating what you would say from across the desk; it now seemed unnaturally large, looming between the two of you, as if to physically symbolize the separation that was coming between you now. You watched as Arthur looked down as he rasped out the words, clearly weighed down just by speaking them. Arthur felt embarrassed, and, for the first time since speaking with you, he felt the slightest tinge of insecurity prickle at his skin as silence drew out at the statement. Arthur didn't dare look until you spoke. The next words you spoke were the kindest and most unexpected he had ever heard from you yet. "It seems to me, Arthur, that you are an incredibly precious man locked within a cruel and uncaring world. And your pain echoes so deeply inside of you because you have so much love to give, but very little people to return what you so deserve." Arthur's green eyes flickered up through his thick brows. There was a certain shock to them as he looked into yours. For a moment he wondered if you would break out into laughter-as if the very idea of him deserving kindness was a joke to you, much like it was to everyone else. Arthur felt his own unbidden cackles begin to itch at his throat, the torment in him beginning to rise to the surface. He let out a small hum of a cackle, and then, worst of all, panic began to ebb inside of him, which only resulted in more bubbling laughter. He quickly turned sideways away from your gaze and began to shove his face into his elbow, cackling now a full blown attack that took him over through shuddering waves. Worry, and a little something more, ebb in your chest at seeing him in such pain over something as simple as kind words. You got up and rushed over to him. "Hey, hey Arthur, it's ok," you hushed gently. You rubbed his back up and down, back and forth, helping him through his waves of unwelcome tearing laughter. Arthur didn't take his face out of his arm, however, and instead kept bellowing into it, ashamed at you seeing him like this. Despite everything he shared with you, there was still yet parts of him that you hadn't wholly seen in their entirety. After a few minutes, the tormented cackles began to die down, until Arthur was finally able to ease his elbow off of his mouth. He then simply sat there, a sad, frowned look on his face as your hands continued to trail up and down his back. "There, there," you cooed gently. "I'm sorry," Arthur choked as one last tormented chuckle left his mouth. "I have a-" "Condition," you finished softly. "I know, Arthur. I have it in your files." Files. The words teased and mocked Arthur's brain, triggering his insecurities about your feelings for him. Right, so you weren't doing this because you cared about him-not really, anyway. No, you were just doing this because you needed that paycheck. The gentle, easing hand that was gracing Arthur's back and sending tingles up his spine with delirious pleasure and desire weren't there because you loved him-on the contrary, they were there because you were obligated to. Right? "Ma'am," Arthur said softly, the words spoken so gently and tenderly that they almost came out as a whisper. "Can I ask you a question?" You nodded. "Anything, Arthur." Arthur swallowed, preparing himself for the leap he was about to make. "Do you….care about me?" Your hand stopped. You looked at him with an unreadable expression; Arthur felt he could fall through the floor in utter shame right there and then. How dare he make you uncomfortable with his pathetic attempts at looking for love. He felt the back his neck sweep in a heat, breaking out into a sweat. "Arthur," you began slowly; the sudden professional air of your voice made Arthur's heart break; gone was your gentle words and sweet cooing you had given him a minute ago. "I do care about you." Arthur sat there in silence for a moment, trying to decode the real meaning of your words. "But only as a patient." Arthur spoke the words as a statement, knowing he didn't need you to confirm them. Until now, his eyes had been looking at the ground; now he dared to lift his eyes up and stare into yours. You had that same kind face, but there was a strained, uncomfortable look about it now. "Yes, Arthur," you said in that same heartbreakingly professional tone. "As a patient." Arthur nodded and swallowed thickly, and, despite how hard he tried to fight it, he felt tears begin to sting at his eyes. He looked away from you, staring at the desk instead. He could already feel the hot tears rolling down his cheeks; he bit his lips in self loathing; he hated how he wore his heart on his sleeve, whether he wanted to or not. "Ma'am, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to go," Arthur just barley managed to choke out, feeling humiliated at how his emotions were ebbing out of his every word. What had become a symbol of a safe space was now the same as everything else; full of humiliation and rejection. "Arthur-" He got up and wiped his tears with his elbow, grabbing his journal that was on the desk, and rushed out of the room. You simply stood there, looking after him, shock and sadness radiating through you. Arthur rushed out of the building, not bothering to answer the abrupt desk lady's question of "Are you checking out, sir?" She pretended she didn't know him anyway. He was so incapable of being loved, truly, genuinely loved. He would inevitably latch on to anyone who gave him even the slightest amount of confidence, of a sense of acceptance and love. He couldn't get help, because the only way he could get help was through love; verifiable, bare love. Something he would never be able to obtain. Arthur's ride home went by in a blur, and when he got home he started hitting himself, over and over, first by his hand and then on the wall as his anger at himself increased. Fucking idiot. Another hit against the wall. Stupid. Hit. Bang. So fucking naive. There was a dent in the wall by the time the night was over. —- You has seen Arthur in his worst moments, had listened to his deepest and darkest thoughts. You had also seen his silly, sweet, and funny side, his strange side and his quirky side. You had seen, in short, all of him, or, at least, a fairly large portion of his soul. You knew him. It was funny how one falls in love only when they see the unconventional, most deepest parts of another one's soul. Weeks had passed since your last appointment. You had gotten a call from Penny's mother, who told you, in a rather tired, indifferent voice, "your patient Arthur has decided to cut all meetings from you from now on." You had wanted so desperately to inquire and push further, but, for the sake of being professional, you had simply said, "Thank you, ," and had hung up the phone. You were now sitting in your empty, hauntingly isolated apartment. Truth was, you thought about Arthur all the time since that day. You thought about how much he had made you laugh-and, in turn how much you had made him laugh, his gentle smile, seemingly all the more precious because it was breaking through such a tormented, heavy face that would shine brighter than the sun if only given the right amount of love. You thought about how you yourself had looked forward to your meetings far more than you other clients-far more than was considered appropriate. The truth was, you had fallen in love with Arthur the moment you had seen him. The way his very essence screamed out a handsome, gentle spirited essence through his quiet but striking demeanor, the way that everything about him from his bare skin, to his clothes, to the soul that honed it all made him so striking and downright beautiful. But most of all-rare. He was so worn, both in body and spirit, but it was a beautiful, poetic sort of worn warmth; the kind that only made you want him, to truly know him, the more time you spent with him. You sighed, and forced yourself to get up from the couch you were sitting on. You had been so taken aback by the things he had told you the last time he had seen you. There were multiple emotions conflicting within you that day; shock, happiness, discomfort. There had been so many that you had been at a lost for words; falling in love Arthur had all happened so quickly. It had only been the sixth time that you had seen him, and already he was asking if you cared for him. 'Cared' was a concept as rare and as precious as gold when it came to living in Gotham, and although you had never admitted it to Arthur, you were just as deprived of it as he was, and, even more unknown to Arthur, you were so desperate to give it to him, even if it meant looking highly unprofessional. With a surge of newfound determination, you picked yourself up. You were going to find Arthur. You were have a proper talk with him. You needed to have a proper conclusion to the whirlwind of unexpected intimacy that your relationship had been, if you could even call it that. Whatever it had been, it deserved a proper ending. You grabbed your keys and headed out the door. Within about an hour you found yourself in front of his door. He had told you the apartment complex where he lived during one of your sessions; information about Arthur's life leaked out of him as easy as anything, so comfortable did he feel with you. Naive it was, maybe, but his information was safe with you. Despite you attempting to show and feel confidence, your hands were sweaty and shaking; what would he think of you being here? You swallowed thickly, and then closed your eyes, and, with a trembling first, knocked on the door. "Happy!" You heard a muffled voice through the doorway; the walls were rather thin. "Can you get the door?" There was a few moments of silence after that. The door clicked, and then- There was Arthur, as handsome and as gentle looking as always. His blank look of curiosity melted into complicated emotion as he realized it was you. He was staring at you like you were going to strike him down at any moment. Fear was in his eyes, as well as, you dared yourself to believe, a little bit of happiness. "Ma'am?" Arthur said softly. He rubbed his face, as if to double check that you were really here."What are you doing here?" You sighed. "Arthur, may I come in? I want to talk to you about…how things ended." You felt like such a fool saying the words, but you had to let him know how you really felt-or, at the very least, let the relationship end without feeling so humiliated, without Arthur being so hurt. Arthur didn't move. He swallowed, and looked at you with the same pain from that last time he had seen you starting to form in his eyes. "Y/N, did you feel….sorry for me? Is that why you've been so nice to me?" Arthur could already feel his rage sweeping into him before you even answered; though he missed you, he had been licking the wounds of rejection for some time now. Your heart clenched. It was starting to dawn on you just how much you had truly hurt this man who clearly already held so much pain inside of him. "Arthur…no. That's not it at all." You grabbed the sides of your sweater as you fumbled with your clothes, trying to pretend like you had some dignity. Words began to bumble out of your mouth like bees leaving hive, rushed and coming out one after the other, whether you liked it or not. "I actually really do care for you, Arthur. I was just…this sounds so stupid, but I was just so scared. I have a job, and who knows what they would think if I started dating one of my patients. Not that you asked to date me, but it was implied, kind of. I think. And you're so wonderful, Arthur, I would never want you to fe-" "Do you mean that?" Arthur asked eagerly. He looked as excited and as tender as puppy, anger vanishing; quick to forgive and so ready to love was Arthur Fleck. This was becoming clear as day to you now. You nodded eagerly. You felt like you were finally coming undone in the best way, no longer hiding your true emotions for the sake of being professional, and it felt so damn good. "Yes, Arthur. Every word." You breathed out the words rather than spoke them. To your surprise, Arthur thrusted himself forward and took your face in his hands. You were taken aback for a moment, but then you pushed your hands into his hair, gripping it passionately. Arthur lifted you up and stole you with a breathless whisper from that bleak, uncaring hallway and into his intimate apartment, shutting the door behind him. Arthur lied you down on the couch and began to pepper your face with kisses, from your cheek down to your neck, caressing and kneeing your shoulders with his comforting, knobby fingers. You let out a moan of desire, wanting him to fully take you, but- "Isn't your mom home, Arthur?" you asked through a breathless lust. Arthur's green pools looked into yours and nodded mischievously, putting a finger to his lips. You nodded in understanding, laughing quietly to yourself, and allowed your lips to crash against his once more. You lolled your head back as Arthur began to pepper his lips down your thighs, letting out small rasps of his own lust as he did so. Your legs spread apart in desire; you were already so wetbetween your legs. Arthur nibbled and bit your legs as he trailed up and down, up and down, until finally his lips came back to your folds. You were wearing a tight skirt that was currently restricting your legs from being able to fully spread the way they wanted to. Arthur looked up at you, curious. "Ma'am-" "Arthur, please. It's Y/N." "Y-Y/N, do you mind if I-" "Please, Arthur," you begged. "Please take me." Now that you were feeling his gentle caressing, his sweet touch against your starved skin, you couldn't believe you had denied yourself to him for this long. Arthur eagerly began to undo the button on the top of your skirt, threw it aside, and then went down on your folds with his tongue, You let out a moan as the combination of infatuation and utter pleasure of the physical touch of the person you now realized you loved-not just cared for-loved, lapped down at your folds, as gentle and as considerate as the lips that allowed the soft soul that possessed them to speak. Pleasurable waves rolled in and out from you, in and out. You rolled your hips up and down to add to the pleasure, to keep friction between your bodies fresh. Arthur's hands were gripping your sides, just as full as lust and love as every fiber of your being currently was. You tried your best to muffle your moans of pleasure as Arthur's tongue lapped up your folds. Arthur then eased up and crashed his lips back onto yours, and you moaned into his mouth as you tasted yourself. "You taste as every bit as good as you look," Arthur murmured as wet lips overlapped wet lips, and you let out a moan of ecstasy as you tugged at his beautiful ocean curls. "A-Arthur," you stammered. "Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure you want to date your therapist?" Arthur looked into your eyes, pulling his lips away from you. He seemed to be reading something inside of your for a moment as he did so, leaving you even more breathless. He then spoke, his voice fragile and uncertain, not because of his love for you, but for how you would receive it. "I am certain that you are everything I've ever wanted and more." You let out a gasp of relief and lovestruck heat, and nodded in agreement, sweat breaking at how much you were overwhelmed by your love for this one man, all of it crashing onto you at once as you finally expressed it openly, no longer resisting. "I feel the very same way, Arthur," you gasped. Arthur let out the smallest of smirks from the corner of his mouth. The inner cat and dog game of who would confess first was finally over, and now you were all his, his and his alone. Arthur looked into your eyes as he stroked a loose strands out of your face. He looked you over one last time, and then asked in the gentlest voice, one that you knew he would use for you for the rest of your days, if you allowed him to- "May I walk you home?" You nodded, your legs still trembling with how overcome with desire they were, the tender relief from having his tongue pleasure your folds having melted them to trembling anticipatory straws of weakness. "Yes, Arthur," you said softly. "I would love that." Arthur smiled a full fledged smile then, and that crooked tooth that made you weak in the knees shined in celebration. He leaned forward and dared to kiss you one last time; you rewarded his behavior by gripping his lips into yours with fierce determination. Arthur chuckled at how hungry you were for his kisses; joy and relief overflooding his own heart that you felt the same. Incredibly precious,incredibly real-such was the love you had finally found within each other. Arthur wasn't asking you for a tremendous, grandiose dedication of love. He was hanging by a thin bare thread in life, a twisted and thin rope hanging over fire that threatened to break at any given moment, should the cruel scissors of the world come and break him open. He didn't need you to promise to stay with him forever-although something told you he wouldn't mind. He simply needed your warm hand in his, on his side, to be there for him when he couldn't be there for himself. He need a hand to reach for when he found himself at his utter most breaking point-and like light in the darkness had you come and declared your love for him at the perfect time. It was raining outside, the sky thrashing with passion as much as the inner most romantics between the two of that were coming alive fully. The grey skies of Gotham used to remind you of forgotten dreams; now it reminded you of thing that could yet still be, if one had the courage to go after it. The rain pelted both your faces and hair, and seemed to be, in a funny way, congratulating you both with wet, cold kisses of happiness that you you both had found the other. Your whole life you felt you had been looking for Arthur, exploring for something you didn't know was there. Within him was all the secrets you didn't know you had been looking for; secrets of love and hope beyond what the world of Gotham in its entirety had yet to show you. Arthur was full of secrets, but you could tell that many of them were the tenderest of secrets-the secrets of how to love deeply, how to give even when the world didn't give in turn. You had a feeling he was the kind of man who you could return to no matter where you went in life; no matter where you explored, you would always want to return home to him. Home. He was home. Arthur saw things as art; and an art you were. He saw the music that he adored to dance to in your laugh, in your eyes, Even just to look at them made him want to dance. He realized, as his face was dripping wet with rain, serious with revelation, that he was in love with you already far more than even he could have deemed. So dance he did. He took his arms and began to dance into a waltz, his arms flying in the most graceful manner. He bowed towards you, and you felt your own soul being sparked alive by the desire to join his quirky waltz, so brave and breathtaking of a free spirit that he was in that moment. As you allowed yourself to be swept into his arms, the pelting rain soaking both of you into a slick mess, the heat of your infatuation mixed in with the cold of the rain making you dizzy, the love radiating from his arms around your waist, you realized that you were both falling just as deeply in love at the same time. The less he laughed those tormented cackles, the more he danced. Dancing was healing for him; how your heart soared that he was dancing for you now, amongst the wet of the rain. It was heartrendingly beautiful. You found so much comfort in his presence, and you knew you would cling onto every spoken tender word he would ever show you. His smile would grant you every comfort and every safety. At last, Arthur had found someone who understood him, and he had discovered you and had dug at your own stiff mask until you had realized that you needed someone like him who understood you just as deeply as he did you.. He was so kind, despite his damage, his insecurities, his self loathing, and you knew you would never find a man quite so strong or precious every again. You longed to help him, to set him free from his torment, and so you would, until even your soul burnt out; you no longer heeded your own spiritual safety as long as you were tied within his. You knew you had known him the second he had seen you; like there was an echo in the empty, indefinable spaces if the universe that had clicked together when his eyes had met yours. Awkward and fumbling, the two of you had felt though darkness of uncertainty and disbelief underneath the casual conversations, until finally you had found the other, even through the world's scorning and disbelief that two people could be so wonderfully perfect for the other. Like leaves off of a tree did your own disbelief that such love existed fall away from you, until there was nothing left but raw, true love, the one and only thing that made life worth living. As you gazed into his eyes, you saw that Arthur was love, and he was going to envelope you in everything he had until you felt the same way about yourself. As you inwardly looked towards the future, you would carry the love you both had for the both of you within each other and use it to navigate every challenge towards life. Arthur saw truth within you; sheer, roaring and rare truth, and he loved you all the deeper for it. You set a fire in his bones, a fire to fight for himself in a way that he had never had the urge to until now. He had been a half moon surrounded by clouds with little will to live; now he was a full moon without the clouds blurring his vision. Never would he take you, your strength your truth, your wisdom, your ability to make him laugh for granted. Your laugh, he found, was the entrance to the beauty that you were on the inside; that addicting sound that he loved so much was only the tail of the iceberg to all the feelings you were going to make him feel in this love you were both plunging head first into. His heart was chaos, and it was the perfect storm that would take the chaos that existed in your life without him away. You knew Arthur well throughout his heartfelt sessions, and you knew it would be bittersweet to love him. The ruins of time had worn through every crevice of his soul and skin alike, making everything good about him layered in insecurity and pain. Like clouds suffocating the blue skies had Gotham been corrupting him, but good he still was. Your company would surely keep the storm at bay. Maybe it would be perilous to love him, but you found yourself only wanting to take the plunge "I think," you said thoughtfully as you gently gripped Arthur's went brown locks in your hands, his green eyes sinking into yours as he looked at you like you were everything he could ever want, and everything he would ever need, "It will be quite an honor to love you, Arthur." You would love him for as long as he would allow you to, for however long he needed you to. You would hold off the cold winters in the chambers of his broken heart until spring came again. If it never did, you would love him just the same. Arthur let out a shy smile, rain dripping from his lips. Every so gently he rasped- "We are going to have peculiar time together." You laughed, and it struck you then that Arthur's very energy was beautiful; just as you found him beautiful by his core, by that indescribable essence that can't be quiet defined by worldly terms, Arthur felt very much the same about you. And it shined the most through your laugh. How he would adore hearing that laugh forever and a day. You found Arthur physically beautiful, but it was his energy that took your breath away, You brought your lips to his, rain pelting through the heated skin upon skin. "I wouldn't have it any other way." - Lovesick Over You Summary: Arthur's been sick for a few days. You are more than happy to take care of him. Fluffy and simple. This is softer than soft Arthur. Contains nudity. Word count: 5,706 Originally posted by bensklaus It was winter in Gotham, the average weather on the daily reaching the negatives whenever it snowed outside. And did it ever show with the Fleck family, one that consisted of a thin man and his devoted partner. Arthur was one his sixth episode of the Murray show, having about sixteen tapes total built up on the shelf in front of the television. "There's even more in the closet," he had reassured you when you asked him what he planned to do once he had gotten through all of those. And indeed he did, which you discovered when you opened the closet and found an entire collection of thirty some Live! With Murray Franklin tapes stacked on top of each other behind the old, moth eaten clothes and various products. You had shook your head lovingly, feeling a little impressed at how dedicated this man was to that show. The man in question was currently buried underneath about ten different thick wool blankets. He was so thin that one almost wouldn't be able to tell if there was even anyone buried under there at all; the only thing that gave his presence away was a little hint of curly brown hair and a wrinkled forehead poking itself out from the pillow, with the slightest hint of sea green eyes. The occasional sniff and sneeze accompanied his presence, but other that that, the man was undetectable. Thank god you were working your own job. The first day Arthur had gotten sick- approximately three days ago-he had refused to call in sick, pushing himself out the door determinedly. You had rushed up and pulled his back in, and, after some bargaining and some reasoning, you had convinced Arthur to take care of himself and stay home. Unfortunately, his cold had only gotten worse over the past couple of days, and you came over every night from work exhausted, but you were more worried about Arthur than you ever were tired. You would come home to a knocked out Arthur buried in the sheets, his face blotchy and red, with tissues scattered all around the master bed. Your routine became picking up the tissues, making some soup-chicken and rice was his favorite-and then gently waking him up with the caressing of your hand. Arthur's heavily hooded eyes would gradually open in the most sleepy manner, temporarily dazed and confused. Then he would roll his face over and as recognition flooded his eyes, the most pure and happy love flooding them. Tonight was much of the same. "You're home," Arthur mumbled happily, saying it in such a way that he was almost surprised, as if even after all the months of dating he was still convinced that you would up and leave without a word. "Mmhm," you cooed gently and pressed your lips against his red nose. You giggled as Arthur melted even further into the pillows at your touch, his face crinkly and beaming. "How do you feel?" Arthur's thin shoulders shrugged; the tip of them was poking out of the heavy sheets. "Dunno." He sniffed. He looked like a vulnerable little boy in this state; hair unwashed, tired but rested face smoothed out, glassy eyes, and baggy clothes. "Still sick." He hadn't been up in about five hours; his body didn't even feel real right now. "Did you eat today?" you asked softly. You already knew the answer; of course he hadn't. You had already figured out that once his Murray shows were over, he simply fell asleep for the rest of the afternoon until you came home. Arthur shook his head. "Please don't be mad." His voice was so soft and fragile, both from the coughing and the soreness of his voice, and from how much he just wanted to please you, even though you had never gotten angry at him before. You were his first healthy relationship, ever, and he was mortified of screwing it up. "Baby, I'm not mad." You continued to stroke his unwashed, greasy curls out of his face. "I made some soup. Do you want me to bring it to you?" Arthur nodded shyly. "Yes, ma'am." You smiled at how he was still so unnecessarily polite around his own girlfriend, but you knew it was mostly just from his anxiety of never wanting to say 'the wrong thing'. You hoped one day he would be comfortable enough to talk to you like you were his-which you were. You went into the kitchen and took out a bowl and a spoon, pouring the soup into it. You then took it out and into the bedroom, getting the tray from the corner of the room and placed it in front of Arthur. "Here, baby," you said gently. Arthur had managed to pull himself into a slight sitting position, messy and unwashed curls still in his face. He wrinkled his red nose as he stared at the soup, seeming a bit out of it. "What's wrong?" you asked gently. Tears were forming in Arthur's eyes. "You remembered that chicken and rice is my favorite," Arthur mumbled shyly, and one tear fell down his face as he spoke the words. He rolled his eyes at himself, embarrassed. Your heart completely melted, and you were convinced it would also give out at how much you loved him. He was tragically easy to please. "Sweetheart, of course I remembered." You leaned forward and gently wiped away one of his tears, then kissed the damp area it left on his cheek softly, sucking it with a tender ease, making Arthur let out a little moan at how gentle your touches were. "You're so important to me, baby." You nuzzled against his nose to prove your point, which Arthur returned with a cough and a hum of contentment. "Can you help me eat?" Arthur asked. Even with his lips so close to yours, you barely heard his whispered, shy request. You pulled away and gazed at him, loving flooding over you. He blushed at his request when you didn't respond right away, then stuttered out, "Y-you don't have to if you don't want, I just…my wrists hurt," he finished lamely. "Of course I will, sweetheart," you said gently. You knew the wrists hurting was just an excuse, so well did you know your Arthur even after only a few months. You had come to learn that Arthur had a weakness for being taken care of; so neglected were certain parts of his character and childhood that anything, absolutely anything that showed him that those parts of him could be redeemed and were worthy of love was enough to drive him over the edge with a lovesick infatuation. He was the softest of essences, softer than even the gentlest touch of a butterfly's melancholic wing, delicate and beautiful, yet wrapped in a horribly damage that needed to be healed. You took the spoon and brought it to his mouth, and he wrapped his mouth around it happily, a smile framing the corners of his mouth as his eyes crinkled up in a lovesick smile. Your own lovesick infatuation smile graced your lips as you gazed at him longingly, feeling the warmth of the tenderness you felt for the incomprehensibly hurt man overtaking your core. Sometimes you felt you could cry simply at the sight of him, by simply just by spending time with him; your soul overflowed with love that much for him. "Alright," you murmured after the spoon graced the last of the soup in the bowl. You looked at his dirty curls sitting on his face, not having been washed for several days. "How about a quick bath?" You stroked his hands in yours. "Are you up for it?" Arthur shrugged in his oversized sweater. "Yeah, I guess can try." He sniffed again, his nose running. "Ok. I'm going to lift you up out of bed. Can you walk?" Arthur nodded, almost seemingly excited now. He probably hadn't left the bed all day, and you knew how much he loved being nurtured and taken care of by you in any way you were willing to give him. You pressed a kiss to his temple, "I'm going to start the bath, try to be ready to walk over when I come back in, okay?" Arthur nodded. "Oki." You smiled, sharing a tender look before you went to begin the bath. You started the water up, feeling the heat, warm water, and fog sweeping into the air of the small and cozy bathroom. Many memories of you two bathing together where in here; more often than not did you bathe together rather than alone. You watched as the warm, soapy water filled the tube, waiting until it was steaming, then swept your hand through it, testing to make sure that it was just the right amount of steamy and soapy. When it was confirmed to be just right for a sickly body, you made your way back to the bedroom. Arthur had managed to get his sick body out from under the covers and was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but baggy white underwear and a baggy sweater top, thin legs sticking out. You helped guide him into the bathroom, and then helped him remove his sweater, pulling it over his head; he made a face of exaggerated drama as you did so, making you giggle. You were glad he was feeling well enough to be playful. You threw it to the side and took off his underwear, noticing how hard his cock was; even when the both of you were simply together did he often get turned on by you. You kissed the tip of his penis as you pulled his underwear down, and Arthur giggled and blushed, stroking his hands through your hair and massaging your scalp while you were kneeling in front of him. You then lifted yourself back up, and pecked him on the lips tenderly. Arthur's lips remained unresponsive; however; instead he looked at you with a bit of shock and anger. "Y/N!" he whined. "You can't kiss me when I'm sick! You'll get sick too." You rolled your eyes softly; you had hardly been able to kiss him since he had been sick. He insisted that once you started kissing him, he wouldn't be able to stop returning them, and then you would be sick too. But you hardly cared, and you told him as much; you needed his soft, warm and gentle kisses as much as he did. "Let's just get into the bath," you offered gently, and Arthur, with the slightest smile on his face, not being able to stay mad at you, climbed in. He did, after all, enjoy your kisses immensely. His cold, thin and frail body met the warm and soapy water with a sigh escaping from his lips; despite how boyish he looked before, he now took on an entirety different air as you swept his hair back into slick, straight strands and saw the gruff manliness of his face, the sharp, high cheekbones, his permanently heavy and pained eyes being hooded over with his worn eyelids that were adorned with his long black eyelashes, the strength underneath his jaw as it clenched, the way his wiry muscles relaxed and contracted and responded to the water. Suddenly he looked like a tragically worn man, beaten down by the hardships of life. Such was the complexity of your Arthur. You continued to stroke his hair back, purposely using slow and gentle movements to do so. Arthur's face muscles entirely relaxed, his skin and muscles easing into the caresses of the warm water, and his entire being seemed to let our a breath of relief. "This feels really good, Y/N," Arthur mumbled in a raspy voice, the previous scratchiness having disappeared. "Thank you for doing this for me." You pressed your lips to the top of his slicked back hair, to which Arthur made an adorable noise to signal his contentment. "There's nothing else I'd rather do, darling." A smile tugged on each end of Arthur's lips, for once in his life looking untroubled by the tears in his soul. He sunk further into the steamy bath water until only his shoulders and his head were out of the water, the rest of him submerged. These were one of the purer moments that had taken place in your relationship; they had become increasingly more rare with how much you both had to work. You felt the desire to be as close to him as possible, wanting to feel his soft, gentle skin against yours, as benevolent as the the soul that bore it. "I'm going to join you, is that ok, baby?" you asked gently. Arthur only let a small nod and smiled in response, eyes still closed in a serene smile. "You can always join me, darling, no matter where I am," Arthur mumbled softly, his voice becoming increasingly sleepier, as if he were falling asleep, becoming more lost in his thoughts in regards how heavenly he felt with your touches taking care of him. In his state, he had forgotten his anxiety about calling you pet names, and his natural affections for you leaked out of him like air left his lungs. So naturally did it come to him to love you when his guard was down. You felt a warm glow and celebratory excitement as you took off your clothes as quietly and as gently as possible, not wanting to disturb him out of his trance. You let your clothes fall to the floor, a ghostly whisper falling with them as they did so. You felt yourself shiver with anticipation and you invited your body into the warm water, taking a place behind Arthur. You wrapped your legs around his body, sighing contently as you pressed your lips against the nape of his neck and soft wet baby hairs. You started stroking the back of his muscles, pressing kisses to the back of his head as you did so, and Arthur let out the most content of hums as he leaned his head into the curve of your shoulder. You let your hands explore down his torso and his legs, letting your hands caress gentle circles through the soapy and warm liquid. "That feels really good," Arthur moaned helplessly as he leaned his head further into your neck. You smiled as your pressed your lips against his cheek, and he beamed a peaceful smile as you did so. You felt yourself falling into your own trance as you continued to stroke his skin, up and down, up and down. Many of the interactions you had naked often were pure and strictly soft and gentle, full of consideration and care and love; there were many time such as tonight when being naked together had noting to do with sex, but simply having skin upon skin, two tired and worn souls breathing a sigh of relief as they felt the touch of the other, so relieved to finally find someone who understood and saw the other, every little unseen detail, every quirky thought that many others wouldn't connect with. At each other's touches did both flames and a heavenly comfort arise, an indescribable sensation of relief sweeping from one fingertip to the skin of the other. Arthur looked over to you and saw the lost look in your eyes. You were still circling his thigh with your thumbs, the sensation of the warm water only adding to to the therapy of his tired bones. Arthur took his hand and made a puppet with it, using a silly, high pitched voice as he did so. "What's wrong?" He squeaked cartoonishly, the puppet 'biting' your nose after he finished speaking. You smiled, taken out a bit from your haze. You looked into his eyes and smiled gently, starting to find your own sleepiness within the heaven you had created with this man."'I just love you so much," you whispered into the foggy air. You took his hand puppet and kissed the top of his fingers, humming happily as you did so. Arthur looked at you with a softness in his eyes, looking like a combination of a handsome and wise man but also a lost, lovestruck boy. "I thought that was what you were thinking," Arthur muttered thoughtfully in a tranquil voice. This was one of the few times in his life were he was happy; truly happy and content, the feeling almost alien, but in the most welcome fashion; it made it that much richer to know how rare it was. You smiled and pressed your lips to his, ever so softly. You then took your hands and trailed them up his skin and to his neck, pressing your fingertips into the neck and shoulder bones. Arthur moaned and leaned into how you were unraveling him, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well, like the complex, layered and never ending, surprisingly romantic ribbon that he was. Your heart ached as you saw the bruises on his back that were black, blue, and brown; there were far more on him than you ever could have bared to see on the man you loved more than life. He didn't wince, however, when you pressed your fingers against them ever so gently; you had figured out long ago how to apply just the right amount of pressure so that you could stimulate the nerves in his skin without pushing the damaged skin further. You wished you could do anything to keep him from getting beat up so often, but there was really nothing you could do. Your heart ached at how you couldn't protect him from everything. Sometimes, it felt like you couldn't protect him from anything. Your heart bleed as you thought about how fear gripped you every time he set out from the day, wondering if today would be the last day you would ever see him come home. In some ways, you had a guilty pleasure with having him sick and locked up in the apartment all day; it meant he was safe and protected, which is all you ever wanted to do for him, though that was more for yourself than for Arthur. You sighed as you finished your massage down his back. Every muscle in Arthur's body was relaxed now, and he seemed to be fighting sleep. The harsh red blots on his face had faded in something a little less aggressive; now it was just simple little shy spots of light velvet adoring his face. His breathing was less congested ,the water and fog having cleared up his nose and lungs a bit. "Baby, it's time to get out, ok?" you said gently, stroking his wet curls as you spoke to him. He didn't open his eyes, but nodded slowly. You had cleared his lungs and his nose, now you needed to get him out before you passed out in the bathe water. "That you for this, Y/N," he muttered softly. "I feel so much better." You kissed the side of his cheek gently. "Anything for you, my love." Arthur let the tenderest of smiles grace his wrinkled face. You gently lifted yourself up, which naturally forced Arthur's body to be lifted up as well, you being under him. You stepped out of the warm water and grabbed a towel, and then reached your hand out for Arthur to take. He placed his hand in yours, ever grateful to have you helping him. He even had the energy to playfully kiss your hand as you lifted him out of the tub. "Thank you," he said in his sickly raspy voice. You brought his hand to your lips and kissed it gently in turn. Arthur let out a grunt of laughter as you wrapped the towel around his thin, dripping form, finding humor in the most mundane things. You got another towel and wrapped it around his dripping wet hair, and Arthur made sure it was held firmly around his head before he let you guide him out to the living room. You sat him down by the chair that was in front of the window in the living room. You two had started a routine of sorts of sitting together and quietly muttering about your day after a bath. Since Arthur had been so sick, it had been a minute since you two had had this precious and pure time together. As you grabbed your own chair and sat next to him, you felt a click of utter contentment in your soul as you gazed at Arthur, more fascinated by him than you were of the view. Since you two lived up so high, it did make for a rather pretty sight; not so much the worn buildings that faced you, but more so the lights of the stores and the view of the people rushing by, a stark contrast to your relaxed state as you sat and watched them, deepening your appreciation of the peace made for this quiet time of meditation between you two. Even better, if you leaned your head up far enough, you could see the slightest glimpse of stars in the sky, peeking out even through the pollution of Gotham. They had always reminded you of how you saw Arthur. They were flickering, fading in and out as the clouds of pollution washed over them now and then, but always did they come back to light. Arthur was much the same; even when he regressed into his illness, his darkness that plagued him, the evil of the world gripping at his natural tenderness, he always returned to the gentle and tender man he was meant to be. Always. The man in question was currently leaning his skinny elbow against the window still, watching with a childlike fascination as he watched people go by and the stars reflect in his city lights reflecting in his already endless depths made you breathless, mirroring the purity of his soul, and the beauty of his soul in turn making Gotham seem beautiful, something you thought was impossible until you met Arthur. It was these thoughts that prevented you from being able to resist touching him, and you leaned your hand forward and stroked his knees ever so gently. Arthur slowly turned his face towards you and let out one of his gradual, slow smiles as he looked into your soul; he was having conversations with you without even saying a word. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you thought about how much you loved him, overcoming you like a wave. You never knew until him that there could be such a thing as loving someone so much that it physically hurt, and yet, it was the best kind of hurt, the kind that reminded you that you were real and alive, that there was more to life than just the superficial selfish, self serving nothings of the day, that there were things in this life that, despite how hard it was sometimes, were really, truly and deeply worth living for. That there were things bigger in this life than your needs. It was the sweetest of epiphanies. The lights that danced in his eyes made you believe that there was magic in the city of Gotham after all: such was the magical effect of being around your Arthur. The world had truly missed out on shunning him out; he really was meant to bring joy to those around him as he believed about himself. If only people let him in, if only they weren't so condemning about their judgements, they would be blessed tenfold with that this man had to give. His heart would burst and overflow with love, if given the opportunity. The night air developed a sense of utter peace and harmony, just the right amount of fresh air and chill gracing and lining the both of your bodes like a gentle caress. It brought a smell of paradise to the room, smelling of fresh air and the galaxies of the universe, a hint of it sweeping into the apartment that had become a symbol of the love you shared. You two began to talk quietly to each other, you about your day and him about his shows, creativity, and thoughts, his worries about going back to work. Every simple utterance breathed life into your body; simply being around him sent shoots of warmth and infatuation through your core, so in love with him you were. Simply being around him recharged your tired body in a way nothing and no one else could, making your time together all the more precious. After your conversation did down a bit, and was instead leading into soft kisses-on the skin, since Arthur still being stubborn about the whole lip thing-in between intervals of peaceful and natural quiet, did you start thinking about taking him to bed. It was around eleven, and you had to be up by eight tomorrow. As addicted as you were to your time with Arthur-you were convinced that time with him would give you more energy than sleep-reason came over you and told you to go to bed. Arthur needed rest anyway, real rest, the kind of rest where nightfall would grace his gentle dreams in a therapedic combination of darkness and rest. Day rest, especially with the Murray show blaring on and off, wasn't the same. "Time for bed," you muttered simply after about five minutes of one of those quiet intervals. You lips had been in the middle of kissing his ribs as his towel had fallen off of him. Arthur grunted in agreement, his eyes still looking outward in a twinkling way. You were truly convinced that those mysterious green poems, more art were they than eyes, reflected and held the entirely of the world in them, that they would burst and overcome the world with their good if given the chance. Arthur nodded his ok, but then grabbed your hand as you stood up. "Can I have a cigarette?" he asked, eyes glinting guilty but begging nonetheless, shameless in their intensity on their borderline natural dependency on them. You smiled, and nodded. "Just make it quick." You had cut him off from cigarettes since he had been sick; Arthur would have fought and protested you back then, had he not been too sick to even leave the bed. "Can you grab it for me?" he requested softly. He was never bossy, never made you feel used. He just adored you caring for him, and he liked to think that you adored doing so. He was, of course, correct; taking care of him fulfilled you with a purpose greater than yourself, and your love for him made it a natural tendency for you to do so anyway. You nodded and went to grab the pack by the bed side table. You went back over and brought it to to him, your hands graceful against his sickly, trembling form as you brought it to his lips. He closed his eyes blissfully as he took a drag of it into his mouth, placing his hand over yours and taking the grip of the cigarette as a smile graced the tip of his smile. "Thank you, love," he muttered softly as he fell into a foggy, relaxed haze. "You take such good care of me." Your heart soared; this was the second time tonight Arthur felt confident enough to call you by a pet name, despite you always reassuring him that you wanted him to, that it reminded you that he loved you just as you loved him. You were his, whether you believed it or not. As he smoked his cigarette and continued to gaze out the window, lost in his eccentric and enigmatic thoughts, you made the bed for you both. You were so happy Arthur could now lie in the master bed for his tired limbs now that you shared an apartment together; the couch was decent enough, but only for sitting for an hour or two before your bones became sore. You couldn't imagine how Arthur had managed to sleep there for so long. As you fluffed his pillow, so soft and fluffy was it, you smiled inwardly at how well Arthur was being taken cared of these days. In turn, he was taking care of you as well; he made sense of who you are. Although you had a job, a purpose, you had always felt very unfulfilled and empty. Ever since Arthur had come into your life, that had all gone away. Loving him, knowing him, and taking care of him brought a newfound purpose to your being that you could have never even imagined. You always felt like you were floating on a cloud, like you had entered a different realm of reality. You went back into the living room and saw Arthur still gazing out the window, thin elbow rested on the panel, skinny frame twisted like a beautiful composition of eccentric poetry. His journal was rested in his lap now; he seemed to be in mid thought as he held his pen in one hand. More jokes, probably. "Time for bed, comedy man," you whispered as you came up behind him. Arthur looked over at you and smiled at you softly. You walked over and wrapped your arms around his shoulders , looking over at his journal with curiosity; he didn't mind; he knew he could trust you with his thoughts. The words were written in big, scrawled and shaky letters: I feel like a borden But she mkes me fel liek I am almst wrocth worth it. You hummed in sympathy, rubbing his shoulders comfortingly. You knew he felt this way already, but seeing it written down gave you a new onslaught of bittersweet feelings. You leaned down and nippled his ear gently, then whispered, "you're the most easy thing to love in my life, Arthur." Arthur looked up at you, naive pools wanting desperately to believe you. "Really?" You hummed in response, leaning down to press your lips against his-only for him to dodge you. "Sick," Arthur reminded you. You sighed in defeat. You were craving proper touches with him it drove you mad. In a lot of ways your relationship was pain, but the love you had for him brightened up the weight under the heavy burdens of of the world. With the right person, the hardships only seem like worthwhile struggles, with a payoff greater than could be imagined. "Loving you is easy. Natural, no nerves," you said softly as you brushed against his cheek. Arthur said nothing, simply taking it in. You guided him to bed and tucked him in, wiping his hair out of his face. You caress his hair gently while you lied on top of him, much like a mother tucking her son to bed. "You promise you'll take at least one extra day off tomorrow?" you asked gently. Arthur nodded boyishly. "I promise." You smiled, then leaned forward and kissed his nose gently. "That's my baby." Arthur beamed into the kiss, and then- "Can I have my bear?" Your eyebrows furrowed in surprise. "The one I got you for Christmas?" Arthur nodded eagerly. "You haven't asked for that thing in months," you said warmly. You weren't judging, just surprised; he had slept with it every night for about a month, and then had left it on the bookshelf for display. You had a feeling that he had needed that childlike comfort for awhile after buying it, and then had "outgrown" it in a sense, as if the healing process in that part of his mind was over. Tonight must be an exception. "I miss him," Arthur mumbled sleepily, growing drowsy as his body adjusted to the warmth of the blankets. You went over and took it off the shelf, then came back and placed it in his arms. Arthur nuzzled into it, seemingly as happy and as cozy as could be. Taking in how adorable he was, you couldn't resist him any longer; you leaned forward and dared to press your lips against his, one last attempt before you both went to bed. Arthur flew the bear in front of his face in defense, making your lips touch only artificial fur instead of Arthur's addictively wonderful lips. You groaned. You needed a new tactic, so you settled for tickling his sides. He instantly melted into a puddle of thrashing helplessness, and you bounced on top of him and peppered his temporarily vulnerable face in kisses, finally scoring a few against his lips as he was melted into a hot and giggling mess. "Cheater!" Arthur accused you through helpless giggles, face redder than lava, but this time rather than sickness, it was with happiness. You laughed loudly and tried one last time for a deep kiss, the one you had been craving all day. To your joy, Arthur finally gave in and allowed your lips to sink into his in the most deep and romantic fashion, allowing lips to sink into lips until there was nothing but love and hot breath. Finally, after what felt like minutes, you pulled away with a relieved gasp, the warmth of the most tenderest of touches flooding the both of you. "You're gonna get sick, baby," Arthur grumbled as he readjusted his formerly cozy state with the bear before you had mercilessly attacked him. You felt your heart lurch excitedly. Baby. You settled in the space beside him, stroking his face as soon as you were lying down next to him. "You're worth everything and more, darling." Despite Arthur's words, you could tell the kiss had done as much for him as it did for you; there was a new energized warmth about his eyes as he gazed into yours. You took his fingers and delicately kissed every tip, each one a reminder how delicate you both were-but so strong under each others' touches and company. Arthur smiled adoringly as he looked across at you, knowing that you and you alone could make even sick days a certain kind of irreplaceable magic. -Got any jealousy headcanons for Arthur andjoker?
Anonymous
Here we are! Sorry I'm so slow. I know you technically requested Joker, but because of how I interpret the film, I don't really believe in writing them as two separate characters/ interpretations. If you want to know more about that, you can message me or send an ask. So this is really just about Arthur. Sorry if thats disappointing! Also, I'm so weak in the knees for jealous Arthur that I just did a combo of some bullet points and a small drabble. Reminder that requests are open, so if you like what you see and want more, feel free to send something in!
Length: 2,305
Before you had met Arthur, you had gone out as you pleased with anyone you wanted. But he had quickly become your entire world after you two had met, which you didn't really mind. Every time you went out, he would have the worst anxiety. More often than not, he would even stalk you, and you would catch glimpses of a yellow hoodie while you were out with a friend. When you have friends over, he leans against the wall and watches closely the person that he suspects may be taking you away from him. You have to tell him to keep his hands off of you in the possessive way he does while you have friends over, not wanting to scare your friends away with how hungry he always was for you. He would often hold you like iron when given the chance, whether you were alone or whether you both were with someone. His possessiveness mainly stems from his insecurities,which you recognize, and try to help him through, while reminding him that you love him, as difficult as it all can be sometimes. He'll cross his arms around his chest, hunched over, frowning, leaning against the wall in the background while you talk to your guests when you have them over the apartment. And as soon as you grant him permission to touch you again, he will engulf you in his arms like he is starved, holding onto you for life, glaring at your friend like they are a predator. Once he's satisfied with that and your friend is gone, he will brush his lips against your cheeks and mutter things into your ear, such as "I don't want him coming over again". In bed, he goes wild, obsessed with marking you all over to make sure it is physically apparent that no one else is allowed to touch you "like that". He melts when you tell him how much you mean to him, that he's irreplaceable to you, that absolutely nothing and no one can take you away from him, because you are his, and he is your Arthur. If you want him to come instantly, you tell him how obsessed you are with him, that you can't imagine yourself without him, that he occupies your thoughts day and night, especially when you're craving him and not currently with him. Though you try to set healthy boundaries for each other, at the end of the day, you both crave each other too much to really give much of a damn about how unhealthily obsessed you are with one another.—
You hadn't been answering his messages all day.
Arthur's hands were sweating like he had been running a marathon, even though he had just been sitting on his couch for the past two hours, legs bouncing, thinking of nothing but you and where you were. He knew you had been out with a friend, you had told him the night before that you were going to be late coming home. Yet, he still worried like crazy, and deep into his mind, he was selfishly angry that he didn't have you in his arms right now, feeling entitled to having you in arms after a certain time of the day.
The door finally creaked open, and he leaped up like an excited dog.
"Love!" You shouted happily. "I'm home!"
He jumped up, brown curls bouncing. He always greeted you as if he hadn't seen you in years, his arms finding his way around your beloved waist as soon as you were within his reach.
Arthur looked you in the eyes. "Where have you been? You've been gone longer than you said," he muttered softly, his words gentle but sounding bruised, as if they had been punched.
"Out and about," you mummered gently, wrapping your arms around him and leaning up for a kiss. He responded eagerly, though you could sense the anxiety radiating off of his form that he was trying to hide. You had been out longer than you planned. "Happy to be home." Another kiss. "With you."
He looked down bashfully, smirking and laughed to himself quietly. "Yeah…" He hugged you and put his head on top of yours, kissing your hair softly.
You embraced for a few more moments, taking in the others' presence. There were afternoons were you both would be craving each other so desperately that you would stand together for what seemed like an endless time, just taking each other in, drinking in the other. His arms were warm and reassuring, swaying you gently back and forth.
You let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't questioning you the way he had developed a habit of doing. He wasn't pressing you for answers, asking every little detail of where you had been. He was just your Arthur, letting you love him as much as the time in your life allowed you to.
And then.
"Who were you with?" He muttered softly into your hair. You could tell he was drinking in your scent, taking in every detail, trying to analyze through your smells what you had been doing. He was like that.
You let out a sigh that was louder than you meant it to be. "A friend, Athur," you mumbled sleepily into his jacket. "I told you this."
"What did you do?"
"We just went out after work. Had some pizza. He's nice, Arthur."
His grip tightened on you significantly. You could feel his bones tense.
"Do you like him?" he mummered, his voice low, hiding traces of dark underneath his soft tones.
"No, Arthur," you said firmly, not even bothering trying to hide your impatience tonight. You were always so patient with him, but tonight you couldn't bring yourself to be gentle. It was so ironic, because your lack of patience with him was coming from a place of being so tired of him not knowing or understanding how deeply you unconditionally you loved him, that he was your only one, that he was all you thought about and craved even when you were in the company of someone else. No matter how long you dated or how long you were together, he just didn't get it, and you were tired of pretending like it was ok.
"You don't have to tell me lies." he said, lifting his head, and sniffed, clearly upset with how you were acting. You sighed, and kissed his temple. You just felt so tired and worn out; all you wanted to do was cuddle into his arms and rest, talking quietly together in excited whispers in the dark of your apartment like you always did, sharing stories of your day and you stroking each other lovingly, forgetting the world around you. You had been craving him all day, but you were struggling to find the energy to reassure him how much you loved him right now. You couldn't understand why it couldn't just come naturally at this point, why he couldn't trust you and your love for him when it had been proven over and over throughout your relationship. You also were trying not to feel insulted at his blatant lack of belief in you.
"Arthur, please."
You stroked his back reassuringly once, trying you best to stay calm. You could feel the anger radiating off of your lover, though he was trying to keep himself calm.
"If you like him, you don't have to come home and pretend to want to spend time with me-"
"Why would you even say that-"
"Is it true?"
"No!"
'Then why do you go out with him so often?" He has completely separated himself from you now, his voice raised in a way it was only when he was deeply insulted, riled up, or hurting. "Why don't you just come home and do it with me? Why do it with him?"
"Arthur, I had friends before you." You knew it was the worst thing to say at the moment, but you were so disoriented from everything that was coming out from this situation, you didn't know what else to say.
Small, tormented giggles began to etch themselves into his mouth, crawling out like ants. He could feel a laugh attack coming on, painfully exploding from his mouth like a volcano. His face crunched up in a disgusted scowl, and he shoved an arm to his face. His face was going hot red as enormous laughs began to overtake his throat. He tried to fight them back, but that only created a choking swallowing sound, excruciatingly painful just to hear, sounding as if a monster made of metal was trapped inside his throat. He hunched himself over and turned away from you, a sickly combination of embarrassed and ashamed.
"I just-I don't-" He tried to choke out between cackles, his face balled up into a disoriented, twisted form of what looked like someone who was dying of laughter. In a sense, he was. This was one of the worst attacks he had had in awhile; you could tell he was struggling to breathe, gasping through his long involuntary cackles and hiccups tearing through his throat. He was reducing himself into a ball on the ground, limbs balled up together like a tormented child.
You instantly rushed over to him, your heart pounding in your chest. Sometimes you worried if he was going to survive these attack. They seemed to rip and tear through his body like a demon. You felt guilt sheer through your core, knowing that you were the essential cause of this. "Shhh," you said softly, your tender side finally breaking through your exhaustion. "Baby, its ok. I'm here, and I love you."
He cackled again, his face still twisted up painfully, his laugh lines having deepened into dark crevices. Seeing his body balled up into a ball on the floor, his knees bent, his arm still covering his face, sent your own tormented shivers through you that you couldn't explain. His pain was your pain.
"I love you, and I'm not going anywhere."
He kept cackling like that for at least five more minutes, his laughs and agonizing roars coming and going, sometimes lasting for a full minute, sometimes taking short fifteen second breaks of heavy silence before small attacks manifested again, until finally he was just sitting there exhausted, throat sore, eyes wet and red, several tears going down his face. You stroked his back and mummered soft reassurances to him when there was intervals of silence, until you both were sitting there tired and worn down, sitting on the floor like helpless children.
"I'm sorry," Arthur finally mumbled, head down, brown curls in his face. "I dont-" a hiccup- "I don't deserve you."
Your heart shattered. "No, sweetheart," you muttered softly, sitting down in front of him and taking his face in your hands. "You're everything I could ever want and even more."
Arthur kept looking down, but he leaned into your touch. "Really?" he said, voice broken.
"Really." You began to caress the side of his face with your thumb. Oh, how you would never tire of touching him. No matter how much he would convince himself you didn't love him, he was always going to have an immense power over everything you did.
"Darling," you said, scotting forward. "I'm sorry. I don't deserve you. You're so good to me. And I love you so, so much, that sometimes I feel like I can't handle it. So I become frustrated when you can't see it. You're all I want, darling. When I'm with someone else, I can't help but become ecstatic thinking about coming home to you. I think about you all the time, and the time I do have with you goes by so fast, that it feels so unfair. I would be so lost without you, darling. I become myself when I'm with you."
Arthur let out one of his small, gentle laughs. He was still looking down, but you could tell he was more relaxed. He head was practically depending on your touch for support, all of its weight leaned onto it.
"I get so scared," he muttered, so softly you almost couldn't hear him.
Another caress. "Me too," you mummer slowly. "You're the most precious thing in my life, and you always will be. I get so worried that I'll break you, somehow. You're so fragile, sweetheart, but I only love you all the more for it."
As you spoke those words, you realized how true they were. Arthur really was the most fragile thing you had ever been responsible for. He was like glass; with the combination of his trauma, mental illnesses, disabilities, and childlike soul, it almost felt like he could crush like sand if he was put in the wrong person's hand, or even if you did something slightly wrong. Granted, you didn't have to be responsible for him, not in the slightest. But taking care of him was the most valuable and worthwhile thing you had ever done in your life. You could tell he became better because of you; his eyes shined a little brighter, he walked with a little more confidence, he talked to people more. Even when you two were alone, you could sense changes in him that weren't as apparent when you first met him; he was more clear headed and present in your conversations, smiled more, laughed more genuinely, and overall, just seemed like he was coming into himself through you. Like you were his ticket to finding himself. You didn't ever want to take that away. The tenderness of your relationship only grew richer with each experience with him, with every day, even on the bumpy, gruff ones like tonight. You only hoped you could work through this one too, just like all the ones you had before.
Finally Arthur looks up, and the soft, wet eyes that met yours made your heart sink with the sheer amount of deep, aching love you felt for him.
"Can we start over?" he asked, his voice so soft and small, so apologetic,so innocent, so unnecessarily guilty, it sounded like a childs'.
You smile softly and leaned forward to kiss him gently. He hesitated at first, then brushed them back in the most considerate way, like you would disappear before him if he did the slightest thing wrong.
"Love," you said softly, "I'm home."
Request: Arthur with an Ace!Reader
A/N: I was really worried about not getting this right and being inaccurate or offensive, I'm sorry if there's anything that's off!
Length: 2,362
Originally posted by jokerapologist
When you first fell in love with Arthur, you knew that he was it for you. His tender and understanding demeanor and soul was enough to make you fall head over heels in love, and you could tell, simply by the way Arthur looked at you, that he felt the same. Arthur never wanted anything from you but your love. He didn't care what shape, way, or form it was expressed, as long as it was from you. Your relationship was full of understanding, love, and patience. Arthur could tell from the moment you two started spending time together that you wanted to be with him simply to be with him, and Arthur found it so refreshing to be around someone who, for once in his affection deprived life, loved him simply for who simply who he was, body, soul, personality, and all. Although Arthur had always been curious about sex, he never brought it up with you. He never even dared to bring up the question, since you yourself had never shown any interest in it. He was far too shy to ask, and far too scared that he might offend you with the question somehow. Truth he told. Arthur never felt the desire for sex himself. He didn't even understand it-he felt like he was supposed to want it, and he wanted to do it the impress 'the guys' at HaHa's so that he could fit in and have something to bond over and talk about. But, if Arthur was being entirely honest with himself, he didn't really care for it. At all. Much rather would he enjoy simply being with you, taking in the soul, spirit, personality, and overall sweet energy that was you that he found so deliciously addicting. Though he was beyond content at where your relationship was going, Arthur himself had insecurities that maybe you did want sex, and just didn't deem Arthur worthy, which is why you never brought it up. His thoughts would be increasingly darker about the manner as your relationship progressed; were you just lonely and simply settling for his company for what it was until someone better came along? Did you feel embarrassed at the idea of having intercourse with him? Did you think he wouldn't be any good at it, so why bother asking? These questions plagued Arthur so badly, try as he might to ignore them, that it got to the point were sharing in your company, once so sweet and full of nothing but sweet words, intimate conversations, and, occasionally, cuddles and kisses, now had a strain of dark insecurity over it that made Arthur's leg bounce nervously. You noticed his leg bouncing, and, ever so gently did you reach out your hand and gently put it on his knee. "Arthur," you said, you voice stern but gentle in order to get his attention. Arthur's eyes flittered over to you nervously, but then rushed back to the wall in front of him, too insecure to meet your gaze. "What's wrong?" you asked gently. You hand was gently caressing his knee, reminding him that you were real, here, and whole. Though your touches remained innocent and lacked any kind of sexual intimacy, there were so important to Arthur, and so fulfilling, and even the slightest brush against his skin reminded him that you were real, something that Arthur needed and craved desperately from you at almost all hours. Arthur shook his head, and swept his curls back with one hand. "I-It's just….I don't know. I feel like there's something in our relationship we haven't….discussed." He finished the sentence awkwardly, and let out a huge breath, as if he had been physically holding the tension in his chest from anticipating bringing up the subject. You knew exactly what he was talking about, and you let out your own sigh. You knew what he must mean. "Arthur, I know you must be frustrated with me. That I haven't done anything with you like that yet," you began. Your heart was quickening in your chest. You were so scared. You loved Arthur so deeply. Was he going to leave you for this? To your surprise, Arthur's head whipped over to you, and his eyes frantically searched yours. "Frustrated?" Arthur exclaimed. "Y/N, you think I'm frustrated with you over this?" His voice held surprise and shock, and you felt your own shock ebbing through you as he took your hands in his and began to gently caress them with his thumb. "Darling, I thought you were going to leave me over this. I thought maybe you thought I wasn't….good enough to have sex with." Arthur felt his voice crack in the slightest as he finished his sentence, not realizing until the words left his mouth how much the concept had been torturing him. You laughed. You actually laughed, the concept of what had been tormenting Arthur's mind so far off from reality that it was actually funny. "Arthur, I have no desire for sex. I'm asexual." When Arthur looked at you with a confused,still slightly panicked look, you continued. "It means that I have no desire for sex. I just love to be with you, Arthur. I love you for everything that you are, and me not wanting to have sex with you is no reflection of you. I love you simply because I do. There's no proper way to explain it, Arthur. I just want to be with you. It's how I love, and it's certainly how I love you." You reached out and gently brushed a brown curl away out of his still bewildered face. "Y-you love me?" Arthur stammered, his face becoming red and flustered. You giggled at how simple and innocent he was, and leaned your head forward until your foreheads were touching, nuzzling your nose against his. "Yes, Arthur, I do. And I don't want you to feel insecure that we'll never have sex. That's not what I want. I just want to spend time with you, be with you. It doesn't mean I love you any less. It's just how I am." Arthur nodded, slowly taking it all in. When you saw his thoughtful, unreadable expression, your heard thudded, your own insecurity overtaking you. "Do….do you want to be with me, if it means we'll never have sex?" you stammered, your previous confidence and happiness now gone in the wake of your sudden morbid insecurity. You knew Arthur must have a sex drive; you saw the porn in his journal, saw the way you thought his eyes lit up when he saw certain images of porn and naked women. Surely he must long for something. To your surprise, however, Arthur simply nodded his head. "Yes, Y/N. Of course I will. To be entirely honest, I never…." Arthur stopped for a moment, then tried again. The words he was about to say was something he had never told anyone, not even himself. "I never really wanted to have sex. Ever. I always felt like it was something I was supposed to want, but I enjoy simply being with you so much more. I'd rather spend the night talking, cuddling, and simply being together more than anything else." You felt tears begin to form in your eyes. So he did get it. "Arthur," you spoke through your tears. "I'm so glad I found you." Arthur whined at seeing the tears fall down your face, at seeing your eyes become a pained watery state, and he leaned forward and gently brushed your tears away with his thumb. "I'm so glad I found you too," Arthur whispered in a haze as he simply took all of you in. You were so pure, so kind, and the fact that you loved him simply for him, for his personality, which he had been told wasn't good enough for the entirely of his life, was enough for him to fell like he was over the moon for how lucky he was to have you someone like you. Arthur didn't need sex, penetration, or anything of the like, no. He simply needed your caresses, cuddles, and, if you were willing, soft and warm kisses. Arthur was a simple lover, and it didn't take much for him to be utterly content. He didn't need sex in order to be madly in love, satisfied, or ecstatic for being with you. He just simply needed your company, you conversations, your warm touches against him. Quite simply, he just needed you. Of course, there were still challenges that were faced in the cruel, superficial city of Gotham when it came to your less 'mainstream' approach of handling a relationship. One of the worst of the memories was when you had gone to pick Arthur up from work. You had been about to enter, when a bit of conversation had caught your interest that traveled in from the door. "Hey Arthur, you know, for someone who has a partner, you sure don't ever seem to know what the fuck yous doing with sex." A couple of rough cackles of agreement followed the tough, gruff voice. "Do they even wanna touch you? Like, ever? Or do you guys just sit there and talk about how you're too small to even get inside the hole?" That was followed by even more loud, grunt laughter, and you felt tears sting at you eyes, partially for your own hurt, partially for Arthur, who had to deal with this on the daily. You heard a loud, unhinged laugh that sounded like Arthur, but didn't truly sound like him, echoing through the walls, and you realized he was mocking them with his own fake laugh. To your shock and relief, you heard Arthur's softer, smoother voice finally speak out amongst the grumbling and side comments. "Actually, we're both very happy this way. I love them and they love me, and I wouldn't want it any other way." There was silence, with still a few side cackles and gruffs, following that statement. Within a few more seconds you heard the door opening, and a few more seconds later and Arthur was rushing out the door, paper bag in hand with his things. He rounded the corner so abruptly that he crashed into you, and you both almost fell over at the force of it. "O-oh Y/N!" Arthur stammered in surprise as you regained your balance. Despite his confident words he had spoken a moment ago, his eyes were red, and there were tears falling from them. You could tell he was far more broken by the words than he had let out. A dark realization came over his eyes as he gazed into your broken spirit, and more tears, as well as a little anger, came upon his face as he fully took in the situation. As he saw your own tears of pain. "Y/N…Did…Did you hear everything they just said about us?" You bite your lip, and nodded. Arthur let out a soft nose of love and wrapped himself around you, swaying you gently back and forth. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," Arthur muttered into the curve of your neck softly, his hot breath on your skin making you shiver. "You deserve so much better than this." Ever so gently did Arthur pull himself away from you, and, gently cupping your face, he leaned forward and kissed your lips softly-but almost it was more of a gentle reassurance of a intimate caress, a silent word of I love you against your lips rather than a kiss. Every touch shared between you two was one of nothing but love, connection, and consideration. There was nothing sexual about it, just simply desire to shower the other in complete love and adoration. You hummed into the kiss, and focused on the sensation of his warm hand against your jaw as he gently thumbed the tears from your cheek. "Let's go home," Arthur muttered. "I want to make you something nice." You smiled, and nodded. "Arthur?" you said softly as you two took one another's hand and began your walk home. "Yeah?" Arthur said in his softest, most tender and considerate voice. The one only you got to hear "I love you, and don't you dare blame yourself for how these men treat you. You're perfect, just as you are." Arthur let our the most tender smile, which reached his eyes, making them shine, deepening his laugh lines. "I won't, Y/N," Arthur muttered quietly. "As long as you promise the same." You smiled, and nodded, to which Arthur's tender smile increased tenfold, making your heart melt. Oh, God help you, you did love him. He leaned forward and softly pressed his warm lips to your forehead. "I promise." Though Arthur was doomed to always be ridiculed for never being with a partner "like that", he was more than willing to endure anything simply to be with you. The rest of your night was one of therapedic conversations, warm hugs, cuddles, soft talk, hot food, and, above all, love. By the time you two lied down together in bed at night, there was nothing but pure, thick love radiating from the both of you, so tangible it was almost a physical sensation, its own entity. Arthur wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed the back of your neck softly, to which you giggled and buried your face in the pillow. His sweater tickled your skin like gentle kisses of their own. You two lulled yourselves to sleep with simple, sweet conversation, and both of you felt the most fulfilled from that simple sensation alone. This was heaven for the both of you; to simply spend nights together, cuddling, talking, and laughing quietly. Your relationship was not lesser because of lack of sex; if anything, it was fuller, so much more pure and leaving more room to simply enjoy the other for everything that they were in their presence alone. So rich was this experience, that you couldn't imagine it being any better than this. You two would never be entirely understood by much of the world, but as long as you had one another, that was all that would ever matter. -Yo can i request a personal headcanon? My name is Sarah, im kinda goth, sarcastic, i make jokes all the time, depressed most of the time, i like to draw/write, soft for the people i love. Do whatever you think would be good for me! THX horror-flick-chick
A/N: I apologize for any personality inaccuracies.
Originally posted by marlucci
First and foremost, you and Arthur would instantly hit it off with the same dark, dry humor. Many of your first hangouts were spent sharing in each other's sarcastic jokes, and to say that Arthur was anything less than topping over with laughter by the end of the night was an understatement. Arthur had never met anyone who truly made him laugh until he had met you, and this only made him fall that much more in love with you that much faster. Not only did you make him laugh, but you inspired his comedy, and that was a trait in a lover he never thought he'd be lucky enough to find. Arthur found your gothic style quirky but adorable; it caught his eye the moment he first saw you. He had never seen anyone purposely dress what he thought of as the physical manifestation of the emotions he was always feeling, but he was drawn to it, and he lovedit. Though too shy to talk to you, you eventually approached Arthur, drawn to his haunting but handsome, polite demeanor. "Hi," you said politely. "I'm Sarah." Arthur's eyes had shot up to you, and he had instantly started cackling; at first you were confused, and stepped back a bit, thinking he was laughing at you; but once you saw the pain in his eyes, you knew it was far more complicated than that. You knew Arthur was more complicated than that, and he showed you the true good of his soul within minutes of meeting you as soon as his soft spoken voice had been able to reach out through his cackles. Pretty soon, you two had hit it off, and before you knew it you were both bonding over everything you had in common-styles, humor, hobbies, and all. "Why do you dress like that?" Arthur asked abruptly. He didn't want to seem rude, but he was so intrigued by your unique style that he couldn't help himself. "Oh." You were suddenly flustered, a little self conscious."I don't know. It just feels like me." Arthur smiled his most tender smile at you, and your heart melted. "I like it. I like you." And with that, it was a confirmation that you were two lost souls that had finally found one another; both gentle and sweet, yet dark and dry in how they approached the world and their humor. You two were perfect for one another in more ways than one; you two simply understood the combination of being both sarcastic but kind to those who deserved it, and especiallythose you loved. Arthur would joke that he looked naturally goth and didn't even have to dress up. You two had more fun with each other than you did with anyone else, so well did you know one another. This, of course, made it easy for Arthur to fall head over heels in love with you, and soon, you two were inseparable. Arthur and you would bond immensely over how many jokes you both loved to make, and you both would be obsessed with helping the other with their jokes and comedy; especially Arthur. He found you so much funnier than he was, and, as a result, he refused to work on any of his jokes or "solidify" them unless you were there to help him to make them the funniest they could be. Much of your time together would end in Arthur pouncing himself on top of you, peppering you in kisses, or would end in a a just as equally playful manner; Arthur chasing you around the apartment and tickling you until you fell to the ground being one of them. Arthur would adore how artistic and creative you were; Arthur himself had always been rather creative, but it wasn't until he had met you that he truly got inspired to start honing his writing and drawings skills more. Although Arthur was a definite beginner in all areas of these, it suddenly seemed alright,simply because he had you by his side now. No longer was he alone in his creativity or imagination; now he was inspired to do much more than doodle silly little characters in his journal. Cute they were, but now he wanted to sharpen his skills so that he could truly express his inner life the way you did. As a result of all of this similar qualities, much of your hangouts resulted in creative sessions; whether they were drawing related, writing related, or joke related, there was always something you both were working on, honing your craft together, increasing his skill with it as your love for one another deepened as well. Much like how Arthur empathized and understood your humor and creativity, he also understood your struggles with your mental health, having his own struggles with it as well. Many of your nights were spent with Arthur simply holding you, rocking you back and forth on your worst days when you just couldn't get yourself to do anything. Arthur would hum in his off tune but endearing voice, murmuring to you sweet, comforting nothings as he told you about his day, about how much he loved you, and, if you were in the mood, a few jokes, knowing that you found just his very voice and presence comforting/ "Don't you know how strong you are, Sarah?" Arthur would mutter as he gently took his finger and lifted your chin to meet his gaze. Your eyes would spill over in bittersweet tears in the wake of his understanding, and you would allow yourself to be fully vulnerable with him as he was with you; and, just like that, you two found healing in that one simple concept; being honest, truthful and open with one another about how you were feeling, knowing your pain was safe with the other. These sessions and bad nights would only cause Arthur to fall deeper in love with you, seeing himself in you in so many aspects that it was almost overwhelming. As Arthur's own pain deepened as his life went on, he only became more determined to protect you from whatever may be causing you pain, whether it be physical or, even worse, your own mind play tricks on you, telling you that you were undeserving of anything wonderful and of anything having to do with love, when nothing could be possibly be less true. Arthur started a list of everything he would do for you when you were down; he would write down everything you found comforting when you were feeling nothing, out of it, lost, or whatever other bad moods may plague your mind. He kept the list on the kitchen wall, and read it over and over until he had it memorized. They were often simply but heartfelt things. Arthur didn't have much to give you in this life, but he had his love, and for you, that was more than enough. In turn, you were always there for Arthur-the man was full of his own pain, but you were more than willing to always be there to help him out of it in any form you were possibly able. Many nights, much like how some would be full of laughter, would also be full of pain and tears, but through Arthur's gently murmured words and your words of affirmation for how much you loved and adored him did you two find some relief and healing in the other. When there were days when you couldn't get up, just didn't see the point, Arthur was right there beside you, stroking your face, back, legs, anything he could to remind you that you were here, real and, above all, worth it and everything and more. Arthur would never allow your negative thoughts to win, ever, and you were more than determined to do the same for him. Together, you were a force to be reckoned with, and nothing could ever, ever being the two of you down as long as you had the other. - "May I request a imagine for Arthur fleck and my name is Luna and I'm artistic and I have Some trauma and I need soothing" Here you go! 3 lunvella Originally posted by lonelydoctors "Luna." Arthur spoke your name from across the room. He had just returned home from his job, and he was leaning against the wall by the kitchen, concern gracing his gentle features as he observed your shaking, hunched over body. Usually when Arthur came home you were working diligently on a piece of artwork or a painting, or some creative project, and Arthur's admiration for how talented and persistent you were with your hobbies would overcome him each and every day, so proud to call you his, but not today. No, today you were only sitting on the couch, hunched over and visibly trembling in your skin. You hand't even looked up or acknowledged him, and that was how Arthur knew something was truly wrong. Normally, you would jump up and run over to Arthur instantly, gripping his brown curls excitedly and digging your fingers into his skin in the most loving, desirable fashion, to which Arthur's face would crinkle up lovingly, until his eyes were nothing but happy black slits covered in his smile wrought wrinkles that were now more marked full of love than they were torment. You had healed that for him a bit, as much as the irrevocable wounds of his life could be; true love had a funny way of healing wounds that seemed impossible to fix. He would be eternally grateful for it always. Always was he looking to return the deep seated favor, always. And right now, he saw no better opportunity to do so than coming home and seeing your wrapped up within yourself, body shaking, eyes lost in some deep thought as you seemed to forget your surrounds around you. Even him-and that was so unlike you that it almost made Arthur's blood run cold. Arthur rushed up to you and kneeled down beside you. "Hey, hey," Arthur muttered gently, his thumbs caressing your knees as he tried to bering you back from the icy layer you had found yourself in. You didn't respond-you simply kept staring forward, looking at nothing, seeing nothing. "Luna, darling, please come back to me," Arthur pleaded in his most tender, considerate voice. "I need you here, sweetheart, so much." Something about Arthur's voice lulled you out of even your darkest state. His soft, tender tones were like magic to you. After a moment, you turned your head and looked at Arthur-there was the slightest recognition, and, dared Arthur to think, even warmth as you gazed into his gentle green oceans that were full of nothing but tender love and understanding. His inner warmth reflected back at you through your pain, as if he could bring some of his life to you simply by being there and looking into you, touching you, holding you. Arthur hummed sympathetically and reached out with a worn hand, gently wiping away some of the tears that were falling down your cheek that you hadn't even noticed were there, so lost inside your own head you were. You let out a small hiccup, and Arthur couldn't help but smile lovingly at how adorable and precious you were-though his heart also did a squeeze of pain knowing how much suffering you were in, and how little you deserved it. Usually it was you doing the gushing and comforting over him, so much trauma did Arthur himself have, but today it was all about Arthur learning how to protect and love you in any way he possibly could grant you. He owed you a lifetime of gratitude and love, and, although you had reassured Arthur countless times that Arthur didn't need to "repay" you for any of the love you granted him, he was more than happy to grant you any happiness and healing he could give you in return. Arthur quickly eased himself up by your side, and wrapped his arms around you, gently rubbing your arms to bring you back to him as he pressed warm lips to the top of your trembling head. The feeling of his beloved hand against yours was enough to bring you back the slightest bit. "I wish you could tell me what's wrong," Arthur mumbled in his most soothing and tender of tones through his gentle kiss. "But for now, darling, simply sitting with you will have to do." Arthur was trying to ignore the pain in his own heart that was shredding him from the inside out at seeing you in so much pain. He loved you more than he loved himself, more than he loved life itself. You two bore similar deep scars of trauma and pain; though Arthur didn't know the full context of yours, he knew how trauma of any sort could permanently damage and possibly even handicap a person for the rest of their days. Arthur would give anything in his power to take away every ounce of pain inside of you that held you back more than it helped you; he knew the same was true for you love for him. But for now, all he could do was simply hold you, rocking you gently back and forth in his arms, muttering sweet nothings into your ear as he took in how muchsuffering the two of you were in. Sometimes, there was nothing to do but simply endure together. Sometimes, there was no solution; only two broken souls cradling each other under the tent of true love until it passed. "How does a hot drink sound?" Arthur offered. Your head was rested under his chin, the rocking of Arthur's arms that were pulling you gently back and forth lulling you into a bittersweet state between torment and peace, consciousness and unconsciousness. You sniffed, then nodded, and Arthur smiled a injured smile at the fist sign that you were here and hearing him-that he was helping you. To know he was doing so was the greatest and most fulfilling task he could ever accomplish; to see you smile or show even the slightest bits of peace again was the most fulfilling sensation that he could ever experience. Arthur got himself up and rushed over to the kitchen, quickly grabbing a mug, and then filling it with your favorite hot drink. When Arthur came back, you were a little more alert, a little more present, and Arthur pressed his lips to your forehead lovingly as he handed you the hot mg. "Be careful, it's hot," Arthur muttered softly. When you nodded, Arthur's heart sank at how tragically precious yet breakable you were in that moment; so broken but so full of love for him. Arthur felt he himself had so much love for you that his heart would surely give out from the feeling. Arthur would do anything for you; anything. Though his own eyes had black bags under them from the unforgiving day, and though his own head was full of heavy, negative thoughts that plagued him almost relentlessly, he was willing to put aside spiritual and physical exhaustion alike in order to simply be there for you. Arthur gently caressed both of your hands with his warm thumb as your trembling eased down the slightest at the sensation of the hot mug and Arthur's equally warm, irreplaceable, and sweet touches. "I love you, Luna, I do. And I'm here," Arthur muttered tenderly as he gazed at you, his love and empathy for you only increasing as he took you in. Just when he thought he already couldn't love you more, he somehow fell more in love with you with each and every passing day. Though neither of your wounds could ever be truly healed, at least not anytime soon, these nights of gentle understanding and endless patience was all either of you needed to get through each painful step at a time, one by one. - I can't resist you Summary: You try and punish Arthur the only way you know how after you two run into some money troubles, not realizing how much it would really impact Arthur. All you want is for Arthur to learn how to care for himself as much as he does about you, but you go about it the wrong way. A/N: idk if this scenario even makes SENSE jdnwdkqdw i was just trying to make a scenario where this relationship dynamic would manifest. If there's a clear solution to the money issue i can't see just ignore it ejjew i was just looking for an excuse to write touch starved Arthur. Also i feel terrible for writing this and doing this to Arthur ewfjjnfeew I LOVE YOU ARTHUR Contains: a little angst, smut, conflict, slight arguing, Carnival, desperate needy Arthur Length: 5,767 Originally posted by missis-gingersnap You knew how Arthur's brain worked, all too well. More than perhaps he gave you credit for. "Arthur, we talked about this." Your voice was the sternest you had ever used with him. You were angry, and disappointed, far more than you let on. You hated being angry with Arthur about anything. Even now you trying to hide just how frustrated you were with him as you stood a few feet away from his thin form sitting on the couch, your body trembling with worry and a little rage. This was the third time this had happened. "I just wanted to help. I know your job hasn't been paying you well lately." He was sitting on the couch across the room from you, blankets swept over his body. He was so snuggly looking, wearing an oversized sweater, his brown ocean waves stuck out in all directions. He had been told, no, ordered to go rest when he came home to you, sniffling with a red nose and even redder exhausted eyes. It was winter in Gotham, and Arthur's job had been asking him and the other clowns regardless of the weather to go out and dance in the streets. Six to eight hours of Arthur on his feet in those thin clothes that technically weren't even real clothes, just thin little party cheap cloths of nothing. Not only was he being scoffed at, abused, and dancing on his feet for an absurd amount of time, but now he was cold through all of it too, and it was painfully clear within just a week of this work that he was sick now too. It angered you to no end, but when you had asked Arthur if you could go down and "talk" to Hoyt a bit about his treatment of his workers, he had only started to stammer and blush furiously, clearly nervous beyond words at the thought, and the only thing that stopped you from getting to that point was him literally begging you not to, slight tears in his red rimmed eyes as he insisted that he would have to deal with the wrath of Hoyt as soon as you were gone and Hoyt deemed it "safe" to yell and abuse him again. Now here you were, about a week later, and Arthur had just gotten home from yet another grueling day. He had a bruise on his shoulder, his face had blotchy red patches all over it, his eyes seemed to be permanently exhausted- he had a popped blood vessel on his eye that made your heart shatter-and he was coughing like crazy. It was bad enough to see the man that you loved more than life in such a disheveled, mistreated state, and you would admit at least a part of your anger stemmed from that, and then partially that he didn't care for himself, and then still even more at his job that abused him, but what was truly angering you at the moment was walking home into the apartment, only to see your bills paid-when you hadn't yet paid them with your own money, and dinner on the table that was had a loving note, For Y/N by it. It was true you job hadn't been paying you lately-your office company had run into a massive robbery that had significantly damaged the store's ability to function-it was a common occurrence amongst Gotham-and you were being paid less than half of what you usually were. You had taken up more hours, but not even that could even come close to making up for the money you were losing. It broke your heart, but not for yourself. You wanted you and Arthur to have the best life you could have together, and, in general, to help him out as much as you could. It was good that his job could keep him afloat, although just barely, and Arthur could hardly afford to take care of himself enough as it was, let alone you as well. You two were balancing on the very edge of the homelessness. You would think having two people sharing the bills would make living easier, but it really just added an extra mouth to feed and the like to the apartment's expenses, so it evened out into about the same struggle you two were having previously when you both lived alone. You two had made a deal when you first got together; you would pay the half of the bill that concerned the stuff you invested in, and Arthur would do his. You spilt on electricity, heat, and the like together. It was been a pretty good system, up until your job had cut half your pay. It was true you couldn't afford to pay your half this month along with the food shopping you had to do, but Arthur using all of his earned money on you when he already worked his ass off, and was in such a state because his job didn't give a damn about him, was sending you off the edge. Did he even have enough money to buy himself dinner for the next few weeks? "Arthur, that's your money. And you've been sick too. And you bought me dinner, too?" Arthur shrugged, and swept his curls back with his hand-you tried to ignore how weak that made you, how much you just wanted to cuddle with him under the blankets and forget your long day and worries. That had been the plan for the afternoon-but now you were having second thoughts. He needed to know how serious this was, that you could take care of yourself, that he didn't need to sacrifice anything to take care of you. That you didn't want him to, especially not when he was falling apart so much already. "It's not a big deal," Arthur mumbled, trying to play it casual, but you could tell he was upset that you were being so stern with him. "Couples help each other, right?" He looked up at you with those doeful, beautiful blue eyes that made your heart melt and soar at the same time, but no, you needed to resist him tonight to get your point across. You shook your head, and crossed your arms. "Arthur, I told you I didn't want your help with this. This was my responsibility. Do you even have enough to buy yourself food for the next few nights? Because I don't have the money to pay for both of our meals." Arthur sniffed, and rubbed his sore red nose. You took that as a resounding no. "I only have enough to pay for food for one," you growled. "I do have a little extra money for a bit of food for you for the next night or two, and of course I'll share, but that's not the point, baby. You need to take care of yourself first and foremost, and the worst part is that I told you that." Arthur was looked down now, fiddling with his thumbs. It was rare for him to not feel safe to look into your eyes whenever he pleased. "Just come cuddle," Arthur tried one more time, his voice boyish, soft, raspy, and, finally, a hint of apologetic. "You can pay me back, or something. Just….please come snuggle." And that was were your train of thought came in full circle; you knew how Arthur's brain worked, that he quite literally needed your kisses and touches and skin against his for at least three hours of the afternoon like he needed medication. But you had a plan, and, even though it was inevitably going to backfire and punish you too, you had to come up with something that you make sink in that this was not allowed to happen ever, ever again. You couldn't stand seeing Arthur in this state. In an ironic sort of way, you would have to not love him for a few days in order to love him. You rushed up and jumped on Arthur, and he let out a yelp of surprise. You started to tickle him until he was completely breathless, his already blotchy face becoming increasingly more red as you tackled his sides through the thick blankets. You peppered his face in kisses, and he giggled with both happiness and helplessness as he was reduced to a puddle of affection under your touch. "Y/N, what are you-" you cut him off with one last kiss against his lips, savoring every feel of his lips against yours, memorizing with painstaking detail just how otherworldly and amazing it felt to touch him. Oh, this was going to be cruel for the both of you, but you couldn't see anything else you could take away from him that would mean enough to him to get your specified financial boundaries to sink in. You pulled your lips away regretfully, and allowed yourself one last peck on his sore nose, the sensation making your folds throb with heat. "I hope you enjoyed that," you gasped between breaths, smirking inwardly as you thought about how you had done 'that' for yourself as much as him. A just as equally breathless Arthur, who had his hair in his face, face red, skeletal chest heaving up and down, seeing his ribs even through the fabrics of his sweater, stared at you with questioning green eyes. "Becuase for the next week, cuddles, kisses, intamcy, and sex is off limits." Arthur's eyes went from inquisitive and playful to completely worried, threatening to bulge out of his skull. "No-No-Y/N, please, I'll do anything, I'm sorry," he whimpered, his voice pitiful and broken. The sound alone almost made you cave, but, upon seeing the bags in his eyes once more, seeing the hollows of his cheeks and the unnatural red of his eyes, you knew you needed to do this for his sake. You put your finger to his lips, and he pressed his lips softly against it, his touch starved essence pouring out as he took whatever he would get from you. You would let him have this much for now. "No cuddles, no kisses, squat." Arthur let our a small, helpless whine, and buried his face into the couch pillow. "I need you, Y/N," Arthur whimpered into the pillow. "You know I do. I'm sorry I upset you." "Too late for apologizes," you said determinedly, trying to ignore your own cravings to curl into him. "If this is the only way I can get through to you, than so be it." Arthur didn't move a muscle, his face still buried in the pillow. Your heart caved, and you felt the need to reassure him instantly. You were so weak for this man that it drove you wild. "I'll still be here, baby. You can still tell me about your day, call me pet names. We'll still sleep next to each other, and I'll still cook you dinner. I'm still here as your girlfriend and as someone to talk to, sweetheart. I'm still yours. But we need to be able to work this out, and if a week away from me physically is what it takes for you to listen-" you sighed. "Then this is how it's gonna be." "You're a cruel woman," Arthur rasped into the pillow. "Cruel, cruel woman." "Cruel enough for you to be addicted to cuddling with me, I suppose." You chuckled, trying to ignore the sadness in your core, then got up and headed for the kitchen. The next few hours consisted of you writing in the journal you shared together, and Arthur lying his sick body on the couch, watching his Murray Franklin reruns. When it was time for bed, you told him so, almost falling into your habit of stroking his face gently before taking him off the couch, but managing to resist last minute. You lied down one side of the bed without his arms around you, and you shivered miserably. Arthur lied across the bed from you, back turned to you. You flipped yourself over and stared at the soft red sweater that graced his loveable body, and felt your heart physically tear at how much you wanted to kiss and love on every inch of his skin to make up for the past few hours. But then you thought about the money, about how Arthur didn't care for himself, about how how hard it was going to be to feed him for the next week. You sighed, and fell asleep without his touch, feeling regret tug at your mind despite reason. This was going to be a long, long week. — It had been days since you had touched Arthur, and to say you were going crazy was an understatement. You had underestimated to the highest degree how much you needed his touches as much as he needed yours. Arthur hasn't been talking to you much lately. He had simply been coming in, putting his bags down, giving you that puppy eyed, sad look, and then sitting by you while you both watched his shows, with only a few quiet words spoken between you two. You tried to make conversation, but it was strained and a little forced. Of course Arthur talked back to you, he still had all of the same love, gentleness, and admiration for you, but it was hidden under a strain of how much he was fighting between longing for you and being frustrated with you and your "punishment". There were some parts that were paying off, however. Arthur's health was significantly increasing, and you could tell by the way he was taking this punishment that he wouldn't be making the same mistake again. He had already returned some of the food he had paid with his own money that was meant for you so that he would have more money for food for himself, and allowed you to use what little money you had to pay for both of you for the next few weeks. Of course, he had his tactics. He had tried to tease you a fair couple of times these last few nights to get you to touch him in any way you were willing to grant him. He tried the approach of getting into bed fully naked, lying on top of the sheets so that his body was fully exposed. Never would he have felt comfortable enough to do this with anyone but you. He knew you loved him, and he knew just how much you love him so much to the point that it was hard for you to resist him-and, therefore, how much you loved his body. You had almost caved every time he had done it, but had managed to pull back every single time despite how much your heat throbbed, despite how much you wanted to touch and caress him, to be inside of him the way you were both used to every single night. But you resisted, because you knew Arthur. If you gave into him, it would be silently letting Arthur know that he could, in fact, get away with paying your bills for you and letting himself rot. You absolutely refused for this to be the case. You needed him to take this seriously, to take taking care of himself seriously, and his overall well-being seriously. If you were going to torture yourself and him, you needed to go all the way. You needed to make it productive. So, you had simply settled for a gently muttered, "Goodnight, Arthur" and had turned the lights out, trying to ignore the whimper that followed your words as it fully settled in that he wouldn't be getting his fill of you tonight. Of course, it was more than that for Arthur. It was about so much more. He didn't just long for your touches-he needed them. It wasn't about horniness or ego for Arthur, no. It was about love, validation, healing. For Arthur, being close to you in any way you would grant him was the greatest gift you could bestow to him. It was the final mark they you truly loved him, that you wanted every part of him, skinny ribs, hollowed chest, jutting hips and all. Arthur would never find himself desirable, but with you he couldn't help but feel like anything but desirable, the way your hands desperately danced and graced his skin, so clearly desiring him as much as he did you. You knew what each day for him was going to be like, grueling and unforgiving, and it killed you more than you were willing to admit that he was facing the world now without your touches. Like the old days, before you. You sighed, and sunk further into your chair, closing your eyes. You were muddled and tired, your skin aching for the tenderness that only he could grant you. His lack of touches had taken its own toll on you, and you felt the literal ache worming itself into your soul like a disease. As if on cue, the door clicked, and your tired eyes flittered over to the clown that was standing in the doorway. He wasn't Arthur at this moment-he was Carnival. Your heart did a small, painful lurch. Carnival was the persona he stayed in when he was in a lot of pain-more pain than he was willing or wanted to show you. Much like how he would hide his emotions when he was in deep pain, he would mask his literal face with the heavy greasepaint, making his gentle, sweet face that was so precious and gentle simply to look at unrecognizable under mindless, inhuman paint, hiding all of the tender gentleness that he naturally had that the world loved to knock down with a deep force. The world made him ashamed of the elements of him that you found the most precious, the most worthy of love. You let out a whine of pain, and you knew tonight might be the night you caved. Your heat was aching for him to be inside of you, your very skin breaking out in goosebumps just at the sight of him. But, more important than any of that, you were also worried-deeply worried about what he was feeling. He seemed to be in a deep state of buried pain, and he looked at you through unreadable, soft eyes through the blue triangles of his Carnival make up, which then quickly dropped back down to the floor. He scurried towards the bathroom, body scrunched, arms pushed at his sides, as if trying to make himself as small as possible. You got up, feeling the urge to comfort him in whatever way you possibly could. There was still a part of you that was determined to stick with your punishment, but every fiber of your being wasscreaming for the desire to be near him again, to love and kiss and touch all of his pain away until he felt nothing but your love and your sweet, unconditional and gentle words that eased like a spilled paint into one another until the elements of physical and spoken word of intimacy couldn't be disguised from the other; until there was only love; true, genuine love taking the form of whatever it could in order to touch his soul, all of it transforming into one melodic song of healing that only Arthur could hear. If you were the song, Arthur was the conductor, and he needed to hear your melodies in order for his life to have a reason at all. He couldn't hear that song right now, and he was suffering for it. You rushed into the bathroom and pushed the door open. Carnival was sitting on top of the toilet, simply staring at the stagnant, colorless wall in front of him. You made a noise of love and almost forgot yourself, almost falling immediately to the urge to spoil in him your caresses, kisses, and touches, but you stopped yourself just in time. Arthur needed to learn how to care for himself. Needed to. "Sweetheart," you whispered. If you couldn't comfort him with you touches, you needed to at least attempt to use your words. "What happened?" A small, tormented chuckle that was instantly suppressed with his hand within half a second was the only response he gave you. He continued to stare at the wall, making no response that he had heard you. The blue triangles of his eyes were starting to melt down his cheek, spreading down into his neck. He seemed to hardly care. Arthur didn't care for himself; it was always up to you to make sure he was cleaned up and taken care of. Oh, he took care of you, all right, but taking care of himself he deemed too insignificant for him to be concerned with. You felt your insides go black; this punishment was doing the opposite of what you had wanted. He was being more responsible, sure, but his soul was rotting. There were so many things about Arthur that was like a child, begging and literally needing physical love constantly in order for him to know he was loved. And you had been denying him those starved parts of himself that only you could grant him. "Arthur," you cooed gently. You rushed over and kneeled down beside him. Don't take his hand, don't take his hand, don't- Your hand rushed out and gently you took it in yours. You had to close your eyes for a minute at how touch starved you had been for his touches-the wobbly veins of his hand were like gentle hills against your own slightly smoother hands, caressing you like soft kisses. You had forgotten just how warm his hand was-even in the cold did it always feel so warm and comforting simply because it was Arthur's. His warmth radiated through everything he did. You let out a shaky breath, and gently caressed his skin with your thumb. His hand was full of scarp bruises, wounds, and the like-the literal marks of how cruel the world was to him. You let out a gentle coo of sympathy, yet were adoring the sensation of taking in every detail against your own skin that was Arthur's and Arthur's alone, the unique wretchedness of his condition you found nothing short of irresistible and damn near heart stoppingly loveable. At your touch, Carnival's previously distant eyes snapped up, and he whisked his head over to you. His electric green wig tipped over on his head as he did so, almost falling off the side of his head from the intensity of how he fast whipped his head. There was intimate dances of multiple intense emotions in his gaze-there was shock in eyes, an indefinable about of pain, sadness, and-the one most prominent-relief. You touching him in even the slightest was surely the one thing he had been waiting for since your 'punishment' had started a few days ago, and you could feel every painful tremor as his hand shook against yours. With desire, despair, or longing, you couldn't tell. You just knew he was inpain. Your hand was trembling almost as much. You had missed his desperately, too. "Arthur, baby, can you tell me what happened?" you asked gently. Your thumb was gently caressing his hand up and down, the rhythm calming to the both of you. Instead of words, Carnival's lips dropped into an exaggerated frown. He took his other hand that wasn't being caressed by yours and made a crying symbol with it by putting his fist by his eye, rubbing it in a circular motion. Despite his playful attitude, there was true, genuine pain in his eyes, his bloodshot eyes a haunting red against the unnatural white of his face. "Oh, my love," you muttered gently. "What did I do to you?" Although you had thought it a….decent idea at the time, you were realizing now fully the deep errors of your plan. Arthur needed your touches and kisses when he got home. He needed them more than the food you fought over to buy, more than the soft bed that kissed his exhausted skin at night. They meant an entire world of healing for him; not only that, but Arthur was simply the type of soul that needed an indefinable amount of love, in general. The softness of his soul longed for it like water in a desert, and the damage of the trauma of his life only made that quality more life stoppingly thirsty. He was the most worthy of love out of anyone that you knew in the wold, and here you were, denying him that which he longed for more deeply than food or sleep simply because you had been frustrated with him, of all things. It seemed so petty and selfish of you now. "One moment," you muttered softly. You got up from your squatting and let go of Arthur's hand-trying to ignore the deep, empty feeling that instantly replaced it-and went to go get a warm towel from the bathroom. You took it under hot water, and then rushed back over to Carnival. You squatted down again until your face was level to his, and your eyes met in a silent conversation as you began to gently wash the greasepaint from his face. "You really need me, don't you, Arthur?" you whispered softly as his eyes searched yours. You didn't say the words in a cocky or malicious way; you simply spoke the words aloud to let him know that you finally were coming to realize the true severity of his condition for you love. Carnival made no move to agree to disagree-he simply let more hot tears roll down his cheeks. You let out yet another a soft noise of love and pain and leaned forward, gently kissing the tears off of his face like you used to. Carnival let out a shuddering breath against your face as you did so, his hot breath making your tremble with your own lust. "So wonderful," Carnvial-now more Arthur-rasped in a pained tone as the paint gradually was wiped from his face, leaving it to look like an unfinished portrait as the colors melded together as one giant disarray of chaotic colors. In that moment Arthur looked like the very definition of pained art, in more ways than one, with his red, tormented eyes peaking out from the equally mixed up paint. You nodded against his skin. The simple touch of his cheek against yours was enough to drive you wild-now that you remembered how his touch felt like against yours, every touch radiatingelectricity through you like fire, you couldn't believe you had gone this long without his touches. Slowly, you allowed your lips to gently caresses his cheek; the very air between the small space between his cheek and your lips seemed like it could light aflame itself with the sheer passion and love that manifested there. You wanted to go further, every fiber of your being begging for his touch, but you weren't sure what his mental state was, and you were't sure what he wanted. As if sensing your hesitation, Arthur whispered in a heavy, lust filled and raspy voice, "more please." You nodded every so gently, and you allowed your teeth to leave its place from behind your lips and nipped his skin. Arthur let out a sharp yelp of pain in response, and then let out a breath of white hot relief and lust. You knew he wanted to touch you, and you knew he was resisting because he thought that was what you wanted. Like hell Arthur not touching you was ever what you wanted. "Arthur, yes," you whispered against his skin. "Please touch me, baby. Please." That was all Arthur needed. Before you even could process what was happening, Arthur shot his arms around your rump, pulling down your pants and letting them fall to the floor. Arthur's worn hands began to gently kneed both cheeks of your rump, and then rushed down your legs like a flittering bird, so quick and so silent, the trail of his hands against your skin seeming to quite literally leave a blazing trail of fire against your leg that was burning after it was gone. You needed to help him out, so you wrapped your legs against his hips, and with that Arthur picked up your half naked form and carried your out of the room. Your tongue and lips were still dancing uncontrollably, and Arthur moaned in his relief as he carried you to the bedroom. He threw you down onto the bed, and he began spoiling your bare neck in touches and kisses, each one leaving a mark of fire underneath his lips and crooked teeth. You were rendered completely helpless under his touches, your chest breathing up and down heavily, your face twisted in a deep sort of pain at how much you needed him all all over you. Arthur sensed your burning, and he felt it too, the connection between both of your bodies radiating through you two like a drug. Arthur quickly pushed his own pants down with a quickwoosh, then threw his shirt aside, then bounced onto of the bed, cradling your hips between his knees as his cock throbbed against your folds. Through his energy was dominating, his eyes were begging, soft, and helpless. He needed your permission,especially after you having been so determined for him to not touch you for the past few days. You nodded, face slick with sweat just at the idea of his body and yours becoming one once more. Arthur nodded. You message had been received. Relief overcame his expression, and very quickly he thrusted his cock into your hole. You threw your head back and let out a wail, jutting your hands up and gripping his back, no doubt leaving red marks against his back as you did so. Arthur growled in response, and he continued to thrust into you harder in response to the bittersweet, deliciously addicting pain. You allowed him to ride you until you felt your hips ache, him all the while spoiling your lips and your face alike as he pounded himself into you like a starved tiger who had finally found its prey. "I'll never deny you my touches again," you gasped through the sweet kisses and gentle touches you shared. "But darling, you have to promise me you'll take care of yourself from now on, ok? I can't afford to have the love of my life be anything less than healthy and happy. I love you too much." You barley managed the words out through your gasping, and you spoke them shakily but audibly. Arthur nodded, and, at your words, speaking to him so softly and so gently the way he always craved, voice trembling with the sensations that only him entering you and claiming you could make you feel, made him topple over the edge, and with one last violent thrust he came into you. That was always what made Arthur come; the confirmation that you truly did love him, that you were his. Within moments Arthur's knees bucked from the sheer force of how strongly his orgasm hit him, and yours came upon you like lighting, warmth striking through your body like a heat of flash and pleasure Arthur allowed his face to fall into the crook of our neck. You brought your hands up and began to silently stroke his back and neck, kissing the crown of his head with soft kisses, the brown curls tickling your face. You could already feel the heaviness of his demeanor coming upon him again; though he loved to get lost within your body and within you like you were another world, another universe, he always eventually had to come back from his favorite escape and return to the real world. Your body was a map of every happiness he had ever been denied, and you finally were allowing him to explore that world again once more. "I'm so sorry, Arthur," you whispered into his hair. "I'm so, so sorry. I never should have done this to you." Arthur nuzzled your neck in response. Gently, his lifted his face up to yours. The fragile poetry of his beautiful face, sharp cheekbones and stark long eyelashes alone was enough to make you cum again. To your relief, his eyes no longer held pain; they were now full of relief and tender love, and he was gazing at you with all the love in his eyes. "I promise I'll take care of myself more," Arthur mumbled with his softest voice. It was so gentle, yet so raspy from his exhaustion and the lust he had just experienced. Your feet tingled just at the sound of his gentle voice. "I promise." He took his finger and gently began tracing your features. "No more going against your rules, no more using my money to pay for your troubles unless you ask me too." You smiled, almost too lost in the heavenly sensation of his finger tracing your face to even hear what he was saying. "Promise?" you mumbled sleepily. Arthur leaned forward and kissed the tip of your nose. "Promise." "I can't lose you, Arthur. I can't. I need you, baby. I need you." "I know, and I'm sorry." Arthur whispered. You simply lied there for a moment, taking in the gentle tingles that Arthur's finger was leaving as he gently tracing against your lips, feeling like an angel was literally blessing you with its touch. Arthur truly was a fallen angel, and only those who knew who could see as much. "I missed you," Arthur gently murmured, seeming to be lost in your trance with you. Softly. Almost apologetically, as if he thought perhaps you didn't want to hear such a thing. You grinned, and you took his finger and gently peppered it in kisses, to which Arthur beamed his lovestruck, shy smile at you softly, his crooked teeth shining out from his lips. "I love you, Arthur. God help me, I love you. You will be the death of me." What a fool you had been to deny each other the one thing that kept one another sane; each other. Though you and Arthur had your issues, never again would you deny each other the literalmedicine that you both needed from the other with physical bonding that you used to obtain the inner wealth you both needed. -Sassy/Angry! Arthur headcanons that no one asked for because I needed to cheer myself up today and confident/pissy Arthur gets me going shsdjsdh. Thank you ajokeformur-ray for reading this over and for your feedback jnejdknd i love you. idk if this flows IDK jdenjenejde. Fluff at the end.
Length: 3,056
Originally posted by 2019joker
You had no doubts in your head how sweet, kind, and quiet natured Arthur was. He was polite to everyone that-to those that deserved it, anyway. You began to recognize the signs of something more going on in Arthur's head when he interacted with certain people while you were out and together. If anyone even had the slightest off energy, or gave him even the smallest reason to believe they had bad intentions, his sweet, soft nature would become a little sharper, a little more quick. Although Arthur was a heart wrecking combination of emotionally abused and put down by the world, with a persistent a heart of gold to compliment these wretched states, he had no trouble spitting fire at someone who deserved it. Especially now that he had something besides himself to care for; you. You began to recognize the symptoms the more you went out with him. Arthur's incredibly fake laughter was the first sign of that his more fiery, 'no nonsense" side was getting the better of him. If you two were out and a stranger came up to you-men were not shy about coming up to women even when there was clearly a man they were with beside them-and started talking with you, Arthur's hands would grip around your waist intensely. If the man made a joke? Arthur would let the most fake of his laughs that would cackle through the air, high pitched and purposely obnoxious, his jaw quivering with how "hard" he was laughing until it drowned out the man's laughter, and, if you laughed-which was usually born from simply not wanting to piss the man off-yours all together until there was nothing but awkward silence. Within moments the man would give up and walk away, slightly freaked out, slightly not even knowing what just happened and simply just wanting to the hell get away. Arthur would smirk proudly to himself and kiss the back of your head. The same went for whenever someone was mean to someone else without it being justified; if anyone said something mean to someone else out of the blue who didn't deserve it, his loud, eccentric laughter would boom through the walls sarcastically until everyone was simply left sat staring blankly, quiet and wondering what the fuck just happened. You first were introduced to Arthur's sassy side when he first told you some of his jokes that he wouldn't show anyone but you. "What did the patent say to his therapist when she asked him where his journal was?" You thought for a moment, humoring him. You knew this was based off of his real life experience. "Why?" "'I burned it,' the patient said.'" "'Why?' the therapist asked." "It didn't want to come back here again. It's a lot happier now, and having more fun than I am right now." You would smirk at him. You had to admit that you had your own sassy side, and you lovedit when Arthur was comfortable enough to start sharing it with you. Although Arthur would never dream of telling these jokes to anyone but you, they certainty brewed in his mind. You found this side of him quite spicy and hot, and never would have dreamed upon first falling in love with him that such a weighed down, supposedly shy man was so quick on his feet in mind and wit alike. Arthur's eyebrows would raise and curl on his face whenever he heard about something he didn't like-a bad joke on television, a story in the newspaper calling the poor lazy, and anything else that triggered him or set him off. He would start grumbling to you, curling you up into his arms as he stood in the kitchen as rocked you back and forth by his side as he stared at the newspaper, his frustration increasing, the only thing comforting him being your warm presence. "I bet Thomas Wayne never had to work a day in his life for his money," he would mumble grumpily into your hair. "He doesn't have the right to say anything about anyone." You would lean up and kiss his cheek reassuringly. "You're right, Arthur. Don't worry." Arthur would let the smallest of twitches of satisfied smiles grace his face at your reassurance, finally knowing through your confirmation that his thoughts were valid and that he wasn't alone in what he thought. His mom had only ever invalidated him for his thoughts about the rich and Wayne, calling him a "great man" with no evidence to back up the statement. There were many crimes in Gotham, and, because of that, the privacy you two had in your apartment together was often invaded by police coming to your door for questioning, even if neither you two had anything even remotely to do with the crime. These questioning made Arthur nervous, and when Arthur got nervous, he sometimes got a little sharp. He would also get annoyed-he hardly got any time with you enough as it was. Why did he have to deal with answering questions of yet another robbery just because it had happened down the street? Arthur would answer the door with a distant expression, his eyes hard, scanning the police up and down like they were a bug that needed to be swatted. "Mr. Fleck, sorry to disturb you. Is anyone else home?" Reluctantly, Arthur would nod. "Yeah, my girlfriend. Why?" "We have some questions for the both of you." Arthur would visibly roll his eyes, gently, but in an exasperated fashion nonetheless. If Arthur was nothing else, he was completely and utterly emotionally naive in the sense that he rarely knew how to hide his real emotions unless he knew he had done something wrong-in which case he would close himself up and lie spine chillingly well. But If he hadn't? It was nothing more than a burden than got in between your time together. He saw it as nothing more than police who had too much time on their hands to bother people like you and him, who were minding their business and had no interest in getting involved in something that had nothing to do with either of you. Arthur was more than happy to help, always, if ever the situation called for it-but he knew Gotham police better. Many of them were unprofessional, and simply looking for someone to arrest so they could close the case and go back to ignoring the real problems of Gotham. They occupied themselves with petty little nothings that they didn't even solve correctly while the real problems and people-often then richer and upper class-got away with destroying the lives and mental health of millions. They picked on poor people, because they were the most vulnerable. Often, poor people didn't do anything wrong by moral accounts; they only stole because they needed to to survive. Arthur knew all too well; he had been there too. Arthur would sweep his hand through his hair, look at the ground, step from foot to foot. He would then look back up and give them a tight lipped smile, then swirl his tongue inside his mouth until it made a pop sound, grimacing as he accepted what you and Arthur would be forced to do tonight. The police could arrest him right then and there if he refused, although he had considered many times simply slamming the door in their face. Eventually, he would let the police in, sitting down next to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, and would answer the questions, but, once he was gone, Arthur would audibly groan and melt into the curve of your shoulder, letting the mask he had put on for the officer melt entirely. If the confrontation was particularly terrible, or, if you had been especially tired that night, or if he had simply been craving you, Arthur would go up to the officer as he left, whispering in his ear, "Don't come back here again unless you absolutely need to. My girlfriend is tired all the time and doesn't need this. Ok, Officer?" His fear of the law was thrown out the window when it came to you. Arthur's sass would increase tenfold if someone told him his jokes weren't funny. If someone told him to stop laughing after hearing something he felt was funny, or if someone told him "that wasn't funny, Arthur," he would raise his eyebrows in a quick and sharp fashion, saying in his own Arthur way that yes, it was funny, and no, he didn't care that you didn't think it wasn't. This would be followed by a long drag of his cigarette, and an another quick eyebrow raise that no one noticed but you. Arthur was not above flickering his cigarettes at people if they got on his nerves. Arthur's sass tended to be more passive aggressive than upfront, but, the more possessive he became of you, the less shy he was to tell people how he really felt about how they were talking to you. You would never forget the one time that you had been blatantly been asked out while you were waiting for Arthur to come pick you up from work. You two walked home together every night, sharing in each other's company. However, on this specific night, a man had noticed you standing alone, Arthur being a bit late. As a result, it had ended up with the man asking you out, complimenting your figure, and asking you when you were free. Although you kept answering his questions with clear disinterest and kept saying you were taken, the man didn't let it drop. Your uncomfortability was only increasing as your were unwillingly tugged along into the conversation, scared that the man might try something if you told him off. Arthur had stayed back and had heard half the conversation out of curiosity- somewhat nervous to see how you would respond. He heart bleed with pride when he heard you openly tell the man that you were taken when you could have easily gotten away with cheating. Seeing this confirmation of your genuine love for him made Arthur confident, and he used this window of confidence to rush up to you, putting his arms around your shoulders and eyeing the man with a hard gaze. "Who's this?" the man asked awkwardly. Arthur smirked at the man, his eyes flittering over to you, begging for you to be the one to answer, to confirm from your own lips that you were his, "This is the one I was talking about," you said confidently, though you still felt little shaken by being left alone with a man you didn't know for so long. Arthur picked up on your anxiety, and this only made him angrier. "So…she's…she's your….?" the man stuttered over his words as he looked at Arthur. He could have sworn that you had just been lying just to get him off your back; it was a common tactic for women that men ignored. They only respected other men with girlfriends, not the woman themselves. That set Arthur off. He cocked his head to the side, and, with a mischievous smile, Arthur took his arm off of you and strutted up to the man, confident now in his rage. Arthur took the cigarette out of his mouth that he had been smoking and stuck it inside the man's mouth, which he opened by taking his chin, and then clasped his jaw shut with his hand. Arthur had the expression of mock shock on his face as he patted his head patronizing. "Yes, she's my girlfriend. And a woman who wanted to be left alone. Imagine that," Arthur quipped at him sharply. He then turned around and took your hand, gently leading you with him back to your apartment. Arthur looked back at the man with a cocky smile, smirking to himself and feeling pride ebb at his core that he was able to stand up for you as well as himself. You couldn't deny the throbbing between you legs at the sassiness and confidence that radiated from Arthur in these moments, and, when you came home at night, you adored awarding his confidence, knowing how hard for it was for him with his anxiety, and showing him just how "yours" he truly was. Never did Arthur hurt you with this sharp side to him, ever. It was reserved for the cruelty of the world alone. The only time that wasn't the case was when you found the joke about insomnia when you were going through his journal one night. Your hands had been trembling slightly as you had read it to yourself. "Why did the old man like having insomneea? Because he didn't half to sleep with his wife." You felt a tear roll down your cheek; you wiped it away frustratedly. Surely this couldn't have been about you, or inspired by the relationship with you. And yet the cobwebs of insecurity began to haunt your core, and you couldn't help but bite your lip and yet more tears fell. When Arthur came home, he was in one of his sweetest states, such as he always was when he was with you. He wrapped his arms around your waist while you were standing in the kitchen, staring at nothing. Immediately did Arthur pick up on your off mood, and he gently took your jaw and guided it towards his face. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Arthur inquired softly. He felt his own tears begin to sting his at even just the sight of yours. You sighed, and shook your head. "I know I shouldn't have…it's just. Your joke. About insomnia and the wife. Is.." You sighed, and then continued. "Is it about me, Arthur?" Arthur's eyes had flashed with shock, and, you dared to think, even a little self hatred. Arthur immediately took you in his embrace and rocked your back and force, gently caressing your back. "No," Arthur cooed. "Never. My jokes are never about you, darling. I could never joke about the one good thing in my life." You laughed bittersweetly, and allowed yourself to melt into his arms as you fell into the gentle, comforting swaying of his embrace, feeling the horrible feelings melt within his warm touch and soft spoken words. "Such a silly thing to think," Arthur mumbled into your ear. "Going to bed with you is my favorite thing in the world." You nuzzled into his shoulder, and allowed the last of your tears to fall and sink into his warm sweat, along with your insecurities. Despite Arthur's sharp side, you know he loved deeply, and loved passionately, and he was rarer than a pot of gold to find in the city of Gotham. "Let me make it up to you," Arthur muttered softly, and he took himself away from your embrace, gently wiping the dampness of your face away with his warm hand. You smiled, the exhaustion from your insecurities finally coming to a close as you allowed the love you shared with Arthur to be the only thing you truly thought or cared about. Arthur whined with desire at your smile and led you to the couch, where he began to kiss you softly and tenderly, whispering every little thing he adored about you between kisses. When Arthur realized he had upset you in even the slightest, it would haunt him for days afterward. His own insecurity would get the best of him, and he would be convinced you would leave him for upsetting you. If you even do much as turn your head to the side while spooning together in bed, Arthur would whisper desperately, "Don't go." "All I did was turn my head," you reassured him gently, almost laughing at how silly his reaction to such a small thing was-and yet your heart broke for his tortured soul too. Arthur gazed at you with sad, begging eyes that melt your heart. Although he knew it was silly to think you were leaving him, he couldn't stop his thought patterns, or the pain that was in his heart. You cooed softly, and wrapped your hands around his worn, tired face, to which his eyes would flicker closed at your warm, soft touch, "You sweet thing," you muttered gently. "You can't even help yourself, can you?" "Help myself from what?" Arthur mumbled through his haze, eyes still closed, as if in a complete trance in the heaven that was your touch. "From being so loving and wonderful." At this Arthur's opened his eyes the slightest bit, raising them at you. "This city has a way of making everyone so cruel, so heartless, and yet you stay so gentle. So soft," you continued, thumbing the hollow of his cheek with your thumb. "I'm so proud of you, Arthur. So proud. You only become sharp when you really need to. You know the difference between unnecessary hate and defense, and I'm so lucky to be able to call you mine." Slowly but surely Arthur's lips curl into a reassured, satisfied smile, the left side of his lip dropping upward. He had such a broken smile, but it always showed off his spirit that preserved despite every challenge in the world that made him not want to. An ever enduring and sweet darling was he, using his fire only when he had to. "You make it a lot easier to stay soft," Arthur mumbled as he gazed at you through lust filled, sleepy eyes. "I love you, sweetheart." You smiled your own lazy, soft smile. "I love you two, Arthur, and every side of you as well." You leaned forward, and your lips temporarily met in a heated dance, Arthur moaning softly in his own tender way at how your touches utterly and entirely reminded him why staying soft had all been worth it. You were all each other needed to remember why it was worth it to not be completely heartless, to give your love to another soul, and the warm bodies between each other and the intimate, heated conversations and love struck whispers was all you two needed for forever and a day. Complex though Arthur may be, he was just the right amount of complex that you needed, and you wouldn't have had him any other way. - good enough for you Summary: Arthur feels the need to become someone else for you love him. A/N: I'm a bit nervous to post this more than usual idk why exactly? Arthur is just so baby in this ejkfjnwewj. I really indulged in the concepts I love to explore with Arthur here. This explores the concept of Arthur healing his younger self through activities that allows him to be who he wasn't allowed to be when he was young. Of course, though, it backfires, bc you know im a sucker for angst . This is also based off of an idea sent by an anon a few days ago-so if you see this, this is dedicated to you! Length: 6,992 Contains: Alludes to age regression, angry/upset/insecure Arthur, fighting, angst, fluff Originally posted by murrayfranklin Your heart thudded with excitement. What you were excited about wasn't anything lavish, soul striking, or particularly fansicating to the average person; no. What you were excited about was something humble and simple, but the most precious and life giving thing your life had ever granted you, the last thing you'd ever expect to consider the highlight of your life: Making crafts with Arthur. It was an activity that you two had taken up together the past few weeks-you had set aside a specific time frame on Wednesdays after you both got home from work. It was a time you both cherished equally; although you could tell it had slightly more heavy and emotional significance for Arthur. It went beyond a simple activity for him; it was something that mattered deeply to him, not just because he was able to express his most creative self, but because he was allowed, even if just for a short moment, to be himself in a creative, unapologetic sense in a space and with a person that allowed him to do so without any repercussions. To explore a younger part of himself that had been forced to be locked away under the damage of trauma and adult responsibility that had been thrust upon to him far too soon before that part of him could even be brought into existence. Like a blooming flower under a shoe it had been squashed, and you loved him so deeply that you were willing to do anything to heal all parts of him, and not just the damaged parts that were more obvious to see. Arthur had many layers of him that needed to be healed, and you were more than willing to dig as deep as needed to find the deepest and most hidden ones and heal them in whatever way you could grant him. Arthur showed the slightest signs of age regression, and within this activity was he allowed to simply be the child he hadn't been allowed to be when he was young. He got so into them; he would play with the googly eyes, glue, tubes, whatever crafts you could afford. He would smile and giggle as you two finished a crafted character made of colorful, electric tubes for arms and legs, and smiley faces drawn on with magic marker. You two would even build houses for the characters, making it from the same wired fluffy strings, as well as using crackers-Arthur would sneak a bite at times-for the walls, and legos and other such toys you could find for the furniture and the gardens. Arthur would invent voices for each of the characters you made-he was quite inventive and creative with them, coming up with different tones and mannerisms for every one. Arthur was an artist, and, although he was full of damage and self doubt, his creativity and desire to bring life to everything he touched shined through everything he did. You yourself admitted that the "playtime" you had with Arthur as a form of therapy for him was something you yourself deeply cherished, and the time went by fast for you as well. Arthur was so creative and took it so seriously much as he did his clowning, yet was so sweet and so playful that it made every minute eventful and full of new activities and surprises. By the end of every session, you could sense Arthur coming out of it a bit, becoming more of the grown man he was, but you could tell there was something different in his soul, something a little more relieved and less heavy, as if a physical weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. You felt your own wounds healing through his; it was hard not to forget all of your cares and worries when you were with his sweet soul and carefree, gentle spirit. You forgot the world as when he was around you, and, pretty soon, you found that these sessions of allowing yourselves to be children for awhile was healing for the both of you. You found yourself looking forward to it more than anything else for the rest of the week. You opened the door to your apartment, and there he was; sitting on the one of the two chairs by the kitchen counter, staring in innocent concentration with his vest still on, hair flopped in front of his face as he carefully focused on the character's arm he was working on, his shoulder hunched and his eyes in deep concentration as he studied it, glue in another hand. He didn't look up as you entered the room. "I'm home, darling," you muttered lovingly as you kissed his head. You already felt a peace sweep through you just being next to him. Though Arthur leaned slightly into the touch, he kept his eyes on his toy. "You're late for crafts" he mumbled. Truth be told, you were hardly late; only by about maybe two minutes. But time meant a lot to Arthur when it came to this activity, and you know he had been counting down every minute since waking up this morning to this time. When it came to things that were important to Arthur, every minute counted, and if one was missed, it was a validation for him to get frustrated. You didn't deny him this frustration; you knew he was trying to heal the parts of himself that had been neglected as a child. "I know, baby," you sighed. "I'm sorry. But look." Arthur didn't look up at first, still a tad grumpy, and focused on his character. But when he heard the rustling of a shopping bag, he looked up curiously despite himself; you two rarely bought anything for fun, and the wonder as to what was worth possibly not being able to pay your bills this month got the best of him. "What is it?" he asked in a childlike voice. You had caught him in one of his states where he acted a bit more childlike than usual, voice sounding a little too gentle for a grown man and a little too naive. He always came out of it eventually, but it was the most noticeable during these sessions. He cocked his head curiously at the bag. You pulled out the box from its plastic bag and Arthur's green eyes widened in shock; it was the one thousand pack building block set that Arthur had had his eyes on for months. It was about a hundred dollars, and, after some thought, tough conversations, and some disappointment, you both had come to the conclusion that it was too expensive for either of you to be able to afford; at least not anytime soon. You still remembered how your heart had broke as you saw how Arthur's shoulders slumped that night, wrinkles deepening on his face as sorrow broke into his eyes. You knew that this meant more for him than just the blocks, "I wanted to build a city," he had mumbled softly. "Somewhere far away from here. I wanted to build a place-with you-where we could just play and pretend we were somewhere else." You had felt your eyes become wet, and you had reached our and caressed his hand softly. "I'm so sorry, Arthur," you had whispered gently. The rest of the night had been full of cuddles, gentles words, and sweet kisses. That had been about two weeks ago. Your heart had broken for him so deeply that you had taken it upon yourself to pick up extra shifts on every day but Wednesday. When Arthur had asked you why, you had simply brushed it off as simply getting extra money in case you both needed it. When Arthur had stated rather pleadingly that he would miss you, you had kissed him and reassured him that it was only for a few weeks. Now Arthur was sitting in front of you, mouth agape with shock as he stared at what you had for him. There it was-the big, shiny box in all of its glory. "Y-Y/N!" Arthur stuttered. He dropped his character, temporarily forgetting it amidst his shock, his former grumpiness entirely forgotten. "How?" You laughed and smiled. "Don't about worry about it, darling," you reassured him softly. "Just take it-and enjoy it." You didn't want to go into how these past few weeks had been torture for you-fourteen hour plus shifts on your feet, and then yet another at another job the next day or sometimes right after. You had only gotten about three hours of sleep nightly, and you could forget about the concept of free time. Your eyes had been red, feet sore, bones aching, sanity balancing on the edge of insanity. But it had all been worth it to see the dumbfounded, struck look of sheer excitement on Arthur's face now; he took he large box in his hand and looked at it like it held all the magic in the world. "I…I can't believe it, Y/N," Arthur mumbled as he looked at it. Tears were starting to form in his eyes. You went over and wrapped your arms around him, kissing him gently from behind his head. "Believe it, Arthur," you whispered softly into his brown curls. "Now we can make a city together and truly have a little world all our own that we can call ours." Arthur let out a soft cackle of disbelief, and he leaned his head back so that he was facing upward towards you, his eyes alight with all the soft naive excitement that he held in his green fields of endless playful energy. He was beaming, his crooked teeth shining from his weathered lips, a funny combination between young and naive, yet aged and haunting. You leaned your head down and kissed the tip of his nose. "You're amazing, darling," Arthur mumbled softly. "Thank you, so, so much." You nodded, and nuzzled your face into his, to which he giggled at happily. "Anything for you, my love." The rest of the night was about sitting on the ground, spreading out the seemingly endless blocks that were mixtures of all different kinds of colors-banana yellow, dark blue, electric green, apple red, and the like. Arthur immediately set about starting to put the pieces together in whatever way he could figure out; as it turned out, he was rather good at it. By the end of the night, Arthur had built a tall green and blue tower, a rectangular "supermarket' that still had pending name, and a couple of residential houses-the kind he had always dreamed of living in. They weren't like the cramped, dirtied apartment you two lived in-they were entire and whole houses and buildings all on their own, the ones Arthur had used to see in Penny's home design magazines back when he lived with her. They had their own rectangular roofs, their own front porch, their own fence and yard, with a front and upstairs. Arthur had built several, each of them a different combination of colors. You yourself didn't have as much luck, and had simply come up with a "car" that was really just a block, and a couple equally dull blocks meant to be flower and food stands that could rest in the roads of the city you build together. Suddenly, Arthur yawned, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Your eyes flitted over to the kitchen clock; it was about ten at night, and you both had to wake up early for work in a couple of hours. Despite his yawn, Arthur still kept concentrated on his blocks, legs criss crossed across each other as he sat on the carpet, thin back hunched over with concentration. Your love for him overcame you then like a warm wave sweeping through your body, and, suddenly feeling your own exhaustion overcome you, you scooted over to closer Arthur and wrapped your arms around his thin waist, gently pressing kisses to the back of his neck. Arthur let out a soft noise of love an appreciation in response, but kept his eyes on the next skyscraper he was building. "I think it's time for bed, sweetheart," you whispered softly into his ear. You nipped his ear softly; you wouldn't have minded ending this night in a more "adult" way so to speak, so deeply were you craving him, the space between your legs throbbing with desire for how much you longed for him in that moment. He was so precious, so sweet. You wanted him so badly it physically hurt, your skin and body screaming for his soft, warm kisses and touches, but you would be more than happy simply to go to bed with him. Whatever happened was good enough for you, as long as it was with Arthur. "Not tired," Arthur mumbled as he continued to work on his building. You smiled to yourself; he was clearly exhausted, the purple bags under his eyes seeming permanent, but too caught up in his play to care. "One more hour, ok?" you suggested gently. Arthur nodded, eyes and hands still intensely caught up in his work. "Ok." You felt an inward sigh inside of you; clearly the pulsing between your legs wouldn't by satisfied by the love of your life tonight. He was a little too within himself this session, too caught up in healing younger parts of himself to be concerned with the desires that were going through your head right now. Not that you had a problem with that; you were so happy he was finding relief with the trauma he hadn't deserved. You yourself felt tired, and, since you had hardly gotten anywhere with building anything within the past few hours compared to Arthur, you didn't feel inspired to continue working on yours. You thought of the book you had in your bed; the one that you had picked up in lackluster interest about a month ago that you kept reading simply to help lull you to sleep on nights when, for whatever reason, you didn't have Arthur's touches, or to read whenever you were bored. It was a decent enough read, and it was just what you needed to get it to lull you off to sleep to translate you from the exhausted state you were in now to complete sleepiness. Your arms squeezed around Arthur's waist for a moment as a mark of reassurance, as a physical way of telling him you loved him. "I'm gonna go read for a bit," you muttered gently. Arthur nodded silently in response. You knew his seemingly apathetic attitude towards you wasn't anything personal; his playtime just truly meant a lot to him. "Can I have a kiss before I go?" you almost pleaded. He was killing you with how adorable he was, and, although you craved the entirely of him in that moment, you would be more than happy to take whatever you could get. Arthur smiled to himself, and, for the first time in hours, straightened himself up and turned his face towards you. He leaned over and cupped your face that was already nuzzling the side of his and then graced his lips against yours, humming softly as he felt your warm lips against his, the sweetest sensation that he would surely ever feel in his lifetime. "Goodnight, sweetheart," Arthur almost sang with affection in a gentle whisper as his voice vibrated against your lips. "Thank you for everything today." You nuzzled against him, softly humming as your lips danced a few more time within only a few jumps of air in between. "I love you, Arthur," you whispered back between kisses. "So, so much." You felt Arthur let out a small, tender whine and smile from his lips to yours, his crooked teeth leaving a perfectly welcomed uneven sensation against your lips. "I love you too, Y/N," Arthur mumbled, barley able to speak in his passion. "You're my reason, my everything, and more." Now it was your turn to smile. With one last reluctant kiss against each other's lips, you regretfully pulled yourself away from him. If you were to give in to how much time you really wanted to spend with him, you two would be there forever and a day. You playfully tousled his hair, to which Arthur laughed and snorted at, and then, with one last kiss to his forehead, you made your way towards bed. The room was lit by a simple dim light, and you went over to the bedside table to get your book. It was one of the fifty cent corny romance novels that they sold at supermarkets; it was really the only book you could afford. The cover was an almost inhumanly muscular, strong man with chiseled high cheekbones, perfectly cut jet black hair, a beautiful mustache that graced his conventionally attractive face just so, perfectly carved lips, his entire perfectly sculpted torso and legs just barely covered with a romantic red cloth that just managed to drape over his hips, clearly meant to be seducing. He was staring from the cover intensely with his handsome almond eyes, seeming to challenge the reader to desire anyone else but him. You rolled your eyes. It was an adequately written enough story, but the way they portrayed such a conventional man as the only type deserving of romance made you scoff. Much rather would you have the sweet, eccentric touches and curves and hills of Arthur's quirky built and unique body, loving how his stomach muscles adorably jutted out from between his hips, how his back became a little rounder as his torso that jutted with his ribs eased into a roundish shaped circle. You could trace the muscles of his ribs, muscles, and arms alike forever and a day, and your folds were throbbing with desire simply at the thought of his body. You sighed. Another night. You needed water, however. Your throat was dry, and it was only going to get drier over night. With a deep sigh you made your way to the kitchen, and filled up the glass of water, book in hand. You didn't look towards Arthur as you made your way back to your bedroom, but oh, did Arthur look up at you. He felt his heart drop in his stomach as he saw the book you were carrying. He hated that thing-though he would never tell you as much. He knew you enjoyed it-or, at least, he assumed you did. And he would never, ever allow himself to take away even the slightest joy you got from anything, even if it made him feel terrible, so deeply did he love you. Yet, he couldn't stop the onslaught of utter self loathing as he saw you reading that book whenever you got the chance-in bed, on the couch, sometimes even when you went out you would bring it with you and read it when you got a sliver of a chance. He saw the way your eye glinted with excitement whenever you were reading it, the way your hands flutter across the page when you were in your upmost trance dragged into it. Even worse, the man that graced the cover was so conventional and beautiful-perfect muscles, just the right amount of skinny and meaty, his facial bones just the right amount of muscular and thin, so different from the all too skinny hollows of Arthur's starved face. Did you fantasize about the man? Despite Arthur trying to push the thought away, the question polluted his mind almost nightly. Ever since you had sat down with it at night that first night, the grotesque worm of insecurities had given birth inside Arthur's brain, eating away at him mercilessly. He would try to read your expression through barley opened slits as he observe you reading it when he pretended to sleep at night. He occasionally caught glimpses of exhilaration in your eyes, and, sometimes, despite trying to tell himself otherwise, erotic interest. He knew, he hoped, that he was just imagining it, but never did he have the courage to ask in case the answer was anything even remotely resembling a yes. Arthur was hopelessly devoted to you. Never would he even dream about thinking of another partner or any other person in the way he thought about you. It made him sick to his stomach to imagine giving his affection to anyone other than you. He was starting to wonder if your love for him abided by the same rules. The warm gooiness from the afternoon suddenly left him like it had never happened, and in place was a dark, sweeping insecurity that he was much more familiar with. Arthur's hands gripped the blue block he was holding, his face suddenly crunching up into a rage. With some sudden frustration he threw the block across the room, and then rushed into the bathroom. Arthur didn't leave that bathroom for the rest of the night. Instead, he simply stared at himself in the mirror. He stared at his disgustingly hollow cheeks and how they were graced with wrinkles, so different from the smooth skin that the fictional but perfect skin the man in the cover had. He stared at the space on his dark eyebrow that was half rubbed off because of his anxiety. He stared at his worn, thin lips, and how his face looked like it was half rotten into death already, as if the ugliness of his illness had become the ugliness on the outside, too. Worst of all, his body. Arthur felt physically sick as he stepped away from the mirror and took in at his body. He stared at his chest that was awkwardly shaped, especially when he moved it; it was so thin on the hips, his bones jutting out, but then molded into a strange circular shape as it lead up to his arms. He had a slight hunchback, and his spine jutted out like a skeleton. His arms were the closest thing he liked about himself-but even then, they came out of his revoltingly, thin shoulders like a skeleton, the molds of his distastefully thin biceps looking more like tumor than muscles that could protect you. He looked diseased-he looked like a monster. Not the handsome, sweet man that looked like he could grant you everything and more than inhabited the cover. Arthur wasn't the kind of man that was written about in stories. He was just the man who got sick. Hot tears fell down Arthur's face without him even being aware of them, and he blinked slowly as he forgot how to breathe. He felt nausea begin to sweep up his throat, and, forgetting how to breath, Arthur lurched his torso forward and he let sickly clear vomit trickle itself into the sink. He hadn't eaten much yet that day, and there was really nothing to come out, yet it still something did because of the pressure he felt from his emotions. Arthur wanted to gasp with the unpleasant sensation, but he needed to stay quiet. Quiet. He didn't want you to see him in his state, didn't want you to see the weak, insecure and sickly man that he was in body and spirit. You already knew to an extent, but you hadn't truly seen the deepest depths of his sickness. Not like this. He wanted to be the handsome, stable man that you read about in books, the kind that were so perfect that they deserved to be immortalized in pages, not forgotten as soon as they died, such as would inevitably be the fate for Arthur. You deserved the world, and Arthur couldn't give it to you-he could only be the sickly and sad, tormented man he was born to be. That man didn't play with toys. That man didn't need to take medication. That man didn't become obsessed with building blocks-what an embarrassing thing. That man didn't have symptoms of age regression or trauma or mental illness. The man was just that that-a man, and that was everything Arthur would never be for you. Rough, tormented cackles began to emit from Arthur's throat, and he grabbed the nearest towel in his face and shoved it into his mouth, deepening the disgusting vomit taste that was in his mouth. He hunched over his body until he was in a ball. He crawled over into the corner of the bathroom, shaking his head and snorting into the towel with as much silence as he could muster. He wouldn't wake you, he wouldn't. As much as he was falling apart, as much as he needed you in that moment, he wouldn't allow himself to become even more pathetic than he must already be. How on earth did you love him? Arthur didn't sleep that night, not once. He simply rocked back and forth into his knees, muttering and talking tortured nothings to himself. Arthur hated everything about him. He hated himself. He did. On and on this went on, until Arthur saw the slightest bit of sun peaking out from the horizon through the small bathroom window. With a tormented gasp Arthur just barely managed to get his thin, shaking legs up. He still smelled of vomit, but he needed to get to work. Needed to. Within minutes he had thrown on his clown costume without waking you, and then he was out the door. You had never seen his episode , and never would. —- Your day had been long. You were tired, hungry, but, most of all-you just wanted Arthur. As usual. You sighed, and turned the knob to your apartment as you opened the door. This morning had been rather strange; you had woken up to the vague smell of vomit, Arthur's side of the bed looked like it had never been slept in, and his toys were still scattered all around the living room floor. It was so unlike Arthur that it was unbelievable that he had left a mess around the house intentionally. Arthur was so good at cleaning that he never left one corner uncleaned, let alone left for work with so much disarray for you to clean up. He loathed the idea of you cleaning up for him. He prided himself off of being the man of the house, especially for you. It wasn't like him to be so messy and irresponsible. You knew something was deeply off, and your heart thudded in anxiety as you turned the door open. Your intuition was only deepened as you heard the sound of what sounded like small weights being thrown into a trash bag, and feeble, tormented cries following them. You rushed further into the apartment, and, to your horror, you saw Arthur's skinny form leaned over the crafts you two had lovingly made-except now they were ripped up and destroyed. Hours of love, of healing, of simple play was now being ripped from the very hands that had made them so considerately right before our eyes. "Arthur?" You almost screamed as you took it all in. "What the fuck are you doing?" You hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but you were so shocked and angry, and even a little hurt. Why was he destroying so much of the time and effort you had shared together? Did it mean so little to him suddenly? Arthur chuckled darkly and only continued to rip the googly eyed characters into small pieces, throwing them carelessly into the trash bag. "Not good enough," he muttuered darkly as he kept doing do. "Never was." You only stood there, shock ebbing at your core. You knew how much Arthur's crafts meant to him, how long he had worked on them, how much time and effort he had out into them, how much it meant to his younger self. And now here he was, taking them apart limb from limb, ripping their colorful furry arms and googly eyes out, seeming to rip out all the bonding and love you had spent together along with them. "Arthur-stop!" You finally managed to get yourself out of your shock and hurt a bit and gently but firmly took his hands. To your further shock, Arthur, with a little too much force, shoved your hands away with a furious swipe, almost snarling at you as he did so. You felt tears in your eyes, not because he has hurt you physically, he would never do that even in his worst states, but because you couldn't understand why he was acting this way. "Why are you doing this?" You barley choked out the words between your throat closing. Oh, this hurt. The little heaven that you two had carved out from the cruelness of the world was now being destroyed right in front of you eyes by the man that inspired it all. "I'm not enough fur you. I never will be. I'm pathetic." Another rip, another beloved character thrown into the trash. You tried one more attempt to stroke his back, knowing how much your touches usually meant to him. "Arthur, that's not-" "Don't touch me!" Arthur physically shrunk away from your touch. You were hurt, hands trembling, eyes bleeding with tears, but you tried again. "Arthur, don't say those things." You said sternly, trying to disguise how angry you were starting getting with him. "Don't you say that." Arthur laughed without humor and continued to rip the crafts. You curled your face up in anger, and finally gave up the fight. If this was what he wanted, fine. Trying to ignore the feeling of your heart breaking into two, you ran into the bedroom and threw yourself onto the bed, sobs already wrecking through your body before your body hit the sheets. You swiped your arms up to your face as your sobs overtook your body in violent gasps. You cried until you lost sense of time. Finally, with the pillow soaked with your tears and your chest still heaving, you feel into an unintentional, tormented sleep, exhaustion taking over you from how much you were hurting, both for yourself and for Arthur. Even when you were angry with him, you could never being yourself to feel much other than love for him-even if that love was sometimes wrapped in a frustrated, twisting pain. A gentle, warm touch was what woke you up. You slowly opened your groggy, disoriented eyes, and looked up at the man looking down at you, sweet, naive eyes now back into their usual gentle state. You could tell he had been crying; his eyes were bloodshot, making the sea green irises of them pop out like gems against a sea of watery red. His eyes looked tortured, tormented, and he just barley allowed his fingers to gently caresses your cheek. He felt he has lost the right to touch you, but he needed to let you know how much he still loved you-needed to apologize somehow. "You've been asleep for awhile," Arthur whispered, his voice scratchy, a clear sign that he himself had been crying for quite sometime. "I-I made some soup, in case you wanted it." His voice was ebbed in guilt and self loathing; you weren't going to let this go until you two talked this out. "Arthur," you started slowly. You gently took his warm fingers and embraced them in yours, kissing each other softly. Arthur let out a soft whine of love, despite himself. "Come lie down next to me." Arthur nodded. He wouldn't dare deny you anything, especially now. He silently lied down next to you, your heads sharing the tear soaked pillow. Arthur was looking at your with all of the concern and apology in the world-you knew he would never quite forgive himself for hurting you. His was face in a childlike softness that was begging for you to understand him-to know his heart now more than ever. He needed you to. He hand't meant to hurt you in the slightest-he wanted better for you. Better than him. "I'm so sorry, baby," Arthur whispered as he looked at you with his soulful green depths. You let out a soft noise of love; already you had forgiven him. You knew he would never intentionally cause you harm, not unless he was fighting something that was stronger than his love for you; his own demons. "It's ok, darling," you spoke softly. Arthur closed his eyes and you could see his worn face visibly sigh in relief at your reassurance that you still loved him. "Of course it is." Arthur nodded against the pillow, face still knitted in worry, but melted into relief of your reassurance that you still loved him the same. That was, after all, what true love was about-love and forgiveness. "Can you tell me what got you so upset?" you inquired gently. Arthur opened his eyes then, eyes still sorrowful, and sighed. "It was….your book." he swallowed at how foolish he felt he sounded. Who was so insecure that they got triggered by a fucking book? "The guy…." his voice faltered then. His voice was so soft and so apologetic it sounded like a child that was in trouble with his mother. He began to trace shy patterns by the damp pillow by his face, too shy to look into your eyes. You almost wanted to laugh at how such a small thing set of Arthur so badly. Almost. Only because it was so silly for Arthur to be jealous at anyone at all, let alone a character in a book, as if you weren't irrevocably and entirely lovesick over him, as if you could see anyone other than him. But Arthur's pain was real, and your heart squeezed in soft agony that he could get hurt so easily. You scooted yourself over, letting our soft noises of sympathy and you shyly began to stroke his face. "Arthur, darling, that book is so average. I don't even like it very much." Arthur frowned slightly. "Seems like you do. Sometimes you pay more attention to the book than to me sometimes." Arthur half buried his face into the pillow. He knew he was poking the bear again, but with his insecurity, he couldn't help it. "I thought you were sleeping when I was reading it. I only read it when we're not doing anything together, sweetheart, or when I just need to pass the time. It's just a way to fill some of the empty spaces of the day." Arthur shrugged. "No. Just thought you wanted me to be sleeping. But I watched you the whole time. I see how much you bring it out even when we're together." Arthur realized the flaws in what he was saying, and sighed. "I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry I'm so insecure about….everything." The last word came out as a tired sigh. You cooed softly. "Arthur, baby, I know you're insecure. And I know how no matter many times I tell you, or show you, there's always going to be something in your head that's telling you lies." Arthur eyes flickered up to you at the word lies, and you picked up on that. "Yes, Arthur. Lies. That's all they are. I love you so, so much, darling, I can't even stand it. I can't believe you're real-you're so wonderful, and I love everything about you, everything." A moment of simple breathing, of starting at the other. Arthur's green eyes flickered up to yours, asking the question. You nodded. Arthur leaned forward crashed his lips against yours, and he embraced his hands around your face. You moaned and rolled over, and Arthur topped himself onto you. Arthur began to pepper passionate kisses against your lips; so warm and soft were they, and the dampness of both of your tears and his melded into the other, symbolizing how each other's pain was your own like physical poetry of your bodies. "I'm so sorry, baby," Arthur muttered against your lips. "Fuck, Arthur, stop apologizing," you gasped between the kisses of air that you didn't need spiritually, only physically, frustrated that it was the human condition to have to come up for air. "I love you Arthur-fuck I love you. Please know that. There's nothing you could do that could make me love you any less, ok? l fucking love you, I love you, fuck, darling, I can't say it enough. I love you." Arthur nodded slightly against your face and kept allowing your tongues and lips to dance. You were both gasping and moaning against each other's warm touches and kisses, eternally desperate for the feel of the other. Finally, after a few more moments of heated passion, Arthur's passionate dance against your lips slowed down bit. Every so softly did Arthur nuzzle his nose against yours shyly, which you returned tenfold. You sighed, and allowed your fingers to grab his brown curls, looking into his soft, now peaceful eyes gently as he gazed back into your face. "I'm sorry I destroyed our crafts," Arthur muttered softly as he allowed his broken soul to look into yours. He didn't say it with self loathing this time; he simply said it as an genuine apology for showing disrespect for your time. He gently traced your lips with his finger as he spoke. You shook your head. "Don't worry about it, darling. Just means we have more characters to make, right?" You smiled at him softly, which Arthur returned gladly. "Right," he agreed boyishly. You laughed in relief and love. "Let's try to get some sleep, alright, darling?" You felt you wouldn't be able to sleep; your whole body was awake with how much you loved Arthur. Being with him was like being on constant ecstasy, and you couldn't imagine that heaven could feel any better. But Arthur had been crying, and you knew how much he must be worn out from fighting his mind. Arthur nodded. "M'okay," he agreed, and then lied down beside your, nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck. "Goodnight, sweetheart," he mumbled into your skin. You smiled against his forehead, kising it softly. "Goodnight, Arthur." And then Arthur fell sleep. But you didn't. You waited until he was long passed out, tracing gentle, meaningless patters on his skin to hep him sleep, and then, slowly, without disturbing him, you made your way to the kitchen. —- Arthur woke up the next morning, blearily eyed and sleepy. He felt a slight panic in his chest as he awoke to empty space, and quickly rushed out of bed to find you, heart thudding. He always needed confirmation that you were real, always. He rushed into the kitchen and his heart melted; there you were, looking like a literal angel against the morning light framing your face. You looked up at him and smiled, your eyes tired but full of joy. Arthur's eyes trailed down to where your hands were; they were with the crafts that he had destroyed yesterday, all scattered about the kitchen counter you were sitting by. Arthur walked over and looked over at the crafts with a serious, deep set revelation, tears forming in his eyes. The characters were still damaged, but they were pieced back together. They were just like him now, Arthur thought to himself bittersweetly, with a tear rolling down his check. Broken…but loved. Fixed. Arthur picked one up and twirled it in his hand gently. He looked up at you, his eyes full of shock and something deeper than tenderness. "Thank you, Y/N," he whispered. "Don't thank me," you muttered gently. You leaned over and wiped away his tears. "Thank you for giving me something to live for, Arthur." Arthur smiled a teary, watery smile at you, and he kissed the top of your palm. "I can't love myself," Arthur mumbled against your hand. He no longer felt the need to hide the darker parts of himself from you; he knew that you loved him unconditionally. He knew. And it was about time he started acting like it-started allowing himself to feel your love for him in its full force the way it had been begging to for all this time. He had copied other people his whole life because he was never taught that he was ok. That Arthur Fleck was ok. The tentacles of insecurity were always, always gripping and creeping into his soul. It was a battle he would never truly win-but having your love in his life made it an easier fight to recover from whenever he fell. You smiled wearily. "I know, sweetheart. I know. But I love you, and I hope one day you can love you too." You shared a moment, simply staring at each others' watery eyes. And then, finally- "I made something else too," Arthur's eyes brightened in curiosity as you indicated toward a beautiful, multicolored house made of Arthur's blocks. His face broke out into even more tears as he stared at it, rolling down his cheeks as if they were little droplets of both pain and healing. Arthur brought a hand to his mouth, overcome with emotion. "One day that will be our house, Arthur, one day. We'll be out of here, and gone. And I'll write stories about you, Arthur, the stories that you inspire inside of me every day simply by being you. And I'll love you in it forever and a day. Until my heart gives out." Until my heart gives out. The words echoed in your head over and over like a well known song as Arthur leaned forward and pressed his damp lips towards yours. "I love you, darling," Arthur whispered. "Thank you for allowing me to heal. For letting me….be me. " Thank you. And, just like that, with both of your own songs echoing in your heads, you two got lost in a dance of hands and kisses desperately fulfilling the other, knowing that there wasn't one dark place where either of you could go where the other wouldn't follow. - I Miss You Even When You're Here Summary: You come home from work and a tired but much needed night with Arthur ensues. A/N: This is a simple short piece that's been sitting in my drafts for like a month because I kind of just…forgot about it. Literally just 1,805 words of fluff and smut. Originally posted by 2019joker You heaved in your chest inwardly as you creaked open the door. The apartment was lit only by a simple dim lamp the corner; Arthur's writing lamp. At the sound of the the door creaking open did the heap on the couch of blankets and brown curls move around. Arthur's head shot up, naive eyes curiously peaking out through his ocean waves. His skinny frame got up and bounded over to you excitedly. You coming home from work was the absolute best part of his day, and he was never shy about letting you know-his excitement for loving you overcame his lack of confidence always. He wrapped you in his arms, pulling you close to him. Already you could sense that something was a little heavier on him than usual, something a little deeper than his usual torment. "I missed you," he mumbled sadly, rocking you back and forth in his arms as his cheek leaned against the curve in your shoulder. "Oh, sweetheart," you muttered, stroking his back softly. He was wearing a soft blue sweater, as delicate to the touch as the man that was dressed in it. "I missed you too." It had been a long day at work, and, as horrible as you felt, coming home to the man you loved more than life was a refreshing breath of air, to put it lightly. Arthur lifted his head from your shoulder and smiled a shy but happy smile at you, stroking your hair gently out of your face. You two simply gazed at one another, both of you sensing the other's exhaustion, now finding some relief in the gentle love you shared, the bad feelings being blown out like a flame. "I have some soup in the fridge for dinner," Arthur offered softly. "It's not much, but I didn't have the energy to make anything else tonight." He took your hand and kissed it gently, the best form of quiet apology he could offer. Arthur often spoke through touches rather than words, especially when it came to emotions that were harder to express. "Don't worry, honey." your own words were a bit distracted as you memorized the way his weathered lips brushed against your knuckles. "Come to think of it, I'm not very hungry." You kissed his cheek softly as you muttered, "I just want you." Arthur beamed a crooked smile at you as you pulled away. "Yeah?" he asked in his soft and shy voice, and you knew that it wasn't just a rhetorical question he was asking; he really wasn't sure even to this day if you really loved him. You gently rolled your eyes. "Come here, you clown," you uttered softly, and brought his lips into yours, the impatience of fully taking him into you finally being quelled, the numb and tired exhaustion finally being extinguished by the sweetness of his kiss. He moaned at your touch, and instinctively brought his hands around to your face. You felt your face melting into a pained twist of desire and lust as your pushed your vagina against his crotch. In his passion, Arthur lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around him, the sheer ache in them starting to feel a little less unbearable. Arthur spoiled your jawline in kisses as he carried you to the bedroom, then twisted around and sat at the end of the bed, your arms wrapped around him, you legs caressing his thighs. Through the tired feeling didn't leave either of you, it was becoming buried underneath sweet words and gentle caresses. Arthur began to pull your shirt off of you, and you gasped with a touch of lust at how wonderfully and deliriously amazing it felt to have him touch you after a long day of having nothing but rough and uncaring words and hands do so. You pushed him down, feeling your own desire overcome you. You pushed your hands through his curls, and he felt his cock throb against your thigh. Your own folds were throbbing as well. You sighed gently against his lips, the exhaustion of your bones fighting with your desire to let your Arthur feel the pleasure he so desired and deserved. "Hey, if you're too tired, when can put this off for another night," Arthur mumbled softly between your lips. He could read you so well. You shook your head, determined. "That's alright," you said softly. "I want you, darling." Arthur smirked mischievously. "How about a quickie?" You laughed and pushed your head into his neck, your love for him again once again overcoming you, quelling your aching bones. It amazed you every time how deeply he made you feel, even in your most worn out, burnt out states. Arthur's lips began to explore yours hungrily as his his hands worked on pulling your pants down. You smiled against his lips as you felt the hard feeling of his cock against your folds. Your own hands worked down to his pajama pants and pulled them halfway down his thigh. His cock hardened even further as he entered you, and he began to thrust into you up and down, up and down, just the right combination of gentle but persistent, like a oceans wave kissing the beach shore. In and out, In and out. Arthur came into your quickly as he always did, but you two continued to let your lips and tongue alike dance for a little while more, your hips still enjoying the sensation of being against his. As Arthur's semen swept into you, you felt a strange otherworldly pleasure beyond just sexual fill your body, something that was greater than any physical or tangible sensation. You fell asleep with Arthur's arms swept around yours. You body was still half on top of him as sleep claimed the both of you. The heat and comfort of his body was always enough to bring you the peace you needed. For reasons you didn't understand, you woke up early in the morning, around four AM. Your first instinct, as it always was, was to lift your face toward's Arthur's, who's very being gave you strength. You heart melted at the graceful look he had on his face. His curls were kissing his eye brows, his lines a sort of art etched onto his face. Everything about Arthur was art, as far as you were concerned, but especially so when he was asleep. You couldn't study his face enough. There was something about his face that brought complete peace to you, some sort of solace that you couldn't imagine life without. The way his teeth peeked out of his lips, the way his wrinkles seemed to speak words on his weathered face. There were some nights when he would wake from nightmares, and those were the nights when he would study you, taking in every ounce of comfort he could possibly get. But most nights it was you studying him. Truly, there was something about studying his face that truly energized you. The way his fragile chest heaved in and out, in and out. The way he twitched and sometimes mumbled sweet and gentle thoughts in his sleep, sometimes even calling out your name, to which you quickly wrapped your arms around him gladly, instantly swaying him back to sleep. The way he entirely let his guard down that he didn't even know he had when awake that he dropped when sleeping, becoming the absolute pure being that you knew he was born to be. He almost looked like an innocent, ethereal being in the dark light of the moon in the purest way, reflecting off of his skin and making him look like a damaged, fragile but absolutely stunning angel. There was always an air or heavy torment surrounding him; never was your Arthur truly at peace. But seeing him sleep was so peaceful brought out the inner most part of him that he tried to hard to hide from the world in order to protect and care for himself. Every line and curl fell into each other, one falling from one end to the other. Everything about his precious face connected in small but poetic and beautiful manners. His lips twitched in a quirky way, as if he knew you were studying him. You smiled softly and reached out to caress him. Arthur let out a soft cry in is sleep, and then, to your unhappiness, he opened his striking eyes and looked at you through an exhausted gaze. "I'm sorry, Arthur," you whispered gently. "I didn't meant to wake you. I just needed to to feel you." Arthur beamed instantly in spite of the obvious tired feeling upon his face. Despite how bone tired he was, he absolutely adored when you needed him. It reminded him for the first time in his life that he was needed, truly wanted. There was nothing he wouldn't do for you. Arthur huddled himself up against you and nuzzled his nose against yours. He reached out his own hand and cupped your face. "That's ok, Y/N," he sighed softly against your lips. "Time with you makes me feel so much better anyway." You hummed softly. "I miss you even when you're here," you whispered softly as you gazed at his seagreen pools glinting at you in the dark, all the love and magic in the world in them. "It's hard to explain." Arthur smirked softly. "I know what that's like," he whispered softly as he pressed his lips to your hand lovingly. "You do?" Arthur nodded eagerly. "Yeah, because of you. No amount of time with you feels good enough. And even when we're together, it's never enough, knowing that you'll be gone soon, and just in my head again." He was speaking the words in the softest, gentlest tones, the heat of his breath radiating against your palm like warm, loving waves. You felt a sadness ebb at your core. Arthur spoke more in his silences than he did in his words. If you wanted to know his true thoughts, it would come out in his long silences, and begging eyes, rather than what he spoke. What he was asking for was more, just more of you; whatever you could possibly give him would mean the world to him in that simple bed that held nights upon nights of what you meant to each other. "Well," you whispered softly, playfulness ebbing at your voice. "There's no rules about making sure those memories in your head aren't full of passion and love." Arthur's eyes glinted playfully-he knew exactly what you were talking about. Your own eyes gleamed as your minds made a connection, and you eased yourself onto him, pressing your lips against his warm ones as he embraced your face in yours. "Time for round two," you mumbled against his lips. - Two Makes One Summary: Arthur senses that something is amiss with his lover. As he rushes to the apartment, he tries to conjure up everything he learned from loving you to bring you back to your feet. Warnings: Suicidal reader and heavy emotions. There is a lot of fluff and comfort though, and the fic doesn't go into the reader's dark thoughts as much as it goes into how Arthur tries to comfort reader. A/N: A simple self indulgent piece that I was inspired to write after receiving a couple asks about how Arthur would respond to a reader who is going through this. I hope whoever does stays safe, and I'm here if anyone ever needs to talk. Originally posted by liagreycrow Something was very wrong. Arthur's breath was ebbing away at his dry throat, an unwelcome roar of laughter threatening to tear through him. The dry air was making it impossible to breathe with ease as Arthur's pace sped up gradually, feeling his heart quicken in the thin and easily breakable rib cage it lived in, as fragile as the body that held it. Right now it felt as if it would burst with unbearable worry, uncompromising to any peace as Arthur's thin legs carried him from the bus stop to up the stairs, the endless stacking of them seeming even more agonizingly long than usual. He tripped over himself a couple of times, but never dared stopped, and only kept stumbling forward until he reached your apartment door, the elevator ride seeming a thousand years long. Arthur hurtled the door open, breath panting and heaving as his eyes frantically scanned the apartment. His heart was in his throat as his frantic eyes finally placed themselves on your figure, which was trembling and shaking by the apartment window. "Oh, no," Arthur just barley managed to choke out in his gruff voice, scratchy sounding from coming out of his painfully dry throat from the cold air hitting it, as well as the laughing attack he had suffered coming over to the apartment. He felt so delirious with dead hot concern and so utterly helpless as he rushed over to you. He had knowing something was horribly wrong the second he had stepped outside the HaHa's door to go home. Something had prickled inside of him with worry, something had poked and prodded him with a sharp finger of doubt that had let him know his soulmate was in trouble. You two had been together for years, and a strange connection had formed between the two of you throughout them, as if you two shared the same soul, making you feel one's pain even without being physically near them. When one of you experienced a deep joy, the other felt a sense that there was joy before the other was even told. And when one of you felt pain, there was a sensation of a hot tear streaking into one of the other's essence. It was indescribable feeling, many times overwhelming, but regardless about how either of you felt about it, it was undeniable how you two were utterly and completely connected beyond what worldly standards could understand. You were trembling and shaking, tears streaming your face, your makeup from the day streaming down your face in black rivers down your red face as you shook your head, biting your lip and looking at the ground, too ashamed to look Arthur in the eyes. Arthur sprung your body around from facing the open window and pulled you towards him. The chill was bursting through the window like a cursed skeleton's hand, as if mocking you both. He quickly slammed it shut, locking it, as if confirming that you were safe now. He took your trembling face and grabbed it in his hands, his steady and sure hands a stark contrast to your trembling form. Although Arthur had originally been the one who needed help and care far more than you, the roles had slightly shifted as your relationship had deepened. Where you failed, Arthur rose to the challenge, and where he lacked knowledge or comfort, you made up for in your love and experience. Arthur has been the more broken of the two of you when you had first met, but as the years went on your love had helped meld the cracks in his soul and had started to heal him beyond healing, even helping him see where he had virtues where others didn't. He knew his worth now. He would be eternally grateful for you for that, and he was always determined to repay you in any way he could, though he knew he didn't really have to, because what you gave to each other you also gave to yourselves, so intertwined was your souls. "Hey, hey," Arthur muttered comfortingly in the softest of his voices, and brought in your trembling and crying body into his warm arms, his mustard hoodie warm and soft. He took it off and placed it around you, and the chestnut sweater he was wearing underneath it was even softer. But what what truly comforted you as he brought you into him was his soul, his soft and childish spirt that was so damaged yet carefree, somehow so admirably tough and relentlessly patient at the same time. "You were going to jump, weren't you?" Arthur whispered into your hair in the smallest of his voices. To speak it out loud made him shudder, but he knew he needed to be strong. For you. He had been strong for his unstable mother, a task that had been grueling and many times forced, with only a few tender moments sprinkled here and there, most of which where unrequited. But now he needed to be strong for you, and never had a task made him so happy, feel so special or so needed and wanted. Unlike his bumpy and venomously unpredictable relationship with his mom, he adored comforting you and taking care of you, and somehow, through loving someone like you, someone that he adored, it made him love himself a little more. He knew you hadn't been well lately, and it broke his heart beyond what he could handle. He was amazed his heart wasn't failing him now, despite his calm structure. It was only his love for you that kept him going. Your weak heart made him strong, his determination to take care of your even greater than his own torment. "I-I'm just so-" you could barley speak through your sobs, but you felt like you sounded so pathetic and whiney. You wanted to open up to Arthur, but your thoughts were so negative tonight that you were convinced that he would leave you if you truly opened up tonight. "It's ok, darling," Arthur reassured you in an almost breaking voice as his own worn hands started to stroke your back. If he could somehow transfer the damage coming from your soul and into his instead, he would have. You looked up at him with your tear filled eyes, and for once he thought he saw more pain in them than he had inside of him. Oh, how he loved you. You were the person on his life who truly understood him. Not only did you understand, but you were a certain oneness with him in a sort of funny manner. You understood every crevice of the darkness of his soul, ever morbid thought he had experienced himself. Such was your love that you could understand beyond what was comprehensible everything the other experienced. You weren't just his best friend, you were another soul that was so deeply intertwined into his in your experiences with physiological torment that you had a certain oneness with each other, coming unto one another with an understanding essence that couldn't be broke apart. "I don't know what to do anymore," you finally managed to choke out a coherent sentence through your tears. "I love you so much, Arthur, and I would never want to leave you." You felt your throat close up, and you let out a sob that made a grotesque gurgling noise. Arthur only kissed your hair and continued to stroke you back, willing you to go on. His lack of judgement at the mess that you were made you a little more confident. "But sometimes I just feel like there's this other darkness that's deeper than anything I feel in my life." You sobbed, and rasped out the hardest truth; "Sometimes, I get scared that not even my love for you can survive it." Arthur felt his hands turn clammy, but despite his own melancholic state at your words, he knew exactly what you meant. That darkness that consumed everything good in your mind, that made you want to give up on everything. "I know, baby," Arthur whispered into your ear softly, and you felt yourself cry even harder as the specific octaves of his voice that you loved so deeply echoed into your ear. Arthur has grown more confident in reassuring you over the years. Deep inside of his damaged soul was a man who had born to love, and love you he certainly did, echoing it into your cracks whenever he got the chance. "But I know my love for you is strong enough to handle whatever this….poison is, and if I feel that way," he brushed his lips against your forehead, completely convinced of his words as he spoke them, "I know you can too." You should your head, tears still falling, and in your muddled state you were convinced you would drown the both of you in them, both metaphorically and literally. "But Arthur, how do you know-" You cut off as Arthur took a finger and lifted your tear stained eyes to his, daring you to look into his oceans which drowned you with passion every time. As you spoke you felt your torment melt away, not entirely, but enough to make you choke in your throat at how beautifully you were reminded that he somehow managed to bring you back to yourself every time, no matter how deep the depths of your darkness became. You were instantly swept up into your irresistibly deep love for him, knowing somehow behind a shadow of a doubt now that you were fully taking him in that he was enough to be worth hanging on for, hanging on for god knows what you didn't know. But at least you were believing. "I know you, sweetheart, and you know me. That's how I know," he spoke every so softly, as his just his warm breath would topple you if he spoke them in the wrong way. Arthur recognized that familiar struck look in your gaze, watching the torment slowly melt in your eyes. He felt his own soul turn to butter as he felt deep in his bones his adoration for you, stronger than anything he had ever felt, even deeper than the most traumatized parts of his brain. "Gotham can burn, for all I care," Arthur whispered as he took your shaken face into his hands, and you leaned the entire weight of your face into his embrace, kissing the gentle crevice of his hand with your tear soaked lips. "But not my baby." His force was becoming slighter stronger as he affirmed our loud his love for you, making you both feel more empowered at the same time. He then leaned forward and pressed his lips to your nose, then brushed his lips up the bridge of it, then up to your temple, then down to your eyebrows, nipping on the gentle hairs that rested there softly, as delicate as your soul. Then he trailed down to your eyelids, and his lips kissed the fragile and shivering skin there. He then moved his lips further down to your soaked cheeks, frowning in his tender love at how they were the result of his love's torment. "Never my baby," he sighed one last time. You sniffed, and used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe your tears. "I feel a little better now," you murmered, then laughed, not believing how bluntly simple it all seemed now. Arthur lived for you, and you lived for Arthur. And for now, that was enough. You felt Arthur's lips smirk lovingly against you skin. "I guess two tormented souls equals one happy one, huh?" He chuckled as you dared to press your lips against his once more, your confidence of his love for you returning. "I guess so, Arthur," you sighed softly, feeling a sort of peace enter your soul for the first time in weeks. "I guess so." - Frosty Kisses And Crimson Ribbions Summary: Your Christmas seems rather unsatisfactory until Arthur surprises you with the best thing he has to offer; himself. No warnings, unless you hate messes. A/N : This is 100% just a self indulgent thing that I wanted to whip up real quick that I got inspiration for a few nights ago ejkwjew the spirit of Christmas also possessed me and I needed to write a holiday fic with Arthur Length: 2,494 Originally posted by illwaitinthisplace You sighed. You hated to admit it, but you were upset at how this Christmas was going; you had hardly been able to afford any presents this year. Arthur had only about two sitting under the cheap plastic tree; you wanted to give him so much more. Arthur had gotten you three, which only deepened your remorse; you knew he made a little less money than you, yet somehow he had managed to deliver an extra gift to you. The things you had gotten him were rather cheap. It wasn't even just the gifts, however, that got to you the most; you couldn't afford to take him to any of the Christmas events that Gotham had to offer either. A little bit of sightseeing was all you could give him. Arthur had reassured you that even that meant the world to him, but you weren't convinced it was enough. Your heart was aching; you wish you could give him the world, but you only had your job that underpaid you. You frowned. Where is he, anyway? You had been sitting in your bed with the sheets over your legs, waiting patiently for him to come to bed with you; you two had decided to simply spend Christmas Eve sitting and cuddling into each other's arms, drifting in and out of sleep until the morning came. Arthur, having such a childlike spirit about him, often couldn't sleep the night before Christmas. For the past two years since you had started properly celebrating together, he had stayed up, tossing and turning recklessly, until you finally took him in your arms and started muttering little stories to him to help focus his brain. He was ever the attentive listener, looking up into you with sweet, striking green blue eyes until he began to drift to sleep, your fingers still caressing his brown locks gently. But he had been gone for about an hour, after quickly pecking your lips and reassuring you he would be, as he said, "right back." You huffed, and, finally giving in to your slight impatience, you bounced off of the bed and walked into the dim living room. One thing you and Arthur had gotten right this year was the decorating; there were green, golden, red and blue twinkle lights adorning the walls of your apartment, giving it a warm, welcoming glow. Though simple and cheap, it meant the world to you and Arthur that your apartment finally looked like Christmas, at least a little bit more than the past few years. "Arthur?" you called into the dimness of the apartment. When no answer came, you felt a twinge of worry; god forbid if he had left the apartment this late; especially without you; Gotham was such an unforgiving city even during this time of year; hell, especially this time of year. People were always looking even more than usual for any gifts, or, pretty much anything that they could steal. "Arthur, baby, please answer me if you're here," you tried one more time, your heart thumping in your chest now. To you relief, and slight confusion, you did hear a small noise in response; it was a muffled sound, like someone was tied. It was coming from behind the Christmas tree, and you rushed over in both worry and curiosity. The sight that met you was both concerning, humorous, and, as the wetness in your legs told you, downright sexy. Arthur was standing with the other presents behind the tree, his skinny form fully naked, save for a red ribbon that was wrapped perfectly around his skinny rump, wrapping up around his legs, tying them together perfectly, gracing over his bulge which was clearly stone hard, and up his chest and down to his hands and arms, which, with the way the ribbon was tied, held them behind his back perfectly like gentle handcuffs. His mouth, as well, had a smaller ribbon over it, placed just so over his thin lips so that he couldn't speak unless you gave him the power to. The small lights on the tree lit up in his face in the most romantic manner; perfectly brining to life the turquoise depths of his eyes that were both full of confidence and love as he looked at you. He was feeling himself tonight; he was finally feeling confident enough to show himself off to you in the way you had always begged him to. To show off this sudden onslaught of self confidence, finally overcoming his self consciousness with his appearance, was the greatest gift he could give to you. The raggedy, baggy clothes were swept off of him, and in replacement was a gorgeous, beautiful man, as much as on the inside as out. As you looked at him, you felt your sadness ebb away; how could you be sad about something as replaceable as presents and event tickets when you had the love of the life, right here, begging for your touch, and all yours? He knew you loved to be dominate; loved to spoil him with your kisses and touches while he was a blushing, weak mess. This was surely a gift for the both of you; to let you both know that everything would be alright as long as you had each other, money or not money, events or no events. You stepped forward and smirked; you saw a gleam of satisfaction in Arthur's own eyes as he saw that his plan was working on you. "Wow, Arthur," you said with some humor, tracing his jawline, traveling up to his cheekbones, and then brushed it down the bridge of his nose. Arthur's chestnut brows twitched in response; lust and hunger overcoming his features entirely now. He was begging you to give him relief, but it was now completely up to you. It was dawning on him now just how vulnerable he allowed himself to be with you, and he knew he would never allow himself to display himself in such a way with anyone else but you; so well did he trust himself with you, knowing no judgement would come over you for him wanting to explore how sexual he was capable of being, of him wanting to explore his own body and sexual confidence. You took the ribbon on his lips off with a pop, and the fullness of Arthur's desire of just how much he wanted you was given away by his labored breathing. "Unwrap me," he whispered in a lusty haze, trying his best to focus on speaking to you, to not focus on how much he wanted-needed-to put his hands on your beautiful form that was standing before him, how much he wanted to grace his lips against your neck and press his hungry lips all over your skin. All in good time. "Mmm," you hummed as your pretended to be in deep consideration. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, digging your hands into his brown curls as you did so. Your vagina was throbbing with heat; you quite literally felt it clenching and beating at how turned on you were. "I'll see what I can do." Arthur moaned helplessly as you began to hungrily claim his mouth, tongues dancing, breathing becoming more quick and short as you two began to eat at the other in desire. As your mouths danced, your hands, now trembling slightly with your own desire, began to trail down his form and began to undo the red ribbon that was over his cock; you felt it throbbing and aching for you as you undid the thin velvet fabric. Finally it came undone, and your hands began to stroke and play with it mercilessly as Arthur's mouth stilled against yours, now suddenly frozen with complete and absolute lust as it struck through him like lighting. Your hands were working up and down, up and down, stroking him until it was as long and as stiff as a board. Pre cum was all over your hands, dripping onto the floor; neither of you cared. "Darling," he rasped, his breathing heavy and filled with lust. "Please, sweetheart. Please. Enter me." To Arthur's painfully intense shock and frustration, you suddenly pulled yourself away from him. Arthur looked at you with all the vulnerability in the world-your heart absolutely melted at how sweet and yet still incredibly sexy he looked, brown curls in his face, innocent green ocean eyes begging for more of your touch, lips trembling and glistening with the saliva of your own lips upon his. How he could look so deeply masculine and yet so boyish at the same time was beyond you-but that was your Arthur in a nutshell. "Y/N?" he whimpered. You smirked at how much he needed you right then-he always needed you, but you could quite literally feel the desperation reek off him for your touches right then and there. You let out a sigh of your own contentment; you were the luckiest person in the world to have found someone so perfectly right just for you; physically, emotionally, spiritually, and all. "Not so fast, baby," you said seductively as you made your way to the kitchen. Arthur was still whimpering begging utterances all the while as you went into the kitchen and began to pick up frosting from the cupcakes you two had made on the counter. You smiled wickedly as you began to spread the frosting about your hands, and then walked around the corner and stood in front of him, hands now weapons of frosty, sugary goodness. Arthur saw your hands and a glint of excitement came into them; sugar play was one of his favorite kinks. The mixture of the heated satisfaction of your touches as well as the sweetness of the sugar was surely the most incredible sensation he had ever experienced in his life. You smirked, coming forward and dabbing his nose with the sugar, leaving his nose white and frosty. Arthur smiled a bit wearily at you, still trembling for your touches. You then leaned down an plopped a dab of it onto the tip of his cock, which was still red and throbbing. "Alright, daring," you hummed and you wrapped your hands around his neck, forming a mixture of sweat and frost. "No more teasing." You began to hungrily explore his body as your hands made their way from his neck to his torso, then back towards his legs. All the while your lips were crashed against his as you two began to explore on another, never dull or tired with the touches from the person that you made you feel more alive than the entirety of the world. You moaned in your own lust as you allowed the tip of Arthur's cock to began to ebb at your folds. You nodded your consent, and then Arthur thrusted himself into you, a little difficult without the control of his hands, but he entered you with his large, warm cock successfully nonetheless. You gasped as you felt him fill you; and in your desire your fingernails scratched his skin, leaving red marks of desire. Arthur smirked; he loved when you marked him; he wore them proudly, almost feeling disappointed when they healed. You were his and his alone, and he was yours; never would he want that to be questioned by anyone. Being marked by your lust given touches was his greatest trophy of the love you shared. He thrusted in and out of you, in and out, each thrust bringing a pleasure of heat and waves through your body. You were moaning now, loudly, and you thrusted your head back as your hands found their way to the back to his hair and grabbed them in your fiery haze. His curls were slick with sweat and sugar and he now pounded into you, both of your moaning and gasping in your desire as the orgasms began to build inside the both of you. Throughout the moans there was occasional breathless kisses, little whispers of "I love you so much" "thank you" between the two of you, sweet nothings passing between both of your breathless whispers, so lost in the spell of being with the other that neither of you could tell where one started and the other began. So deep did your connection run that your very bodies had conversations, sex being more than sex; you two loved the other so deeply that words became touches, and touches became words; both equal acts of love and expression, both so meaningful in their own ways that there was hardly a distinction between them. Everything between you two was all about love, complete and absolute love, and, best of all, healing. You unwrapped the ribbons tying his arms down. You needed his arms and touches on you; right now. "Please touch me baby, please come into me, I love you so, so much," you whispered with the same amount of breathlessness as he released his wiry arms from their crimson bounds. Your chest was heaving up and down as if you had run miles, sweat trailing down your chest that begged for Arthur's hands over them. The hungry glint in Arthur's eyes signaled that he had heard you, and he nodded vigorously. He hoisted you up into his arms as he continued to pound into you. You let out another gasp as he hands gripped your ass, so strong and persistent was his desire that they left bruises that would last for days. Finally he came into you, and you felt his fluids burst into you like a river. His cum dribbled down your leg, and your forehead pressed against his, feeling the wrinkles of his forehead against yours as you released yourself into him. His face was covered in frosty goodness, body, cock, legs and all. Evidently, cum, frosting, sweat, and heat was the ingredients for the night. He was still holding you up, and gently he put your own, and then pressed his lips to your forehead softly. Your hands were gripping his chest, your eyes closed as your processed everything that just happened, your own legs still trembling. "Thank you, Arthur," you muttered softly in your haze. "That was wonderful." Arthur smiled and nuzzled his nose against yours and smiled. "I thought you deserved something more than what I got you," he rasped against your face, skin still trembling from his own lust that he was still coming down from. Every whispered word with his heated skin against yours felt so intimate; it was such a gift in and of itself. "Arthur, you're everything I ever needed. As long as I have you, I already have the world," you mumbled as your tugged his brown curls gently once more, leading him down to your lips as you did so, Arthur smirked softly against your lips. Once he never would have allowed himself to believe such a thing. But after years of your love, he now knew much better. "I figured," he whispered softly as his lips came to yours. "Merry Christmas, darling." There was a few moments of silence, simply taking in the other. And then- "Can you untie my legs now?"Request: Spare some HCs for a switch reader who loves calling Arthur "Kitten" during the heat of the moment and aftercare.
Nsfw under the cut
Originally posted by joaquins-phoenixs
As your relationship with Arthur developed, you learn that he absolutely melts at being called pet names. There was one in particular that made him especially soft and blushly, and it was called being "kitten". He told you it was probably because he had wanted a cat all his life growing up, always having had a soft spot for them, but never being able to afford one, due to the fact that he could hardly take care of his mom and himself. Because he had such a soft spot for it, you saved it for during intercourse and in the most intimate and special times of your relationship. Since Arthur is so sexually inexperienced, and only wants the best for you, he likes to try and experiment with you, trying being both on top and bottom. He does different tactics to get you under him when he wants to top, such as getting down on his knees and tickling your legs while they're dangling on the end of bed, then teasing down your panties slowly but surely as he places gentle pecks on your legs, goosebumps instantly forming on you legs at his touch He then lifts himself up on your bed and pushes you down and lies himself on top of you, lust forming in his eyes at the thought of dominating you He covers your entire chest and neck in bruises and kisses until you're moaning and begging for him to be inside of you. He quickly brings his hard cock into your vagina, and you let our moans of absolute pleasure. He's so eager and excited to be near you that he pounds himself with relentless passion and desire until your eyes roll to the back of your head. He's panting and muttering curses under his breath, wishing he could last longer, but he comes into you much sooner than he intends. You don't mind and almost always end up coming with him, being so tied to his emotions, and feeling so turned on just by knowing he's enjoying himself. Once he's finished coming, you two kiss for a spilt second as if you're in a mutual agreement to keep going, both of your bodies having an ecstatic and intertwined energy in you, shaking in energy and thrill, as if you're in the middle of playing an olympic sport. With relentless desire you flip Arthur under you, and he instantly goes limp in weakness over how in awe he is that such an angel and just downright sexy partner is in bed with him, you looking at him with that hunger in your eyes that was reserved just for him. He has his own softness in his eyes that was for you and you alone, his face a charming and angelic combination of gentle adoration mixed in with the wears of life that make him realize how lucky he is to have you. You see how vulnerable he is now, his eyes full of adoration for you, so different from the dominate energy he just had, and it makes your vagina scream with desire to make him known what it feels like to really be loved. You cup his face with sweaty and shaking hands and kiss him face all over, until he's utterly melting into your lips, just puddle of soft energy waiting to be loved. And love him you do, taking his cock into your grasp and stroking him up and down, watching in delight as his mouth forms in a helpless "O" of desire and craving for as much of your touch as he can get. You then take his cock into your hole and moan at how good he feels inside of you, ripping your head back in your own satisfaction and desire. This is when you start to spoil him with his favorite pet name. "Come for me, Kitten. Make me the happiest partner in the world and come for me." You notice that Arthur's whole disposition changes as he utterly melts at that word. You feel his cock stiffen inside of you even further, making you gasp at your own pleasure. You lean your head down to his and your forehead and noses touch as he rhythmically begins to thrust his hips into you from under, pleasurable waves shooting through your body until nothing but a happy haze pollutes both of your visions as you come together for a second time. You fall down by his side and kiss his shoulder, and he lazily wraps one thin but muscular arm around your shoulders, both of you sweating and entirely out of breath. After a few moments are given to catch your breath, Arthur is both playfully and painfully desperate for tender moment of aftercare. He'll look at you with his innocent puppy dog eyes as you start to spoil him with touches, kisses, and caresses along his eyes and neck. He'll make a joke or two that are so hilariously out of the moment that it only makes you love his awkward humor and timing even more. He's so low on guard in these aftercare moments and has a paper thin resistance to how crazy he really is about you, so much to the point where the smallest of your touches makes him utterly devastated with passion. He'll practically purr like a cat if you stroke your hands through his hair. You call him Kitten one last time, and you watch with blissfully exhausted and tired eyes and bones as you watch the man with the laughing lines fall asleep at your caresses and touch. -Request: Arthur blowjob headcanons?
Nsfw under the cut
Originally posted by susannabannion
Despite falling deeper in love with you, Arthur is uncertain about any and all contact with you physically. He wants to touch you so badly it drives him mad, but he's so worried about initiating anything, being inexperienced and feeling like touches from him are unwanted. The first couple of times you try being intimate together, he ends up blushing profusely and cackling into his arm. You gradually make him more comfortable by taking some baby steps, first starting off making out naked, feeling each other up, pants still on. This goes on for a few weeks whenever you're craving each other, despite the obvious crippling sexual tension between the two of you that screams that you both crave and desire so much more from the other. It gets so bad to the point where you're both shaking with desire for the other every night when you're making out, but both of you have your issues with taking a step further. Arthur's issue is that he suffers from low self esteem and feels like you may not want him to go any further with you. Your issue is that you feel he doesn't want to touch you. He's never made any move to go any further before, why would he go further now? Maybe he only settled for you because he felt he could get no one else. The insecurities in your relationship from both ends builds up to the point where both of you were becoming slightly uncomfortable when you both were intimate with one another, both wanting so much more, yet not knowing how to go about it. One night, after a particularly long day of waiting for him to come home, you decide you can't stand it anymore and decide to try and take the relationship a step further. You wait for him to get home from work and instantly greet him with gentle peppered kisses all over his face, and he chuckles into your embrace and soaks it up, wanting to memorize every inch of your affection for him, should one day it not be there anymore. You drag him over to the couch, and decide to take it slow, asking him about his day as your rub his shoulders and back. He melts into this touch alone, letting out soft hums of pure bliss as he enjoys every moment of your touch, hardly being able to concentrate on talking. This man is touch starved and goes wild at your every touch, and you want to make the man you love know what pure bliss feels like. You start to initiate intimacy by pecking the nap of his neck while he continues to talk about his day. You feel him shiver all over, and you start to make your way down his back, taking off his shirt and kissing each bump on his spine one by one. After a moment, Arthur can't stand it anymore and turns himself around, begging for permission to kiss you with his eyes. You nod slowly and press your lips to his, and he wraps his hands into your hair, leaning you backward. He thinks you're just getting ready to do your usual routine of making out and going to bed, but to his shock your hands start to make your way to his crotch. Despite his horror, he instantly hardens under you. You use your other hand to rub his leg up and down, his brown patched clown pants still on. Every so slightly, you softly start massaging his cock and testicles out of his baggy slacks. Arthur lets our a moan and rasps, "Y/N, what are you doing?" You let our a smirk and say, "I don't know. What do you want me to do, baby?" His penis is in your hands, and Arthur only looks at you like he can't believe his eyes. You decide to take it a step further and start to bring in some bold talk. "I want to taste you, baby. You deserve everything, and I haven't even been able to give you anything other my kisses." You leaned forward and give him a deep kiss, which he returns shakily but wholeheartedly. "Let me make up for it tonight." "But what about you?" "Trust me, I'll be so turned on just by knowing that you're enjoying yourself." You separate yourself from mumbling between each other's lips and begin to kiss around his groin and gently start to massage his balls with your hands, and you use your tongue to lick his ever hardening cock. You tickle his testicles with your stray hair and fingers, making him shiver with anticipation. You push him up and stand up with him, taking his lips into yours and slowly make your way down his chin, neck, chest, stomach, and down back to his manhood. You begin to play with his most sensitive spot, the frenulum, and his eyes roll to the back of his head in a way that makes you almost want to come alone. You begin to use the top of your tongue apply a gentle and considerate flicking to it, the intensity of you concentrating on this this area alone driving Arthur wild. You want him to be utterly ready for when you took the entirely of him in your mouth, making sure that these small little intense pleasures got him ready for the real thing. You continued to flick it side to side, then gently up and down, and finally in small, slow circles. Arthur's entire body was shaking for you now, and even through his shyness he was struggling against doing as he pleased with you, or at least begging you to be inside of him, his lust and desire for you driving him mad. Once you are done flicking him, you take his grasp in your length and hold it in place while you give it longer, more intense kisses. He has a soft spot for these intense and loving kisses, feeling your intimacy and adoration for him melting from your lips and into his heated skin. His semen is already starting to drip from his cock. All this gentle teasing is starting to build up, and finally Arthur chokes out, "P-please, Y/N, please…suck me…" He is now squirming in delight at your touches, and you begin to lick him gently with fatter, more generous licks. There is so much saliva on his dick now that it creates a puddle on the floor. You start to blow on the wet patch you created, which sends a shocking wave of a cooling sensation shooting into his cock and making him moan with pleasure. You begin to pull down his pants fully. He looks down at you with heavy eyes, lust lining his vision, but doesn't dare to move a muscle or even breath, scared that maybe his mind was just making this up in his head; he had been craving this so badly that maybe his exhaustion and mental illness was making him think that this was happening when it wasn't. You feel your vagina throbbing with how much you want him, need him, inside of you, and as you grasp his length in your grip you feel him gasp in unfamiliar white hot pleasure at the feeling of having the partner of his dreams holding his length in their grasp. You begin to stroke slowly and gently, easing into it. You kiss the tip of his cock, which is already sprouting precum. It already feels so good to Arthur that he sinks down to his knees, his mouth opened in a shocked "O" of pleasure and lust. With sweaty, calloused hands he reaches for your hair and strokes it ever so gently, partially out of lust, partially out of a hot his desire to feel you and make sure you were real and truly right in front of him. He closes his eyes and you see how he is visibly shaking, passion lining his every movement. Despite touching you, he simply can't believe this is finally happening with his angel. You continue to stroke him, gradually becoming more intense in pressure and speed and and feeling his cock harden as stiff as a board all the while. You slowly move your lips forward and kiss it softly. Then, with your lips still on his tip, you look up at him with painfully seductive eyes. "May I?" you ask in a flirtatious but considerate voice, wanting him to know how wanted he was by you, but also wanting him to know that he was allowed to refuse you to go further at any moment. Arthur just barely managed a nod, and he finally managed to close his mouth, feeling slightly foolish. You begin to take his length in your mouth, and Arthur can't help but release a huge moan. You yourself are so turned on by how the smallest of your touches makes him so crazy, and even more so because the feeling was mutual. His fingers digging through your hair alone drives you mad. Your intensity grows as you focus on pleasuring him with your mouth. You could tell by his blushing face and heavy breathing that you were definitely keeping him plenty occupied. You start to gag and choke as the size of him increases in your mouth. Arthur's hands are instantly pulling up your face out of his length as he looks at you, deeply concerned. "Does it hurt, Y/N?" he asks in his raspy, shaking breath, trying to pull himself together from his lust for you to make sure you were alright. "Of course I am, baby. Does it feel good?" Arthur let out a small disbelieving cackle; you were asking him if it felt good? "Y/N, you're the best thing that's every happened to me. Of course it feels good, everything about you feels good." You gaze up at him lovingly, admiring how his slicked, sweaty and wet curls were dangling in front of his sweet and warm face, admiring how his eyes were a perfect combination of soft and childlike, yet so strong and so manly at the same time. Somehow he was both the protector and the protected, the lion and the helpless bird, and the dynamic depth of his character took your breath away every time. With another rush of fiery inspiration, you take his length into your mouth once more, relentlessly sucking up and down. Arthur loses all control of his body as he let out a startled groan of pleasure and falls forward, only stopping himself from falling on top of you with his hands gripping the couch. He sees your back and allows his body to fall forward gently as you continue to suck him, engulfing each bump of your spine into his lips slowly and gently, teeth grazing the bone from your back. You moan at his touch and your teeth grazes his cock slightly, and Arthur lets out a shaky breath, enjoying the slight pain. You continue to suck and pound onto his length as best as you could, trying to ignore how crazy the feel of his teeth on your skin makes you. Arthur explodes into you, and there is so much of it that the cum dribbles from your mouth and onto the floor. Before you were even done swallowing his generous seed, Arthur brings his face back up to yours, and cups your face in his hands. He gently kisses the tip of your nose, this being the most confident he had ever been in his relationship with you thus far, his love for you overcoming any reluctance or self doubt he harbored before tonight. "That was wonderful," he rasps in his soft voice, and you knees go weak at his hot breath on your face. "Thank you for being with me." You two try the best you can to get the cum stains out of the carpet, but it only ends in a water splash war between the two of you that makes an even bigger mess. You then take a quick shower together, cleaning off the sweat and fluids from each others' bodies. It takes everything in each others' self control not to start sex in the shower, the dull color of the shower and steam making Arthur's colorful eyes strike into you like they were seeing your every thought. While Arthur is getting ready for bed for the night, you clean up the rest of the mess in the living room properly. You then go into the bedroom, and your heart melts at the sight of Arthur in bed with socked feat and baggy pajama pants, hair slicked back in the way he liked to do when he relaxed. His whole essence screamed coziness. You leap into bed with him, and press your lips against the bones in his neck, and he sighs and leans into your touch. You took up the usual routine of taking one of the books that laid beside your bed and began reading to him with you in his arms, his head resting on yours, until you felt his warm breath sweeping into your hair with the rhythm that signaled that he was asleep. You would gently shift him into a lying down position, waking him up only slightly, letting out small, adorable mutters of protest, which quickly died down as soon as you wrapped your arms around him, then kissed his face softly until he fell back asleep. - You See Me Summary: You and Arthur are spending your first Christmas together. When he catches sight of a certain toy, it triggers more inside of him than either of you expect. Smut and angst. Warnings: Brief mentions of child abuse. Smut. A/N: I seriously did not mean for this request to come out this long. Congratulations if you get through this lmao. No pressure for feedback, but it is very appreciated. Length: 11,154 Originally posted by jokerapologist "Sweetheart!" you called across the hall as you cracked the door open. "C'mon, we're going to miss it!" "Coming!" Arthur shouted from the bedroom, then approximately three minutes later come out bouncing up and down clumsily, pulling his pants up both legs as he rushed across the hallway, just barely managing to finish buttoning up the fabric around the waist as he came by your side. You laughed, brushing the hair out of his face. It had been one of those afternoons where you had both wanted to do something, but couldn't get out of each others' warm embrace for anything, both of you being too addicted to simply cuddling under the sheets and sharing in each others' vehemence and company. The night had gone on as gentle conversations and each other's sweet, comforting hot breath on one another pulled you through the hours of the afternoon that occurred after work. You both had whispered to each other excitedly and benignantly everything that you wanted to say that you had been waiting to tell each other all day. Arthur pecked your lips excitedly, then bounded out of the open creak of the door like an exhilarated dog. You smiled softly and left the apartment, feeling a glow inside your chest. This was your first Christmas with Arthur, and, by the way he was acting, you would think it was Arthur's first Christmas in general. Ever since last week had he been acting a little more upbeat and giddy than usual. It was about right after you had brought home decorations, casually thinking it would be nice to have a few holiday wreaths around the walls of your apartment, or a mini santa on the table, since both of you worked such long, dreary days. When you came home with a bag full of the items, Arthur had gotten up from the couch to greet you, hair messy, baggy slacks and clothes hanging off of him. He must have gotten home before you, for once. He came up to you and pressed his lips deeply to yours, letting out a soft hum at your touch, having missed it all day. "How was your day?" He asked gently, brushing some of the hair out of your face. "It was terrible," you said bluntly, and Arthur looked at you concerned for a moment, until he saw you smirk. He let out his own smirk, the two of you understanding that each shitty day was often the same as the last. Arthur pressed his lips to your forehead as a way of comfort, then took the plastic bag from your fingers as a way to take some of the load off of you. "What's this?" he questioned, opening it and fidgeting around with items. At the sight of them Arthur's eyes instantly lit up like a child, and his he let out a happy chuckle. "Y/N, what's this?" he said, already picking up an ecstatic air just at the sight of them, clearly already knowing what it was. What he really wanted to know was why. He couldn't remember the last time he had celebrated any holiday. When his mom had been around, she had often been in her own world, and Arthur had always been too bogged down by work and fighting his mental health issues to give much of a damn. Holidays had just fell off into the haze of his life, into the white noise of the background of all the other endless chaos that occurred in Gotham. He would walk past decorated stores of turkeys, santas, skeletons, and the like as the months went on, but he would only stare at them blankly the first few times, only feeling a small tug of longing, his childlike spirit not being able to resist longing for the joy he wished he could feel at that time, then shook his head inwardly and kept trudging along, his mind lost in a bogged, foggy haze as he went step by step up to his apartment, the walk up alone being more than his tired bones could take. "It's for you," you said tenderly, already feeling a warmth spreading through you at his reaction. You could see the life come into his eyes in a way that it hadn't in a good couple of weeks. "Well, for us, technically." You went up and kissed his cheek, which he leaned into as his smile grew bigger. "I thought you deserved to have some holiday fun in your life." Arthur had picked up the santa and was admiring it like it was the best thing that had ever graced his life. Your heart melted at how beautifully simple Arthur was; one little thing would bright up his whole life in such a pure way that was rare amongst adults, especially in Gotham. One little rerun of the Murray show, one little cuddle session with you at the end of a long day, one little santa to grace his home, and he would be beaming for the rest of the night. He was so damn easy to please that it almost made your heart break, knowing that it reflected of what he had been deprived of his whole life; Comfort. Love. Togetherness. Happiness. Arthur embraced you in his arms and buried his face into your hair, a gentle "thank you" escaping from his lips. Your face was buried in his warm shoulder, and, taking the collar of his thin shirt down so that it showed his shoulder, you bite his skin gently, not being able to resist him anymore. Arthur tasted of a sleepy energy that was heavenly to your lips, smelling like the cigarettes and his dollar two ninety nine cent cologne that smelled of him and him alone. "Oh, Arthur," you whispered into his skin, two shy tears spilling from your eyes. "You're sowelcome." The rest of the night had been about scrapping together what you could for dinner, hanging up the wreaths up on the corners of the walls, and then snuggling together on the couch excitingly, you lying on top of Arthur, warm sheets and fleece blankets from the bed covering both of your warm and naked bodies. "Is there anything else you want to try for Christmas?" you inquired as you caresses his beaming face, his crooked teeth gleaming wildly. You two were both in a giggly mood. Christmas music was droning on in the background softly from the old radio, accompanying you both in the mood of the cozy and sleepiness of the afternoon. There seemed to be a romantic, rosy tinted haze over the tender affectionate atmosphere of the apartment that night. Had you owned a fireplace, it would have been ablaze with a warm fire, which you two discussed until Arthur remembered his apartment had no fire place. As it turned out, the comforting embrace of your heated bodies and the passion between you two was far more comforting and warm than a fire anyway. Arthur thought for a moment, kissing your palms gently as he considered what he wanted while looking into your eyes. "Mmm," he hummed into your skin, "What about those…what are they called.." His eyebrows furrowed into an adorable concentration, and he let out a huff as he struggled to remember. "What about those toy things…those things that go up and down and chew..nuts?" "Baby," you laughed out the word. "Do you mean nutcrackers?" Arthur's eye lit up in recognition, and he let out his own deep raspy laugh. "Yeah, those!" You shook your head, and nuzzled his nose with your gently, which he returned eagerly. "How on earth have you gone this long without having your own Christmas?" you muttered softly, hoping the words weren't coming out the wrong way. You were only saddened that he had been deprived of simple celebrations throughout his life, especially when he seemed like the kind of person that would enjoy them so much. "I don't know," Arthur mumbled shyly. He thought for a minute. "My and Ma were always too busy, and I don't have a lot of memories from childhood, most of it is…blacked out." His expression was losing that carefree, childlike glee, and was being replaced with his usual more heavy and worn down look. You cooed in sympathy, and began kissing every inch of his face, starting from his forehead and down to his chin. Of course Arthur wouldn't remember the majority of his childhood, you thought grimly. His brain had blocked out the majority of the trauma. You didn't know the full extent of it, but, having been to many of Arthur's therapy sessions and having even read a few of the therapists' notes (which she reluctantly granted upon your request), did you piece together that he was not raised or treated the way any child should have been. "Yes, Arthur," you whispered softly between kisses and gently covered him in tender, nibbling kisses that he was currently squirming to with sheer happiness, melting into his sweater. The smallest touch from you was his weakness-the same went for you at his touch. "This weekend we can get you something for Christmas." That was how you ended up where you were now, on a cloudy, snowy Saturday, early afternoon, a bouncing and giggly Arthur a few steps ahead of you. It was a miracle you had both gotten the day off even on a weekend, and you planned on using it to the fullest of your ability. He engulfed you into his embrace as you both entered the elevator, and you could feel the excitement in his body as he squeezed you against him. You felt a twinge of nerves, but you knew it was only because you wanted tonight to be perfect for him. You were sitting on the train within fifteen minutes, Arthur beaming like someone who had never left the house his whole life. He was wearing his usual dull grey, button up sweater, with his brown hoodie pulled over it. You felt a tinge of sadness as you realized you wouldn't be able to get this man everything he deserved tonight. You could just barely manage a hundred dollars total for the night, and you knew how expensive Christmas trees and Christmas things in general could be around this time. You wanted to buy him everything; new clothes, funny items to make him laugh, an item that he could always have to hold when he needed you-fuck it, just everything. You knew items weren't everything in life, but Arthur already had so little (you had pieced together that he owned about five shirts, three sweaters, and three slacks total), that you would give anything just to be able to spoil him. "Hey," Arthur had broken you out of your thoughts, his endearingly slow and drawl voice instantly enticing you. leaning his head against your shoulder. His turquoise eyes were striking into yours, instantly breaking you out of your thoughts the way they did. He did a knowing, playful smirk when you looked down at his curiously. "Are you ok?" You thought for a moment, knowing he could read you far better than you wanted to admit sometimes. You decided to answer honestly, having no energy for a fake disposition. "I'm just worried that tonight won't be deserving of you." Arthur scoffed, then did a playful pouty face at you, mocking your displeasure lovingly. "I'm just happy to be with you," he mumbled, though he said it shyly and uncertain. "It's not about the gifts, Y/N, so don't worry about it." You smiled, and then kissed the top of his head. "I know. I love you." Arthur snuggled into you closer. "I love you too." Your heart did a leap of joy, and then you tilted your head to meet his warms, melting into each other deeply. His head remained rested on your shoulder for the rest of the bus ride, entwining his fingers within yours, fingers overlapping into each other like they were made to come together. With a rush of warmth were you reminded that this would all be worth it, as long as he was happy. As soon as you entered the Gotham mall, the lights and decorations greeted you both without mercy. There was a twenty foot Christmas tree towering all the way to the ceiling, life sized trains circling the entirely of the mall, a Santa sitting in a large and red throne. There were children everywhere, and massive Christmas present props sitting all over the floor. Giant plastic bells dangled from the ceiling. You and Arthur's hands hadn't left the embrace of the other since the train, and you felt his palms shaking with excitement and anticipation as he held his hand closer into yours. Arthur couldn't believe his eyes; thought he had always seen small little window decorations here and there, small santas and little signs counting down to Christmas in the grimy windows of drug stores, never did he once imagine that there could be such grandiose decorations, such life and happiness over one simple day. He let out one of the most genuine laughs you had ever heard him give in his life, and you squeezed his hand gently in a silent congratulations, beaming and tearing up yourself at how much you wanted to heal him as much as you were able, to give him as much as you could. "Come on, baby," you said excitedly as you pulled him closer to you. 'There's even more than this." Arthur's eyes widened so big that that you thought they would burst out of his skull. Starting to feel like an excited child yourself from his energy and excitement, you rushed him through the crowd of parents, children, teenage couples and the like, and rounded him around the corner to the giant holiday store-a store in the mall that was only in business during holiday season, being decorated according to whatever month it was, then shutting down during the summer. This store may as well the center point of where Christmas manifested, it was so grand. It was a magnificent work of art in its very structure, its entrance going all the way up to the ceiling, which was at least half the size of a five story building in Gotham. There were two twenty foot nutcrackers "guarding" the doorway, and it led to a red walled warehouse looking room, full of shelves, toys, countertops, candy, Christmas trees, and everything in between. Arthur's mouth may as well had been on the floor like a cartoon. You laughed wholeheartedly at his expression. You went over and kissed the shock off his face tenderly. Once on his nose, twice on both cheeks, one long kiss on his forehead. You felt his shock gradually melting under your touch. He came back to himself, but was clearly still overwhelmed. You felt his hot breath on your face, and you felt your legs turn to jelly as you thought about how much you loved him, how much his happiness and wellbeing was now intertwined with yours. You let out a shuttering breath as you pulled your arms around his neck and looked into his soft eyes, gentle oceans of endless wonder that made you remember why this life had all been worth it, why he had been worth the long wait. To not only fall in love with this incredibly rare and soft man, but to finally come into his damaged shell of torment and breath the life he deserved into him, a purpose more fulfilling and promising than anything you could have dreamed of yourself. Arthur's eyes had a film of tears over them, and as you looked deeper into his eyes, you felt your own heart shatter as it sank in how much this really meant to him. Under his exterior layer of an unconventional but handsome face, underneath the luscious brown hair that you stroked your fingers through every night, underneath the gritty clothes, his disabilities and his laughing condition, underneath the man who loved being a clown and dancing step by step to the music in his soul, was just a sad and abandoned child. The tormented and abandoned part of him was and always would be apart of him. That damaged part of him was at the core of who he was, which maybe was the reason why he carried himself and acted like a worn down child, something you had fallen in love with deeper and deeper over time, but your throat closed when you remembered why he was that way. The rest of himself had grown around the twisted, broken core of the broken child like weeds around a flower. They kept that core safe, protected from the world and from further mistreatment, and those weeds helped him fit into what society expected him to be. But no matter how much of a grown man he looked, he was still that broken and lost child, having what was supposed to be the most pure and essential parts of his development taken away from him, robbed from him-a father's love, a stable home, holidays, carefreeness, and happiness alike. The fact that he had been able to take care of his mom for so many years, that he had taken the burden upon his back to overcome what life had robbed from him and was strong enough to ignore it, shove it away into a corner, to not consider it beyond the subconscious, though it would always etch out of his soul like unwelcomed cracks, and to instead take upon other peoples' burdens as well, taking care of and loving his mother like she was a child when he was still very much a child himself, and a very broken and lost one at that, was unfathomable. That was, perhaps, the greatest tragedy of the man that you had fallen in love with; that he had grown like a twisted and deformed plant, confused and unhealthy in many places and dark corners growing where there was meant to be life and clarity, and, most importantly, an emptiness in him that formed from which had been robbed from him the most-love. As you swallowed a small lump in your throat and brushed back one of his stray curls with the most considerate and gentlest of touches, his eyes searched yours. He, somehow, knew exactly what you were thinking. He could see you seeing him. You two held conversations with your eyes, unspoken words transmitting themselves between you two. With anyone else in the man's life would he had been embarrassed at his heavy emotional reaction to the Christmas store, would have had to hide it or take the usual tactic of "laughing" it off. feeling pathetic as a grown man that he melted like a four year old and the things that most adults had grown out of before the age of fifteen. But he knew you saw him, you understood him, deeper than anyone he could have ever expected to understand him in his life. Arthur brought his worn hands up to cup your face and brushed his lips every so softly against yours, the warmth of them making your knees week and you very body let out its own sighs of relief via goosebumps, as if your whole weary body had been waiting its whole life for this man's touch and intimacy, and you both felt a weight fall off of you, as if the universe itself was letting out a sigh of relief that the two of you had finally found and were healing the other in your own ways. The kiss lasted for at least a minute, no shifting of the lips, no tongues, just a simple, long and deep kiss, starved skin upon starved skin, the only remedy being the other. You considered him further as he broke his lips away and stared at you with those soft, gentle and naive eyes, a tear of two having fell from them while he had kissed you. You kissed them both off of the sides of his cheeks ever so gently, as if he was glass that would shatter if you pressed too hard. Despite the recognition of all of his flaws, damages, and dark places, you thought him only the more beautiful for it. You fell more in love with him every time he came home with his weighted shoulders and his head down, curly hair in front of his worn and tired face. Every time he had laughing fit, you fell in love with how beautifully and tragically broken he was. It was a contradiction; you would give anything to heal him from the injustice done to him in his life, and yet, you wouldn't change one scar on his soul, wouldn't change a hair on his head if given the chance, not one crooked tooth in his mouth. You loved him for everything he was, and the darkness and the hurt of him was what made you feel so intertwined with this man, that you felt as if you would choke at the thought of no longer being with him, life taking you from the inside out and being nothing but black. You were too far gone with Arthur; you knew it wasn't normal to be this in love with someone, this in debt to someone you didn't owe anything to, but it felt so right that you couldn't believe it to be wrong. You didn't know how he felt about you entirely, but you could tell by the way he clung onto you, the way he spoke to you coming home into your apartment in his softest and most considerate voice when he asked about your day, the way he watched you as you slept when he thought you weren't aware, the way his eyes searched yours for answers and strength whenever he needed answers he had questions to, the way he brushed his hands against your body whenever he got the chance, the way he bounded to the door whenever you came home after a long day without each others' touch, the way he made love to you like you were the most precious thing in the world, as if one move wrong would ruin everything good in his life, did you piece together that maybe he loved you just as deeply. You didn't notice, nor cared, about the looks that stumbling, grumpy citizens with their children gave you as they walked into the store front. You two were only a few feet in the store, your embrace almost looking like some unwelcomed mascots for the building. Neither of you could give a damn. Those people didn't understand how lost you were in this mans' soul, how one moment with him gave you more than richness than with any of them combined. It was truly frightening how much you had grown to need this man, yet you knew that if you could change it, you wouldn't, not even for a moment. The emotionally intelligent softness of his voice broke you out of your trance so deep that you felt like one moment with him was a loss of time, an eternity. "Sweetheart," he mummered, you almost not being able to hear him amongst the loud noises of the toy trains, screaming kids, and blaring Christmas music. "What now?" You smiled, the warmest and most genuine smile that you had smiled in a long time. "It's up to you, darling." You turned and indicated towards the whole store, making your point that Arthur was the one in charge of the decisions tonight. "Mmm, I dunno," Arthur looked at the ground, blushing almost as red as one of the apple red orbs that hung on the giant Christmas tree. He was becoming boyish and shy, not used to being able to go wherever he wanted, or being able to lead and have his opinion valued, not even for something as simple as Christmas shopping. "Alright, I'll give you a prompt," you laughed gently, taking the warmth of his hand and caressing the inside of his palm. "Toys or clothes?" Personally, you loved the idea of buying him some new clothes. You saw a rack of ugly Christmas sweaters only a few feet away. "Clothes?" you offered. Arthur gave you his default lost puppy look for a moment-he seemed like he was always vaguely lost-and then gave you the smallest of nods. He looked nervous, and you let our a gentle sigh of love and you led him through the store. "Alright," you said in a playfully business like manner once you were in front of the sweaters, shifting through them persistently but carefully, trying to see which ones would be the most comfortable for him. Arthur wrapped his arms around your waist from behind you and rested his chin on your shoulder, kissing your clothed shoulder softly as he watched you like he was taking a class. Had this man never gone clothes shopping? You shifted through the sweaters, most of them itchy and ugly, or just plain unnecessarily heavy, having giant stuffed reindeers and snowmen sewed into the front. "Let me know if you see anything you like," you offered to Arthur, as your continued to shift your way through the clothes. "Ok," Arthur responded in his soft, childlike voice. After a few more seconds of shifting between clothes, did you find a warm and thick, and practical, bright red sweater. Something he could actually wear to work, wear out to get groceries. You felt Arthur's lips smiling against the back of your head where he had been kissing your hair softly as you had shifted through the clothes. You could tell he was focusing on your scent and on kissing you softly, memorizing every detail of your company so he could remember it when you were too busy to be together like this. You were pretty sure he has stopped paying attention about the clothes once he realized it wasn't as fun as you may had thought it would be for him. Toys next, you thought determinedly. You wanted to get him things he could use daily to care for him, but you also wanted him to have some goddamn fun. His whole life revolved around work. He deserved to remember what being carefree felt like again, to feel good feelings outside of your embrace. 'I like this one," you said aloud, trying to get him to pay attention. Arthur's lips moved from the back of your head to the back to your shoulders as he gaze at it. You could tell he was smiling. "Me too!" he said a little too loudly, though it wasn't too much of a problem with the noise that surrounded you both. He let out a genuine laugh that made your heart melt, and unwrapped his arms from your wait and pulled it over his head. Oh fuck, Arthur in red was to die for. You felt yourself inwardly swoon as he checked himself out in the nearby mirror, sweeping his curls back that had fallen into is face. It made his high cheekbones stand out, and showed how his black eyelashes contrasted against the beautiful pale tone of his face. You could tell he didn't know what to make of it; he stared at himself in the mirror with a bank expression, moved his arms a little to try and feel his way through it. "Baby, you looked so handsome," you said with some awe, wrapping your arounds around his waist. You kissed the nape of his neck gently. "Is it comfortable?" "Mmhm," Arthur hummed softly, still studying himself in the mirror. "Fits nice, doesn't scratch." He rubbed his wrists boyishly, the sleeves going slightly past his wrists.. "It's really warm." He then looked at you through the mirror, letting a small smile grace his handsome features as he looked at you. "Perfect!" you beamed, genuinely happy you had worked at least one thing out. You looked at the price tag, and wasn't surprised at the fifty dollar number that glared at you mercilessly through the white of the tag. You paid it no mind; Arthur deserved a high quality sweater in his life, one that would keep him safe and warm when you couldn't. You hadn't bought him as nearly as many things as you felt you should as his girlfriend that was madly in love with him. You wanted to care for him, dammit. You needed to show him besides words how much you wanted him to do well and how much you loved him. Arthur turned to you, his eyes asking you what he was meant to do next. "There's some nutcrackers over on the shelves," you offered gently. "Toys, trains, stuffed animals, santas. Do you want to see?" Arthur's toothy grin was all you needed to know that the answer was a resounding yes. You took his hand in yours again. You kissed him on the tip of his nose and carried him through the clothes and over to the toy section, giant teddy bears with candy candles greeting you. Arthur let go of your hand, falling behind you slightly, simply wanting to go at his own pace and take in every detail of what was greeting him. You found yourself lost amongst the store yourself, taking in all the endless toys of things you didn't even know existed. You saw so many things you knew Arthur would like; stuffed toys of all variety that you could take home as use as a playful joke between you two. Your heart leapt to your throat in excitement as you saw a clown dressed as a santa. "Arthur, baby-" you cut off as you realized he was nowhere in sight. Fear overtook you, and you instantly hated yourself for not watching over him better. Yes, he could take care of himself. But he was so fragile and vulnerable, you should have known better than to let him let go of your hand for even a moment. "Arthur?" you called out, your voice being drowned amongst the noises of the store. "Arthur!" With shaking limbs did you tear your eyes away from the clown toy,, and began to make your way through the toy section. You wanted to keep calling for him, but there were so many people around you, and you didn't want to embarrass him by calling out to him like he was a child. Your heart was thudding in your chest with pounding nerves, and you tried to control your panicked breathing as you swept your way through the crowd. You were mainly worried about some ill meaning man finding him, knowing that Arthur didn't handle those interactions well. You made your way through nutcrackers, ballerinas, santas, polar bears-until finally you saw in the farthest back corner of the store that familiar golden brown hoodie in the back corner, having picked up a regular, plain brown bear that seemed as forgotten by the store as the man who was holding it. He looked so out of place compared to the rest of the modern, happy and glistening store. He had that lost, spaced out look on his face, staring at the bear like it was talking to him. "Arthur!" you whispered softly, and he broke out of his trace and looked up at you, smiling a sad smile. "Baby, please don't scare me like that. I didn't know where you went." You were still sweating and shaking, and tried to calm your breathing as you wrapped him in your embrace and kissed his cheek softly. "Sorry," he mumbled, though he still seemed lost in a trance, leaning into your kiss but continuing to stare at the bear. A familiar noise of a tormented chuckle came out of his lips, and he suppressed it by quickly putting his other hand over his mouth. But with another shuddering breath did he begin to feel another fit of laughter come out of him, and he began to cackle manically, no humor in his eyes. Just a burning pain. You caressed his back, and brought his face into your chest, your usual routine for whenever he had a fit in public to keep him as hidden as possible while he was in this state. He brought his arms around you, bear still in his hands, and tried his best to muffle his laughter into into your skin. "Shhh, honey, its ok," you cooed at him gently as you let the cackles emit from his mouth. Even having his face buried in your neck did several people give you both very pointed, angry looks. You ignored them; your only concern was Arthur being ok. You only continued to stroke and caress his back until his dark laughter began to die down, until it was only a few fits of giggles and an occasional loud outburst. Finally, he was done, though he didn't lift his head from your neck. "Was this because I seemed upset telling you not to scare me like that?" you inquired softy, using your gentlest of voices, not wanting to upset him even more than he already was. "No,' Arthur whispered into your neck, his voice heavy and rapsy, so fragile that it felt like it could be destroyed with one touch. "It's the bear." "The bear?" you asked. The world around you was melting, the sounds fading out, leaving nothing but you and the man you loved "Mmhmm," he said heavily, sounding like a sad child. He lifted his head from your skin, and there was red blotches and tears all over his face from how hard he bad been laughing. Your let out a gentle coo of empathy and used the end of your sleeve to clean him up, and he nuzzled his face into your warm touch lovingly but with a slight cold detachment. "Why did the bear upset you?" you inquired further. You wanted to know him more, to understand him. You just wanted to help him as much as you possibly could. Arthur let out a small sniff, then took both of your hands and cradled the bear between the the surface of both of your hands as he looked down at it. As safe as Arthur was with you, there were certain parts of him that were still too dark that he couldn't say them out loud easily. But he would try, for you. Because he knew you only wanted the best for him, and loved him unconditionally, despite his doubts that sometimes told him otherwise. "When I was a little boy, my mom's boyfriend took my bear away," he mumbled, his beautiful black eyelashes covering his thoughtful, pained green seas. "He said I had to be a man-that I had to be a 'good little boy'." He shuddered, and you felt yourself shivering with him. You wanted to caress his face and led him to look up at you, but you also didn't want to interrupt the gentle vulnerability that seemed to have a fragile presence laying in front of you, as breakable as a butterfly's wing. "And thats-thats all I can remember" he said in his sad, lost voice. "He took it from me, and then he…" he trailed off, not being able to speak it out loud. That was not, however, all Arthur could remember. Not in the slightest. He saw the visions in black spots of his mind and miniature, entirely unwanted episodes. Slap. A pressure. Pain. You be a good little boy, Arthur. A hand striking skin. A wail from Arthur. Soulless eyes staring back at him. Bruises. You shouldn't have that, Arthur. You're not a weak cunt, are you? You're a man, Arthur. Hit. Bruise. Hit. Ropes. Being tied. A device against the wall. Pressure on his skull.. Knees. Hands. Everywhere. Hit. Bruise. Slap. You won't be seeing this thing again, Arthur. Arthur was so lost in his memories that he didn't notice the tears falling from his eyes, his face soaked. He had had his fit, now tears were the only way for his tired body to express himself or to express or release his torment. Still he let out a twisted cackle, and you felt yourself falling into despair with him-you were tied to his emotions, and it took all you could not to fall into darkness with him. But no, you needed to be strong. Needed to fight it. For him. "Sweetheart," you said between your own tear soaked face. You tried to wipe his tears away, but there were too many. "Let's get out of this corner, ok?" Arthur made no response. He seemed to have frozen. He was cradling and caressing his hands in yours, but seemed only to stare at them with empty eyes, his face frozen in a sort of permanent shock, as if he had been stricken. You relaxed your grip from his hands and took the bear into your own hands, taking the frozen cardboard of a man and leading him away from the corner. His feet dragged, and he didn't change his expression or his disposition, as if he himself was one of the lifeless Christmas toys. "Baby, I need you to come back to me," you muttered, bring his face into your hands. You caressed and stroked his face as gently as you could possibly manage. Ever so gently did Arthur raise his eyes up to yours, the first real movement he had shown in minutes. Seeing your own pained, tear stained face snapped him out of his trace slightly. He let out a sympathetic coo and brought you into his embrace, as if he was comforting you. Your felt a black cold go through your body as you felt your love for the man turn into a sickening pain. It was unfair how loving and gentle he always was towards you, even when he was going through horrible traumas that no individual should ever have to ensure. He always put you first, and it only broke your heart even further. You wanted to do everything for him, to make up for a lifetime of neglect and abuse that he had suffered throughout his entire life. But you were only one person, and you could only do so much. Every time that you looked at him your heart broke, both from how you knew you could never give him everything he needed to fully heal, and also just at how painfully pure and beautiful he was. Your heart clutched in admiration and something deeper than love as you marveled at the miracle that he had made it this far in life at all. You let out a shaky, pained breath, trying to keep your own pain at bay so you could be there for him. This was about his pain, not the secondhand pain you acquired from him. You gently caresses his back, as slowly and as gently as you could, trying to ignore the frustration that you felt that this was all you could offer him. "Arthur," you mutter into his ear ever so softly. You meant to continue, but the words caught in your throat. At his name being spoken alone did Arthur raise his head from your shoulder and looked into your eyes. There was a tragic deep sadness on his face, so deep and so broken that you knew not even the grandest gesture you could give the man would heal him tonight. If ever. "Honey," you choked out in a broken voice, taking his face in yours, and he instantly leaned the entire weight of his face into your palm, and closed his eyes as if he had just finished fighting some fight. You hummed and kissed his eyebrows softly, going by inch across his temple, and then whispered softly, "Is there anything I can do?" Arthur let out a soft broken whimper in response, eye knitted in painful thought despite your kisses. The hard layer of of trauma had overcome him, separating you from being able to get him to melt into the warm places of your soul that he usually did whenever he needed you. Arthur then whispered something that was so soft, so shy and so uncertain that despite all of your attention being on him, you couldn't for the life of you hear what he said, and you only observed a gentle flutter of moving, soft lips. "What was that, angel?" you cooed in the softest voice, using the most gentle gestures and tone of voice you could possibly muster, feeling as if you were talking to a sad child on the verge of death. "I'd like the bear," he whispered a little louder, still so soft and broken, but audible this time. His long black eyelashes then lifted up, and his green oceans of pain looked into your eyes, becoming your Arthur once more, still broken and irredeemably sad and lost, but coming back slowly but surely, your warmth chipping away at the damage in his soul. "Okay," you whisper back, your voice becoming just as soft as his, as if you were both speaking the same language through tone alone. There were so many things being left unsaid, but you had learned a long time ago that your relationship with Arthur needed just as many things unspoken as spoken. There were too many hurts in the man that went too deep to be spoken aloud, too deep to be understood. You did understand that it wasn't really about the bear. It was about his endless hurt, about what had been taking away from him as a child, that even the simplest comforts like a stuffed bear were taken away from him at such a young age, and brutally at that. You couldn't quite understand why he wanted a piece from his childhood that reminded him of such suffering, but then again, you mused, maybe he could never stop thinking about it in the first place, even if it was just subconsciously. The trauma of his past was a part of him, and it was his right to reclaim whatever pleasure he had lost as a child in any way he could. You could allow him that much. The rest of the night at the mall was much more solemn and quiet than the previous first half of the night had been. Arthur did not speak one word after you granted him permission to have the bear. He seemed better, smiling and returning your gentle kisses with his usual enthusiasm again, especially as you waited in the long line, his legs bouncing the entire wait. He listened to your small talk comments with his usual adoration, loving the sound of your voice, the warmth and naive childlike happiness in his eyes that made you weak in the knees returning into their full glow. But you could read him better than he knew, and you could see how his shoulders still seemed weighed down, how his eyes were tearing up when he thought you weren't looking. You knew you would have to talk to him when you got back to your apartment. You linked your arms in his as you walked back to the train. Arthur seemed exhausted, though you knew it wasn't because of your long night out. He rested his head fully on your shoulder as soon as you both sat down on the train, pulling his arms around you and staring at the bear in his lap with gentle curiosity, the wrinkles on the edges of his eyes slightly deepening when he half smiled to himself in thought. After a moment, he hesitantly lifted his face off of your shoulder and kissed your cheek ever so softly, shyly and full of doubt, as if he thought you would turn away. Instead, you leaned into it wholeheartedly, letting out a audible content hum of happiness to let him know how much his touches meant to you. "Are you embarrassed?" he asked in his gentle, raspy voice. "What?" Arthur adjusted himself and lifted himself up next to you, then stroked your hair gently. "Its fine you are," he said, sadness tracing his words. "I know I wasn't…good tonight." You saw his throat convulse slightly, and you kissed him gently before you spoke, knowing that one touch of yours equaled a thousand words. "Sweetheart," you choke out the words, it becoming increasingly harder to fight the lump in your throat. "It hurts how much you don't know that I love you, you know that?" Arthur's watery eyes searched yours, the otherworldly lostness of them an odd combination with his rustic and sleepy eye bags. "When we get home, I want to show you just how much I love you-I might not be able to show you entirely tonight, but dammit if I won't try. Darling," you felt tears overcome your eyes for the countless time that day, "Please know that I could never be ashamed of you. You-" you leaned your face against his gently, and he continued looking into your eyes with considerable curiosity, fascinated by how overwhelmed with emotion you became over someone like him-"are everythingI could have ever hoped for and wanted. Please believe that much. There's nothing you could ever do to make me not love you. I will never be ashamed of you, or embarrassed. I promise you." Arthur let our a sloppy side grin, then nuzzled into your nose further. "You promise?" he softly asked, and the fragile tenderness of his voice alone almost made you want to orgasm. "I absolutely promise, Mister Arthur Fleck." Arthur let out one of his short chuckles, then nuzzled his way into your neck. He lifted his face and looked to the side, down at the bear. "I'm really happy about tonight," he admitted, and your heart soared at your small but meaningful success. "Thank you so much." His voice got softer and softer with every word, and you know he felt like he didn't deserve it. You traced the sides of his cheekbones as you considered your partner, and then let out a small whispers into his hair. "No, thank you, angel, for being with me." ╰────────────────────────⋞╯ It was about past one in the morning when you two returned to your flat. Arthur entered before you, shrugging off his hoodie with a small grunt. He turned to you and helped you with yours, and you let out a small "thank you" as you pressed your lips to his. That's what your relationship was about. Love, consideration; helping one another. Arthur said nothing; thanking him wasn't really necessary, since helping one another was second nature. You always did anyway; you wanted him to know how appreciated he always was. He bounded into the bedroom, eager to get to bed. The teddy bear was still in his arm. He had been carrying it with him the whole way home, not letting go of it once. You already knew that he wasn't going to hold onto it anywhere other than your apartment from this night onward; there was nothing more prone to ridicule and distain in Gotham than a grown man doing anything out of the ordinary, anything less than "manly" and gritty. There hadn't been many people on the ride home, just an old lady and some young kids, so you both knew that this rare quiet night was the exception. It was almost as if the universe was intentionally giving your tired souls some refuge from the usual dark chaos of the world, some relief after tonight's trying and dark window with Arthur's cruel past. You could tell that he was still being weighed down, holding back a weight that had been on him since the memory had been triggered by the bear. You saw the way his shoulders and eyes were a bit dimmer than usual, despite having reattained their natural warmth and carefree essence. You sigh heavily as you grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen for the both of you, knowing that you wouldn't be able to rest until you talked him through his heavy feelings, now in a much more intimate and safe space, without the blaring of the Christmas music in your ears. You entered the bedroom and your heart melted for about the hundredth time that night at the sight of him. He had taken off his usual button up white shirt and had put on the soft red christmas sweater on instead. His long brown curls were sticking out in all directions, a mess from pulling his clothes over his head. His laugh lines were giving his boyish face a beautiful combination of experience and carefreeness, and his lips were bared into a soft smile as he looked up at you, the bear still in his arms. He was holding it like it was a child, cradling it with care. "May I join you, Mister Fleck?" You asked seductively. Saying his name in a formal manner had become a sort of pet name. It made him blush profusely, not being used to any kind of respect being attached to his name. "Please," he said, his voice more vulnerable and broken than he intended it to sound. He tried to sound charming and smooth, but his voice came out broken and desperate, which only confirmed your fears of how he was still feeling about his triggered trauma, despite it having been hours. You instantly made your way over to the bed, leaning one leg over and straddled yourself on top of of his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gazed into his eyes, finding no answers in his sad depths. "Did I ruin tonight?" He whispered in an even more broken voice, his green fields already starting to form a wet layer in response to his self doubt. You let out a noise of both sympathy and shock, and stroked his hair softly. All the man had thought about tonight, everything that had come back to him, and he was worried about ruining the night for you? You almost felt a quell of anger at him for how much he disregarded the severity of his own pain and suffering, but more than anything, all you wanted to do was comfort him. "No, honey," you whispered back, falling back into the 'language' of your intimate tones where you said more than you spoke. "You could never, ever ruin the time I spend with you, ok?" You continued stroking his hair as you spoke, and he was looking at you with unreadable sad eyes. "I'm not speaking out of my ass when I say that you're my everything, Arthur. One hour with you means more to me than the entire rest of my day. Coming home to you and falling into your arms. more often than not, is what makes my day worth living. You being you is the best gift you could ever give me. And if that means some nights of you night having bad thoughts and dealing with trauma, then fuck." You kissed him on the top of his nose. "That's exactly what we'll do." Arthur let our a breath of relief that he didn't know he had been holding. He rested his head on the top of the teddy bear, its weight holding up his chin with only a little smashing on the bear's end. He was now looking at you with love and relief, but there was still an exhaustion in his eyes. He felt dark overtake his vision as he saw a flash of buried deep memory. Yelling, thrown plates. His bruises making it impossible to sleep at night. Floor. He slept on the floor. His back was so sore the next day. Arthur let our a small moan of defeat and buried his face in the comfort of your shoulder. You embraced him wholeheartedly, wrapping your arms around his bony body, his spine and ribs sticking out like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Not even the thick, comforting layer of the red sweater could hide that. Tears strung your eyes, and you felt the sickness again at how much you loved this man more than you could comprehend. "I really do fall more in love with you the more time I spend with you, did you know that?" you whispered softly into his ear, and he only nudged you neck in response. "I don't deserve you," he muttered into your touch, pressing his lips softly to your collarbone, engulfing it momentarily, and you shivered in heated lust at his touch. You wanted to make love to him so bad it drove you mad, but you needed to attend to his wellbeing. That was far more important. You loved him so much that you simultaneously always wanted to talk to him and simply connect emotionally until you could feel the loose strands of his wounds finally come undone, yet your body was driven mad with the cravings of his touch, to have him be physically inside of you at all times, never wanting to be a separate body or entity, craving being one with him so badly that it drove you into a mad haze. "Oh darling," you gasped, the words coming out as more of a heavied sigh, " I wish I could give you everything. You deserve everything." He was kissing you deeper with each word of kindness from your lips. You moaned into his touch, and you cuddled himself closer into you, until air could hardly come between your bodies, save for the bear that was being squished between your chests. It reminded you of the man you were cradling; painfully soft and tender, and begging for protection. You were spooning him in your lap sitting up, him curling himself into your body like a small child. "You're right, Arthur, you don't deserve me." you muttered into his ear, your lips tingling with the tickles that the strands of his wispy hair gave your skin, as if they were gentle kisses themselves. You felt Arthur freeze for a minute, then you continued quickly, "You deserve so much more." Arthur let our a small moan of protest. "No. Not what I meant." He bite you gently as 'punishment', and you yipped. "And not true." "I know what you meant." you responded firmly. "And it's wrong. Not only do you deserve love. You deserve someone who could get you more, buy you more. Take care of you better." Your voice cracked as you realized the truth of your words. Arthur lifted his head from your neck so he could stare at your again. Your right hand traveled from his back and up to his face, and you caress his tired, leathered skin with your slightly younger one. "That's not true," he mummered. "I don't deserve any of those things. I've done terrible things, Y/N." You had no words to try and redeem such a blatantly wrong sentence, so instead you began to kiss every inch of his face deeply, each kiss long and passionate, each about a minute long. You whispered, "I love you" in between every kiss, each one becoming more passionate and more prolonged the more you felt your empathy ripping through your soul. "I love you, Arthur." He was letting out shaky breaths, his breathing raspy and heaving, like he was wounded. "It's just so hard to be," he breathed the words out rather than spoke them, his hot breath bathing your face, "happy" he sighed out the last word. You lips were on the edges of his lips as he spoke out the word, and as soon as he sighed the word out he leaned over and returned the kiss in the deepest and most sincere manner. It was one of the most weighted, tired sighs you had ever heard in your life, the word surrounded in exhaustion, a delicate afterthought in the midst of his torment. Happy. The name his mom had given him since he was a boy. A name that undoubtedly would haunt him for the rest of his life, carrying his trauma, carrying his existence as a poor, disabled man that he didn't ask for with parents who couldn't have cared less. You loved him for everything he was, but he did not. "You don't have to be happy around me if you don't want to be," you muttered, stroking his face tenderly as he leaned into your palm, grazing his lips on your hands ever so gently as he continued to look into your eyes for answers, hanging onto every word. "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be. I want you to be you. If you come home crying, I'll take you as your are. If you come home angry, even if it's at me, I'll take you as you are. No masks." You traced the bridge of his nose, and he crinkled up his nose at you playfully. You smiled. "No fakery." You traced the tips of his brows. "Just Arthur." You brought your fingers to the tips of his ears, knowing that was a sensitive spot for him, and he melted and closed your eyes, the bones visibility dropping on his face, showing his age, but he looked so much more beautiful this way, as Arthur, not the tormented and twisted "Happy" that he had been his whole life. "Your name isn't Happy," you continued. "It's Arthur. You're not one emotion, darling, nor should you ever be." His dark lashes lifted themselves up once more and revealed his endless blue green depths, and in the darkness you could have sworn they were portals to another world. The sleepy and cosy atmosphere closed around you, and for the second time that afternoon there was no longer anything but you and him. Arthur's eyes had been wet since coming home, but now they were bursting over. Tears ran down his cheeks until they were soaked, and you kissed them one by one. "Why do you love me?" he whispered. His heart pounded just to ask the question, but he couldn't resist the anxiety of not at least trying to know. Arthur had lived a life of uncertainty, and solid, definite answers gave him comfort. So little remained in a grey uncertainty throughout his life. You thought for a moment. Not about whether or not you loved him, it was more certain than anything in your life that you did, but why you loved him. You thought about how you saw flashes of his brown curls in your sleep, how his essence was in your consciousness even when you weren't thinking about him. You thought of how you dreamed about him, how he made you feel as if you had transported to another planet of heavenly mutual admiration. You thought about how one word from him caused your knees to shake even just a little bit, how if you thought about his very existence in depth for too long your bones began to shake and your hands sweat. You thought about the quieter moments where you were just with him, and how, as you felt his sleepy, hot breath sweep into you own hair while he passed out on you shoulder, that you knew without a doubt you would do anything for him. You thought about your life before him, how you always felt like you had been searching for something someone, that after a certain point you had convinced yourself you would never find. You thought about your fights, how your heart ached for him even when he was distant from you, making you cry with rejection. You thought about how you would always come back together, somehow more in love after conflict than you had before, as if every trial and tribulation was only destined to bring you closer together and to form a deeper understanding of one another. You thought about his touches, how you craved them like a drug when he was gone. You thought about your gentle teasing of one another, how playful you were together. You thought about how he stole your clothes and anything that smelled like you when you were gone, how you felt your heart warm when you opened your suitcase on trips and saw that half of your closet was missing. You thought about how you always made and fed him dinner even you were bone tired from along day. You thought about the slower and less eventful days with him, and how you still enjoyed every waking moment in a way you didn't know was possible before. You thought about his condition, the fits you helped him through, feeling all your love pour into every caress. There was no answer, and there never would be. It was only a feeling, one that you were sure would last a lifetime. "Quite simply." you muttered into the dark, watching his soft, shiny eyes that gleamed like gentle magic as he gazed back at you. "I just do." Arthur let out the warmest of smiles, and even in the dark could you see the beloved lines on his face gracing his smile. He looked like your Arthur again, the Arthur that had been excited with shining eyes looking at the Christmas mall for the first time. The Arthur he deserved to be. You would love him regardless, but this was what he deserved "Can you.." he looked down at your knuckles, then brushed them softly. You brought them up to his lips for him, and he engulfed each knuckle in a slow, soft kiss, one by one. "Can you say my name again?" You felt your heart flutter, and you let our a soft whimper of understanding. He had been called Happy by the only person who loved him his whole life. He despised both his names, feeling apart from both of them, both Happy and Arthur alike. Happy was the cursed name his Ma gave him, and Arthur was the name trodden by society. To have him hear his name said by someone not only with respect, but by the mouth of someone who loved him that he loved just as equally, felt like heavenly to him, an indescribable weight being carried off his shoulders. You leaned further and kissed his jawline, and with the softest and most tender of your voices did you whisper, "Arthur." Arthur looked at you through his tear soaked portals, and you leaned forward to kiss the space between his eyebrows. He closed his eyes with a shuddering breath. "Arthur." Your voice was softer than a feather's landing on the ground and more tender than a newborn baby's hand. Your lips traveled down his nose, never once breaking from his skin. "Arthur." You kissed each eyelid, feeling the very life from his eyes fluttering excitedly at your touching, twitching uncontrollably. You made your way down to his neck, nibbling on his neck bones, and Arthur let out a moan helplessly. You slowly removed his sweater by pulling it up over his head, and tossed it to the ground. You made your way down his torso, pressing your lips into his nipples, his stomach, and everywhere in between. His whole body was becoming slick with the saliva of your touch. You continued to whisper his name through the darkness of the night, and you felt him shudder slightly every time. You finally made your way down to his blue slacks, and you gently took them off, pressing kisses near his cock, feeling how hard and stiff it was. You kissed the tip of it gently, and you felt the precum that had already formed there. Arthur let our a helpless moan at your touch. "T-Thank you, Y/N," Arthur said, his entire being shaking with emotion as well as the desire for you to be inside of him. "Thank you for seeing me." You looked up, and only gazed into his eyes back, granting him everything he needed just by returning his gaze. "You know how you always worry about taking care of me?" he whispered. "You do take care of me, every day. You loving me is the best thing I could ever need. " You felt an a light stronger than happiness sweep through your body, and it was all you could but give him a smile as tears began to drip down you face yet again. You felt as if you were floating. Arthur pulled you up and wrapped his arms around your form and wasted no time. He pressed his hard cock into your rump and began to ride you as you continued your task of nippling and sucking his torso. You let out small moans, and his name that was still being whispered began to turn into helpless begging. Arthur only became more heated and turned on as he heard the name go from sweet and gentle to helpless simply by him entering you, being reminded of how much power he really had over you, through he refused to believe it more often than not. Your mouth was open in helpless lust as he continued to shove his length into you, and all you could do was dig your fingers into his hair as a pleasure after pleasure filled wave rode into you. You felt yourself fall into a passionate, beautiful haze as you felt the end of the day coming into this perfect close with everything you ever wanted. At one point did you manage to open your eyes and look into Arthur's, who had been studying your face the whole time while jamming himself into you, his eyes soft and concerned as he pounded into you, yet confident knowing that he was safe to do as he pleased with you. The pleasured waves continued to ride through you until you came, and Arthur came shortly after you, pressing his forehead into your shoulder as he did so, mummering "fuck" under his breath as he lost control and cum leaked out from your rump and onto the bed. Your entire body felt sore, and you brought yourself down from your high, relaxing on his lap and kissed his temple in the most gentle but heated and passionate way, and Arthur hummed happily into your touch. You got up and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, determined to clean up the sheets and each other so Arthur could get some sleep. As you came into the room, however, you noticed Arthur had already passed out on the bed, lying down with his back towards the apartment window, his back facing you. As quietly as you could manage did you make your way around the bed, and you felt tears instantly spring to your vision as you saw your man before you; he was lying with his arms wrapped around the bear, his face completely relaxed, his breathing slow and deep. His hair was in his face, still damp from the intercourse you just shared. It was as if he had found peace for the first time. He looked so carefree and gentle, so innocent and fragile that it made your choke, and with the gentlest way you could manage did you pull some light sheets over his body. After you cleaned yourself up, you went into the bedroom and lay down next to him, wrapping your arms around him as delicately as you could manage so as not to disturb him. You felt Arthur visibly shift in his sleep at your touch, turning over slightly so you could see part of his face, and saw him smile in his sleep. He knew without being awake that his love was by his side, everything instantly feeling completely. "Goodnight, Arthur," you whispered into the dark of the night, your breath tickling his curls lightly. "I love you more than you will ever know." -Request: Can we get some drunk!Arthur headcanons, and possibly also some high!Arthur headcanons too. Thanks!
Side note: I've never been high before, so I don't really know what its like. I've had friends who have been high so I'm just basing it off of how they act/stuff I've read online lmao. It might not be very accurate, so for that I'm sorry!
Drunk Arthur:
You two don't drink vey often, you already worry about Arthur's healthy enough as it is. But when you do, it is intense. About two drinks in and he's a goner, being such a light weight man. Arthur is so, so needy. His filter is completely gone, and all does is tell you how in love with you he is, how beautiful he thinks you are, and is constantly telling you a corny joke in between hiccups. He'll ask you questions the deepest of his insecurities wonder that he's not bold enough to say or even think about when sober. "Do you really love me?" "You're my everything. Am I everything you've ever wanted?" "You're not going to leave me, are you?" And so on. Of course, you answer these questions with thoughtful honestly, and when you reassure him how much you love and need him, he melts like butter in the sun. He also says some colorful things, insulting his boss at Ha-Ha's, and complaining about Randall and the others who make him feel bad at work. He'll also start telling you his elaborate plans to get you out of Gotham, to start a family and get a better life together (something you know he always wanted ever since falling in love with you, but he's always far too shy to say sober) He clings onto you like you're his lifeline throughout the night, never letting you go. When you do let him go for whatever reason, he starts to panic, the combination of the surreal feeling of being drunk and not physically being able to touch you making him feel like you're just a hallucination. He literally clings onto your back like a koala bear the entire time he's drunk, so much to the point where he's stepping on your heels every time you try to walk. This goes for both in public, and in your apartment together. No, he doesn't give a damn about the stares that he gets, as long as his arms are wrapped around you tightly. If you tell him to get off, he just becomes upset and mumble and buries his face into your shoulder. You adore this needy, clingy Arthur though, and most of what you say is just gentle teasing. Kisses you clumsily everywhere, and sometimes tries to kiss your lips but almost always misses, kissing you somewhere awkward like the side of your nose instead. He doesn't bother trying to hide how jealous he is. If you both are out and he's drunk, he will literally give any person that is looking at you too nicely a death glare. When you're both finally home from the bar or wherever you were, he'll clumsily grab a blanket and jump onto your lap like a child, pulling it up to his face and asking you to tell him something to help him relax and fall asleep. You often end up telling him a story, listening to the radio, bonding over corny jokes, turning on the tv to drone in the background while he falls asleep, or simply stroke his hair gently while you tell him whatever random thoughts come into your head while he stares at you adoringly though sleepily and bleary eyes, the last of the alcohol starting to wear off and replaced by sleepiness and a simple craving for your comforting warmth. When he wakes up, he's frazzled and blushing, and panicked when he thinks about everything he said the night before. With a few of your kisses, you reassure him that you love all of him, that there's no side of him you don't love, and that you already knew most of what he told you anyway. He then wears off his hangover by spending the morning with you, sometimes having a headache and simply resting his head on your shoulder while you cook breakfast, taking in your warmth and eating your food until it passes. Sometimes you rub his forehead gently if his headache is real bad, and he practically purrs at your touch. You love the feel of the lines of his face against your fingertips, reminding you of how fragile he is. He closes his eyes, his adorable face relaxed and happy that he has someone like you to take care of him and love him when he's a bit of a mess.High Arthur:
He is so giggly. He'll literally sit with a blunt on the couch, giggling to himself maniacally. When you beg him to tell you what he's thinking about, he closes up, mumbling "no", telling you you wouldn't get it. Which results in you kissing his face mercilessly, whispering "please" playfully while you tickle him until he breaks down and tells you. Very relaxed, his usual anxiety not as apparent. When he first discovers weed, he's shocked that there's such a thing as something that will make him feel distant from reality, something that will take the edge off of life a bit. Sometimes he smokes a lot when he knows you'll be gone for awhile, the anxiety of you not being physically with him being too much for him to handle. When he's high and in your company, he likes to wrap himself around you, just enjoying the surreal feeling of what the plant gives him. He loves that the outside world suddenly doesn't feel so heavy, and the combination of you in his arms is just heaven. Sometimes he'll just stare at you with red eyes and start smirking, though he's too spaced out to process that he's turned on just by looking at you. You tease him gently for how red his eyes get, and this only makes him relax more, feeling like he can just laugh at life for a little while. Sometimes he'll start getting really creative and just start splattering paint on the walls, writing and painting enigmatic things like he does in his journal. He'll paint things like black holes and some disturbing smiley faces, but you just admire it as you try to understand your Arthur further, glad that he was at least indulging his feelings in something therapedic. He'll also just do random eccentric writing and scribbling in his journal. Though his thoughts are always jumbled and hard to understand, they're even more so when he's high. There is often just drawings of black scribbles and random writing that maybe are supposed to be jokes, but you can't tell. You clean the art off the walls afterwords and bring him gently to his bed, stroking him until he sleeps it off. He'll also take out his clown paint and outfit and start dressing you and himself up, giggling like a child, saying you make "such a pretty clown." He'll also get an increased appetite and starting eating half of your kitchen, which you completely allow because he's already so thin. As a matter of fact, when he starts to get too thin, you get him high for this exact reason. He craves your touch even more when high, becoming extra sensitive to it. He'll beg for you to play with his hair, caress him, and spoil him with touches as he rides his high out. There are dark sides and risks to him being high too, at first. Having an already unstable mind and being inexperienced with weed led to some scary side effects. Since time and sensory perception changes for Arthur when he's high, the first couple of times he freaks out considerably, having multiple panic attacks and bouts of anxiety. The worst time was when he hallucinated your death, which resulted in him laughing until his lungs were raw and dry, and you holding him in your arms, almost ready to call an ambulance, until finally, with some of your warm, urgent kisses and soft reassurances, he calmed down. His paranoia also would get really bad, which could make him impulsive and violent, so you often kept him inside the apartment and under your care if you knew he was going to smoke. You told him not to smoke without you around the apartment, but when you were gone and his anxiety was at its peak, he couldn't help himself Only once was he alone with his delusions and anxiety, which resulted in you rushing home from you errands to calm him down after a messy phone call. You made him promise to not use it to cope until he got more used to weed, and he reluctantly promised. After a few months of letting him smoke when he wanted with you in the apartment, he began to have more relaxed sessions, and eventually you decided he could handle it on his own. You tried to remind him not to rely on it too much, already being a heavy cigarette smoker. He promised you that as long as he had you, he "wouldn't need any external substances to cope". At first you scoffed at this, but as time went on and he smoked cigarettes less, smoked weed less, and drank less, you found that you really were the best remedy to his unhealthy coping mechanisms. He never quit, but he was becoming so much healthier. Things weren't perfect, but with you in his life, everything was easier. - Infatuation's Open Door Ask: nsfw, Arthur forgot to lock the door and you accidentally walk into the wrong apartment to catch him half naked. Smut ensues. Warnings: smut You could barely see straight, so exhausted and blurry was your vision. You made your way down the hallway, stumbling back and forth slightly in an exhausted, disoriented fashion. Your steps were jumbled and you misstepped every two feet, almost tripping over nothing at least a few times. You were saving up to try and pay off some of your debt this month, and as a result the hours that you worked were piling up without mercy. You worked fourteen hours straight, and had another shift to get up for tomorrow. All you wanted was to stumble into your room as quickly as possible, and collapse into the closest thing to a warm touch that you had in your life–your bed. With shaking fingers did you manage to turn the knob to get into your apartment. You didn't question why it was already open or why you didn't need your key to open it. You simply pushed your dead tired body through, stumbling in and straight past the kitchen and into your bedroom. Your "bedroom" looked different than when you last remembered it. There were pink curtains lacing the windows that you didn't remember leaving, There were different colored and textured bedsheets. Fuck, even the wallpaper was different. You racked your brain, trying to analyze through the fog in your head just how tired you really were for your eyes to be making this much stuff up. "Ma'am?" A slight cough. "May I help you?" A polite, soft voice trailed from behind you. You felt a chill go up your spine at the realization that there was someone else here with you. With shivers up your spine, you turned. Your heart leapt in your throat. Fuck. It was Arthur, your next door neighbor. The slighter older man that you'd had a crush on since you moved into your apartment months ago. You couldn't help it; as soon as you had seen his long, luscious and curly brown hair, combined with the strange charm of the tragic exhaustion on his face that you found so sweet, along with his rare soft, soulful eyes, you had developed feelings for the man, despite never having actually talked to him. This was the first time you had ever even heard his voice, and it was so saccharine, tender, and honeyed, like melted sugar being poured into the tired air, and so much more alluring than even you could have imagined. Your brain was currently tossing away all logic, your first instinct being to draw him in and melt into his natural warm essence, feeling the grim of the day wear off of you. You choked as you took him in further to see that he was almost fully naked, wearing only thing brown slacks. He was so much thinner than you thought, his ribcage seeming to want to burst out of his body like a starved animal, his stomach dipping into a drastic dip. He had a cigarette in his hand, which he was taking a drag from as he considered you with curious, soft eyes. His long hair was swept back, but a few loose curls were sitting in front of his face adorably. "I-I'm..so sorry," you sputtered out, trying to ignore the heat building up in your vagina. "I'm just so tired, I must have come into the wrong apartment." Arthur let our a hum in thought, and the noise alone made you go feral. "It's ok," he said softly, then took another drag from his cigarette. He let his hand fall and the cigarette stayed in his mouth, his raspy voice mumbling through it. "I've done that before too. The locks aren't…great here," he ended the last few words on a shy chuckle, looking down shyly, almost as if he were invading your apartment. "Well," you said, not sure where to go from there, "I guess I'd better get going," you finished lamely. You felt so awkward and dumb, and, despite your words, the last thing you wanted to do was leave. Arthur pulled two fingers to his mouth, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. Jesus, he was so fucking adorable. How did a man who was so sweet and pure survive in a shit hole like Gotham? This was your first real interaction with the man, and it was already driving you wild how much you wanted him. "Do you need any food, since you're here?" he offered gently, speaking through his fingers and cigarette. Oh, fucking hell, he was so sweet. He must not be acting this way because he liked you. There was no way he could have ever possibly noticed you before. You were always so shy, and always made sure that he didn't see you as you gawked at him when walked through the hallways to his apartment. Occasionally, you had shared an elevator, but he always seemed to be in some deep musing or deeply troubled, drowned in his thoughts, never once acknowledging you or looking up. You would stand at the back of the elevator and gawk at him silently, tracing his profile with your eyes, admiring how the carefreeness of his hair complimented his weathered but handsome face. "Uh, well, I-" you sputtered, feeling an embarrassed flush creep up your neck. To make matters worse, you felt the wet of your vagina begin to gush down your leg simply from your thoughts alone. Thank god you were at least wearing black, professional work pants so they wouldn't show the stains as much. You tried to think of a real answer to the question, but staring at his half naked form and his adorable, thoughtful face, all you did was choke. "What?" you finally said lamely. Arthur let out a small smirk of amusement, though he seemed genuinely concerned at your state. You couldn't blame him; you were sweaty, itchy from your uncomfortable work clothes, tired, shaking, and now you were fucking horny-not that he needed to know that. "I'll get you some soup you can take home," he mummered quietly, then turned to the kitchen. Now that his appearance was finally out of your view and taking up all your focus, you were able to relax and melt onto the ground, your legs giving out. You felt weak in the knees, and you took deep breaths and tried to calm yourself. You knew you had feelings for this man, but never did you know they were this strong. Just being in his space felt surreal. Arthur came back in with some cheap paper based mobile device, hot soup steaming out of the edges. His eye instantly quirked up in concern as you saw you, and he put the soup down by the table with the television and came over and wrapped his arms around you. "Hey, hey," he cooed gently, taking your shaking, sweating form into his arms. "What's wrong?" "Its just…" you gulped, then somehow continued forward. "Why are you being so nice to me? Everyone here is so mean and rude, and I know you don't know me, and I just stumble into your apartment and you're just so…caring." You felt tears begin to spill over your eyes, and you looked up at him with wet eyes. "Why?" Arthur bit down on his lip, and you could see his own tears starting to form. "People here are just…terrible, so I figured I could at least be nice when I can be…" he trailed off, his words seeming empty, as if he had something else he wanted to say. He let out a small gulp, then started again. "Y/N, I've been admiring you since I saw you move in on the first day." The words sounded choked, like he was struggling to get them out, like they were painful to express. He took a hand to go stroke one of your tears away, then stopped mid reach, wondering if he was crossing a boundary. He only looked at you with that pained expression. "I could tell that you were different, just…kind." Tears began to spill over his own eyes, and he pulled you closer in as some of your tears fell onto his thin but soft skin. He almost continued, wanting to tell you about the days that he spent literally just following you around and admiring you, memorizing every detail so he could think of you later, but the words died in his throat. Not even you, he mused, would be able to understand his quirks that much. If he had known you better, he would have come to find that you only loved him deeper for his quirks that most people despised. You felt like you were in a dream. At this point, you were convinced that you were. The exhaustion must have taken over your brain once and for all. "Y/N?" Arthur mumbled softly, and cupped your hands in his. You looked into each others' gaze, and an electric connection so strong that it took your breath away ensued, before he hungrily smashed his lips against yours. He drew his tongue inside of you, exploring every inch of your mouth. You moaned into how gentle and sweet, yet beautifully hungry his touches were. His fingers that were cupping your face had a fragile layer of gentle concern over them, but you could feel the burning desire radiating underneath them that he was trying to fight. Your moan was ringing in his ears in the most beautiful fashion. Arthur had music in his soul, and he was already feeling music in your body, the trembling heat from your body and whimpers of lust sounding like harmonious beats, drumming himself against you as if you were an instrument that needed to be carefully tuned and played. He felt that if he pleasured you just right, you would make the most wonderful sounds he had ever heard in his long, tired existence that was so deprived of magic and love. The isolation in his life caused him to treasure women like you as more than just someone to have pleasure with, but as something to be deeply cherished, studied, and explored. All his years of admiring women, but never once did he get to touch one, and it made him marvel at you all the more, like you yourself were art. The raw, intense and utterlydelectable noises of pleasure that were escaping out of your mouth as he caressed your insides with his tongue was making his cock firm and hard, finding himself grow more famished for your touch, more curious as to figure out how to play you. You couldn't hold yourself back anymore, and you wrapped your touch starved arms around his back, digging your nails into his skin. This made Arthur let out his own moans as his tongue separated from your mouth, and he pressed his forehead into the curve of your shoulder, biting down on the sensitive skin there, making you yelp deliciously. You grabbed his hair and pulled his face forward again, both of you delirious with a bittersweet mixture of exhaustion and a starving infatuation that was finally being fulfilled. "Make love to me, Arthur," you whispered, your words almost melding together in a breathless haze. "Please." The yearning look Arthur gave you knocked your breath right out of you, and with a grunt he heaved you both up from the floor and shoved you onto the bed. You pulled your pants off and threw them to the ground with reckless abandon, and Arthur looked at you with a starved, desperate look. "Please don't hold back, Arthur" you begged. "I want you so, so bad. Please." At the please did Arthur gain an almost animalistic look in his eyes, and he quickly shoved himself forward, leaning his tongue into your pussy. At the wet, gentle touches of his tongue did you roll your head back and let another round of the moans that Arthur found so beautiful escape your Oshaped lips, music more pleasing to Arthur's ear than even the best Frank Sinatra song. He thrust his licks into you even further, hitting you in the spot that turned your moans into the development of an orgasm. Your legs shuddered in pained pleasure, and when Arthur began to lick the entrance of your walls did he look up at you, wanting to see the beautiful instrument he was playing. This wasn't just sex to him, but a making of the best art he would ever experience in his life, better than any dance he would ever come up with. Dammit, he was beautiful. His hair was in a tumble and you could have sworn his skin was glowing. He looked at you through your legs with those extraordinarily innocent eyes, the lines of his face somehow making him look even more helpless and youthful, as if they couldn't break the spirit of his soul. With a huff, he brought himself up and slide a finger into your entrance, reducing you to a weak mess once more at his mercy. Arthur began to trace patterns with his other hand into the top of your vagina, making you shiver with thirsty anticipation at his painfully gentle touch. Goosebumps emerged from your skin. His other fingers were still pounding into you, firm, hungry, relentless. His face was scrunched up in an extreme concentration, as if this was the most important task he had ever done in his life. It was true that Arthur was taking his utmost concentration to try and please you. If you had known, you would have known that his heart was pounding in nervous disbelief that he had the woman he had been admiring for weeks finally in his bedsheets, whimpering and withering under him, begging for his touch. If the walls of you vagina didn't feel so real around his finger, he could have sworn he was hallucinating. By concentrating so hard was he preventing an onslaught of undesired laughter, something that he was sure would scare you away. With you squirming helplessly under his touch, he moved his body over you and threw down his slacks to his ankles, letting them fall to the ground without a care. He pulled himself on top of you and lunged for your throat with his warm lips, so starved were they for your love and touches. He sucked on the nape of you neck softly but deeply, leaving red marks and bruises in every area they touched, surrounding your jawline and neck with them. He then brought his lips up to your cheekbone and began to suck on the skin there, and you pulled his hair and guided him to your lips, needing to feel him inside of your mouth again. He put his hungry tongue inside of you again, emitting more beautiful, raw and wonderful moans from your mouth. You felt his cock resting just near where your entrance was. Just barely being able to breath through the passionate dance your tongues were doing did you beg, "Arthur, please, inside of me…now…" Arthur let a small grunt of approval, and without removing his lips from yours did he enter you, harshly jamming into your folds, but in the most desired and delicious way. You moaned into his mouth, and knowing that he was the cause of these sounds-him, the man who had felt like someone who couldn't even get his mother's love wholeheartedly-caused him to jam himself into you even more passionately, wanting to feel how much you could give him those pretty little noises that you made, as sweet to his ears as anything he's ever heard. Arthur was truly worshipping every touch of your body that you were granting him. With some reluctance did he separate his mouth from yours, you letting out a little wail in protest, until you realized he was going down to tease your nipples with his teeth as he continued to raw himself into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head in absolute ecstasy as you felt him pound into you, mixed in with the feeling of his teeth on your nipples. You felt your orgasms rising; felt the squeezing and the burning of your vagina that felt so passionate and pleasurable that you felt you were on the brink of insanity. Everything when it came to Arthur was art, and making love to your body was no exception. He teased each of your nipples until they were red and as hard as stone, then admired his work on your neck, his markings on you. He saw your body as a beautiful canvas that needed to be painted with the love and desire it deserved. He kissed and marked your stomach and nipples until your skin was glistening with his saliva and traces of cum. His tongue trailed down your belly to your belly button, where he sucked the dip with his tongue, filling it with his warmth. Tasting you. Discovering you. As his semen filled into you, him moaning against you skin in absolute ecstasy, you grabbing his back until slight blood was drawn as you reached your own climax, he felt the edges of his vision begin to blacken in the heavenly exhaustion of being filled with your cum and caresses. He moved back down to your pubic hair to your sweet, delicious and soaked clitorious, his saliva and semen having made it so wet that it glittered more powerfully than a piece of metal reflecting the sun. Your exhausted form was still shaking, shuddering for his touch, but you were both so bone tired. With the gentlest of loving sighs did he gently kiss the hair surrounding you trembling vagina, knowing that more of his touches would only make you crave him more. He left his lips on your bottom entrance for a moment, then brushed his face over your skin and traveling his lips gently over your body until he was back to your face, looking you in the eyes, desperate for approval. You knew as you looked into his childish, soft eyes, the animal hunger finally dying out of them, being replaced with a soft, curious and sad desire to know you, that you accepted were undeniably and unconditionally in love with you neighbor Arthur Fleck, and you were inconceivably screwed for it. -hdhshdjdhd post your bottom Arthur headcanons
Anonymous
Because Arthur hasn't had a lot of love or romantic contact in his life, he often just likes to try everything and anything. He loves dominating you and feeling like you are entirely and completely his, but sometimes he likes to be under you and feel like he's completely owned. He loves the idea of spoiling you, and loves being spoiled, so either way works for him. But he works long hours, and lives a harsh life that drags him down. After working a long day and week at work, he just doesn't have the energy to absolutely spoil and devour you like he wants to. On these days, he comes into your apartment with his bones aching, head bowed. You rush over to his side and began stroking his face, bringing him back to you, trying to brush off the long and hard days he has at work, the grim and spit of the world having polluted his naturally soft spirit. On his good days, he slams you against the wall as soon as he makes contact with you, needing to release his desire for you as soon as he can, having been left alone with his thoughts all day and thinking of nothing but you. But tonight, he just doesn't have the energy. You can tell as soon as you come to him that he is "off", his energy radiating a broken spirit and sadness. He looks up at you at the feel of your touch, and his eyes are red, burning and fogged over with exhaustion. But one look into your eyes, and the clarity comes back in them a bit. With that one look, it is clear that he is the one that needs to be devoured in love tonight. So you take his hand and push him onto the bed, Arthur already giggling at your hungry aggression. When you're in bed and on top of him, he ends up moaning for you quickly, his resistance to succumb to his lust for you on these nights low. He often tries to bring you down to him, letting his warm lips brush against the skin on your neck, places some soft kisses on your forehead, temple, shoulders, breasts, arms, and whatever else he can get his lips on, nippling and marking you, all while he wraps his legs a little tighter around you You bury your head into his neck while you enter him, taking in his smell of cigarettes and cologne, sweat and desire lacing the smells. Just as he kisses your temple, he also sometimes reaches out to cup your hand in his large palms, and this changes into grabbing into your hair passionately as you stroke his cock, him completely melting into you and the feeling of your hands on his manhood. You stroke him vigorously as his mouth opens hopelessly in lust, and his head rolls back into his pillow, moaning your name as he builds up for you. And then you pound yourself into him. This leads into passionate kissing, kissing not only his lips, but his chest, arms, legs, and everywhere were his skin is exposed within your reach. He tries to not start cackling at how intense his feelings for are you building, not wanting to ruin the passion of the moment. He tries to make a point to kiss your skin, either pushing his crooked teeth hard into your skin, or pressing his lips softly against the marks he's already made on you. He loves to feel and touch you while he's under you, feeling the solid presence of your skin, feeling the hot breath of your face against his, not being able to get enough of how real you are, the miracle that you're not just another one of his hallucinations. He kisses the side of your mouth while you both moan, your mouth open wide with lust as he pounds into you from underneath, and him trying to keep it together for as long as he can while he murders your lips with soft peppered kisses on the sides of your mouth, cheeks, and everywhere in between. While he's thursting deep inside your heat, your moans become louder, so much to the point where Arthur gets nervous that the neighbors will be waken up. His hands are gripping your hips and butt so hard that they will always leave red marks as they push you even closer against his body all while he's carrying you closer to your high and is eager to feel and see you wet for him. Although he's a bit inexperienced, he will always have the drive and desire, as well as ambition, to make up for what he lacks in knowledge. When he gets nervous enough, he'll make silly voices to try and lighten up the mood. He has a tenancy to mummer words, chuckle, and hum sweet words into your neck as well as against your lips as you're being thrusted into. He is a romantic at heart, and he loves to remind you how important you are to him, even in the midst of making love. It makes it hard for you to concentrate on keeping yourself sane from the passion of having him inside of you, and eventually you break out in laughter that is muffled as soon as he presses his lips with more passion onto yours. Finally, after all that intense love making, you will fall out of him and flop by his side, completely exhausted after a long and stressful day, both of you sweating and breathing heavily from the intensity. Arthur is too tired to get his clothes, and so he settles for just laying next to you, still on his back, looking sideways at your face, beaming at you with his crinkled smile. You both lie there for a long while, taking each other in, your bones aching in the best way. His curls are slick with sweat and sticking to his face. His eyes start to blink with exhaustion, stretching his skinny legs out and blinking sleepily at you. You caress his face, muttering softly, "Go to sleep, baby." You both enjoy the kisses you share once you lean in and slowly crush your lips against his before you cuddle up beside him. Arthur sweeps his arms around you, spooning you under the covers. He leaves soft kisses down the back of your neck, the sweat that had formed from the sex gracing a layer of his lips. His arms were thin and bony but firm and full of promise that he was here. You are both full with contentment, each of each other's chests still heaving dramatically. Arthur couldn't possibly hold you tight enough. He pulled you closer, smelling the scent of your hair, as sweaty as it was, and he enjoyed every moment of it, every moment of you. - Bro I just want a head cannon or imagine of Arthur or penny wise with a s/o that sleeps naked Anonymous Love this concept, thank you for sending this! I went with Arthur because I am currently physically incapable of seeing anything other than him. Length: 2,899 Warnings: None, just fluff. Arthur pressed the piss stained elevator button. Once. Twice. It didn't come down. Arthur looked up at the dull ceiling, staring back at him with the same indifferent, unempathetic energy it always had. Much like the city of Gotham. He held in his breath for a moment, keeping it in his cheeks and then exhaling it like a hot air balloon. He bounced on both of his feet. A few more pauses, and with a moan the elevator reluctantly made its way down the floors. The machine dinged its rough, monotoned ring as it came down, groaning as if it itself was weary of the building from which it had been born, its wires and functions tired and dirty from its place in the apartments that were falling apart like soggy bread. It finally landed. He walked in. He began to press the button to his floor incessantly. He felt the impatience starting to creep up his body, anxiety accompanying it like wildfire. He needed to hold you as soon as he could, needed to see your face beam up at him in a way that no one in his life ever quite had before. He tapped his left foot for a good few minutes. Still nothing. He wiped his tired face with one of his calloused hands. Pressed the button again. Nothing. He began pressing it with urgency, his frown growing. Finally, with one of the most unenthusiastic moans he's ever heard, it began to close its doors, squeaking as they came to a close. Arthur leaned back and stood and looked at the stained, spotted carpet of the elevator floor. He always tried not to think too hard about where they had come from. He was sure he was better off not knowing. The elevator announced the first floor, dinging the closest thing to a cheery noise it could make anymore, slightly more celebratory that the groans that its up and down movements made. Three more floors to go. Arthur let out a soft sigh, cradling his white medication back that he was holding in both hands. He leaned against the elevator walls. Fidgeted with the white bag with his medication. The elevator groaned. Another ding. Floor two. He closed his eyes, feeling the bone deep exhaustion from his long day starting to creep up into his awareness. He had had to advertise at yet another store again today, dancing with a sign for a total of seven long hours nonstop. He felt the toll of the day wear on him, having seen nothing but the grumpy, mean and annoyed faces of the people of Gotham, giving him nothing a scowl, if they acknowledged him at all. He had been bumped into and scoffed the duration of the whole day, which only triggered his mentally unstable state further, but it was considered an accomplished day for the simple and pathetic reason that at least he wasn't jumped. He grimaced, rubbing a hand over his shoulder where the permanent damage of where he had gotten beaten up was. It would never truly heal. He had tried to negotiate a break with Hoyt, and had almost got a full, blissful half hour out of his boss and the store owner, but when he thought about how tight money was, thought about your life together, thought about how he wanted only the best for you, he decided that a half hour of sitting by himself in clown getup and dissociating in his heavy, fogged mind wasn't much of a break or what he wanted anyway without pay. Thoughts of coming home to you were often what got him through the unforgiving day, of snaking his arms around you playfully, getting to be more of his relaxed, silly self as soon as he was in your presence. You were a breath of fresh air in the choking black of the city he lived in. You laughed at his jokes, appreciated his childlike disposition that he carried throughout life that he was otherwise ashamed of but he couldn't help. Gotham spat on it, whereas you treated it like it was some undiscovered holy treasure found within the world. He loved being a clown, it sure beat the idea of being locked up in a desk all day. It was the only job where he felt like he could be Arthur, the only other place where he felt he could be truly himself other than with you. Of course, time with you was incomparable; he didn't need to wear a hot clown wig or do a dance or sing to feel accepted and loved by you. He could express himself and act however he wanted around you, whether he was on top of the world or below even the filthiest of moods, and everything in between. Though he felt he would never be able to fully comprehend or even accept it, you truly where what he had been missing his whole life, ever since he was a boy. As long as he was with you, that was all that mattered. A ding. The fourth floor. Somehow he had totally missed registering going past the third. He stepped out of the elevator, and walked through the fluorescent lit hallway. His heart was pounding in his chest; even now, he was still trying to fight off nerves of seeing you again, as if you were some school crush he harbored, rather than his partner of a good few blissful, though sometimes bittersweet, months. His hands even had the slightest layer of sweat to them as he opened the door, and his nervousness increased as he stepped into the surprisingly dark apartment. Usually he was greeted with at least a few dim lights on, the television on low, you cooking something for the both of you to eat tonight. "Love?" He called out, loud enough for his voice to travel all over the apartment, but not quite as loud as he usually was, feeling strangely self conscious as he entered his own apartment. He took his coat off, wincing at how his muscles ached. He stepped into the dark and turned the lamp light on in the living room. Still no sign of you. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. He panicked whenever he didn't know exactly what you were up to at all times. It had become an unspoken rule for you to always reassure him where you were, who you were with, what you would be doing that day. You never did anything without telling him. You didn't mind, because you knew it came from a place of deep love. He was always so, so worried of losing you, of something happening to you. He couldn't stand the idea of his life after you now that he knew what it felt to be cherished, loved, and, most refreshing of all, known. "Darling?" He tried one more time. Still no signs of life. He checked the bathroom. Nothing. If you weren't in the bedroom, he would really start panicking. Relief flooded him as he opened the door and saw your form in the bed you shared, your chest breathing steadily, sheets covering half of your body. You were entirely naked, and his heart stopped at the sight of how beautiful you were. He thought about you so much during the day to the point where he could convince himself that you weren't real, just another manifestation of his illnesses. Seeing you at the end of a long day always took his breath away, but rarely did he get to see you in such a natural, almost artistic state. The moonlight from the sky was shining through the small window in your bedroom, illuminating your skin so that it looked like it was glowing, convincing him you were some otherworldly being coming to save him from his dark and dull life even more than he was already convinced. He tried his best not to let his infatuation with you turn you into something you weren't, but as he took in your smooth form, skin looking like it was made from silk, he couldn't help but feel the heat and desire spread through his body as he thought about how perfect you were to him. He stepped over to your form quietly and tried as gently as he could to put his weight on the bed without disturbing you. He merely stared at you for a few moments, hardly being able to believe that you were real. That thought made his heart stop for a minute, and, despite how much he wanted you to rest, he couldn't help but reach out a hand to stroke your skin. He caressed the curve of your hips with the gentlest of touches, and felt you shiver as goosebumps began to naturally respond to the softest brush of weathered fingers. He was fascinated with everything about you. With a trembling body, he leaned forward to kiss the small of you back, gently pressing his lips onto you as if you would break. You let out a soft whimper, awakening from your sleep, and you began to move your head slightly. Arthur mentally hit himself, angry for not being able to resist touching you. Ever so slightly you rolled over, and through blearly, sleep tight eyes in the dark did you make out the man before you. "Arthur?" you mumbled sleepily. "Is that you, baby?" Despite his onslaught of self loathing, he beamed at you calling him a pet name. He let out a small giggle, natural and soft, not like the throaty and tormented ones that twisted out of him so often. "Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly, as if he was a child getting caught stealing candy by his parents. "You looked so beautiful, I couldn't help myself…" His voice was soft and young sounding, yet had the raspy heaviness of a man who had had a long day. You took a few moments to collect yourself, then scooted closer. "Sweetheart," you mumbled sleepily, cupping his face and pulling him closely. He responded eagerly, wrapping himself into you like you were keeping him on the ground. "You never, ever have to apologize for touching me." You brought him in, kissing his touch starved lips with all the tender care you had been building for him all day. You felt starved when you weren't loving him. Arthur felt something click inside of him, like something has been askew within his soul all day without you. "Mm," Arthur barely managed out at the feel of your warm lips on his. The unforgiving day wisped away from his mind like it had never happened, being replaced with your warm touches and essence that you reserved just for him. "Mmm'ok," he finally said boyishy, smiling into your lips. He melted like butter at your touch. Your noses were touching, and his expression was uplifted into a grin, drowning in his laugh lines. You leaned forward and kissed them lovingly, the ones lining his lips, corners of his eyes, forehead, cheeks. Adoring how fragile he looked, that look that reminded you how much he craved you, needed you, how he was walking on a tightrope in society, his soul threatening to fall over at any minute. "How was your day?" you muttered, stroking his hair back so you could see his face, shining innocently, He let out a small mumble. "Eh, it was, you know," he looked down at your hands, stroking them, procrastinating looking into your eyes, still hesitant to show all himself to you, not wanting to burden you with his own troubles. "It was fine." He brought your knuckles up to his lips and peppered them softly. You smirked. "You're a bullshit liar, you know that?" You smiled at him softly as the gruff statement compelled his eyes to look up at you. He wasn't hurt, just unsure how to respond to how well you knew him. "Come here," you muttered, and drew him even closer into your arms. He cuddled up in your chest adoringly, smiling as he buried his face into your chest, instantly taking the prize as the most happy and content person in Gotham. "You know," you hummed as you put your lips into his curly brown hair, still slightly damp from the sweat of his clown costume, "The neighbors down the hall invited us to dinner tomorrow night." Arthur's voice vibrated against your skin as he spoke in his soft voice. "Really?" "Mm-hmm," you muttered back in response, your voice becoming softer and more tender with each word as you felt each other meld into one another, something that had started to become as natural in your daily routines as breathing. "They seem nice." Another caress. One of his curls snagged into your nails, and you gently separated it. "I thought maybe you'd like to go over and talk to some people, since you've seemed down." You felt Arthur tense slightly, but not enough for it to be significant. He could sometimes forget how easily you could read him. He had been more worn than usual lately; the world had been weighing on his shoulders with an unforgiving and cold weight, his hours feeling horribly long and dressed in an isolated haze. He didn't have as much time for you as you wanted-no, needed, and it took more out of him than he was ever willing to admit to your face. He always came home with heavy, tired, red eyes, and didn't feel the grim of the world fall off of him until he was in your arms. You truly were his only company in life, the only one who let him know what true love felt like. "They said it was meant to be a family members event," you continued softly. "They just want families to come over, bring their children to play, grandparents, spouses, whoever else. They said friends are ok, but they mostly want families to come from around the building and connect to get to know each other better." You looked down and kissed the top of his temple. "So technically that excludes us, a romantic couple of only a few months." You paused. "But fuck it. My baby is sad, and I know how much you light up when you're around people who are nice to you." Those words rang very true. It was a side of Arthur no one knew about. He was quiet and kept to himself, seeming like the cliche stereotype of a loner. But buried inside all of the rejection, isolation, and hurt that had been suffocating him since he was little, possibly even since he was born, you realized with a shiver, was just a playful, happy man with a naive and soft soul, longing to connect with the world, so desperately that even he didn't know how to handle it. "You are my family," he whispered softly, the words escaping out of his lips before he even realized they were in his head to begin with. He had begun to drift off slightly, and had been lost in that space between awareness and dreams. His face began to heat up as if he had been burned. The weight of what he had just said sunk in, and he felt his chest would burst. His heart was thudding in his chest at the bold statement. What a stupid, inappropriate thing to say to your partner of only a few months. You were a bit dumbfounded for a moment yourself, unsure of how you felt. You didn't feel angry or put off, just in a numb shock. You knew you loved each other, but having the depth of your love spoken out so blatantly felt like a strange betrayal of an unspoken emotion between you two. He looked up at you, and the numb feeling melted as you saw your world in his endless depths of green and blue. You could have stayed there and just mediated on what he said in a warm haze of the outspoken realization of what had been said, but the spell was broken when he began to stutter out whatever he could to rectify what he just said. "I-I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't say that, you don't have to feel the same, but-" "It's ok," you quickly reassured him, putting a finger to his lips. You paused for a moment, considering you next words, knowing how much weight they would have. "You're my family too, sweetheart. I'm home when I'm with you." Arthur let out an enigmatic whine, seeming to be buried in deep relief and pleasure. Though always a fragile creature, he truly looked as vulnerable as a child in that moment. The red on his face melted a bit as he was reminded once again how safe he was with you to speak every unfiltered thought. As you looked deeper into his broken eyes, so full of unspoken damage and torment that would never really go away, the truth of the whispered words sunk into you as the realized the sincerity of them. It was a heavy truth, but a truth so beautiful and so pure that it made you melt with tender exhaustion. Your love for him was so pure, so unconditional, so inconceivably empathetic that labeling it as a generic romantic relationship didn't seem to be satisfying enough. In many ways you already saw him as your spouse, someone you would do anything for. He was a part of you now, and you couldn't see him any other way. Nor did you want to. It was as if he had lived inside of you before you had met him, like you were looking for one another and living your souls beside each other before you had even physically come together. There was something that had become complete when you had met him; though you were already your own person and individual before him, life after him felt like you had finally found your true calling, a calling that went deeper than the superficial 'callings' that Gotham tried to make people believe in like money, jobs, careers; earthly things that required the world's approval to make you feel worthwhile that seemed so small now. No, this calling was far more fulfilling, so natural and so true that it made your throat choke when you thought of it for too long. You felt and saw home in him, so much that took your breath away. A loud rumble broke you out of your thoughts, and you realized it was Arthur's stomach calling out for mercy. Arthur groaned, embarrassed, and buried his face in your neck, leaving hungry kisses below your ear, his crooked teeth leaving shy marks where there had already been left hundreds by the same man. You laughed, trying to suppress the heat that was building in your vagina. You could deal with that later. "Come on, sleepy head," you chuckled. "Let's make some dinner." - Am I disgusting person for wanting Arthur to cum in my panties before I go to work? 👀 pls write about this Anonymous I know this was probably meant to be a simple horny request, but this ended up being really romanic. lmao I hope that's ok, I can't really help myself. I'm such a sap. this came out kinda long so idk if anyone will read it lol, but it was a ride to write. Summary: When two people who love each other very much work very hard for long hours, it's hard to resist the short time you have together. Extremely needy Arthur. warnings: sex, nudity, smoking, skinny body described? lol Words: 3,427 You woke up to the sound of a Frank Sinatra song lazily droning in the background, the sounds sweeping through the thin walls as you awakened slowly. Cigarette smoke was polluting the air, despite the windows being open, the closest thing to a fresh breeze in Gotham bellowing in. You rolled over on your side, and looked up at the bulk of a person sitting next to you. He had a cigarette dangling in his mouth, and your bleary, tired eyes met his as you met his dazzling ones of a combination of green and blue like the sea. He had a toothy smirk on his face, his crooked teeth beaming at you with all they had. His laugh lines were crinkling up on his face as he gazed at you with that love in his eyes, laced by his eccentricities as a person. It sounded cliche, but his eyes truly were the windows to his enigmatic soul. This was especially true for your Arthur. You could tell he had been watching you for awhile, as he always did. His hair was slicked back with the cheap grease he always used. Your eyebrows furrowed, a bit in confusion, mostly in amusement. "Feeling fancy today, love?" Arthur instantly burst out into a cackle, his head lurching back. It wasn't one of his painful laugh attacks that choked him from the inside out; rather, it was one of his beautiful and genuine laughs, surprisingly deep, yet carefree and childlike. He was clearly in one of his giddy, giggly moods. "Mm, no," he said between giggles, putting the edge of his thumb into his mouth as he beamed shyly at the blanket you both were sharing. "Just wanted to look nice for you before work. We won't see each other for at least another.." He frowned softly, conquering up his sense of time through the haze of infatuation you were both in as best as he could. "Sixteen hours?" The light went out of his eyes as he realized how long it would be until you saw you again. He then shrugged, sheepish. "Just want to enjoy the morning with you." He traced his lips with the end of his cigarette, that lost look he got his eyes when he got in these dissociative moods highly present. You rolled your eyes lovingly, and scooted closer to him, sitting up. You wrapped your arms his waist, kissing his bare shoulder. He was in nothing but his underwear, the way he preferred to relax in your apartment. You didn't mind at all; you loved that he felt so liberated in your space that he could be himself, that he associated your space with the place where he could be known, loved, touched, caressed, but most of all, free. "You don't have to do anything to yourself to make our time special, baby," You muttered softly, brushing one loose strand out of his face. You cupped his hand and pulled his face over to turned and looked at you with his soft eyes, his face in a small knit of emotion of a soft kind, melting at your touch. "I love you just as you are." Arthur interrupted the gentle air and the sweet touches of the morning by ripping his lips into yours just then. If there was one thing that made Arthur melt more than your touches, it was your kindness. He engulfed your lips like he was starving, and you knew he had been resisting the need to touch you while you were sleeping. Despite reassuring him that you were his and that he could touch you whenever he pleased, he still hadn't found his confidence yet. It drove you mad; you just wanted him to feel comfortable and equal to you, not to have this game of cat and dog where you had to constantly remind him of his worth. This train of thought made you even more desperate to show him how much you loved him, and you began to tear like a staving animal at his back, digging your nails into his skin, which felt more like bone than skin due to the nature of how skinny he was. He let out a moan that was loud enough to wake the neighbors; he was a far more kinkier man than his shy disposition let on, and he adored when you started to touch and play with his desires that he has fantasized about for so many years. He tried to muffle his moans by burying his mouth into your neck, though his groans were still loud enough to alert anyone within a one foot radius from your door. "Love," He just barely managed to choke out, his raspy voice muffled by your hair and your neck. He nibbled on your skin for a moment, unable to resist being close to you, but then lifted his head. "Darling," he tried again, still breathless, as if he was trying to come up underwater for air. "We can't do this right now. You need to go to-" -he let our another helpless moan and he began to pepper kisses up your neck- "work" he finally managed to gasp out as he finished marking your neck in bruises, nibbles, and kisses. You let out a defeated sigh as the realization of reality hit you. As your cheek rested on his bony shoulder, you remembered the time. You had allowed yourself to sleep in a bit this morning, which had been wonderful, especially when Arthur had been spooning you tightly in the early hours of the morning before he got up to bathe and get his cigarette. These early hours were the most precious to you; the nightly hours in general, even. Those were the hours were you both were truly one being, melting into one another, whispering sweet nothings into each others' ears when one of you couldn't sleep, lying by each other's eyes, getting lost in conversation, forgetting the concept of time or where you even were. Nothing existed but the two of you in those hours, and you would give anything to stay there with him forever. But the mornings always came, and the sun rose, and the trashy smells of Gotham and the noises of the city outside always came to life, and before you knew it, you were at work, preparing yourself for another long shift, away from your lovers' touch. But you always came home, and he was always there, reading to embrace you with his open arms, his curly hair and youthful eyes complimented by his weathered face and lips greeting your bone tired form. Or, alternatively, when it was his turn to work a long shift, you were always there for him, often looking downcast as he came in, taking his tired face in your hands, and engulfing it with your caressing, conversation, and love until he became your Arthur again. "Love," Arthur mummered, bringing you out of your thoughts. His lips were on the tips of your ear, so close and so gentle was it that it made your spine tingle, sending chills down your spine. "Come on. It's time to get out of bed." You let out a sigh as you finally pulled yourself away from him. You both looked at each other in the eyes for a moment, having a conversation with no words. You took him in; his hair now a little disheveled, his early wrinkles which somehow didn't take away the spirit of his youth, his laugh lines, the eyes that shined out of his face like they were put on the wrong face, so out of place were the light of his eyes compared to his tired, worn body. You could take him in for hours and never be bored, but Arthur was being the responsible one today. Or at least attempting to. He placed a kiss on your forehead, picked up his cigarette butt from the bed where he had dropped in his passion, got out of bed, and took his hand out to you. "Come on, sweetheart," he murmured. "Can't have two unemployed clowns in this house." You smirked, taking his hand. Neither of you were currently unemployed; as a matter of fact, both of you were working like dogs, both of you rarely home during the day. But with the short tempers of the employers in Gotham, it wouldn't take much for either of you to get fired. He took your hand and pulled you up, almost too fast. You let out a gasp as he twirled you into a dance, pulling you out with his arm and then twirling you back in, locking both his arms around you tightly. "I thought I was supposed to be getting ready for work," you mumbled, melting into his skinny but firm arms. His spirit was strong enough to overcome the weakness of his body, always. He was completely engulfing you, his head bent down to kiss your cheeks, his arms holding you into a beloved lock. "I don't want you to go," he breathed between kisses on you face, his voice soft, childlike and naive. "I was kidding." You let out a small sigh, angling your neck so he could kiss all your soft spots there as well. You really couldn't resist him when he was being clingy like this. His excitement grew like a dog at the sight of your letting him have your bare skin, and he began eagerly kissing the spots he had just left on you only a few moments before, tenderly placing his warm lips on them, engulfing each one softly until he brushed his lips up to the next. The phone rang, almost as if it was the angry parent in the situation that was telling two lovestruck teenagers to get cracking. You both started out of your trance in one another, and Arthur finally let out a sigh and left one last small kiss on your cheek before letting you go. "Guess that's my cue," you said, taking off the remains of your clothes and walking fully naked from the bedroom into the bathroom. You two were so comfortable around each other that you both walked around the apartment naked like it was as natural as breathing. Arthur ran to get the phone. Your bath was short and unwanted, not wanting to rub off the traces Arthur had left on you. You didn't want to strip yourself of his warmth, but you did smell like sweat, cigarettes, and, frankly, general bodily fluids and precum. Not exactly appropriate for going into your workplace for. Once you were done, you grabbed a towel and wrapped it around your shivering form. Your hair was dripping and wet. You were pretty sure you weren't going to have time to brush it out. Just as you were leaving the bathroom and preparing yourself to get ready for work as fast you could possibly manage (there was no doubt you were going to be late at this point), you stopped in your tracks at the sight of you lover in the small living room. He was dancing in his underwear again. He did this often. He held a sweet, carefree innocence that not even the darkest black of the world could pollute. There was something innate about the very core of his being that was embedded in his simple essence. It could just be something to do with his disability, you thought morbidly, but there was something else about his spirit that was truly untouchable. Something about his soul that Gotham could never touch. He could fall into dark places, but he would always have that softness in his essence, as crazed as it could be at times. And that softness was most apparent when he was dancing. It was otherworldly to you, and you marveled at him everyday. That no matter how much the world trampled down on him, he always remained the artist, a free spirit, untouched by the grim of the world. He became Arthur when he danced. He was always your Arthur, innocent, silly, heart on his sleeve, but he became a new essence when he was with himself and his music. You saw his face had acquired this beautiful concentrated look as he stepped to the music, the lull of the singer's voice perfectly complimenting his steps. He hadn't noticed you come out; the only time he ever didn't notice you and every little thing you did was when he was lost in his own soul. And you wouldn't have it any other way. You stepped forward, trying not to disturb him. He was still completely lost in his trance, and you were being quiet as a mouse. You bit your lip as you stepped forward mischievously. He was only a few inches from you now, as he had stopped stepping and moving back and forth in the small apartment. His form was locked in a strange pose of one arm being lifted up and the other down, torso half leaned over and one foot in front of the other. You waited a moment, appreciating his artistry that was etched into his skin. You then snaked up from behind him, trapping you in his arms, his bony hips suddenly completely captured by you. He visibility jumped, but Arthur was never the one to scream. He put it together within a few seconds that it was you. He always felt safe in your apartment, not just emotionally, but physically as well. Had you done that anywhere else, he would have had a heart attack. You peppered his back in kisses. "Sorry, baby, just wanted to say goodbye properly." Arthur turned himself around, is loving smirk on his face. "Mm, that sounds familiar," he said teasingly, seeing as how this chase between trying to resist each other between the late and early morning was becoming almost your morning ritual. "Probably won't be leaving anytime soon, will we, darling?" You smiled knowingly. "Is that a promise?" Arthur looked into your eyes for a moment. His eyes softened and he took a strand of your hair and pulled it back. "No," he mumbled softly, suddenly serious. "You need to go, sweetheart." No matter how much he craved you, he always wanted what was best for you. Getting fired from your job wasn't best. You sighed, pulling yourself away. Again. You began to stroll towards your room, the music still droning. You entered your room and put on your panties. Just as you were about to close the bedroom door to finish getting dressed, you felt arms snake around your arms again for about the tenth time that morning. "Dammit," Arthur growled, digging his teeth into you. You were starting to lose count how many times you had gotten lost in each other within the past ten some hours, with the expectation of the little sleep you two had gotten. The time from when you got home late at night to when you had to leave for work often ended up being a battle between how much time you could possibly find for one another, the hours passing by in a dizzy dance of love and lust. You moaned in response. The fucking phone started to ring again. Neither of you could have cared less. He lifted you up and you wrapped your arms around him eagerly. Your tongues began to dance together, eagerly taking the other in. Arthur took you and pushed you down onto the bed, kissing you passionately as he trailed his lips down your body. You body was heating up fast, sweat coming onto your body again already. If you weren't lost in such a haze of lust, you would have hated yourself. So much for getting clean. Arthur ripped away the towel that was still clinging onto you, and reached down into your panties and began to finger your clit with his fast, bony fingers. "Oh-Arthur-" You squealed, your legs bunching up in tension from how good it felt. Arthur looked at you with a crazed look, then kept pounding his fingers into you until he brought them up to his lips, licking the cum off of them like it was breakfast. As shy and uncertain as he could be when it came to making the first move, to intimidate touches like embracing hands or cuddling, when he could tell how hungry you were for him, he did anything he could to please his love. And he was well researched from his years of porn collecting. After all, as damaged as a man as he was, he could only fight off his own hunger for so long. Everything you did turned him on. He pulled off his own underwear, and his erect cock was straight and stiff as a wooden board. You gasped at the excited lurch that seeing it put your pussy in. He pulled himself on top of you, using his bony elbows for balance so that he there was a space of air between you. Oh , fuck. "Baby, please don't tease me," you whimpered desperately.. "Please baby, I want you so bad. I want to feel all of you-" you let out a hiccup. "Please…. please enter me, baby." Arthur let out a wide grin, his crooked teeth beaming at you once more. Oh, how he loved how much he loved you. How he loved how much you loved him. How he loved that he could play with within this rich, never ending love, and feel this wanted and desired the way he had always craved. "Just a moment, love," he mumbled softly, and brushed his lips against your face. You were whimpering and borderline crying from how much you craved him, needed him. He loved dragging out this moment for as long as he possibly could. The moment where he could feel the love of his life squirming for him, where he felt so needed that it made him reel back. It wasn't done with malicious intent; quite the opposite. Tipping on the edge of where your lust and love for one another became white hot with insanity was something that burned a fire in both of your souls, made both of you feel how truly rich your love for each other was, reaching indescribable levels of magnificent desire for each other. You were both just so head over heels for each other that it was so fun to play games within each other's unconditional love for the other. He was somehow holding himself together a little more than you, just barely keeping his needs for you at bay, brushing his nose against your lips, cheek, chin, feeling you shiver against his touch. The tip of his cock touched your skin, and that alone made you lose it. "Arthur!" You screamed. "Inside me, now!" Arthur let out a massive belly laugh at that, his rib cage protruding out from what could hardly be called a stomach, bones bouncing up and down with his laughter, looking like they could bust out of his flimsy rib cage and flesh at any moment. His eyes were crinkled up into black slits, his laugh lines gracing the edges of his eyes. He was beaming at you, his lips closed around his teeth, adoration gracing his features. He kissed the tip of your nose, and then- He slammed his cock into your entrance, and you let out a scream that was sure to wake the heavens themselves from their gates. Arthur let out a groan, and he began to pound himself into you. He was muttering romantic words under his breath as he placed kisses all over you face as best as he could manage. You were lost in a haze of pure ecstasy, too lost in a daze to even be able to see straight. Having been craving you since about four in the morning when he had started his daily ritual of staring at you until you woke, he didn't last long. His cum flooded your panties until they were soaked, as if they had been thrown in a pool. Then he let out a moan and fell beside you, kissing your shoulder adoringly. You blessed his kiss with a nose, which he wrinkled up adorably in response. With shaking, stumbling legs, you crawled out of bed and just barely managed to stumble over to your pile of clothes. You cleared your throat. And began wiping the sweat from your hands with the nearest towel you could find. Being employed was overrated anyway, right? - Imagine this: Arthur wakes up from a nightmare, but he's a little confused and frightened and reverts to his childish self. He cries and calls you "Mommy" as he clings to you. anonymous You would curl up around him and kiss his hair and face softly and would ask him to tell about his nightmare. He wouldn't at first and would just tremble in your arms, but as you reassured him with gentle words and touches that you love him and are an entirely safe space for him, he begins to open up to you, and you two have intimate conversations until he drifts back off to sleep. - Imagine Arthur playing in your hair as you both laid on the couch, watching tv. he's so obsessed with how beautiful it is that he just decides to comb through it sending you feeling sleepy. He wakes you up with a tender kiss to your neck, telling you how cute you look while asleep anonymous These were the hours that truly refreshed you, that made everything you went through daily worthwhile. Arthur's naked body was pressed up under yours, and a cozy blanket kissed the skin of you both. Arthur was doing your favorite thing in the world to you; he was tenderly brushing his fingers through your hair, for once paying more attention to you than he was to the Murray rerun. Truth be told, he hadn't had much interest in it since falling in love with you. You were far more interesting. "Please don't stop, baby," you moaned as you felt his gentle fingers play with your hair in the most softhearted way only Arthur could. Every sensation was prickling through your body, sending waves of pleasure through you at his every touch. Arthur chuckled. "It's just so beautiful." He really did love everything about you. "I swear this is better than our sex," you mumbled sleepily, earning a hearty laugh from Arthur. You smiled before you fell asleep; you adored helping Arthur find joy wherever he could find it. Sleep over took you along with his touches. — "Baby, wake up. Its time for bed." A warm, gentle kiss graced the back of your neck. It was now entirely dark outside; it had been dusk when you two had sat down. "Come on, sleepy head," Arthur teased, and helped you sit up gently as he lifted himself up. He took the blanket off, and watched lovingly as you rubbed your eyes. "I might replace our bed with you," you grumbled, hating the cold air that greeted you as Arthur removed the blanket. "You're more comfortable than that thing." Arthur beamed a winkled kissed smile and leaned his lips against your cheeks, hot breathing make your vagina throb with desire even in your sleepy state. "Well, if you head to bed, you have permission to sleep on me all night, darling." That was your motivation, and you sprung out of bed like your life depended on it. You heard Arthur laugh as you rushed through the living room and into the bed, hating the cold that was touching your previously warm and cozy body. "Cold, cold, cold," you moaned as you ran. You leaped into the blankets, shoving them over your shivering form. Arthur was behind you shortly, and swept you into his arms as soon as he lied down. He pressed a kiss to your temple. "Go to sleep, my cold angel," he mumbled softly. "I need something beautiful to watch for a while before I sleep." -growing with you
Request: could you maybe do a headcanon of arthur w a male reader ? just like how their relationship would be?
A/N: I hope this is what you wanted; if there's anything wrong or offensive or inaccurate please let me know! (hc requests are open btw; I have lots of time on my hands write now to write them lmao)
Warnings: mentions of homophobia
Originally posted by antonija89
The moment that Arthur's sweet green eyes had laid sight on you, he was instantly yours. Though it took him awhile to finally find the courage to walk up to you and to finally initiate the relationship-his words full of stumbling and stuttering-it was within only a couple of days of talking that you two became completely inseparable. Your relationship was full of nothing less than complete and utter understanding and intimacy, both emotionally and physically. Countless times did you lie in bed together and talk sweet little nothings to one another as your mind and bodies were intertwined into one singular slice of heaven that you both shared. So well did the pieces of your minds and your bodies fit perfectly together with one another that it was breathtaking, and nothing would ever be able to separate the two of you. Unfortunately, your romance had bloomed in a time when the concept of gay relationships was still utterly banished from the general public's minds. People didn't accept your relationship yet, and because of that, you two were forced to have to hide from the general public. Although it was so desperately painful to pretend like Arthur was just a friend, although you would have to resist from holding each others' hands as you walked down the city when you went for walks together, it was always worth it as soon as Arthur's shut the door to his apartment, instantly wrapped his thin but muscular arms around you and peppering your face in his loving and heated kisses. Somehow, the fact that you had to keep your relationship a secret from others actually just made it that much more thrilling in some ways, feeling like it was your own little precious secret that no one could ever dare touch. You love with him was your precious escape, though of course it was also incredibly painful in other areas. But the fact that you knew that this worn and rare man with a heart of gold was yours and yours alone, that all of those heated and secret moments that you shared underneath the sheets with one another as you both delighted in your most secret and blissful sweet nothings with one another, his brown curls dangling over his face and tickling yours as he lied on top of you, skin upon skin, feet entangled into one another, was more than enough to make it all worth it. Together you had created and invented this own little world that no one and nothing could take away from either of you, and that made everything worth it. When the bad days came, they came strong. Some days you would sit on the end of the bed with Arthur rubbing his hand against your back as you cried and cried over the fact that you couldn't simply openly love Arthur the way that you so longed to without putting you both in danger. But your fears and devastations would soon be forgotten as Arthur would cup your trembling face into his hands, and ever so softly would he press his lips against yours. "It'll be okay, my love'" he mumbled against your lips. "We have each other." Somehow, despite your fears, you believed him, and somehow in that moment did all of your fears and worries melt away as you got lost in everything that Arthur was instead. -happy souls
Request: Can you do HC's for Arthur/Joker feeling the baby move? :)
Originally posted by murrayfranklin
"Hi, sweet thing," Arthur cooed as he pressed his nose against your belly. You looked up towards the ceiling and smiled almost to tears as you felt his hands gently caressing your stomach, feeling goosebumps trail all over your skin as he did so. It had become Arthur's favorite thing to spend the majority of the afternoon simply cooing and gently caressing the baby growing in your belly. There was nothing that brought him more peace or joy than to simply know that he was caressing both the love of his life andthe small little body and that was being formed inside of you that was the physical embodiment of an extension of the untouchable and unconditional love that you both shared. Arthur nuzzled his nose against your stomach, making you giggle a little bit and curl your toes into your shoes as he did so. "Baby, that tickles," you giggled. As you giggled, you caressed your own hands around your large and round stomach. Arthur pressed his chin against the curve of your stomach and looked up at you. The way that he was looking at you with that sheer innocence as his curls fell in front of his eyes with an adorable twitch of his nose made your heart completely melt as you looked down at the man that was nothing less than absolute love of your life. So deep was the love that you shared that you could feel it physically entwined from your heart to his as you stood there and watched him. Arthur himself was kneeled down so that he was face to face with your stomach and could gaze at where the baby was growing, though he had temporarily paused in doing so as he gazed up at you with a playful and loving gaze, his hands still caressing your stomach absentmindedly, so memorized was his body with the almost essential routine of loving yours. "I can't help it," he murmured softly. His own voice was nothing less than completely soft and infused with love as he leaned his face back towards your stomach and kissed it gently, making you shiver once more with ecstasy and love. "I just love you both so much, angel. Do you think they're going to love me the second that they come out of the womb?" He looked at you a little bit worried as he tore his eyes away from your stomach and looked back up towards, genuinely wondering about his question. You laughed softly at how silly his doubts were, pressed your hand into his curls. "Darling, I can tell that the baby is already completely and utterly crazy about you." As if to confirm your your words, you felt a small little kick in your stomach that made you gasp in shock. After the shock wore off, you instantly began to wholeheartedly laugh, and Arthur, after a moment, joined in with you. "You see?" you insisted softly through giggles. You brought yourself down to Arthur's level with his hand still pressed against your stomach as you leaned forward and gently press your kiss your lips to his. He returned it furiously, pressing his lips against yours feverishly, a soft moan escaping from his lips. A warm sensation that, somehow, was bigger than love itself made his entire body feel as if it was made of jelly as he was completely engulfed in everything that you and the baby was. That his family was. "I see," Arthur murmured softly. Never had Arthur been able to even dream that he would have been loved by just one person, but through being loved by you had that bleeding wound gradually been healed by your own loving hands. Now he had not only one soul to love unconditionally for the rest of his days, but two. Another kick pressed against your stomach and vibrated against Arthur's hands. Both of you chuckled into each other's lips, knowing that this baby was going to be a new way for you both to love and share in your lives together for the rest of your days. -here for you
jokershyena : "If your hcs are open do you think you could do one where the reader feels overwhelmed and is bordering on an attack bc of college payments (gotta love those) especially with the virus and quarantine rn, but with a more close platonic kind of relationship with Arthur/Joker? Intimacy such as cuddling is cool if you include it."
A/N: I hope this is something close to what you wanted- if you want anything changed please let me know! I hope you feel better 3
Originally posted by fleckmearthur
Money. One of the many things that was the reason why you were struggling to breathe now as your hands gripped on the end of the couch that you were sitting on that belonged to Arthur. Coming over to his apartment to crash for a couple of hours when you were on the brink of these panic attacks had become almost a daily thing. Today had not been the exception from this almost daily routine that Arthur had absolutely no problem with whatsoever. If anything, it was one of his favorite parts of his day to comfort you, especially knowing that one of his dearest friends was ever even remotely close to feeling the pressure you felt within your throat and stomach as you sat on his couch. Arthur had been working on making a snack for the both of you for the afternoon as you worked hard on trying to figure out payments, as well as just simply trying to get your mind off of this absolute disaster that the world was in right now. You have been in the middle of a particularly daunting task and trying mindset when suddenly you had felt that all too familiar sensation of fear and discomfort begin to overtake your entire body. With a surge of intense anxiety did you instantly know what was coming as you gripped the side of the couch with labored breathing. Arthur shot his head up from the meal he was making for you, and he rushed around the kitchen wall and ran over to you with utmost urgency, kneeling down in front of you and placing both of his calloused hands on your trembling knees. "Y/N?" he asked with his softest and most gentle voice that made you relax at least the slightest bit at the caring tones of his voice, as well as his genuinely caring and worried eyes that were looking into yours, trying to offer you and love and comfort in any way he possibly could. "What's wrong?" You could barely even get any words out, so terrified were you in that moment. There was just so much going on; your own personal life that was gradually being drowned by debt, the knowledge that the world was as just equally in disarray and turmoil right now which only made you feel like nothing was in control, and somehow that transferred to your own panic, making yourself fall even deeper into worry and lack of control even within your own body. So well did Arthur know you that he knew exactly what you needed, and he hoisted himself up to the couch and pressed himself next to you and pulled you close to him, soclose that the curves of your body were rested against his, pulling you into the most comforting of cuddles. He gently began to rub your trembling arm up and down, murmuring soft, comforting words all the while. "It's okay," he whispered softly into your ear, and as you heard his comforting and gentle tones you begin to feel the slightest bit of tranquility; there was something that was so authentic about Arthur and the way that he spoke that made you feel the slightest bit of warm comfort-peace, even-glow within your core. Though it took a good long couple of long hours of you cuddling with Arthur, who was rocking you back and forth and telling you silly little jokes and soft little nothings to help calm you down all the while, eventually you began to feel like yourself again. Arthur then tenderly released you and looked you in the eyes, and he nodded at you lightly as you both made intense eye contact. "Better now?" Arthur questioned gently. He made it clear with his gaze that if there was anything he could do, anything at all, he would drop everything for the rest of the afternoon to grant it to you. You looked at him and considered your state hesitantly, wanting to offer a genuine answer, and then, after a moment of deep thought, you gave Arthur a smile. He returned it wholeheartedly, and then gently pulled you into a hug. "I'm so proud of you," he hummed softly. "You're dealing with so much, and yet here you are. working so hard and doing your best every day." You bit down on your lip and simply focused on the way that his hand was rubbing against your back, focused on his soft and reassuring words, your heart glowing that you had such a treasured friend that cared so much about taking care of you. As long as there was even the slightest good in your life, you would be able to handle even the biggest challenges that life threw your way. Things weren't easy, and nothing made sense, but with good friends like Arthur, all you needed forever and a day was these softer and quieter moments. - these bleeding insecurities Summary: After finding a rather flirty note from one of your coworkers, Arthur decides his life is not worth living. One rushed hospital visit later and you're sitting by Arthur's side, desperately trying to pinpoint exactly where you failed him. A/N: Angst because I've been down and I needed to write something to let it out. Not trying to romance suicide or hurting oneself, but I wanted to give Arthur and Reader a happy ending somehow through this. Warnings: Arthur overdosing, heavy emotions, heartbreak Originally posted by arthurflleck You were sitting by Arthur's currently unconscious body as he was hooked up to monitor, his gaunt body lying in the hospital bed. He was so thin that it almost didn't look like there was even a body there under the plastic sheets at all. The only thing that reminded you that he was even alive was the fact that you had your hands wrapped around his hands, which were delicately twitching every now and then as he lied there in his secret dreams. It seemed like hours that you'd been sitting next to him in this wretched state, feeling completeguilt radiate through you. You had come home to Arthur passed out on the couch, an empty bottle of pills next to him that had been prescribed by his therapist. Black panic had overcome you, and a couple of phone calls and a rushed visit to the hospital later you have found yourself in the position that you were in now, your heart literally bleeding through your chest as you wondered what possibly could have wormed itself into Arthur's mind to make him do this. To make him inspired to end his own life, to harm himself in such a way. Though you knew it was a bit self centered, you couldn't help but wonder why your love wasn't enough that he felt like he should have done so. So lost within your own tormented thoughts were you that you hardly even noticed when Arthur's wrinkled eyes open again, peeking from his eyelids as they eased open through midnight lashes that fluttered like a butterfly as they did so. You instantly squeezed his hand in both shock and comfort, just as much for you as it was for him, and you leaned forward and brought your other hand up to his forehead, brushing his curls out of his forehead. "Baby…you're awake," you murmured softly, painfully, trying to talk to him with the gentlest tones you possibly could muster, trying to keep your own worry, weakness, and even a little bit of anger,out of your voice as much as you could. "Darling, how do you feel?" You could tell that Arthur was still groggy from all the substances that had been pumped into his blood in order to keep him alive as his foggy eyes began to blink into consciousness. Though his green pools were still blurry, his eyes filled with a certain warmth as he looked up at you, a small and shy smile gracing his face as his eyes began to focus on you. "If this was heaven right now, I wouldn't complain," he rasped softly and lovingly. You felt your heart sink, and some sort of sharp guilt edged sword swung itself into your stomach, though you weren't sure exactly why; you still had no idea why Arthur had done this to himself, or if it even had anything to do with you. "Arthur…..what are you talking about, baby?" you inquired softly. "You're just fine, sweetheart. You're here, with me. You're not….dead." The last word almost died on your lips itself as you realized grimly just how close Arthur had been to being so. Arthur hummed in response, offering you no real clarity at what was going through his mind. You sighed wearily and leaned forward, pressing your lips to his forehead as gently as a whisper, trying to keep him here and grounded in this moment as best as you could. "Sweetheart, I came home and I found you passed out on the couch. There…. there was an empty bottle on the floor next to you. I couldn't help but assume the worst." You paused, your heart thumping in your chest as you dared to even speak the next question. "Arthur…did you try to kill yourself today?" You just barely managed to choke out the words, so hard was even just the thought that it scratched and clawed itself out of your lungs as painfully as possible as you spoke them. But you swallowed hard and forced yourself to speak the words, knowing you needed to know the truth. You were subconsciously squeezing Arthur's hand all the harder as you anticipated his answer. Instantly did torment begin to mix in with the love and warmth in Arthur's eyes, and he looked at you almost with pity as he processed your question. "I….I don't know, sweetheart," he just barely managed. It was more of a whisper to himself, rather than one you were meant to hear. "I just….something happened, and I thought….I just wanted out." At the slightest confirmation of your assumption did you feel tears begin to sting in your eyes, and you bite your lip as you tried hard not to fall into a full blown sobbing wretch right in that moment. "Arthur….." You just barely managed to choke any words in the midst of your devastation, feeling sheer self loathing go through you that hadn't been there to help him in that moment. So many emotions were flowing through you that you couldn't even quite comprehend them all; worry for the future, for the present, heart torn been empathy, desolation, worry, heartbreak, shock…and then feelings that you couldn't even understand striking themselves through you, so numb and yet so overwhelmed where you in this moment. "What on earth inspired you to do that?" you just barely managed to choke out, swallowing a lump of emotions hard as you felt heated tears begin to fall down your cheeks. Arthur's own eyes had their own array of complicated emotions as he observed your reaction. After a moment of simply taking in your pain did Arthur sigh, his own eyes red rimmed with sorrow. He shifted ever so slightly so that he could look at you a little bit clearer as he turned his head fully towards you. His throat convulsed, and you could tell he was struggling to get out his next words. "I found…I found the note from your coworker the other day on the counter…." he murmured. You heart stopped as shock ebbed through you. "I didn't want to feel so weak…..I didn't want to feel so heartbroken at it…..but it's clear that he's into you, Y/N. And I couldn't help assume the worst….." He let out a shaky sigh, and then dared to look up at you, his own eyes spilling over with tears as he looked at you. "You've been a bit distant lately, Y/N. You just….you haven't been spending as much time with me…..and you've been lock yourself into the bedroom and telling me that you need space. I know that it's for work, honey, I know. But once I saw that note I couldn't help but assume…And besides, I decided you were better off without me." You swallowed thickly as you saw how much painArthur was in at simply speaking the words, heavy with the spiderwebs of heartbreak. Shock and even disgust ebbed at your core; shock at what had been torturing his mind because of your clumsiness, of your carelessness about what you had allowed to be sitting around the house. You shook your head, unable to process the sheer self loathing you felt towards yourself at just how careless you had been, knowing how fragile of a man Arthur was, how breakable he was. "Arthur…." you whispered. Bile and a gob of emotion clogged up your throat, and you wallowed thickly, and then tried again. "Arthur….that coworker has been hitting on me for as long as I can remember. I told him several times that I'm completely absolutely, utterly taken. I want nothing to do with him Arthur. Nothing." You spoke these words with a little bit of extra strength as you looked into Arthur's eyes, trying to confirm to him with your tone and your eyes just how serious you were saying this. Arthur was gazing into you with a grim, sad, grave look, his carved and wrinkled face especially handsome and tragic as he blinked at you thoughtfully and took in your words. You watched his face melt from a weary and apologetic look to one that almost seemed assured, almost convinced at your words. Almost. You squeezed his hand even harder, and you leaned forward to press your lips against his forehead with a little more intensity more than usual, wanting him to know just how true and heartfelt your words were. "Sweetheart, not one day goes by my life when I'm not completely yours. You are everything that I breathe, everything that I say. When I wake up in the morning, my first thoughts are of you. Everything that I do, the reason why I work so hard, the reason why I feel inspired to be kind, the reason why I try to be better, the reason why my heart is full of love….It's because of you, darling. You." Despite your best efforts, your voice wobbled, and your lip began trembling as your voice broke while emotions overtook you entirely. It overcame you fully now that you had failed Arthur. You had failed to protect him from his own insecurities that you knew bled out from his heart. Your tears fell down onto Arthur's wrinkled face, and you gently caressed your lips from his skin and then over to his lips, so desperately wanting to kiss him even though you felt so undeserving. Ever so slowly did Arthur return them, a confirmation that he was allowing himself at, least a little bit, to believe your words. "Arthur, darling," you whispered softly against his lips, tears soaking between both of your touches. "I'm so sorry. I failed you. I promise I will be so, so much more careful now. But Arthur, please tell me-" you choked once more, and had to swallow and take a breath; Arthur's lips pressed against yours as a way of silent encouragement. "Please tell me….that you will let me know the next time that you're feeling insecure. Darling, just never hurt yourself again." You were whispering in an emotion laden voice full of nothing but broken emotion and the bleeding love that you felt for Arthur, a contraction of unescapable beauty and yet insurmountable pain. "Please," you begged one last time against his lips. You regretfully lifted your lips from his, not wanting to deny either of you the heaven of one another's touches when you both so dearly needed them, but needing to looking into his eyes as you spoke the words, needing to have the deepest connection with him so you could know that he understood. Arthur looked at you with an expression that spoke more meaning than any words he would ever be able to speak. With utmost consideration he took in your love and pained words, and then, after one breathless anticipated moment, he nodded, and it was within that one simple movement that a breath of healing and of understanding came between you two. "I promise," Arthur muttered in his most gentle and soft tone, the most lenient and simple and heartbreakingly innocent one you had ever heard him speak. "I'm sorry, baby. I failed you too." You let out a soft out a shaky and heavy sigh, releasing all of the emotion you had pent up inside of you until then. "Let's just forgive each other okay, sweetheart? I can't live without you, baby. I can't." You looked at him with a gaze that was both crestfallen and vulnerable, and yet determined and solid in expressing to Arthur how authentic and true your words were. "I absolutely cannot." "I can't either," Arthur murmured, "and that's why I couldn't stand to see you with someone else." "Then don't worry," you whispered softly, "because you never, ever will." "Promise?" "Promise promise." The night that followed was the longest, most painful night that you two had ever shared. But the nights that were to follow were full of emotional clarity that the bleeding soul of Arthur had desperately needed for so many many months without him ever being able to speak the words aloud, so scared was he of asking for it in the wrong way. But tonight he had ask for your help, though it had been scary and dangerous, but it had been what the insecurities of Arthur had needed, once bleeding but now slowly but surely being managed through your hands and reassurances. All either of you could muster in that night was understanding and pure love in the midst of the pain and confusion. The love you shared became even deeper than you even knew was possible as you both began to disclose your truest and most bleeding insecurities to one another. But ultimately it was forgiveness both of you found, for yourselves and for each other, in those quiet spoken words in that single hospital room, hands and minds alike intertwined with desperate understanding to protect one another, both from the world and from the demons that every human soul had buried deep within their core. -learning with you
Request: Heyyy, how are you? I hope you're okay ^^ I have a cute and kinda weird concept ab Reader's big culture heritage and Arthur willing to learn as much as possible of history, philosophy, chemistry, theology and other stuff from Reader. What do you think? May you write some headcanons about, If you want? Thanks for your attention, have a lovely day❤💖
Originally posted by liagreycrow
Arthur was an incredibly intelligent man. That had been evident to you from the momentyou had started talking to him. Although he was very uneducated, and had dropped out of school in only tenth grade, there was some experience and wisdom that Arthur had been born with that many other people weren't. There was something about Arthur that simply couldn't be taught, some innate wisdom about people and life, and that was what had drawn you to him from the start. As your relationship developed, Arthur became more and more curious about all of your countless subjects that you studied in school. You studied a lot of things, having so many different interests yourself, as well as going to a college that required you to know so much. Your relationship began to consist of you coming over after your long school days with multiple large tex books in your hand, which you would instantly slam onto the ground, huffing and puffing all the while, spent from carrying their heaviness. Arthur would look up at you with an impressed gaze from the meal that he was making for you both for the night to help you get through all your studying. Though Arthur didn't know much, he was more than willing to sit with you through it, either at the desk, on the floor, or at the couch; whatever you were most comfortable with for the night. Arthur loved to simply be with you and watch you study all of the things that you took interest in. Pretty soon did you realize that Arthur wasn't just sitting next to you for moral support. There was actual genuine curiosity in his eyes as he watched you study over the endless text of information. Though he didn't understand anything that you were reading or writing down, he so desperately wanted to. One night, you had decided to leave your textbooks over Arthur's house, as it was a Friday and you were just going to go over on Saturday morning and start studying at his place all over again anyway. It would be easier to leave them with him. You asked him briefly if that would be okay, and Arthur had nodded eagerly. You had smiled fondly, thinking that he just wanted to be a good boyfriend. Although that was true, it was a little bit more complicated than that. Arthur had actually wanted you to leave the textbooks over at his place because he wanted to see for himself if he could learn as much as you did in one sitting. With great eagerness to learn did he sit down at his writing table and begin to pour his eyes over all your textbooks, wondering if he could understand even just the slightest bit of information. Though he picked up words here and there, he didn't understand most of the terms. He even tried to take notes; Fotosynthasis? Plants, sunshine. Filosphy and the throey of living. After a few hours of very little process, he felt tears begin to brim over his eyes, wondering how he was worthy of someone as educated and as school smart as you were. The next morning, you went over to Arthur's place. Arthur answered the door with tears streaming down his face. You cooed softly and pulled him into your embrace, rubbing his back softly. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" you asked him gently, rubbing his fragile back all the while. Arthur shook his head into the curve of your neck, feeling ashamed. "I….I wanted to understand your books, darling," he murmured softly. "You're so smart, and you learn so much every day. I wanted to be like that. I want to be like you." Gently did he pull away, and he looked at you with teary green pools, full of so much magic and intelligence and capability that simply couldn't be measured by academic standards. Your heart bled that he couldn't see his worth. "Sweetheart. Can….can you show me? Can you explain to me while you read, if…..if it's not too much of a problem?" Your heart completely melted, and you instantly felt joy radiate inside of you. Help Arthur? Help the love of your life feel better about himself? That was all that you had ever wanted, from the moment he had stolen your heart. "Arthur, I would be more than happy to help you with anything that you need help with." Arthur beamed his crooked smile, then nodded eagerly as he pulled you into his apartment excitedly. You yourself were beaming with tears in your eyes; never had you seen someone so eager to learn. Hell, it even made you a little bit more excited to study today "Oh, and baby?" Arthur added as you two sat down with your textbooks spread in front of you. "Yeah?" "If it's not too much trouble…. I'm also curious about your heritage. There's things that I don't understand about…about you, and I want to learn about you and your family, sweetheart. Your background. Would…..would you mind if we sat down tonight and talked about it a bit?" Arthur felt his cheeks blushing furiously at asking the question, feeling like he was crossing a boundary somehow. But you only looked at him with even warmer eyes, and you leaned forward and kissed him softly, giving him your answer before you even spoke. "Arthur, I thought you would never ask." - doctor of laughter Summary: Sadness ebbs at your core tonight, but Arthur knows you, and he brings out his inner talents at being a natural light of silliness and joy to make you smile again. A/N: Dedicated to ajokeformur-ray . 3 I hope this is something you find comfort in. I love you and Arthur very much and I know he loves you so so much! Comfort and fluff bc these are rough times Length: 1,434 Originally posted by antonija89 You were already feeling tears begin to sting at your eyes, despite your best efforts not to. You hated, loathed, burdening Arthur with your own troubles, knowing he already had so many of his own. Arthur gazed at you through one quipped eyebrow as he looked you up and down with inquisitive green eyes. He knew all too well when you were feeling upset, so while did he know you. He felt a small little inward, sad smile glow inside of him, feeling inspired to comfort you at the sight of your own discomfort. Slowly a playful and sweet smile graced Arthur's face as an idea came to his ever thoughtful mind. "Y/N?" Arthur mumbled softly, causing you to turn your wet eyes over to him. You were both cuddled next to each other on the couch, thighs and arms perfectly pressed against the other. You raised an eyebrow at him curiously; his only response was a smirk. Oh no. He had that smirk on his face, and you knew he was up to something…..beautifully clownish in a way that the only Arthur was capable of. "What?" you asked softly, looking at him with curiosity in your eyes, already temporarily forgetting your previous melancholy in the slightest, your attention now fully directed at him. Arthur's coy and knowing smile only increased as he brought both of his worn but delicately lovable hands up to his face, making an exaggerated, comical sad face as his eyes crossed right before his face was covered by his hands that he placed in front of his face. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle in reaction, feeling at least a little bit of your sadness melt at Arthur's impromptu performance. Grace that only Arthur held in every movement flew his hands open once more, revealing a now comically surprised look on his face as he "looked" at you with now crossed eyes. "Arthur…please," you laughed softly, though you couldn't deny that you were feeling that much lighter at his sweet and innocent antics. You saw through a gleeful spark in Arthur's eyes that he recognized that you felt better in even the slightest. That only encouraged his goofiness further. He gave you a wink and a smile before he proceeded forward, pushing his hand in front of his face once more, waiting one anticipatory moment, and then revealed his face that was now plastered with a pretend bewildered expression, his tongue poking out of his lips as he made another playfully ridiculous, cross-eyed expression that made you double over with laughter. Though there were still tears in your eyes that were now fell down your face, they were now mixed in with the happiness and silliness that only Arthur's sweet spirit could give you. Arthur instantly recognized that happiness as he looked down at you doubling over with laughter, sheer warmth glowing in his own heart. "Shall I continue?" Arthur asked you gently as he wrapped his arms around your waist that was still doubled over as you tried to collect yourself from the laughter that had overtaken you. You couldn't even respond; in the wake of Arthur's silliness did you find your own playful side as laughter began to completely overcome you. You flew one hand it to your mouth and began to giggle even harder as you allowed laughter to overtake you entirely, your former sadness now almost completely forgotten. With a furious surge of sudden affection and sense of protection over you did Arthur begin the pepper love and kisses all over your back. You can feel the seriousness of the sheer love Arthur had for you radiating through his form, even in the silliness of his demeanor in that moment. He gently then caressed your torso and encouraged it to sit back up so that you were sitting next to him again, though you were still giggling incessantly, your cheeks flooded red with laughter. Arthur gently cupped your chin and lead it over to look him in the eyes. He looked at you with one thoughtful, tender gaze, and then, with a sudden strike of inspiration, he gently, endearingly. and playfully pecked you on the tip of your nose, making you wrinkle up your face jokingly. "There you are," Arthur murmured lovingly as his own lovesick and tender expression possessed his seagreen gardens as he gazed at your newfound, lighter and, most importantly, happier demeanor. "I thought I lost you for a second there." You returned his meaningful and sweet gaze, still giggling slightly, but now melting into the intimacy and coziness of that moment. How luckyyou were to have one another, especially on rougher days such as this. You both shared one breathless romantic moment as you gazed into each other's eyes, knowing that nothing could take away the absolute true love that you both shared for one another. The fact that Arthur had such a deep connection with you, in humor and personality the same, that he could never fail to pick you up off the ground when you were down was an irreplaceable gift that, to this day, your heart was still in sheer awe of. He truly was your saving grace, and you were his in more ways than one; your love was an equal amount of give and take, equal amounts of support and love for one another, of empathy and understanding for you weary souls and for all the world threw at the both of you. You two were one another's safe heavens, and you couldn't imagine wanting it any other way. Finally did Arthur smirk, and he raised his other hand that wasn't rested under your chain and quickly brought it into the form of a mouth, creating one of his iconic hand puppets that he did so well whenever you were in one of these moods. You couldn't help but let your smile grace your face even further as you realized what he was doing. "If this keeps up, I'm going to happen to keep getting even sillier, my dear," he croaked as he spoke through the corner of his mouth, summoning up one of his cartoonish voices that he used for these performances, matching his fingers to his voice to give off the illusion of that his hand was mouthing the words he was speaking. You laughed tenderly as you wiped away the last of your tears with your elbow. At seeing your tears being wiped away did Arthur coo softly in both relief and empathy, his puppet disappearing as he leaned forward and gently kissed away each one that was still falling down your face. "Thank you, Arthur," you muttered softly as Arthur continued to kiss your tears away in the gentlest way that only he could. "Thank you for being you." "Thank you for loving me," Arthur responded genuinely and warmly against your face, emotion choking his voice. He then pulled away and gazed at you with his pools that were so full of lovethat they were glowing, and after a breathtaking moment he gently caressed both of your cheeks with his thumb. "How about we spend the night making a warm meal and then we can cuddle up for the rest of the night and watch something of you choice? I'll even give up Murray for you tonight." He looked at you with mock seriousness as he spoke the last promise. "Now that's a big deal." Your smile widened as you laughed, and this time it reached your core. You leaned your head into his palm, kissing his thumb softly as you did so. Arthur let out his own soft and loving coos at you as his overwhelming affection overcame him once again, so deep that he felt he might explode. How did he did he hold so much love in his one singular body? He never thought he was capable of feeling so much of it, but through loving you his well of love seemed to have an never ending supply. "That sounds amazing," you agreed softly, feeling tranquility overcome your soul as the peaceful and love filled night that was ahead solidified into your brain. With that did Arthur let out a hum of excitement as he hugged his arms around you tightly, pressing you against him as far as physical bounds allowed, each curve fitting perfectly. And with that did the most loving, cuddly, and most comforting of nights begin to ensure. You two were the two richest souls in Gotham, rich in soul and body and the sheer love that you shared together. - forgiveness and innocence Summary: In an impulsive decision, Arthur tries something new with his baby; the result is worrisome for them both. A/N: It's probably obvious, but this is inspired by this moment in the movie. This daydream hit me pretty hard a few days ago, so I tried writing it out. It felt very real and vivid. No warnings really, except for an upset baby and Arthur (and for the blood in the gif sksk, but that has nothing to do with the story). This is more personalized; the baby is male like he is in my head. Length: 1,424 Arthur had always had a wayward sense of humor. This humor had often led him to rejection throughout his life, but never in a million years did he think that it would break his heart in the way that it did right now in this moment. He had been playing with his baby boy, when suddenly the urge to make the baby laugh had overcome him. He had smiled inwardly, and then, with a sudden awkward movement, had he bolted his thin body forward, his hands outstretched, his fingers curled into a certain playful menacing fashion as he leaned forward in front of the baby and made a scary face. "Gah!" He screamed in the baby's face. He had meant it to be a gentle and playful sort of interaction, an introduction, of a sort, to his own dark and twisted humor. Instantly had the baby looked up from the blocks that he had been playing with, and upon seeing Arthur's playful scary look had his face scrunched up into a twisted fear, his face turning red as he broke out into tears. He dropped his toys and rushed to the bedroom as fast as his little chubby legs would carry him, looking over and back at Arthur with his squeals of fear and tears overtaking him all the while. Tears and red hot fear were taking over his normally serene and happy face, and that image was the last thing Arthur saw as he saw his precious bundle of joy disappear behind a corner in his search for you, his trust with Arthur for the moment broken. Black regret and self loathing instantly swept over Arthur, and already did he feel tormented cackles begin to overtake his throat. He tried to get himself up as quickly as he could to comfort the baby, but fighting off his sudden onslaught of laughter rendered him useless. "It's…It's ok….Daddy was jok-" Arthur tried his hardest to get up to reassure both you and the baby, but instead he curled into himself on the floor until he was literally rendered immobile and useless. He opened and closed his mouth as he laid pathetically on the floor, so desperately trying to let you know that it was a mistake, that he hadn't meant to scare the baby so horribly, that he sorelyregretted it, but instead all that came out was more useless tormented cackles as the mistake of what he had done began to eat him up inside, unapologetically and entirely. Meanwhile, in the bedroom you were reading in, did you look up from what you were reading, hearing the familiar wails of your baby. You leaned your head across the edge of the bed and cooed worriedly as you were met with sight of the red, worried, and scared face of your baby, his expression scrunched up into a helpless plea as his small body jumped up and down on his little legs as he pulled on the blanket and tired to climb onto the bed. You leaned forward as you picked him up into your arms, cooing at him and patting his back gently. "There, there," you muttered softly, his squeals breaking your heart. What could have possibly happened? He was usually such a sweet and happy baby boy. You then realized, as you heard Arthur's tormented cackling from the other room, what must have happened. Intense worry began to pool into your stomach, and with a rush of urgency you jumped off of the bed, gently cradling the baby in your arms, bouncing him up and down softly as you rushed him over to his crib and lied him down softly, The baby instantly stood up in his crib and reached out for you, fear and tears still on his face, still wailing as he reached for you with one chubby hand. "It's okay, it's okay," you murmured to the baby softly. You then you rushed over to where Arthur was still melted into himself, his hand thrown over his neck. Pure love and worry radiated through you as you threw yourself forward and wrapped your arms around him, bringing his shuddering form into your embrace. "Arthur, Arthur honey," you cooed softly. As you wrapped your arms around him you could literally feel the worry and self loathing radiating off of him, shuddering off in waves, so powerful were they. "Baby, what happened?" you asked softly. It took a while to get Arthur to calm down, so lost in his torment and self-hatred was he that he could feel and see nothing but red in his vision and feel nothing but the tormented cackles in his dry throat. But with your sweet spoken words, with your hand across his back caressing him softly, did your love for him drown out the screams of the baby that were still coming from the crib, drown out the self loathing that was worming itself deep his heart. "I…I…scared the baby," Arthur just barely managed to stammer out, giggles still interrupting his words."I…I….scared them.. and I didn't mean to, darling…I promise I didn't mean to.." he choked on yet another cackle as it tore through his throat, and you had to bite back tears at just how tormented Arthur was. "Sweetheart, it's okay," you cooed softly. "Come on, let's go show the baby that everything is ok. We love you ok? You're the best Daddy there ever was." Arthur looked at you with a weary, doubtful but hopeful look, and gradually did he allow himself to be stood up. You guided him over to the baby's crib that was in your bedroom. Arthur's head was still down; you could tell that he still felt self loathing for what had happened; you could feel it ebbing off of him. You guided him over to the crib, then nodded at Arthur encouragingly. Though the baby had stopped screaming, he still had a worried, freshly upset look on his face. Arthur eyed them wearily. "It's okay," you reassured him softly. Arthur was gazing at the baby shyly, apologetically, who had calmed down slightly at the sight of his Mom and Dad coming over to him in their usual calm and loving state. He had begun to become slightly more calm at the sight of his Daddy the way he usually saw him; calm, considerate, gently playful. "It's okay, sweetheart," you encouraged softly when Arthur didn't make a move towards his baby boy. You intertwined Arthur's fingers into the spaces of yours, gently easing him over to touch the baby's now full and chubby cheek, his expression now one of gentle curiosity. The red had faded from his skin as his crying ceased, leaving a ghostly pale hue on the baby's preciously delicate skin. To Arthur's relief, the baby didn't flinch or look away as Arthur's worn fingers touched his soft cheek; instead, he looked at Arthur with gentle curiosity and acceptance as the red of his face from his previous fearful expression melted away into a gentle processing of the events before him, even tenderness. "See?" you muttered encouragingly. "You two are the best of friends." You looked at the baby and returned the baby's toothless gummy smile, his chubby cheek now leaning into Arthur's worn fingers that was caressing him softly. You leaned forward and kissed the side of his chubby cheek softly, emitting a loving and adorable hiccup from him. He was now looking at you both with wonder in his eyes, his previous fear completely and entirely forgotten; your baby boy always lived in the moment, and you and Arthur were learning how to do that better yourselves with each passing day that you spent with your baby. He was teaching you two as many lessons as you did him. Arthur still had a glint of self loathing and shyness in his eyes, but in the wake of the child's forgiveness and innocence did Arthur begin to feel his own self forgiveness come through as well. You smiled tenderly, feeling warmth radiate through your core; never had you seen Arthur make peace with himself so soon after doing something that he was ashamed of. But at the sight of him now, with his fingers gently touching the babies' sweet and impossibly smooth face, you knew that these two were meant to be together, and that Arthur was going to be the best daddy in the world. All it took was a little bit of understanding, learning, and grace of his eccentricity. Every day, one step at a time. - So I think I have an imagine you might like! Arthur comes home late from work and finds you and your daughter asleep in bed. You awake from his presence, and ask if he's okay. He whispers to come to the living room and you guys talk about saving money to leave Gothem. It's a thought that's been on his mind because he's worried about you and your daughters well being for the future anonymous You heard Arthur's footsteps come into the door, hearing it creak open with a dull moan. Arthur's footsteps were so soft and light that no one could ever possibly detect them, save you, who knew him so well. You could sense his very energy entering the room, so well tuned to his energy was your mind. You gently got yourself out of your daughters arms, careful not to wake her. Arthur had been distant lately, spending more time in his own head and pacing back and forth in the living room, muttering under his breath darkly and jotting things down. You could tell he had been somewhere else mentally lately, somewhere deep and dark; it wasn't like him not to be obsessed with spending every free moment with his family. You shut the bedroom door behind you and Arthur stopped messing with his shoes and looked up at you, understanding coming through him as he gazed into your worried eyes, troubled soul recognizing troubled soul. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" you whispered softly. Arthur sighed and wiped his hand across his mouth, scratching his eyebrow. Both things he did when he was nervous. You dared to go up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, taking one of his hairs and pushing it away from his eyes. Arthur visibility melted at your touch; you two hadn't been intimate lately due to his state, and it was showing with how much he was currently letting every muscle relax with your arms around him. He was so tired of fighting, of keeping things from you. "You know you can tell me anything, right baby?" you whispered softly as you stared into his endless poetic depths, reading him better then he gave you credit for. Arthur sighed. "I want to get out of here. Take you and the baby away. It's so unsafe here, and I can't stand it much longer." He looked into your eyes, begging for you to understand. It was a long shot, but he couldn't stand the idea of his family being in the city anymore. He loved you both more than he loved being alive, and he couldn't imagine what staying here would do to all of you. "Every time I leave the apartment, I see terrible things. Mothers having their children taking away for no reason, women being beaten up…" he cut himself off as laughter began to choke him. You cradled his face ever so gently, reassuring him that you were here. "I know we don't have the money to move, but if we save up and cut some things out-I already have been trying to cut back on cigarettes-then I think we might have a chance." You didn't move a muscle in your face. Truth be told, you had been thinking the same thing. You were currently staring into his eyes with a stark serious face, in shock at how much you shared together without even realizing it, as if you shared the same mind. "You're right, Arthur" you whispered into the dark, your tones so ominous it made Arthur shiver. 'We need to get out of here, and fast." Arthur nodded, and the smallest of smiles graced his tired lips for the first time in weeks. "I knew you'd understand." - Imagine after your first date with Arthur, you both get caught in the summer rain? You get insecure about your hair getting drenched but Arthur loves it. As your mascara is running down your face, he can't help but notice how even more adorable you look anonymous Your date had been the most fun you had even had in your life, and, by the way Arthur couldn't stop laughing and beaming, you were convinced he felt much the same. His face was shining with pleasure and happiness; he really was the softest and most pure man you had ever met in Gotham. He seemed so content to just have a good time doing the simplest things. His eyes shined along with his smile. Although the sun was still peaking through the clouds, creating strange melancholic but celebratory look, a light rain began to pelt itself over the both of you. You moaned, but Arthur, ever having the best attitude despite circumstances, simply took his mustard hoodie and wrapped it around you, even daring to kiss the top of your head. You two technically weren't dating yet, but he was falling so fast, so hard, that he couldn't help but touch you. You didn't mind in the slightest, feeling the same way. You allowed yourself to fall into his embrace. "My hair's fucked," you graoned as you pressed your face into his sweater; the man wore nothing but them, as warm and as soft as the man who bore them. Arthur pressed another kiss to your hair, frowning softly. "I love your hair when its wet or dry." He swallowed, then continued. "I think I love everything about you, Y/N." You lifted your mascara stained face to his; Arthur beamed, loving how adorable you looked with your wet hair and running face. "Hey, you're like me now." Arthur chuckled. He took his fingertip and gently pressed it against your running makeup, then put it to his own face, drawing black circles around his eyes. "A clown." You couldn't help it-you giggled into his chest despite how cold and miserable and ugly you felt. The playful spirit of Arthur really did turn everything into something lighthearted and fun. Everything he touched turned into a game, innocent and simple. "I feel so safe with you," you mumbled into his chest. "I think i love everything about you, too." A warm glow grew in Arthur's chest, and he felt it reach his very core of who he was, healing something that he had given up on long ago: hope. - Imagine walking in the room to see Arthur playing peekaboo with your baby girl. anonymous Arthur was, perhaps, more obsessed with simple little child games than your baby girl was herself. You swore every time you walked into the apartment you caught him in the middle of same game with your girl, him blushing just as profusely with laughter as much as she was, if not more. Today the game was peekaboo, one of Arthur's favorites. He was sat with her on the floor behind the couch, watching your girl giggle manically as Arthur did several different faces in front of her; he was always very creative with them. You bite your lip, and snuck up behind him. Your girl saw you, since she was facing the door; you put you finger to you lips as a way to signal to be quiet. A glint came into her eyes; like Arthur, she was very perceptive. You smirked as you made eye contact with her, and then- You pulled you hands over Arthur's eyes, who was in the middle of making one of his "silly serious faces". Arthur yelped-even after years of love he was still very jumpy-and turn his head upwards towards your face. "Guess who," you muttered softly, then reached down and pecked his lips, your hands sill on his eyes. Arthur relaxed and smiled into the kiss. You then took your hands off and sat down behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. "We'll play a game that involves three players next," Arthur reassured you as you placed gentle kisses down his back. You smiled warmly. You were a very playful family. - Imagine Arthur chasing you playfully as you took chocolate cake batter on your finger tip, and placed it on his nose? You try to outrun him but to no avail as he catches you anonymous "If you could be any monster in the world, what would you be?" Arthur glanced up at you. He then shrugged, and began to think about it. You two were currently baking a cake; it was Friday, and it had been a long and hard week for the both of you. You had suggested baking, something that seemed to relax the both of you. Arthur had nodded eagerly, suggesting something fun and sugary. You had had no arguments to that. You two often asked each other these silly, playful questions. It was a fun and easy way to bond, to get to know each other better. You also loved ravishing Arthur in whatever fun you could grant him; he deserved that much. Your love was about fun and playfulness, and intimate conversations when needed; but mostly you two had fun together, healing each other through that alone. "I think I'd be a robot monster," Arthur said after a moment. He was stirring all the ingredients together as he spoke, you standing beside him and stroking his arm. "A robot?" you crinkled you nose in fake disgust. "Why a robot?" Arthur smirked. "I dunno, they're just cool. I have a lot of them drawn in my journal." You smiled, and kissed his arm softy. Everything he said was so adorable. You then got an idea, and with a rush of mischievousness, you dipped your finger in the mix. "Arthur, look at me." Arthur did so, assuming that you wanted a kiss, but as he leaned forward to do so, you pecked your chocolate stained finger against his nose. "Now you're a chocolate monster," you giggled. Arthur smiled. "I'm going to be a tickle monster, in a about a moment," he threatened, and put the batter down. He rushed to tickle your sides, and you rushed around the corner, desperate to escape him, breathless with laughter. Arthur was far faster, however, and tackled you to the ground instantly, tickling you mercilessly despite your begging for him to stop until you thought you would choke from breathless happiness. Arthur smiled as he topped you, then nuzzled his chocolate nose onto yours. - Imagine you baked some cookies, and Arthur ends up eating the whole batch you baked. You were irritated initially but couldn't help how cute he looked with chocolate on the side of his cheeks. You kiss them off anonymous "Where did all my cookies go?" The words came out harsh, almost screamed. You were panicking; those cookies were supposed to be for a party at your workplace. You had made them all yesterday, and you needed to have them tomorrow for the party. Everyone needed to bring something, or you'd get a 'strike' of sorts. The whole thing was so stupid, but you needed your job, needed a good reputation. Now you were staring at an empty plate. You had come home late from work, and were too tired to make another batch. You huffed and grabbed the side of the counter, knuckles turned white in frustration. Arthur had heard your yelling as he sat on the couch, and froze in complete panic. He did the only reasonable thing to do in his mind; he pushed a blanket over his head. "Arthur?" You already knew it had something to do with him; he was the only other person that occupied this space. The man in question had currently been reduced to a bump under the blankets, and, despite your anger, you felt a slight softness already at how childish he was being about this. "Mmm, where did Arthur go?" you asked out loud as you pretended to sound confused. You slowly made your way over to the bulge, and sat down beside it. You lifted it up and stuck your own head under. Arthur was curled up under the sheets, looking at you with his innocent, boyish face. You could have sworn he was a young boy in that moment; his cheeks blushing a deep red, his eyes so innocent and guilty, and, to top it all off, chocolate spots and crumbs was smeared all over his face. "I'm sorry, Y/N," Arthur rasped in his baby voice, using the gentlest of his tones; he knew what that did to you. "I thought they were for us." He buried his face in his knees, scrunched up like a child. "Oh, sweetheart," you muttered softly, feeling your anger melt away entirely. You stroked his brown curls. 'I just can't stay mad at you." Arthur shook his head as he kept his face in his legs. "I can bake some more for you." You thought about it for a moment, then shook your head. "No, sweetheart, you need to rest. You're just as tired as I am." "I fucked up," Arthur mumbled. "Arthur, look at me." Arthur did as you told, not wanting to trouble your further. Your heart melted beyond words as you looked at him; no job was worth making the man of your dreams feel this way. You leaned forward and pressed your lips against the chocolately goodness, melded in with the sweetness of his skin, to which Arthur giggled to happily. You loved him for everything that he was, even his flaws. Especially his flaws; they were more often than not fairly adorable and harmless anyway. You kissed him until his face was bare faced and cleaned, feeling your pussy throb with heat. "I got some different kind of cookies we can bake tonight," you chuckled against his skin. - Trying to be funny here Imagine that you were typically a good cook but one day, you wanted to try to prepare a different dish for you and Arthur. It turns out to be pretty terrible and Arthur tries so hard to hide his disgust. He even forces it down with some water, you don't notice this at first but as you head to bed with Arthur, and began to think about it you ask if he really liked the food. He tells you it was great, but you laugh and tell him to be honest anonymous You usually weren't one to experiment; usually you just go right to the grind and got it over with. You would make the same thing for you and Arthur every night, so much to the point that you both stopped tasting it most nights. It was time for a change. You decided to go for a meal that would blow Arthur away, although you had to admit you didn't know how to really…make it. Regardless, you went at with endless determination, wanting Arthur to have his tastebuds feel alive again. When Arthur got home, he tried to keep himself from gagging at the smell. He quickly forced a smile on his face as you turned around from your….stew, and beamed a him happily. "Arthur!" you yelped excitedly. "You're home!" Arthur was too caught off guard at the smell to respond, and simply let you kiss his lips happily. "Come over here, I made you something delicious!" 'Oh, Y/N, you…..shouldn't have," Arthur mumbled, trying to sound excited about the….stench that was overcoming the kitchen. "I got the bowls ready, let's sit down and try it," you yipped excitedly. Arthur smiled at you encouragingly, loving you but not loving….this. As he sat down, he pretended to stir it very….thoughtfully as you told him about your day. He even managed to swallow a few bites, but almost vomited it up, and quickly downed it with water. "How did you like dinner tonight, baby?" you questioned as you two put the dinner away later that night. Arthur smiled at you, the most believable one he had all night, but mostly just because it was over. "It was wonderful, love. Thank you for working so hard." His acting skills were getting better. You beamed, and you two shared a sweet kiss, Arthur trying not to grimace at your breath. As you two lied down that night; you thought about how Arthur had thrown away half his soup. That was strange, considering how Arthur usually ate everything you ate; he was a starved man. "Honey," you began as you both lied down in the bed next to each other. "Yeah?" he asked softly as he stroked your hair; he was so relieved you had finally brushed your teeth and he could enjoy you again. "You didn't….like dinner tonight, did you?'" Arthur only smirked in response, knowing you could see through him like glass. You sighed. "Alright. I'll try recipes from now on." Arthur smiled deeply. "Thank you for trying, love. I know what you were trying to do." His stomach growled, as if his very body was celebrating the truth coming out. You rolled your eyes in playful defeat, and got yourself up. "Come on, sweetheart. I got some leftovers from last night in the fridge." - Imagine you and Arthur playing cute playful pranks on each other? anonymous Arthur wouldn't appreciate any pranks that are too rough or too hard on him, but as he gets more comfortable with you he does enjoy a good joke here and there. Sometimes he'll ask you to come over and give him a kiss, and then takes out his water flower from his job and sprays you, and lets out a deep cackle, covering his mouth gleefully. You then prepare your revenge by asking him to kiss you before bed, which he does happily, leaning forward, but you smash a mini pie in his face that you were hiding under your sweater. You then giggle and kiss the substance off of his face. "Got you, baby." - Imagine Arthur's reaction to when you ask to name the baby after him anonymous At first he's a bit repulsed, not wanting to have his unfortunate life attached to the baby he's going to love as much as you. But once you remind him how much he means to you, he gently relaxes, and begins to become excited that he can finally have his name "redeemed" through his love for his new family. - Imagine this: You, Arthur and your little girl are watching a Disney movie in bed, with your daughter hiding her face in Arthur's shirt at the scary parts. A little bit after the movie's over, you notice she's fallen asleep in between the two of you. anonymous You were rushing home, hating yourself. It was family movie night; the three of you had discussed it as a family the night before to watch a movie together. Your boss had kept you late, and you were about an hour later than you said you would be. No doubt Arthur would be freaking out. As you unlocked the door and rushed into the bedroom, your nervousness grew as the darkness of the apartment greeted you. Your heart calmed down a pace as you entered the bedroom and saw Arthur calmly under the sheets, your girl nestled cozily in his lap. All the lights were off, only being illuminated by the blue of the screen. Having a child had really helped him with his attachment issues with you a bit. Arthur looked up at your and smiled; your girl's eyes were glued to the screen. You let out a sigh of relief that they seemed completely alright with you being late; your worries had been off for once. You went over and kissed Arthur softly on the lips, which he returned happily. "How are my two favorite people tonight?" you hummed as you nestled yourself under the sheets. Arthur put his arms around you. "We're good," Arthur said with some amusement as your girl buried her face into Arthur's chest for about the hundredth time that night as the music sped up at the action scene. "We're about an hour in." He pressed his lips to your temple, an official seal that you were home. "You've seen this before, right?" You shrugged. "Probably." You didn't really care if you had or not; you and Arthur often whispered and kissed to each other quietly during movie night anyway, carful not to disturb your girl's firm concentration all the while. This night ended up not being much different than that , although the two of you did temporarily have your eyes on the screen towards the emotional end. Arthur's eyes were welling up, and you kissed the one tear that fell down his face. He cried easily at movies. As the credits rolled, Arthur looked down at your girl and chuckled. "She never makes it to the end," he whispered, pressing his lips gently to her head. Since you three had yet to afford a second bed, it was easy to simply place her over to the far left side without disturbing her. She made a small mumble and fell back asleep. Arthur tossed himself over and pulled you down with him, you giggling. You nuzzled into each other's faces, and Arthur smiled at how complete everything felt with you finally home. You two whispered late into the night, your daughter sleeping peacefully. - Imagine Arthur gifted you with an antique carousel music box? It has so much meaning for him, and when you receive it, you break down in tears anonymous Arthur was a deeply private person, learning since childhood that opening up to people only brought pain. Even though he had learned to trust you over the months that he had been dating you, and lord knows he deeply loved you, you still felt like you don't know much about him, being closed off as he is. You hardly know his favorite color, his favorite food, hell, you didn't even know what kind of gifts he liked to get. If you asked him, he would only shrug and tell you that anything you did for him was more than enough. It was a sweet thing to say, but it didn't help your frustration that you felt like he wasn't truly opening up to you. Which is why one night, while you were sitting on your bed and contemplating what the hell you were going to do for his birthday that was coming up next month, did you start to break a little. Just as you were about to let the tears fall, Arthur creaked the door open, wearing one of his soft and warm sweaters, carrying what looked like a music box in his hands. You raised an eyebrow at him as he came to sit beside you. "I know that I haven't been great at letting you get to know me," Arthur started softly, seeing the tears in your eyes, so observant of your emotions he was. You shook your head. "Arthur, I know it's not a big deal, but…it hurts." You sniffed, embarrassed at how emotional you were getting. "It makes me feel like you don't think I'm good enough to know you." Tears fell down your face further as you realized the heavy weight of your words. Arthur hummed sympathetically, and brushed his arm around you, one hand still holding the box. "I know I'm not an easy man to love," he whispered softly against your cheek, his nose brushing your skin. "I am so, so grateful that you're still around, despite how closed off I am with you." He pressed his lips to your tear soaked cheek. "You see this box? I had it when I was a boy. Throughout everything, it was the only thing that kept me calm. I didn't have much peace growing up, but sometimes, this almost made me feel like I did…" he trailed off, the memories becoming a little too painful. But he didn't want right now to be about him; he wanted it to be about how much he was willing to show that he loved you, how much he was risking to be with you, to make you feel like you were worth it. Gently he placed the music box in your trembling hand, and he placed his hand over yours, gently enclosing it, as if to confirm that it was now yours. "It's the most precious thing that I own, and now it belong to the most precious person in my life," he hummed against your skin contently. Tears feel even harder now, but they weren't of sadness; they were now of joy. This was the most person thing Arthur owned, a man who already had so little, and he had given it to you. You gently wound up the toy, and tears fell even harder down your cheeks as it made a soft little nose of sad and gentle melody. It was a clown on a polar bear, gently riding up and down to the music. Arthur buried his face in your shoulder at the sound of it. "It's a little painful to hear," Arthur mumbled. "But it reminds me of everything I went through to finally find you." - Imagine how Arthur reacts when your little girl falls down and scrapes her knee. anonymous Arthur is instantly full of concern beyond what the situation is called for, taking her into his arms and asking her multiple times if anything is hurt. He always has such careful watch over her, always making sure that she's safe and within his line or sight. You and your child together are the only things he truly treasures in his life, and as a result he's over protective of you both. She's teary eyed at first, but she calms down as she realizes with some amusement that Arthur is even more worried than she is hurt. She just barely scrapped her elbow, and Arthur is taking her tightly in his arms as if a war broke out. "Daddy, I'm fine!" she says with a laugh. Arthur's face is still shaken in worry and he even has some tears in his eyes full of concern. She had fallen down the first step and his tormented mind imagined her breaking her bones or getting into real danger. "I know, sweetheart, but let's just sit her for a moment ok?" He huddles her closer to his chest and strokes her back, though its more for him than for her. - Imagine going to the park with Arthur in this fall weather, sunny beautiful outside although cold. You have your daughter with you to play, yet something inside both of you wanted to be kids and throw leaves at each other. Through all the fun, you catch yourselves kissing and your daughter says eww lol anonymous oof yes, you two often act like children yourselves, both of enjoying each other so much that you get reduced to the pure and carefree souls both of you are deep inside before society brought you down. You chase and play with each other and throw leaves at one another, forgetting there's anyone else around but the two of you for a moment. With one last heap of leaves thrown at Arthur, you giggle and jump into his embrace, and you two kiss deeply, being reminded of how much you love each other, how the two of you make you both feel a freedom you wouldn't otherwise feel without the other. Your daughter makes a noise of disgust, and with amusement Arthur turns and makes a playfully scary face at her, and she begins to run as Arthur begins to chase her with a handful of leaves, you following behind. - Imagine you were terribly scared to tell Arthur that you became pregnant again. As much as you were happy you couldn't help but think how it would be financially for the both of you. Your fear is so bad that you're driven to tears when you tell him anonymous I've thought about this scenario so much udihiueuhdie? Arthur and you both had severe baby fever, and crave a big family so much, but you two can already hardly take care of yourselves. The baby you currently have already sleeps in the same master bed, you and Arthur taking one size, while your baby girl takes the entirety of the other. You all manage, but there wouldn't be enough room for the other. Not to mention it would be so hard to get the baby the food and clothes that it needs , and don't even get started on the cost of education. There are tears streaking down your face as you tell him. Arthur hates seeing you in pain and instantly goes to comfort you, and cuddles you despite his own worry. At first it's incredibly difficult for you both, and there are some fights and dark days. But eventually you two begin to feel the determination to care for the baby, knowing that it was brought to you both for a reason. You two start to talk out how you could care for the baby and how you could cut things out and save money. Arthur promises to cut back on cigarettes, which is huge for him. It's not easy, but the love you both have for your building family overcomes any fear the two of you might have. - I've seen a few wedding posts here😭imagine Arthur's wedding vows? What are some things he would say? anonymous I get the sense that Arthur isn't great with words, especially writing them, considering poor man has a bit of trouble writing. Instead of writing them, he draws little eccentric cartoon drawings that express his love, such as little hearts around a clown head, and a man shivering but smiling with a blanket over him, meant to represent the warmth you've brought him in his life. When it's time to speak your wedding vows at the wedding, rather than speaking words Arthur lifts up his notebook full of his childish but heartfelt drawings, and you smile and laugh as you understand each one. The priest and everyone else thinks it's a bit strange, but neither of you could care less. - Imagine you planned with Arthur to take a family photo. after it being taken, you notice even more that your daughter looks more and more like her father. Arthur finally agrees although in the past he objected that fact. With this realization, he tells you what a beautiful baby you've made. However you reply and say something like, this is our beautiful little one we made together anonymous Having a baby had obviously helped Arthur's self esteem a bit in every area. He now feels needed and wanted by this small child, who clearly loves him unconditionally in the way he was deprived of by his own family. Having this child had helped him realize he's worthy of love, and is capable of being a good person. Of course, the fact that he thinks she's so beautiful helps him with his self esteem in appearance a bit, as its so obvious that she's taken so many features from him. You constantly point out that she has Arthur's nose, eyes, lips, and structure every time Arthur talks about how proud he is of your baby girl. "We made this baby together, and you can't love her without loving yourself too, darling," you would remind him every time he started to feel down on himself over something. Arthur would let out a little crooked smile, and then would admit in the softest of voices, emotion filling them; "Yeah, maybe you're right." - Imagine your daughter telling Arthur really cheesy jokes that she heard from kids' shows and stuff, trying to make him laugh. anonymous I chnaged this a little bit, I hope you don't mind? She's taken after her father and has become addicted to telling jokes the same way he does. She gets tired of repeating the same jokes Arthur has already told, though, and wants to impress him by making up her own. She starts taking "notes" by stealing Arthur's journal, not having one of her own, and even though she can't write she starts scrawling in large handwriting the jokes she came up with. Unfortunately for her, they are not very witty or creative, since she still has such a simple understanding of the world. She goes up to Arthur one morning and decides to give telling a joke a shot. Arthur is a bit distracted trying to make breakfast for the three of you before work, but keeps an eye on her while he does so, participating in small talk in the simple talk that she's capable of doing. Then, she tries it- "Daddy, what's blue and round?" Arthur frowned playfully as he continued making eggs. "I don't know, honey, what is?" "Blueberries!" she burst out laughing, thinking it was the most witty punchline ever told. But Arthur only smiled lovingly at her, not even cracking the slightest laugh, which was highly unusual for him since he laughed at everything. He hadn't even registered she was telling a joke. She gets a bit teary eyed, and Arthur, being the ever attentive father that he was, immediately stopped what he was doing and went over to her, taking her face in his hands. "Sweetheart, what happened?" He used his thumb to wipe away one of her tears. "Did Daddy do something wrong?" The tears start to pour out of her eyes even more, and she shakes her head. "It's just…you didn'tlaugh." Arthur's eyes immediately shined with understanding, and he let out a soft sigh as he considered his daughter. He looked like a considerate and wise figure at the moment, knowing deeper than she even understood how much he empathized with her. "You know, Daddy has trouble making people laugh too." He kept wiping her tears as they kept falling, pouring down further as she let herself fall fully into her emotions. "Really?" she asked in her little broken voice. Arthur nodded and let out a soft hum. "I also noticed you've been taking my journal." She froze up, instantly assuming she was in trouble, but Arthur shook his head. "No, sweetheart, it's ok. Daddy's so proud his daughter loves comedy like him too." Truth be told, his heart had leapt out of his chest when he had opened his journal one day and had seen the pages covered in his sweet daughter's writing, remininding him in a different kind of way that he was no longer alone in his life with nothing but his sad and negative thoughts. Arthur continued to wipe her tears until she smiled a little shy smile. Arthur returned her small smile, more love in it than she understood. "If we work together, maybe we can even get Mommy to laugh. Does that sound good?" She beamed, and instantly Arthur let out a genuine laugh of joy, so glad he finally had a partner in comedy. - Imagine you offer to trim Arthur's hair, and you joke that you'd cut a huge chunk off, in his playfulness he tries to grab the sheers away from your hands and tackles you to the ground. He ends up kissing you passionately in the process anonymous "Arthur, stay still," you said through gritted teeth. He was fidgeting and bouncing his leg like crazy. "But it feels weird," he moaned. He was so unused to having someone else care for him. It was usually himself taking care of himself, and anyone else in his life would be who he was taking care of in addition. "It feels like you're cutting the whole thing off." You roll your eyes and huff. Then, a smirk graces your face, and you jokingly take the scissors and pick up a tuft of his hair from the floor that you had already cut. You pretend to cut his hair, then gasp, putting your hand over your mouth. "Oh no, baby, I fucked up," you said in a serious tine. "What?" Arthur's eyes widened with worry, and a bubble of amusement escaped your lips as you realized how easily he believed you, so naive was his mind. "Baby, it looks horrible. There's a bald spot and everything, I might have to break up with you-" Arthur picked up a mirror and looked at the back of his head. You burst into giggles as the realization came upon him that he was fine. Arthur turned around and wrested you to the ground, ticking your sides in payback. "Honey, I'm sorry-please-stop!" you gasp through your amusement. Arthur kept tickling you until his passion for how adorable you looked overcame him, and he leaned forward and cupped your face into his hand as his lips embraced yours. You hummed into his touch, going from a frantic partner to one wholly melting at his touch. - Imagine trying to take care of Arthur when he gets sick. I feel like he'd be really stubborn at first about insisting he needs to go to work. anonymous "Baby, no. Not today." You gently brushed his shoulder with your hand, which Arthur tried his best to ignore, but failed miserably, body weak and unresponsive. "I need to go. The bills are due in a week, and we can't afford to pay them all the way enough as it is." Arthur's voice was that closed off and rugged version of it, raspy and small, trying to avoid your gaze, knowing that you would use your power over him as soon as you got the chance to grip him in your grasp,using his infatuation to your advantage. "Honey, it's not worth risking your health. Please, just lie down with me and we can work out the details." You continue to caress his back despite his attempts to ignore you. Arthur opens up the knob, about to step out, and then his coughing takes over him, and he almost vomits up on the hallway as he steps halfway out the door. His coughing doesn't stop until you take his head in your embrace, stroking his face gently. "Baby, I swear to god, if you don't listen to me, I won't cuddle with you for a week," you threatened, trying to ignore the cold feeling in your stomach that told you that this would be punishment for you, too. Arthur's head snapped up. "No, baby, please." His entire face was pale except for his nose, which was redder than a tomato. Coming home to your cuddles was all that got him through the day. You shrugged. "I'm sorry baby, but if you don't take care of yourself, I have no choice but to punish you." You tried to ignore the lump in your throat at how bad this was making you feel, as if youwere being punished. Arthur let out a sigh of resignation, then melted. "Fine," he mumbled. "I'll stay home and rest." You instantly brightened up, and took him to the couch. He placed himself into your arms, and you swept at least five thick covers over the two of you. Arthur snuggled into your chest happily, and you kissed his hot red nose, to which he crinkled up playfully in response. Like hell he would ever trade anything for you nightly cuddles. - How would Arthur react to you joining him in the shower? anonymous some nsfw Arthur blushed a shade of red deeper than any tomato or fruit you'd ever seen. "Baby, I think you're in the wrong-" "Shh," you cooed at him, and pressed your finger to his lips. "Can I just bathe with you, darling?" Arthur could only stutter out a shy sure as he gazed at you like you had grown three heads. Being naked with you was enough for him to take enough as it was, but this was a whole other level of intimacy in its own way: getting clean together. Slowly would you rub soap into his skin and face, ever so gently touching him in the most considerate and gentle way possible. You would wash his hair with just as much care, feeling the poetic oceans of his wet brown curls greet your pruned hands, feeling yourself get turned on just by sharing such tender and simple moments with him. He would look at you with all the love in his green eyes, so taken was Arthur with how you loved and took care of him so well. You would mutter gentle, sweet nothings into his ear as you did so, telling him how beautiful he was naked and how much you loved him. Of course this would quickly lead to him getting an erection, and you would be more than happy to help him bust one out quickly and watch as the semen melted in with the hot water. You two would kiss passionately through the loving fog, Arthur moaning into your lips, not believing that he was not only cared for so well, but desired too. - Imagine you watching your daughter surprise Arthur with a handmade Christmas ornament or a picture she drew. anonymous "Daddy, look at what I made!" She rushed up to Arthur with a drawing she had been working on all afternoon. Multiple times throughout the night Arthur had asked her what she had been working on, but she had quickly hidden it with her hands. Arthur had thought maybe she was just feeling shy, but really all she wanted was for it to be a surprise. By the time she was done she was so proud, and she rushed over the you and Arthur's bedroom to show him. "Oh, is Daddy good enough to see it now?" Arthur chuckled. He had been writing in his journal in his bed, his nightly routine to help him take care of himself. You were still at work, but Arthur had already come up with multiple ways he could spoil you in bed once you got home. He planned to have your baby girl in her own small bed before then. "I'm done! Look!" She reached her hands up to be brought onto the bed, and Arthur leaned over and helped her onto it. Arthur pulled her into his lap as she proudly laid out the cheap but loved paper before him. It was stick figures of the family; her, Arthur, and You. You and Arthur were on both sides of her, holding her hands, seeming to be swinging her back and forth the way you did when you both took her to the park as a family. There was a sun drawn in the corner. "Oh," Arthur choked. It was such a simple drawing, but it spoke so much. "Sweetheart, this is wonderful." He kisses the top of her hair. "Mommy will love this too." When you got home, the entire apartment was dark except for the bedroom, which had a warm dim glow. You opened the door softly, and your heart melted at the sight of you girl and your husband huddling together on the bed, her on her Daddy's lap and Arthur with his arms wrapped around her as they wrote and drew together. Arthur lifted his head up at the creak of the door. "Yay, Mommy's home!" he said playfully, and your girl squeaked happily. You laughed and joined them on the bed, peppering Arthur's face in kisses until he melted onto the bed, your girl still in his arms. You wrapped your arms around the both of them and all talked quietly until your girl yawned. - Imagine Arthur bathing your daughter, and as he finally puts her to bed, you both head to bed and talk about how much you love her. Most of all you tell him how much of an amazing father he is, and he responds by tracing your lips with his finger and telling you he could father another child right now anonymous I read this last night and uhmm wooww I almost fell over YALL GOT BETTER IMGINATIONS THAN I DO like this actually killed me? Anyway: You two were so worn, so tired from your day. Tired but happy was the best way to describe the way the two of you felt. You were lying on the couch, Arthur in the bathroom with your child. The giggles from your baby and the adorable voice of Arthur radiating from the smoke and into the living room was making your toes curl up in affection. You felt a warmth spread through your body, entirely brought on by love; you couldn't believe you were lucky enough for this to be your life. You felt yourself slightly doze off with the noises putting you to sleep. You're waken up with Arthur's lips pressed against your forehead, and your smile melts as you looked into his warm, comforting face. "Time for bed, sleepyhead," Arthur chuckled as he pressed his lips against your sleepy ones. "Did you eat?" You nodded. "Mmm." "Just making sure," Arthur pulled you up and took your body in his arms and you walked together to the bedroom. Although you all shared the master bed, there was plenty of room for you and Arthur to cuddle up together and snuggle into warm conversations. Tonight, you took to both cuddling in each other's arms as you beamed at your little girls face, her mouth hanging open adorably as she was lost in her dreams, her chubby arm comically raised on her face, hair strands in her mouth. "She's such a messy sleeper," you giggled quietly against Arthur's neck, and he let out his own adorable soft noise; between the sheer cuteness of the two of them, you often felt your heart would explode with love. "I love how she sleeps at night," Arthur whispered quietly, his own voice lined in adoration. "She's so precious." His beautiful pools flickered over to you. "Just like her mother." You let out a small beam, and kissed his cheek lightly. "I'm so glad we made her together. She really is a gift. She's so sweet, like you." Arthur smiled, but there was a ghost of sadness on his lips. "Sometimes I feel like a bad dad," he admitted softly; he would never say it out loud to anyone but you. You were the only one who made him feel safe, and he knew as much, treasuring how vulnerable he could be with you. You frowned, feeling yourself fall into a small darkness as yo saw your Arthur thunk of himself as anything other than the loving, perfect husband and father that he was. "Sweetheart, she's obsessed with you." You stroked his cheeks lovingly in reassurance. His eyes were begging for your validation, as they often did, even now. "You're the best dad anyone could ever ask for, and she knows it." You let out an even yet softer smile that tugged on the corner of your lips. "And an amazing husband." Arthur let out a small, reassured smile, so easily did you bring him back from his dark thoughts. His love for you overcame him then, and he traced his finger against your lips, sending shivers up your spine and a tingle between your legs at the same time. The simplest of touches sent you aflame. "You know, I wouldn't mind making another right now," Arthur said teasingly, the soft whisper of his voice surrounded in his tender lust driving you mad. You bite your lip, and pulled him up with you as you wrapped your arms around him. "Then let's made our way to the couch, lover boy." - Oh and what would your love letter to him say? anonymous This is going to be super corny, so here's a warning for that lmao My love, You just left for the store, and I'm currently sitting on this couch and using the little time I have away from you to write this for you for our anniversary. I already miss you, even though I know you'll be back soon. Where should I begin? I don't think I could ever convey how much you mean to me in any amount of words. You transformed me into the kind of person I never thought I could become again; loving, and feeling so full of love and pure of heart. Though I know I'm not, you make me feel like I am. You are so precious that it melted every dirt of bitterness in my soul and only made me feel love. These times with you have been intense, in the most welcome fashion, and so beyond worth it. Every day, I somehow fall in love with you a little more, even when I feel as if my heart could burst from how much I already love you. Even little thing you do turns me on, down from how you smirk when its the most inappropriate time, to how your adorably worn and nimble fingers dance in my hair when you wake me up in the morning. You are everything I could have hoped for and dreamed of and more, my dear Arthur Fleck. Every day you remind me why it was worth waiting for you. I know reading isn't your favorite thing, so I will make shorten this as much as I can-but always remember and know how deeply I love you, more than I can ever express or understand. I hope that by me not understanding how much I love you, you can understand the depth of it. Keep this letter with you on your worst days-it will forever be a reminder that I am real and with you, even when I can't physically be there. Check under the kitchen table; there's a surprise waiting for you. I am yours, now and forever, Y/N — (The surprise is basically another letter with a note, and they go on a scavenger hunt for a day to find his real present, which is a book full of comedy material that he's been begging for forever lol) - Imagine you and Arthur taking your little girl ice skating for the first time. anonymous She's so nervous, and absolutely does not want to let go of Arthur's hand. Hell, she won't even allow Arthur to go more than two steps away from her. Once Arthur encourages her to challenge herself a bit, saying he needs to go grab his own ice skates anyway, she instead clings onto you. You slowly but surely drag her over to the ice skating rink, and she her eyes swell up with tears, overwhelmed. She looks up at you with teary eyes, her chubby cheeks red and swollen as he holds her breath to prove how unfair this situation is. There's even some feet stomping action, it's very dramatic. All of her stubbornness melts, though, when Arthur comes up from behind her and lifts her into his arms, letting out a playful "whoosh" sound as he lifts her up and puts her on his shoulders. Since Arthur is so well practiced in dancing, ice skating isn't too hard for him to get a hold of. At first she's mortified, and screams at the top of her lungs in a very dramatic manner. Some people look up, concerned. You wave them off. Arthur calms her down by giving her special 'permission' to tug on his hair as 'punishment' for making her come out here, and she takes the invitation gladly, pulling on his curls furiously. Luckily for your husband, not even her strongest force is very strong at all, the worst of it simply making Arthur wince. This continues until she finally grows tired of it, and instead looks around and begins to relax, taking it all in. Arthur takes her around a couple of circles around the rink, and pretty soon, she's laughing to tears instead of frustration. Arthur pulls her off his shoulders and puts her down, holding both of her hands until she starts to get the hang of it. Three hours later they're both experts, and you watch rather than join, not being great at skating yourself. But Arthur comes around halfway through every circle and pecks your lips softly, letting you know you're still included. The three of you stay until sunset and your girl sleeps in Arthur's arms all the way home, exhaustion taking her over. - Imagine you and Arthur taking your little girl ice skating for the first time. anonymous She's so nervous, and absolutely does not want to let go of Arthur's hand. Hell, she won't even allow Arthur to go more than two steps away from her. Once Arthur encourages her to challenge herself a bit, saying he needs to go grab his own ice skates anyway, she instead clings onto you. You slowly but surely drag her over to the ice skating rink, and she her eyes swell up with tears, overwhelmed. She looks up at you with teary eyes, her chubby cheeks red and swollen as he holds her breath to prove how unfair this situation is. There's even some feet stomping action, it's very dramatic. All of her stubbornness melts, though, when Arthur comes up from behind her and lifts her into his arms, letting out a playful "whoosh" sound as he lifts her up and puts her on his shoulders. Since Arthur is so well practiced in dancing, ice skating isn't too hard for him to get a hold of. At first she's mortified, and screams at the top of her lungs in a very dramatic manner. Some people look up, concerned. You wave them off. Arthur calms her down by giving her special 'permission' to tug on his hair as 'punishment' for making her come out here, and she takes the invitation gladly, pulling on his curls furiously. Luckily for your husband, not even her strongest force is very strong at all, the worst of it simply making Arthur wince. This continues until she finally grows tired of it, and instead looks around and begins to relax, taking it all in. Arthur takes her around a couple of circles around the rink, and pretty soon, she's laughing to tears instead of frustration. Arthur pulls her off his shoulders and puts her down, holding both of her hands until she starts to get the hang of it. Three hours later they're both experts, and you watch rather than join, not being great at skating yourself. But Arthur comes around halfway through every circle and pecks your lips softly, letting you know you're still included. The three of you stay until sunset and your girl sleeps in Arthur's arms all the way home, exhaustion taking her over. - Imagine Arthur embracing you from behind as he got back from work? In the moment you were preparing dinner for the both of you anonymous Cooking dinner for the two of you after your own long day at work was tiring, but it was so worth it to see Arthur's beaming face when he came home. Seeing someone in his apartment that finally cared enough about him to do things for him made his face light up in such a pure way that it made it beyond worth it. He was late tonight, however. Only about a half hour, but it was enough to make your stomach squeeze with worry. You were dead on your feet as your worked diligently on the casserole you were making, just about to put it in the oven, when suddenly boney but comforting arms wrapped themselves around you. "Knock knock," a voice rasped into your ear. You gasped instinctively, then sprung around. "Arthur!" you said, heart still pounding in your chest a bit at the shock of the sudden shock of fear; it wasn't unheard of for a stranger to come into low income Gotham apartments. But you felt peace come over you as you took in your love's face, and let out a soft hum of contentment; the day was truly complete now that your love was home. Now you could stop worrying and truly rest."Baby, I didn't hear you come in." You leaned forward and pressed your lips against his, which he returned hungrily. "How was your day?" Arthur shrugged. "Same old." He looked over at the casserole. "Is that for us?" You rolled your eyes fondly. "No, its for the woman next door." Arthur scrunched his nose up in the same joking manner adorably. "Sophie?" You nodded. "Yeah, you know, the woman you're always crushing on." This was an inside joke between you two, but there was a hint of insecurity buried beneath your joking tone. Arthur scoffed. "As if." To prove his point, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours, so reassuring they were they he only thought about you. When your lips parted, you smiled against his and mumbled, "So what was that knock knock joke about?" Arthur nuzzled his nose against yours. "Don't have one," he admitted. "It's just my signature greeting." You laughed, and the sight of you laughing at his words was enough for Arthur to claim your lips against his again, remembering with full force how deeply he loved you. His hands rubbed against your body, and you succumbed to how much you wanted him as his touch starved hands explored your equally touch starved body. The casserole might have to wait. - How would Arthur react to reading your heartfelt love letter for your anniversary? anonymous At first he had thought you forgot, and he was so upset and in a rage he was trying to hide. If he ever had even the slightest reason to believe that you didn't love him as much as he loved you, he would spiral out of control. He had paced in your apartment all morning, returning your kisses when you both woke up in each other's arms, the only real time he'd had with you all day thus far, but felt an anxiety in his stomach as the hours ticked on-it was now 1 PM. You didn't acknowledge your anniversary as the time went on. Tick tock did the numbers mock him, and his anxiety was only growing all the stronger. He had gotten a rather special gift for you, at least considering his pay; it was a beautiful necklace he had found in the mall. He knew it was cliche to buy a partner jewelry, but he got so excitedwhen he thought of it lacing your beautiful neck, so infatuated was he at the idea of adoring you with gifts he provided for you. Even better, it was one that popped open, and one was able to put a picture inside. He had taken special care to put his favorite picture of you and him at the park inside of it, and he was so proud and excited to see how you would react. He had also written you a letter, so full of misspelled words and scrawled out words it was, but it was heartfelt and it was him, and he had now come to understand that you loved anything that came from him, as long as it was his. He remembered his last anniversary when he had only bought you store bought things; and you had told him through you appreciated the thought, you would love something more personal. He felt he had succeded at that this year. But you had been doing nothing all morning but typing away furiously on your computer in the corner, your beautiful eyebrows furrowed into a frown. It was supposed to be the day off for you two of you, but your boss had called you in the morning last minute and had told you that you "needed to get on this right now, or ya fired." Arthur had overheard the bosses' booming voice through the phone, and had shivered in bed as he felt the emptiness beside him when you had rushed to pick it up. The voice reminded him all too well of Hoyt's voice with him. They had no respect for your time. Now he was simply pacing back and forth behind you. You had tried your best to reassure him through your stress and that you would be done "in just a minute, baby." You couldn't lose this job; you needed to be able to take care of the life you and Arthur had built, and that life rested on the delicate string of the two jobs you both worked. Arthur kept pacing until his legs went numb. 3 PM. He sighed and decided to go to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of tea, trying to get himself to relax. He was a little angry, but he knew it wasn't really your fault. As he sat down on the couch with the tea, you still typing away maddeningly, Arthur's eyes brightened up as he saw a mysterious red letter poking up from between the couch seats. He smiled, and pulled for it. It read "to my love" in your delicate and romantic handwriting. His heart sped up; what if you were cheating on him and it was to someone else? But as soon as he opened it and started reading it, he knew it was for him and him alone, and he started to sob uncontrollably as he read the words. You instantly snapped your head away from the computer screen; if there was anything that could drag you away from your work, it was the sound of your Arthur in distress. You rushed over and took his hands in yours, stroking them softly. "What happened, baby?" you asked gently. Arthur only looked down and shook his head, overcome with emotion. You eyes trailed down to where he was looking, and you heart melted as you saw the letter sitting on his lap. "Oh, sweetheart," you muttered, understanding overcoming you. "I'm so sorry. I was so busy, and I meant to give that to you while we were out toni-" "No-n-no," Arthur stammered, trying to speak past his sobs. His shoulders were going up and down like a child. His demeanor had completely melted from a distress grown man to an upset young boy of sorts-he was often prone to such drastic changes in his energy, depending on what happened to him. "It-it's perfect-.." -he hiccuped, and you let out a shhh noise comfortingly- "I'm just so happy, I-I-I-'ve"-he rubbed his running nose with the sleeve of his sweater, and sniffed- "never felt this loved before." You felt your heart sink and soar at the same time; he deserved to feel this loved every day for the rest of his life, something he had thus been deprived of in his life, and you had the honor of giving it to him as the years went on. You pressed your lips to his forehead, the wrinkles in deep crevices because of his face being crunched up from crying. "Happy Anniversary, Arthur," you mumbled against his beloved skin; never would you able to kiss him enough, love him enough. "Come on, darling. Let's go start that scavenger hunt." You had specifically set up the rules for it starting in that first letter, knowing how much Arthur loved games. Arthur's eyes instantly light up, the happy tears mixed in with his excitement the most precious combination you had ever seen, the red rimes of his eyes making the seagreen magic of his eyes strike out like little flames. To absolute hell with work. As long as you had each other, somehow, you knew everything would be alright. - Imagine it being the day off for the both of you, and Arthur prepares a breakfast in bed for you too. This sweet gesture sends you to the clouds anonymous Arthur was so sweet that often times it made you sick. Sick in the most tender and loving, however; you just felt so full of happiness and pure love for him that it blew you away how strong it was. You could go days without eating and not care; you felt you were on a cloud at how lucky you were to be with this man. You couldn't have imagined any heaven more wonderful than waking up into his arms on a slow morning, the sun sweeping into your apartment, feeling peaceful for the first time in months. Arthur had sneaked away from your touch as you drifted off, so exhausted were you that you didn't even notice. You merely drifted back off into sleep, and only awoke when you felt a gentle brush against your forehead. "Mmg?" you mumbled comically, and you heart swelled as you heard Arthur's sweet laugh at your clumsy messiness, you hair sticking in all directions. "Wake up, darling," Arthur said in between chuckles, covering his mouth when they would't stop. He was just so giddy to be around you in a quality manner again. "I made you something." He rushed out of the room and into the kitchen before you could say anything, and came back in with a tray of eggs, bacon, and flowers. You felt tears stinging your eyes as he lied it in front of you on the bed. "Oh-Hon-Arthur," you stammered, at a loss. "You didn't have to do this. I know you hardly get enough sleep, you should have slept in-" "I wanted to," Arthur interrupted you. "Seeing you happy recharges me much better anyway." Your passion overcame you then, and you lunged forward, not caring about the clattering of the fork and spoon as you did so, and crashed your lips against his. Arthur chuckled against you, and pulled you into him. - Imagine you and Arthur getting ready for a big date. It's been a while since you were able to do so cause you both worked so hard. As you're getting ready he stares at how beautiful you look in the mirror and you blush at how sexy he looked staring at you. anonymous You huffed, wrestling with your crimson dress. You didn't even notice the man behind you, staring at you with innocent eyes through his curls. "What?" you asked, feeling a little impatient, but not at your Arthur, just simply at the circumstances you felt yourself in. You were trying to ignore how distractingly handsome he looked; although he was still in his work clothes, his hair was slicked back with grease, showing off his high cheekbones, his romantically dark and long eyelashes, his strong jawline, the gentle poetic sensitivity of his face that made him angelic like not other. Arthur shrugged boyishly, and smiled at the ground, blushing. "Its just…you're so beautiful," he mumbled under his breath. You had hardly heard him. "What was that?" you teased, and turned around away from the mirror and towards your man. Arthur shook his head, feeling self conscious that he couldn't even get himself to stop thinking about you and staring at you for even five minutes to get dressed, so crazy for you was the man. "Let me hear that, once more time," you muttered seductively, wrapping your arms around his thin waist. Your pressed your lips to his chin; he was going wild at having your beautiful form, dressed in a gorgeous dress no less, wrapping yourself around him like you were the one crazy about him-which was exactly the case, if only he allowed himself to believe it. "B-Beautiful," Arthur stammered, forgetting how to speak for a moment. "You're beautiful, Y/N." You bit your lip in delicious satisfaction, and brought your lips up to his, pressing them softly against his own. "You're beautiful too, baby," you mumbled between his lips. "And I'm so, so crazy about you." - Imagine as you know Arthur can't sleep and suffers from insomnia, you take your hands and not only caress his face, but run your hands through his hair in the process. This puts him straight to sleep as he finally knocks out with his arms around you anonymous It broke your heart, that Arthur was such a cheated man in life, that not even the simplest of pleasures like sleep or food came easy to him. Though you two would lie down at night and snuggle into bed, you could see the signs almost within minutes that Arthur wasn't planning on sleeping tonight, or rather, his body decided for him that he wouldn't; he would roll over to the far side of the bed, then roll over again, then sit up, scratch his hair, rub his eyes, lie down again, roll over, sit up, roll over- "Baby," you would say in the dark. "You're not sleeping tonight, are you?" Arthur would moan and buried his face into his pillow, so frustrated. He hand't slept in days, and he knew he needed sleep for work tomorrow. "Guess not," he mumbled into the pillow. You cuddled yourself up to him and held him tightly against your chest. "How about I tell you a story?" Arthur's eyes flittered up, looking so vulnerable and childlike. "I'd like that," he said shyly, still so uncertain he was of how much you loved him and how much you were willing to do for him. You smiled, and pressed your lips to his temple; maybe Arthur couldn't find peace in his own mind, but dammit if you were't going to help him find some solace in you. "Want me to tell the story about the duck?" you whsipered softly. Arthur's eyes lit up. "That's my favorite!" You laughed, and you completely melted at how innocent he was. You began to stroke his curls as you told him the story in your silly voice, finding peace in the other. He fell asleep mid story, his eyes drooping despite his best efforts to stay awake, but you didn't mind at all; as long as he was healthy, that was all that mattered. - May I ask a kind of scenario where Arthur has a deep lack of cuddles and in the same time he lovingly mocks Reader for her shortness😂 idk I think it could be cute : anonymous You two hadn't been able to snuggle very much lately, and it was driving Arthur mad. He felt his skin tingling as he looked at your from across the room-this was the first time in weeks that you two had been home at the same time that wasn't just sleeping together, too tired to do anything else. Work demanded so much from you both. Arthur decided to make a move, and strutted forward confidently and in his own goofy and awkward manner. You were furiously working on some work papers, and didn't even notice he was standing over you until- "How's the weather down there?" Arthur teased as he looked down on you. He was considerably taller than you even when you were standing up fully-you were almost as small as Gary, and Arthur found it astoundingly adorable. You were like his little git from heaven-surrounded in love and the one thing that made his life worth living, but he would be lying through his teeth if he said he didn't love to tease you sometimes for how much taller he was than you. You scoffed. "Just working on these papers, Comedy Man." You two were more than comfortable enough to tease one another-so safe did you feel with the other. Arthur kneeled down and pressed his lips to yours, guiding his hands around your face softly. You dropped your pencil in your lust-it amazed you every time how Arthur never failed to sweep you up into his embrace and make you forget all else, even in the heat of everything. "If you concentrate, I'll reward you for what you've done," he mumbled softly agaisnt your lips. You smirked, trying to ignore the heat between your legs forming. "And if I don't?" Arthur's eyes glinted and he pecked the tip of your nose. "I got some punishments in store," he said seductively. You knew exactly what he meant, and your motivation increased tenfold, despite knowing that either way that you and Arthur were going to get it on tonight. - contradictions Ask: This might sound repetitive but imagine while you came across Arthur's journal, it had an entry titled, "She saved me, a man like me" A/N: Lmao idk i just felt inspired? im sad and miss arthur so much omg Length: 1,823 Originally posted by antonija89 People didn't get saved. That's what Arthur has been told growing up his whole life. People didn't deserve love if they couldn't heal themselves. People who had trauma needed to heal before they could be share themselves with another. These casually spoken words in overheard conversations had tormented Arthur over and over again from when he had been a child, before he even known why those words made him feel so bad, to a grown adult, so much to the point that he felt his scars somehow become that much deeper over time, as if the words of the world were telling Arthur, indirectly but incessantly, that he truly didn't deserve love. That he didn't deserve a damn good thing, because he was too damaged from he past, from things that he hadn't been able to control, had been too young to control. Arthur had damn near lost all hope for himself. He had. By the time he had hit thirty without ever having a partner or even a friend, he had convinced himself that he truly didn't deserve love. Even his relationship with his mom was questionable at best. The burdens of these words weighed on his so heavily that it got the the point where he had a slight physical hunch in the way he walked, as if he was quite literally carrying the weight of the world on his back forevermore. He had already made a sort of twisted 'peace' with himself in his head that he would die aline; that he would allow himself to die painfully and slowly, first spiritually, and then, literally, by his own hand. The days bled into one another; dreams were a thing of fairy tales. Then, he had met you. Falling in love with you from Arthur's end hadn't been anything remarkable. Arthur would fall in love with anyone who showed him kindness-anyone. No, what had been remarkable about the relationship was that you loved him just as deeply. He had tried to deny it to himself for so long-had tired to tell himself that it was laughable to believe, truly believe, that someone, anyone,could truly be there for him, let alone someone like you. Sweet. Understanding. Good. But you did. Arthur saw it in every caress, every simple utterance that you granted him that was so tender and considerate. In the way you greeted him when he came home from work, hands dancing and kisses fluttering all over his wrecked skin like a song. With breathless spoken words and gentle, love struck whispers would you both take each other to bed, Arthur topping himself onto you, desperate to show you just how much he loved you and just how much he needed you. His worn, thin but all encompassing lips danced around your skin like a starved bird who had finally found the seeds it had been looking for, his teeth like crooked stones that had been sheltered behind a dam that didn't need sheltering at all finally behind allowed to carry out their true purpose; to love. Only your hot kisses, loving words, and breathing beating against his touch starved skin reminded him why enduring his life until this point had been worth it. These nights and days with you had become countless as the relationship had gone on, and Arthur was in awe how much he craved every caress and word beyond what he could express. His soul felt lighter in a way that was indescribable; he felt like he could help himself now in ways he couldn't before. It was true that one was responsible for one's wellbeing, but Arthur had been in a place so deep that he had needed that extra hand to bring him out of his dark, dry well once and for all and come to light-a concept so foreign to him that he thought he might of been too blinded by the sun, too used to the darkness to grow accustomed to to the light, but with your own hands gradually placing themselves over his watery eyes to shield him from from the overbearing brightness, and then removing your fingers, one by one, until he could look at it himself, he realized that he could suddenly feel the sun, truly feel it against his skin and eyes alike, and suddenly-an alien and strange thought occurred- Perhaps he was just as worthy of love and happiness as everyone else. Arthur had always been under the impression that he wasn't good enough for such things, that there were some separation between him and everyone else-even the other mentally ill souls he met he felt there was some distinct separation, some lack of understanding, like his own pain was too specific to every find any real relatability with anyone else. Like he was a different species, in the most painful, isolated way possible. Arthur began to bite his lip as he wrote down the line-the words came out of his worn hands like spilled ink-as if there was a physical connection between the pain in his heart that was finally being poured out through the hole you had made in it in the most loving fashion, desperate to help gradually ooze out some of the agony that had manifested in his heart once and for all. Not all at once-for surely his heart would give out if you did, so lost in the darkness was he that he had become the darkness in order to survive- But still he could be saved, and you had seen as much. Slowly, drip by drip, until there was nothing left but emptiness-the good kind, the kind that made room only for you gentle, tender unconditional love that surely, in time, would fill up his heart as much as the pain had. The words he had written down stared back at him like a tender friend greeting him after a long time of being apart. She savd me. A man like me. Arthur leaned back in his chair and stared at the word-simply stared at it. Slowly, without him even realizing what was happening, a single tear fell down his worn, wrinkled cheek. Arthur chuckled darkly, and wiped it away with one worn hand-but at the disappearance of one tear, another soon began to appear shortly after. Despite Arthur's best efforts, he began sobbing-truly, deeply weeping, and before Arthur knew it his face was painfully crunched up into a ball of what appear to be agony-but was actually simply taking in the relief that his heart was finally ridding itself of the last of the pain that had previously been almost bursting through his calloused heart. Arthur's thin, skeletal back bent over in the sweet pain, his spine ripping from his thin skin as his head leaned over his desk. "Arthur?" You voice trilled out of the sounds of his sudden sobs like music in a dark cave-but Arthur was too occupied with wrestling with his tormented chuckles and cackles to even process that he had heard your gentle voice-yet still was it healing him even in his distracted state, even in his subconsciousness. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" You took both of his hands in yours. He hadn't even heard you walk over. Warm hands found their wary to Arthur's bare torso and arms, the sweetness of them caressing and oozing sheer love against his tender skin that he never would have considered that -tender-until your own honeyed words and touches had broken down the barrier keeping tenderness from him. Like snow in sun your touch melted his wretchedness, and he knew that, although you loved him for his torment, because it was his and you loved everything for what Arthur was, dark, bad, and everything in between, he was eternally grateful for the relief you gave him from the darkness in his own soul-that you were healing said torment, slowly but surely. You had made him feel worthy of love like no other. Arthur shook his head-his demeanor had now been reduced to wretched cackles and loud laughs of torment, his face crunched up in pained-yet relief. Arthur was the very definition of contradictions, and you were more than willing to gentle rip each thread apart from the other in all of their complicated layers until you were able to see the entirely of both his pain and his light in one sweep. Arthur brought his hand to his mouth in an attempt to calm himself, taking one out from yours, hiccuped painfully, then continued to shake his head. He wanted to tell you that this was a bittersweet onslaught of emotions-that this was just as good, more good, than it was bad, albeit painful. Good was not always wrought without pain. You gently stood up and sat down on his lap, caressing his curls out of his face, cooing at him and letting out soft, comforting muttered nothings until Arthur finally began to translate from tormented to only giggling-and then, with a few more strokes, murmured sweet nothings, and gentle whispers, Arthur was calm again. "Arthur," you murmured gently. "Tell me, what got you so upset?" Arthur shook his head, but this time the action was peaceful, almost heavenly, an exhausted sort of poetry. Arthur certainly was poetry, the most complicated and unintentional kind-which is also why he was so fascinating, and so impossible to stop reading. "I'm not upset," Arthur murmured as he lifted his eyes up towards you. He seemed so helpless and boyish as you sat in his lap, his legs hosting your face up a few inches above him so that, as you caressed and stroked his hair, you could literally feel his desperation for you, his helplessness, and love come off in waves as he look up at you. And-something even more beautiful- Endless, rich gratitude. You gently kissed the top of his head, and Arthur let out a soft noise of his own love. He allowed his nose to gently rest itself into the curve of your shoulder, nuzzling against your skin. "I'm saved, darling," Arthur murmured into your skin. "Saved-and it's because of you." You nodded, and closed your eyes softly. You understood. Always did you hear the words spoken between Arthur's seemingly unpredictable sentences. I love you, and thank you. You pressed your lips to the top of his head one more time, the brown curls tickling your lips like gentle hugs of affection of their own, reminding you how every fiber in Arthur's being was desperate for you always. You two didn't move for a long while; much rather would the both of you prefer to simply stay in that thoughtful, healing state of each other's embrace forever and a day. The cars honked outside; the children squeaked and shouted in a melancholic sort of way even in their happy state. True happiness didn't exist in Gotham. This world would never allow Arthur to be happy; truly happy. But with you, at least he could pretend. - perfectly you Summary: You come home after a long day, only to find Arthur in quite a mess, in more ways than one. An unforgettable night that defines your relationship ensues. No warnings. A/N: This one is a gift for fleckledlemonade . I hope you enjoy love! I'm so nervous posting this because I don't know if I got you right, but hopefully you enjoy nonetheless skskks. Although this is 100000% Arthur through and through, there's a Joker reference skssks you'll see what I mean when you read. I'm sorry for any typos omg my eyes are giving out. Length: 4,343 You were, to put it lightly, dead on your feet. You had been waitressing all day; the usual for you, to be honest. You needed to work to support you and Arthur; and although Arthur worked his own fair share of hours, so many that he physically fell over into your arms some nights once he came in through the door, you somehow worked more than him. Arthur would whine when he saw you come through the door some nights; his heart would shatter when he saw how your striking blue eyes, so beautifully complementary towards his green, were red rimmed in a way that Arthur cared little if it was on himself, but cared deeply if it was on you. Arthur wrapping his arms that were covered in the material of his soft knitted sweater around you the second you walked in had quickly become a routine for you both, pressing his sweet, warm kisses to every inch of your face that he could. He would mutter sweet little nothings to you in his raspy yet childlike voice, literally oozing with softness and tender care that was meant for you and you alone. He would shower affection and concern over you like a dog that had been left alone for too long, tumbling out questions before you could even respond. "How was your day?" A kiss. "Was everyone nice to you?" Another kiss. "Want me to make you something?" Ten more kisses that left you entirely breathless before you could ever respond. You would often end up giggling and blushing, pushing him away playfully-although in reality the last thing you wanted was for the love of your life to leave you alone. Truthfully, his warm touches and sweet spoken words were what made all those long hours on your feet worth it. Tonight started much the same; you entered the apartment with you legs feeling like literals ghosts of wobbly jelly. You sighed as you opened the door and clicked it shut, already feeling sheer exhaustion sweep over you as you stepped into the space. To your surprise. Arthur was nowhere seen; at least not within eyesight. Your heart pounded a bit nervously-if Arthur wasn't here waiting for you, he was definitely not safe; the hours of "safe" in Gotham had passed around two hours ago when the sun had set-but your heart soon eased as your eyes drifted over to the doorway of the bathroom. There was a light emitting from it, and a small, softly drifting song of That's Life, Arthur's favorite song, quietly playing through the walls. You smiled to yourself, and kicked off your shoes, making your way to the bathroom. You knocked on the door softly, your heart already pounding with excitement at the thought of seeing him again. Never did it get old, for you truly loved Arthur with all that you were, and to see him was the greatest gift that you knew your heart would never tire of. There was a comical slam within half a second of the knock, and you heard Arthur let out a groan as you heard something fall over. "Uhhh…." You heard Arthur's adorably soft and clumsy voice through the door. He didn't answer right away, and you heard some things being bustled around. Clearly he was too occupied with the mess that must have just been made at his reaction to your knock. You knew that whatever he was doing, it must be important for it to be worth missing out on greeting you at the door, which Arthur had made clear was his favorite part of the day over the years. You wondered if it was something artistic. Both of you were rather interested in the arts; and since you did your makeup in such electric colors, it often inspired Arthur to try it out on his own. Arthur had fallen head over heels for how you were so willing to experiment with your appearance; you had dyed your hair electric pink and had tried out a flaring orange eyeshadow look only a few days ago. When Arthur had seen it for the first time, his eyes had flared with a fire and excitement. "J-Jess, baby?" he had stuttered as he looked over you. He had reached out one knobby finger and gently caressed your face. "Did you do this? You look so…beautifully unique." Never had Arthur seen someone wear bright, unnatural colors just for the sake of it, not unless he was at his clown job, and even that was often mocked and ridiculed. Not in a dull city like Gotham. You truly were the brightest star he had ever met in Gotham, not just metaphorically but literally as well, your unique style beaming from the otherwise dull streets. Did all of you really belong to him? You had smiled and nodded, biting you lip, amused and endeared by his reaction. "Mmm-humm," you had mumbled an you delicately pressed your lips to his knuckles. Arthur's face had entirely melted as he took in not only your only your physical affection, but just how talentedyou were, and that you were all his. After that night, Arthur had become endearingly obsessed with trying to keep up with how you expressed yourself. He thought it was so admirable how you were so unapologetically you, with your electric pink hair and your flaring colors of makeup. It reminded him of his clown gigs, but unlike Arthur, you did it as yourself, whereas Arthur did it to hide who he was. Though he knew you bore insecurities, you never let that stop you from being the person who you wanted to be, and the courage of your soul never failed to make Arthur fall deeper in love with you. The tattoos you bore only made Arthur want to force himself out of his comfort zone even more. He had made a habit of tracing and admiring the details of every one as your were sleeping, lulling his own self to sleep in his deep spell of infatuation for you. He truly fell more in love with you every day, and how you unapologetically expressed your unique expression and appearance only made him love you more-and, naturally, that made him want to be more like you, in whatever way he could. He did, after all,have a bad habit of copying people he admired. In a deeper sense, he wanted to be able to protect you. He wanted to be able to be the one between you two who wasn't afraid of anything-although he was scared of almost everything. The thing he was most scared of, however, was losing you, and he wanted to be worthy of you in any way possible. Despite you reassuring him it wasn't necessary for him to change who he was-for you loved him just as he was-insecurities, soft knitted soul and all, he still seemed determined to try and keep up with you. "Jess, baby, is that you?" Arthur asked, his voice holding traces of worry in it. You replied immediately. "Yes, honey, it's me. Can I come in?" You knew he must be worried; break-ins were not uncommon in Gotham, and you wanted to keep him from that soul shattering anxiety as much as you could. In response, there was the sound of some more objects falling, and then some rattling. The doorknob turned, creaking open only slightly; what greeted you was Arthur's sweet, naive and unbearably soft face, peering at you through the crack with helpless sweet green eyes as he met yours. There were speckles of pink all over his face; it was smeared down his body and skin, which was currently entirely naked except for the plain white underwear he was wearing. He had only opened the door about an inch, and you could tell he was hiding something; never did Arthur hesitant to instantly wrap his arms around you the second he got the chance. Never did he hidefrom you either, not ever since he had become confident in the love you shared that he didn't need to. He had a slightly worried expression on his face, though you could tell he was trying to suppress it. Something was definitely up. "Hi, sweetheart," you said gently. At your words did Arthur curl his lips up in the slightest smile, reaching his gentle green eyes. "Hi, baby girl," Arthur muttered. Despite his sweet words and the clear desire in his eyes to fully wrap his arms around you, he didn't open the door one more inch. You couldn't help but chuckled at the awkward tension that was emitting between you at the increasingly tense situation. "Can…can I come in?" you tentatively requested again, trying to dispel the strain in the situation. Arthur, however, didn't move. "I-It's….its a l-little…..messy…" Arthur mumbled. He was clearly worried you wold be upset with him; his eyes and his furrowed chestnut brows were already begging for your forgiveness. You rolled your eyes lovingly. "Darling, please. I won't get mad at you for a little mess, ok? I can tell you're dying your hair. Just let me in, and we can work it out, ok?" Arthur's sweet, naive eyes widened, and he nodded. Slowly did he creak open the door. You gasped. Although you weren't necessarily mad…you were shocked at the mess that laid in front of you. There was various colors of hair die spread everywhere; blue, pink, electric yellow, orange….colors that you hadn't even bought were gracing the walls, mirror, bathtub,toilet, floor…quite literally everything. It was almost impressive how much hair dye was adorning the bathroom, but how little of it was actually on Arthur's actual hair, which was still dark brown, with only a few speckles of of color on it. Upon seeing your expression, Arthur instantly fell into a panic. His face went tomato red, and he instantly started stuttering faster than you had ever heard him speak in his life. "I-I'm sorry, sweetheart. I wanted to match you. I want to be as brave as you. I went out today to get a pack of hair dye, it had all the colors, and I wanted to dye my hair all the pretty colors and show you when you came h-home….I wanted you to be proud of me. But I tripped when I came into the bathroom, and it all exploded everywhere, and I wanted to show y-you before you came home but it only happened a half hour ago and I tried to clean it up before you came-" On and on Arthur went as your eyes continued to scan the messy bathroom. Your legs were acing; your feet were throbbing. All this Arthur knew. The last thing you had wanted to come home to was a giant mess to clean up, and yet here you were. Arthur's heart was thudding in his chest; this was it. You were leaving him. This was the final straw. On and on Arthur rambled, so unlike his usual heavied, soft and quiet spoken demeanor, so desperate was he to win you back, the illness of his mind already convincing him that he had already lost you, the most special person in his life. The only thing that prevented his rambling was you stepping forward, pressing one finger to his lips. At your touch did Arthur quiet himself down, looking at you with that unbearably adorable apologetic expression that was begging for forgiveness. When Arthur got into these panicked, desperate states, he often became the most lovable and yet helpless man you had ever seen in your life. So easily could you have broken him in that moment with one harshly spoken word, yet you would never even consider the idea. Rather, your love for him overflooded you then, poured over at how painfully cute and sweet and simple and desperate to please Arthur was. Somehow, his flaws, his mistakes, only made you love him more. "Arthur, darling, it's ok," you reassured him softly. "It's….a mess. But we can clean it up a bit and then some more tomorrow. We'll chip away at it, ok?" Your finger stayed on Arthur's lips, making him look paralyzed at the first touch of you he had felt all day. Ever so gently did Arthur nod, and he closed his eyes and pecked your fingertip softly, showing his gratitude in the best way he knew how. Your blood rushed at the sensation. He nodded ever so slightly, relaxing a bit at your reassuring words that your love was still there, chasing away his bad thoughts with the breeze of your kind words. "You promise you're not mad?" he whispered through your fingertip. At his words did your eyes soften further, and you gently traced your finger from his lips to the side of his head, cupping the entirety of your hand around his face. "Promise," you whispered back, and at your words did Arthur's demeanor begin to relax completely, his shoulders dropping from their tense position. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his softly, to which Arthur let out a soft, painful hum; usually by now he would have had you in his arms about twenty minutes ago, but the circumstances he had brought himself into had forced him to resist your touch until now. Arthur brought his multicolored dyed hands and wrapped them around your face, to which you turned your head so that his tongue could better access your mouth. Arthur pressed his lips into yours until your lips were overlapping the other, Arthur's tongue dancing within yours in the most heated and intimate passion. When your lips broke apart minutes later, your lips were red and swollen from the force he had put upon yours. You found yourself smiling into his gaze, blue oceans meeting green. "Why were your dying your hair anyway?" you asked with some gentle humor lacing your voice. "You always seemed so content with your perfect brown hair." So am I. I love you, just as you are. Arthur shrugged. "I just…like I said before, baby. I just want to be like you. You're so daring, so perfectly loud, so authentic, so unafraid to be different, so outgoing and energetic and…just so you." Arthur looked down to the ground. "I'm just…..Arthur." You heart almost literally broke at his words. You let out a soft whine of empathy, feeling your love almost physically bursting through your chest. Nothing brought out your protective nature of Arthur more than when he was insecure, or doubting for even a moment that you loved him for all that he was. It was so silly for him to believe otherwise, and you would keep reminding him until one day he saw the full depth of your unconditional love the way that you felt it every day. "Arthur, look at me." At your words did Arthur flit his gaze up to your slightly. You could see the pain in his green, ever changing eyes, all the complex emotions that were hanging there, begging for your confirmation that you loved him despite the utter wreck he was tonight. As you gazed at his dye speckled face, at his wrinkles that complimented the contradiction of a soft and eternally young yet desperately worn face, at his brown curls flopped in front of him boyishly, you knew in that moment that you would not, could not, ever love anymore more than how you loved him. The next words tumbled out of your voice like a string of love manifesting in tangible form, though they would never pierce or properly communicate the depth that was within your soul, a bittersweet heaven of the endless mystery that was true love. "You're so wonderful simply because you're you. I love you for everything that you are, today and yesterday. You're Arthur, darling, my Arthur, and I would never want you any other way than who you are in right this moment." Arthur's eyes watered slightly. You hand was still cupping is face, which he was leaning into you, the weight of his face against the palm of your hand the most heavenly sensation. You fell into a slight trance in the wake of his presence, such as you always did. You memorized how the grey stubble of his face tickled your skin, memorized his worn, beloved lips that were slightly open in anticipation. "Yeah?" he asked in his delicate soft, naive voice. God help him, he was so quick to latch onto your words to determine how he should feel about himself. You knew that you had the power to either build his heart or crush it in that moment. Arthur had put the entirely of his esteem into your hands the second you had shown him you cared about him; Arthur couldn't help but put the totality of his self esteem into the person he loved most. There was something inherently tragic at just how easy he was to convince him about how he should feel about himself one way or the another in and of itself; it truly showed how naive he truly was, how quick he was to believe what other people told him, whether their intentions were good or not. Though your heart ached at how much he poured into you, into how it showed and proved to you just how easy he was to break if his heart was put into the wrong hands, it only made your heart flood all the more at how you knew he desperately needed someone like you, someone whose intentions were pure and good, someone who truly and completely meant every word they said. To know how fragile he was only made him that much more lovable, the flame to protect him that much more burning. "Yes, Arthur," You leaned forward and pressed one deep, loving kiss onto the hollow of his cheek softly. "You're perfectly you." Arthur let out a soft whine, and he leaned into your lips. You two were truly the most perfect pair; where Arthur lacked in confidence, social skill, and outspokenness, you made up for tenfold; and where you needed that unconditional and softy wrought love Arthur able to pour into your the aching parts of your soul until you forgot your own pain that your mind made you endure. Your kiss against his cheek was about one long, passionate minute long, through it felt like a second between you two. Finally, you broke away from his skin, and kept your hand cupped on his face, gently kneading the wrinkles of his beloved face with one thumb. "Can you show me?" Arthur whispered helplessly as you looked into your eyes. "N-Not because I don't think I'm not….ok as me. But I just want to know what it feels like to be…different. I've been the same my whole life, other than my job as a clown, and I just want to know what it feels like to be…something else." Your smile softened, and you nodded. "Of course, angel. Let's get started." Arthur let out a worn smile from his wrinkled, hollowed face, the most precious combination between childlike, tender and yet mysteriously tormented and worn. He emitted emotions from you that you couldn't even describe or understand; such was the unique nature of your Arthur. Every day you were reminded why you loved him. Every day. "What color?" you asked as you made your way to your own collection of hair dye under the counter. "Green," Arthur answered excitledy. "I like green." You smiled tenderly, and got the green hair dye out of the box from your own collection. You set it on the table, considering Arthur before you started. You could tell there was the tip of a question on his tongue; you could see it in the way he fidgeted with his hands and the way his eyes were flittering nervously around the room from time to time, by the way he was stroking his hands through his hair. But you wouldn't dare press him until he was ready. The rest of the night was full of loving messes, green dyed hands, and gentle conversations as you sat Arthur on the toilet seat and dyed his hair just the way he liked. Arthur's regal and perfectly aged face was so beautiful as you caressed his formerly brown curls out of his face, muttering soft words to him about your day, to which Arthur would respond in his own soft, raspy way whenever he had the chance. His words were short and few, however, for much rather would be listen to youand your voice, your stories. You were, after all, what gave him strength. Finally, you were done with the last curl on Arthur's head. You slowly took you hands back, and gently kissed him on the cheek. Arthur's eyes were closed in a deep spell of a trance from the hour he had spent simply sitting there, concentrating on your fingertips against his touch starved scalp, caressing hair behind his ears, each touch sending shivers through his entire body. At your kiss the corner of his lip quip up in happiness, and Arthur leaned into it softly. "All done, my love," you muttered against his skin. "Now we just have to wash." "Mm," Arthur mumbled softly. You could see his eyes trailing back and forth from under his eyelids, as if he was lost in a dream. "I love you, Jess," Arthur muttered softly, so sweet spoken that it was almost a whisper, as if he was only meant to hear it. "I do." You nuzzled the hollow of his face, and pressed your lips to his cheek yet another time. You couldn't get enough of loving every inch of him as much as you were able; never did it grow old for either of you; if anything, your love only became all the deeper with every softly spoken word and touch. Arthur's eyes suddenly flittered open, and he turned his head towards you. There was some deep intensity in them, in those endless fields of green depths, seeming quite literally like a portrait of endless enigmatic wisdom and truths that were so complicated, so instinct within themselves, that to understand him was impossible; yet the addicting search to know what lay underneath every layer was something that would never stop being the most rewarding from of irrevocably addicting. Arthur was about to offer you one layer, though it made his heart pound through his whole body. "Jess….I…." Arthur swallowed, and then his eyes rushed to the ground once more, as if he was trying to avoid some potential pain that only he could see. You cupped his face once more, kneeling in front of him. 'What is it, angel? You know you can tell me anything." Arthur swallowed, then nodded, his eyes still on the ground. "I know. It's just….I didn't want to dye my hair just to be like you, baby." Your quirked an eyebrow upward. "What do you mean?" Arthur took and deep breath, then turned his eyes up again towards yours. "Baby…I wanted us to match. For something…really important." You titled your head sideways, begging for him to continue. Arthur seemed to have the deepest fear in his eyes, yet still he pressed forward. Because for you, anything risk was worth the reward. "Jess….will you…marry me?" Though the words were spoken tentatively and hesitantly, you could physically feel the certainly under his words. They were so strong, so sure, so confident in themselves that Arthur wanted you and you alone, for the rest of his days. All he needed now was to know you felt the same. You felt tears begin to sting your eyes. "Oh, Arthur….I… " You tried to continue, but your throat was closed with emotion. Rather than responding, you pushed your teary face forward, and Arthur's own tears that were beginning to fall melded in with yours as your damp cheek met damp cheek. You let out a soft moan into his touch, and at that small sound, all the confirmation Arthur needed that you wanted him just as much as Arthur wanted you, did Arthur lift you up with his arms, his biceps stretching out from his skin. He lifted you up as you wrapped your thighs around his waist; Arthur squeezed the skin of your thigh in pained desire. Over and over did you lips overlap, until you couldn't physically tell the difference between the moans of your pleasure and the whimpers of Arthur; his own brand of expression of his desperate desire for you to be his. "Yes, Arthur," you whispered breathlessly, somewhere in between the seemingly never ending heaven that was now forming between you two. The idea of you two being bounded as one was now not only an idea but something that was physically manifesting into its only entity that you two could live in forever. Forever and a day. Never would you have thought you would find someone in real life to marry, but Arthur had been everything you had ever longed for and more. "Yes, yes, yes, angel. I will marry you." Arthur let out a raspy, teary chuckle against your lips. His eyes were blurred, his hair was messy with dye; your hands your all the more messier as they carelessly dug into his, and yet you both were the happiest you had ever been in your lives, lost in the perfect space of love deeper than love that you two had wrought together. Lost within the perfectly melded mess of the perfectly knitted together souls you two were, fully alive with the love that both of you had allowed yourselves to become within with the help of the unconditional love of the other. "I will love you forever, Jess. Until I leave this world," Arthur whispered against your lips, voice cracking with emotion. You smiled with ecstatic tenderness into his lips. You knew Arthur didn't bluff. "Me too, Arthur. Me too." -snuggles and scarred souls
Request: Reader watches a horror movie with triggers in it, and Arthur comforts you.
A/N: A short and sweet simple piece. For my shy ace reader. I hope this comforts you in some way 3 I apologize for any personality inaccuracies.
Length: 1,400
Originally posted by fleckmearthur
When your friend initiated you three should all watch a horror movie after a long week at work, Arthur instantly had his doubts. He knew that you had certain triggers and that certain things in a horror movie might set you off. When Arthur questioned your friend if there would be any anxiety triggers such as the ones that might upset you, your friend waved it off, assuring you it was fine. When you three all sat down at her apartment that Friday night, Arthur planted himself next to you, wrapping his arms around you firmly, determined to protect you fromanything and everything that could possibly go wrong-Arthur knew you like the back of his hand, and his gut feeling was telling him that something would go wrong tonight. Something. Arthur himself didn't care for horror movies too much; they reminded him too much of his actual life. The violence, physiological scares, monsters, and sheer lack of safety made Arthur's own calloused soul quake with fear. But you had been so excited, and Arthur would endure anything for you. Anything. Arthur simply buried his face into your hair as the movie started, trying to block out the movie and focus on simply being with you. After all, he had missed you from the long work week. All the while, you chatted with your friend while Arthur tried to focus on your scent, your sweet voice, everything he loved about you. As long as you were in his arms, safe andhappy, that was all that mattered to him. Everything was absolutely fine….at first. Arthur noticed everything about you, you always being the main focus of his attention, and he noticed your trembling instantly as soon as you started doing so in his arms. You were shivering incessantly, and your warm, comforting body that Arthur had pressed to his for his own comfort was now quaking with its own fear. Arthur's thick brows knitted in concern, and he quickly pressed his lips to the back of your head as a way to reassure you that everything was fine, that he was here and he loved you. But your shivering didn't stop, and soon Arthur realized that something in the movie had triggered you. Anger at the irresponsibility of your friend immediately swept over Arthur, and he used his strong arms to lift you from the couch, embracing you in his chestnut sweater covered arms as he glared at your friend. The sassier, more blunt side of Arthur was taking charge now. "You know she hates these kind of things. Why would you allow her to sit through this?" Your friend was stuttering, clearly taken aback. Whether at Arthur or your reaction, you didn't know. "I-I'm sorry. I really didn't realize that it would trigger her." You were being engulfed in everything that Arthur was as they spoke; the strong scent of his cigarettes, cologne and the overall scent of Arthur being the only thing that grounded you in that moment. "A-Arthur…it's fine. Really. They didn't know," you reassured him, but your broken and wobbly voice was hardly reassuring. "They should know better," Arthur responded sternly. He pressed his lips to the top of your head. "Let's go, darling." He gave one slightly hard glance to your friend, then took your hand and headed out the door before you could speak another word. Once you were in the hallway, you felt a bit calmer. Arthur gently caressed your face, concern overflowing his expression. "Arthur….it's alright. I'm sure they didn't meant anything by it." The warmth of Arthur's hands was all that was keeping you centered right then, the touch of them gently wisping over your skin and gifting you a comfort that was radiating in a way that only Arthur's hands could. "I know," Arthur hummed, visibility calmer now. "But anything that puts you in anger makes me protective, sweetheart." He quite literally couldn't help it; if he saw you were in danger, physically, psychologically, or otherwise, his first instinct was excessive protection. This you knew. Arthur loved you with all that he was, and therefore he couldn't stand the idea of you being anything less than happy and safe. You were, after all, his happiness, and he would do anything to protect the one thing in his life that was valuable. "Let's go home," Arthur muttered as he pressed his worn lips to your temple. "You deserve some real rest after this long week." With his warm hand clasped in yours did Arthur lead you home. He kept you close, not allowing one inch to come between you and him on the short but dangerous walk home. He sat you down on the couch as soon as you both arrived home, tucking you under some of the softest, fuzziest blankets he owned. "I'll grab you some warm milk," Arthur rasped softly as he pressed his lips to your temple once more. You didn't argue; you knew that once Arthur's mind was made up to comfort you, it was made up. All the while did Arthur hum "That's Life" to himself as he warmed the milk for you, the soft little quirky tones of his voice comforting you as you gripped the sheets until you could grip on him instead. Though he wasn't the best singer, there was no sound more sweet to you than his voice, You grabbed the mug as he handed it to you. Arthur sat beside you and peppered your face in kisses, until you could feel and focus on nothing but the soft and warm kisses of the man who could chase away your anxieties, triggers and fears in a way that he and he alone could. Arthur kept his nose against your face as you held and sipped the mug, letting the warmth flow through your core, already feeling both physical and mental peace flow through you once more. You smiled tenderly, "Thank you, Arthur." "You're so welcome," Arthur whispered against your face, his cold breath ironically being the warmest and most comforting sensation you had felt all day. You leaned into his touch, taking in every bit of comfort the precious, soft comfort that Arthur's sweet soul granted you. Despite Arthur being such a damage soul himself, he was the best person you had ever met who was astoundingly good at comfort. "I love you," Arthur muttered against your skin. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." His nose was nuzzling against your face softly, his arm wrapping you into his lap. You chuckled softly, lovingly, trying to concentrate on the warmth of his face against yours, of the mug and how it comforted your still shaking body. Arthur whined softly at the nose you made, so desiring was he of you that anything and everything you did reminded him how deeply he loved you. His grasp around your shoulder squeezed even tighter, bringing you even closer onto his lap. He leaned back and until you were lying on top of his chest, caressing your back softly, pressing over and over soft kisses to the side of your temple gently. You simply sat in Arthur's warm arms for hours, the loose strings of his soft sweater kissing tickles against your skin. Arthur muttered sweet nothings into your ear, rocking you back and forth and comforting your tired and scarred soul, caressing your sides and telling you his sweet, corny little jokes that made you laugh softly. Every time you did, Arthur would nuzzle you with yet more affection, which only made you fall deeper into his arms. After a bit Arthur turned on one of his favorite comedy shows, but it mostly was white noise in the background, as Arthur's attention was mostly on loving and comforting you, his favorite purpose in life. His legs were tangled in yours under the soft, warm blanket that was almost as soft as the man himself. Almost. By the end of the night, you had quite forgotten what had even shaken you up so much, forgetting about everything but the sweet heat between you two, and, most of all, the irreplaceable and endlessly sweet soul that was Arthur. How you had been so lucky to have a partner as patient, endlessly understanding, and bursting full of love you didn't know, but you thanked the stars above every day that your damaged but love wrought souls had found one another. - simple adventures Summary: Arthur wishes he could be so much more for you then he is, especially on Valentine's Day. You want more than anything to get him to feel better in even the slightest, despite how impossible the task may seem. A/N: Something sad, simple, and fluffy because that's been the mood. I saw other people writing Valentine's fics over the past week or so and got inspired. I love you Art. Length: 3,312 "Are you ok today, darling?" you asked gently. You squeezed his hand firmly in an attempt to let him know how much you loved him. Words hadn't been enough lately-but then again, neither had actions. The corner of Arthur's mouth raised slightly in an attempt to reassure you, but within seconds did it fall again. "Yeah," Arthur replied heavily, his tone weighed down even as he spoke the words. A lie. "I'm fine, angel." You could feel the sadness in Arthur's body even as you sat next to him on the park bench with your hands entwined. The sadness had been inside of him since you had woken up next to him this morning. Well, really, it had been inside of him since about a week ago. You had kissed him until he was breathless and giggling, until there was nothing but his sweet face and eyes peeking through knobbly fingers back up at you, the melancholy almost seemingly entirely gone. But you knew your Arthur better than that, and you knew as you looked into his sad, turquoise eyes that there was more going underneath those complex depths, on top of the everyday struggles that already plagued against his weak mind. All those struggles were more than rough on him in and of itself,, and in turn, you,so deeply did you care for him, but on top of that, there was a little bit extra layer of sadness today-and you knew it was because it was Valentine's Day. Arthur had expressed to you in more ways than one as the day had come near that he wanted to make today especially special for you. He had tried so damn hard to save up extra money to produce something special for you, to buy you something, to bring you out on a date, to do anything for you at all. Despite your constant reassurance that he didn't have to do anything for the day to be special, you could tell it was weighing him down. Although Arthur had been working his ass off for several weeks just to get even just a extra couple of twenty bucks to take you out somewhere, Hoyt had unexpectedly punished him the week before Valentine's Day was to happen. Something about having Arthur not responding to his sentences fast enough and wasting his time. Some absolute bullshit like that. Arthur had come home with his eyes bloodshot red, and he hadn't even looked at you for hours after he came home. "What happened?" you had asked him tenderly. All you wanted to do in that moment was comfort him, but he wasn't allowing you to. He simply wasn't. He had shyed away every time you had reached out a hand for him. Arthur had merely chuckled without humor, shaking his head, his floppy brown curls hiding his face as he turned away. "I don't deserve you," he had muttered under his breath, barely audible. "I can't give you anything. I try so hard, but it's nothing" He laughed out the next words, rather than spoke them. It was the most painful, joyless sound you had ever heard in your life. "I am nothing." You had felt your throat go dry. "Sweetheart, you know that's not true." Arthur hand't replied. Despite your best efforts, the rest of the night had gone by, dragged by, in the bleakest manner. Arthur hadn't even allowed himself to indulge in the heaven of wrapping his arms around you, nose nuzzled into the curve of your neck, the way he usually did. You hadn't slept that night, physically unable to sleep without his arms around you. You could tell by Arthur's whimpering that it was the same for him. The next morning, you had surprised Arthur with his favorite breakfast, and, although he still had that thick guilt plastered on his face, through your silent touches that were quite literally begging for him to show his love to you again was he unable to resist you. No matter how little he felt he deserved to show it to you. You two had quickly melted back into the maddening dynamic of your love that you two always, always shared with one another the second you were in the presence of the other. But you could tell that heaviness had been with him the whole time ever since, underneath his delicate guise of healing. That had been about a week ago before Valentine's Day, and today was the day that Arthur had been dreading so much. You tried, desperately, to tell him in more ways than one-with your body and speech together-that you loved him simply for him, that you didn't think any less of him simply because he couldn't 'provide' for you the way that he saw men on TV and in magazines too. But the torment of Arthur's mind was deep, and, despite your loving words and his tender smiles in response to them, the doubt and self hatred in his mind remained. You had decided early that morning to go for a walk, to get his heavy heart off of his burdens, to get his mind off of the untrue fact that you were anything less than absolutely and completely, utterly content with his company. You were holding hands with him, hands clasped together tightly, Arthur's grasp a little more weak due to his current self hatred, making your grasp all the more fiercely determined, muttering sweet little conversations to him telling about your thoughts, your day, your life, knowing that your simple voice calmed something in him, reminded him that you were here and whole, even when, ironically enough, he was depressed because of you and your love. Arthur had his hand laying on top of yours, and was nodding at your words, gently caressing your hand with his thumb every now and then. His quiet soul was content to simply listen. It was an almost peaceful moment between the two of you, despite Arthur's obviously gloomy mood, and the only thing that had interrupted it was seeing a couple in front of you. The couple was obviously very wealthy. They both had on thick fur coats, and one was kneeling down next to the other and showing their partner a piece of jewelry that was clearly bought on this day for them to share in as a Valentine's Day gift. Arthur's hand was squeezing a little harder against yours, and you saw a film of wetness begin to appear on his innocent gaze. You bite down on your lip frustration. What were the odds that this would be happening here right in front of you both? Although Arthur didn't say anything, and although he wanted to give off the illusion that he was more than content to listen to your soft little talks-which was the case most days-today he simply could not bring himself to do so. He was distracted, distant. You sighed, stopping in mid-sentence from what you were talking about, and instead turned him, gently stroking the of his face to ease him to look at you. At your touch did Arthur lift his sad, soft eyes over to yours. His green meadows that bore into yours were bleeding with that red film that was from born his inner torment. Your heart shattered as you looked into them. "What?" Arthur muttered, trying to pretend like he wasn't one last spoken word away from crying. He leaned his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest, kissing the top of your head reassuringly. "Please go on, sweetheart. I liked what you were talking about." You sighed again softly and shook your head. "Arthur…baby. I know you're upset, and I know why you're upset. I really wish you would listen to what I'm saying when I say I love you for you." Arthur was watching you with an unreadable expression, still with a film of red over them. "This time that we have for each right now is the best gift I could ever have." He didn't reply, just simply continued to look in your eyes with searching green ones as you continued. "I just wish you could see how much I love you, baby. You. Not money, not gifts." You leaned forward and pressed your lips to the tip of his nose. "You." Arthur nuzzled into your face, though there was still that heaviness in his eyes. You let out a soft sigh of spiritual weariness. "I wish there was a way that I could show you. Prove it to you. It breaks my heart that you don't believe what I tell you." Arthur's eyes were beginning to water even more at your words, and, with one shuttering breath, the resistance against letting his tears fall broke. He bite his lip, and let out small little cackles between painful breaths as he looked into you, trying to search your eyes for answers on how to see himself the way you saw him, finding none. You whimpered in sympathy, wiping away some of the tears falling down his the hollows of his worn, sharp cheek. "I-it's…it's just…" Arthur stammered, trying so hard to speak, but cackles overtook him once more, and he swallowed painfully, bringing a hand to his throat. You gently caressed his shoulders, urging him to try again. "I just feel like no matter what I do…..it will never be what you deserve. I-I…love you so much and….I feel like I don't show it enough." His voice was raspy and rough as he barely managed out the words. Your heart contorted in your chest. "Arthur…You show me how much you love me every day. When you kiss me every morning. When you speak to me. When you wrap your hands around me. When you love me and kiss on me. There's nothing-nothing-I can imagine better than just simply having your touches, your words, having you look at me and having you love me. If I could have the world, I would refuse it, as long as I had you and your soul." Arthur's eyes were shining with something other than pain at your words, but full of agony they still were. You leaned forward and began to kiss the tears that were trailing down his cheek. Arthur leaned into your touch, his lips, cheeks, forehead, and nose clad in wrinkles that deepened as he brushed his worn lips against your hand. You could tell your word calmed him, but they hadn't healed him. Not yet. You had spoken various words of the same love language the past few days, but you hadn't made even the slightest progress until now. "I just wish I could stop being ashamed of myself," Arthur muttered under his breath. You continue to caress his face as he spoke the words under a raspy, pain ridden tone. "I wish you could stop being ashamed of yourself too, darling, but I don't love you any less because of your struggles with your worth. If anything, I only love you more for it. Arthur chuckled softly, his breath beating against your palm. His eyes were staring at the ground, as if to hide his pain from you. You two sat there for a moment, sharing in each other's pain. You smiled slightly as an idea suddenly struck you. You pressed your lips to his forehead, and Arthur looked up at you curiously, as if you were beckoning him with your lips to look at you. Your hand was still against his cheek as you continued to smile mischievously at him, and he returned the smile, uncertain, but always connected to your energy. He could already see that there was something going on in your mind that would perhaps make both of you feel better. "You know, darling," you mused. "We may not have a lot of money, but I do have a little bit of extra cast left left over from a couple of weeks ago. There's a cafe right down the street, and they sell amazing cupcakes and other delicious things. I know they have great things for Valentine's Day. Would you like to go over and see what we could buy?" Arthur gave you an unbearably adorable look of suppressed desire. He looked away from you for a moment, pretending to be lost in thought, pretending like that's not exactly what his childlike wrought heart wanted exactly in this moment. He was often embarrassed how excited he was to do something spontaneous and fun, getting so overjoyed at things that were simple and modest to others. He had learned over the years to hide his true attitude towards such things in the name of being a "normal" adult. But you knew him all too well, and with one kiss against his lips did you make the decision for him. "Come on, baby," you urged encouragingly. You got up and lent your hand out to his. Arthur looked at your hand for a moment, and then, with his true joy grazing across his face, he wiped one more tear with his sleeve boyishly and allowed himself to be lifted up. You giggled happily, so glad to finally getting through to him, and you raced him through the park and down to the local cafe shop with his hand intertwined in his. It was only a few convenient blocks away. You had always been curious about this place, and you were curious now to see what would come out of it. Arthur himself felt his sad smile melt off of his worn face in the slightest in the face of your joy and the sudden simple adventure. Even though his expression still had some pain and insecurity within it, as he always did, always internally wounded was your Arthur, you could tell that there was an excited gleam his eyes that wasn't there before-that hadn't been there for days. Arthur was very easy to please-he was such a simple soul and he was so content with the smallest things. It warmed your heart, and it reminded you how deeply and completely worthy of love he was always. You took him into the cafe, and, with your heart lifting in joy, you saw that the walls were painted all kinds of colors. Pink, yellow, orange-everything that Arthur loved. Arthur adored bright colors, which was one of the reasons why he loved his job as a clown. This all seemed so him-simple, sweet, and joyful. You turned around towards Arthur, and noticed with a striking warmth that his entire face and demeanor had changed from what it had been the past week. His eyes were now full of striking joy as he looked around him, his mouth hanging open slightly in his awe. He looked so damn adorable, and in that moment you couldn't help but wonder if he had ever even been inside a cupcake shop, or anything even slightly like it. You laughed softly, and leaned over to gently press your lips to his. Arthur responded eagerly, pressing kisses all over every inch on your face, nuzzling into the side of it eagerly and happily, leaving your skin bruising and blushing in response to his affection that was so powerful it was almost leaving your skin throbbing with the sheer force of love he was putting on your skin. "Thank you, thank you, baby," he whispered against your face. "I feel so much better already. Thank you for spending time with me, for being here for me." "Arthur, I would do anything for you. Every single day," you whispered quietly against him and his kisses. "Now let's get some cupcakes." At this did Arthur nod eagerly. You smiled, your hand still in his, turned around, and began to browse. "What flavor do you want, baby?" you asked tenderly. Arthur looked at the cupcakes with an excited gleam in his eyes. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, and then leaned over onto the glass, face pressed against it, eyes open wide with fascination, as if he had never seen a cupcake in his life. Maybe he hadn't. He was studying each cupcake with comical concentration, staring at each one for a considerable time with a hard and focused gaze. "I don't care what I want," Arthur said against the glass. Another lie. His clear concentration was giving away how much he truly cared-or, at the very least, it was showing off how fascinated he was by the simple small cakes. Either way, it was the most precious sight he had ever seen in your life. "I care what you want," he continued. He lifted his face from the glass to look a you. He looked so helpless and cute with his knees crouched down, his hands still pressed against the glass, brown hair flopping in his face. "What sweetheart do you want, sweetheart?" You knew there was no way that you were going to be able to get through this man. Once he was set on making you happy, there was no way to get him to think about himself. There simply wasn't. So you decided you may as well just make the decision for you both, though you knew it wasn't his favorite. Arthur had never shared with you what his favorite flavors were; he always skipped over any questions you asked him about himself, finding you much more interesting. You felt so terrible for it, but you could tell by the way his face softened whenever you spoke that for now, what truly made him happy was simple focusing on you. "I personally like strawberry." Arthur gave you a small little smirk on the side of his corner of his mouth. "Your favorite," he muttered tenderly. He stood up and wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing your head once more. "Strawberry sounds perfect," he mumbled against your hair with absolute confidence. He was only ever confident when it came to making you happy. He took your hand in his once more and kissed the top of your head. You smiled weakly, knowing that he only said that because he knew youenjoyed it. You knew Arthur didn't like strawberry. But all he wanted today was to make you happy, and so you would grant him as much. You would allow him to "spoil" you for this one day, although he already did every day with his presence. But since he wouldn't take your word for it, you would play along and allow him to feel like he was doing so in the way that he deemed as worthy. Maybe one day he would understand. Within a few minutes, you had gotten your cupcake, and you two were eating it on the small cafe table in the corner of the room. You were sitting next to one another, literally sharing one small cafe chair, legs overlapping, not wanting be apart for even one moment. You were holding the cupcake in one hand, both of you eating from each side of it until your lips met in the middle. Arthur chuckled against your lips as his met yours. The last of the surgery substance dissolved between the both of your mouths, and Arthur's lips instantly began to engulf yours hungrily. Your crumb coated and frosty covered lips met, and you smiled, beginning to gently press tender kisses against one another until your lips were completely crumb free. Arthur smiled against your lips. "So much better than the sweetest sugar," he mumbled. You hummed softly, lost in a helpless haze in the wake of his presence. "I already feel so much better," Arthur whispered against your lips. "How do you feel?" "As long as you're happy, darling, "I'm happy." Arthur smiled, and pressed one last kiss to your lips, long, thoughtful, and soul strikingly deep. - perfectly imperfect Request: Could you do some HC where reader is possessive/jealous/protective of Arthur? Thank you A/N: This isn't a headcanon but it centers around the general theme of this request. I've been feeling really insecure in relationships lately so this is kind of a mood. Warning: slight toxic traits are shown, such as jealousy over friendship. Reader feels bad for it though and is self aware of their flaws, and there is closure with the conflict. Just a warning. Length: 2,498 Originally posted by fider131 Arthur has been entirely too friendly with the woman at the park lately. To be fair, you had been entirely…a little too insecure lately. A little too…jealous of every little thing. Possessive, even. Even now, as you stood a few feet away from Arthur and watched with crossed arms, you felt your throat closing in, your heart clenching painfully. You saw him smiling and giggling in that soft way that only Arthur could, and that twinge if jealousy in your chest that was becoming all too familiar was burning like a flame, unapologetic and shearing despite your desire to not feel it. He was smiling your smile at the woman, and she was returning it with gleaming eyes and an all too friendly gaze. They did have great chemistry, you thought bittersweetly. You had been so overwhelmed by life lately. You were doubting your work, your life, your job, the few relationships you had, and, on top of that, Arthur had made a new friend at the park you both walked at every day. Time that was supposed to be meant for the two of you alone. Make no mistake, you were so happy for him. You knew Arthur didn't make friends easily. He never did, as a matter of fact. But through your love had he become more confident, and it shined through every little thing he did now; how he talked to people, walked, expressed himself. Yourlove was truly doing wonders for him, and he was becoming so much better at easing into conversations with people, relating to them. You were more than happy for him…but as you stood and watched him talk to the woman now, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervous hopelessness. He looked so…content as he stood there and talked to the women now. And he was so damn charming and adorable, his raspy, endearing laugh trailing through the air as he cackled at something the woman had said. Your Arthur was truly a catch, and through your love were you peeling away the trauma and revealing the precious, irreplaceable man inside. Arthur could have anyone he wanted, truly. Especially once he started being his own precious, sensitive and selfless self. Which is why you felt like you might be losing him now. You didn't talk to them. You stood to the side, arms crossed, taking in the sounds of their joyful conversation grimly. You felt like a spoiled kid standing there and watching them with a slightly grumpy expression, especially with how good of an attitude the woman had. You felt like an insecure, grumpy and immature adult in comparison to her, but you couldn't help it. This woman just happened to always be there every time you two went for walks together, the one time that you truly had Arthur all to yourself, save right before bed, when both of your work was done for the day. She was one of the friendliest people that either of you had ever met in a very long time, and it was starting to show how much Arthur was taking a liking to her. Of course, you wanted Arthur to have a friend, and of course you wanted to like her. Friendly souls were rare in Gotham, after all. You wanted nothing but the best for him. But. You were so intensely caught up and intertwined with him, so proud to have him as yours, so unbelievably in love with him that you couldn't help but feel like there was a little something extra going on as you watched him get along well with this exceptionally attractive woman. Maybe if you weren't so head over heels with Arthur, so unbelievably content in the love that you had built with him, these slightly toxic traits that were coming out of you now wouldn't be here, infesting in your heart. But you felt you quite literally couldn't help the slight tug of jealousy that tore at your heart like a little painful strike of insecurity, of longing, as if he wasn't already yours. It was aggravatingat your heart unapologetically as you watched them. Arthur had his arms crossed over his chest, his two hands clasped together as he bellowed over in laughter at something the woman had said. That tug of jealousy only grew more intense as you watched him. Arthur never laughed like that at one of your jokes. Of course you had amazing, great times together, and of course you always made each other laugh, but you had never made him literally double over himself the way that he was now. The woman was doing the same. You can't watch anymore, and you simply looked away with tears in your eyes as you bite down your lip, desperately trying to deny to yourself how intensely you were feeling these unpleasant emotions in this moment. These thoughts. After a few more minutes, Arthur finally said his goodbyes, and he waved to her as he begin to walk over to you, a smile still left over on his face, looking a little lovesick in his eyes. You desperately hoped you were wrong. "Goodbye, Y/N!" The woman sang with her perfectly melononic voice to you as she began to walk away. You turned your head towards her and did a curt nod as a way of being as polite as you could possibly manage, despite your current emotions. Arthur walked next to you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, kissing the top of your forehead. He instantly sensed the tension inside of your being, however, so well did he know you, and he felt his own insides tense, his face tightening in worry as he looked at you. "Sweetheart? What's wrong?" he questioned, his eyebrows thick furrowing and worried as he considered you. "Why didn't you come over and talk with us? I missed you." "Nothing." God help you. You were practically pouting. "Just tired. Didn't feel like it." Your voice was so curt and blunt, and you knew it was disgustingly obvious that you were clearly not okay, that your words were clearly not the truth. Arthur's wrinkles deepened on his his face as he considered your complete lack opening up to him. You never did this. You two always opened up to one another about what the other was feeling, no matter how complicated. It was one of the most valuable things about your relationship. "You're allowed to be upset about whatever it is, but please don't pretend like nothing is wrong," Arthur muttered to you softly, his voice as smooth and as loving as melted honey. He only ever used this tone with you and when you were upset, and your felt your heart lift slightly at the sign that he still loved you in that way. You and you alone. You sighed, and tightened your arms even further across your chest. You were a complete bundle of absolute tension right now, trying to deny your feelings to yourself, so disgusted were you with your own thoughts and feelings. But then, you realized with a suppressed sigh, you genuinely couldn't help the tugs of insecurity that were tugging at your heartstrings, even now, even with his warm arm wrapped around you, even with his endless green meadows looking at you with all the softened concern in the world. You were just so unbelievably scared of losing him. "It's so stupid, Arthur," you mumbled, looking away, not allowing yourself to look him in the eyes. You were scared that if he looked into your eyes, he'd realize how fully flawed you truly were. You were completely ashamed for how you were feeling. "It really is so stupid. Let's just move on." But Arthur shook his head, and he took his hand and cupped your face, gently leading your gaze over to look at him. Never would he have had the confidence to do this before your love, but through you had he learned to take the reigns when your own strength failed. "Y/N, nothing you ever think will ever be stupid. Never, darling," he muttered at he looked at you with an undeniable look of absolute lovesick warmth in his eyes. You dared to look into his eyes momentarily, feeling temporarily welcomed to with his hand against your face, despite your shame. You knew now that that lovesickness was reserved for you and you alone. His own tears begin to form his gaze as he saw yours, forming a red film over his eternally sweet eyes. Dear God, he was so pure. Was he even human, let alone yours? He seemed too good for any soul that would ever grace this earth, let alone your own flawed and unremarkable one. You sighed, and you turned your lips to the inside of his palm, kissing the inside of it softly. "Arthur, it's just….I'm so worried that I'm going to lose you one day. That once you realize how precious you are, you'll find someone better than me. Someone a little bit less flawed, a little bit more secure, more funny…and you'll just leave me. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, sweetheart, and I can't imagine my life without you. I'm so worried that I'll fuck up somehow, and you'll see the real me. All of me….You'll leave, and you'll run away with some woman that's easier to get along with the me." You didn't look up inside his eyes as you spoke the words. The only sign that he had heard you was you feeling the bones of his hand tense, his skin starting to sweat as you spoke your truth. Your breath was shaking. You were so damned nervous what would happen now. There was a long silence. Your heart thudded in your chest. Maybe this was already the end. A self fulfilling prophecy. Little did you know, Arthur was looking at you with a shocked expression as he considered your words. "Y-Y-Y/N….how could you even think like that?" he whispered. There was genuine shock and disbelief on his face, hurt, even, as he barely managed to stutter out the words. His hand was strained and frozen against your face, as if he had been struck. "Y-you honestly think I would ever leave you? After everything you've done for me? After how much I've fallen in love with you?" You looked even further down at the sound of his broken voice, feeling salt tears fall down your face. You didn't know what to say-you were still so embarrassed and ashamed that you were feeling this way. "Y/N, look at me." Although you so didn't want to, you didn't deserve to, you gradually trailed your eyes up to him. Arthur's pools of absolute art looked winded as he looked into yours, so complex and so full of so many different emotions wrestling with each other in that moment. "I'm yours," Arthur whispered. There was a new kind of confidence in his voice now. He felt every ounce of strength come forth in his body in the wake of your pain. "Absolutely, completely yours-and no one is ever going to take me away from you. Not unless it's absolutely what you want." He leaned forward and nuzzled into your hair he pressed his arms around all of you, lips lost into your hair as he spoke his words of promise. "Entirely yours. Always." You felt relief sore through your soul, but you were also still so guilty that you were making Arthur reassure you-and, worst of all, almost making him apologize for making a friend. "Arthur, I'm so sorry. You're allowed to talk to and make friends with whoever you want. I want you to be as happy as you can be. I….I don't want to deny you anything. It's just….sometimes I'm just so worried that one day you'll realize how much of a catch you really are….and you'll realize how much of a mess I am and you'll just…." Your words trailed away in your torment. Arthur said nothing. He simply squeezed himself tighter around you, as tight as he could without breaking you, breathing in your scent. There was so much he wanted to tell you in the heat of this moment, so much he needed to say to tell you how unbelievably wrong your words were, that Arthur didn't even know where to begin. The words were stuck in his throat. There was so much that needed to be said against your false words that it was almost infuriating. Rather than telling you, he would simply have to show you over a period of time how perfectly and wonderfully you two matched each other, flaws and all. How your imperfections complimented his own. How he had the same fears about you, and he found it so humorous that you felt like one day he would be the one to leave. When he literally couldn't imagine life without your soft voice and gaze by his size every day, making him better with every kiss and every spoken word that you shared with one another. Your brokenness was his strength, and he found no better reason to love, no richer reason to love, than in your perfectly wrought flaws, "Darling, you've done so much for me, and I will never be able to repay you," Arthur muttered softly. "I couldn't make friends before you. Now I can. I didn't feel deserving of love before you….Now I do. I didn't know I could love….now I now I can, better than I could have ever imagined. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, sweetheart, and it's only because of you that I'm getting better. There's something irreplaceable about you, darling, and nothing will ever be able to come between us." He gently brushed his lips against the lobe of your ear, nibbling it softly. "One day you'll realize how much I love you." You laughed softly. It was a sad, ironic expression of your complicated emotions. "And one day I'll be able to accept it." You felt Arthur smile against the side of your face. Though you felt like you were completely out of control of your life, with Arthur's warm arms wrapped around you, with his soft reassurances, not even your ill and tormented mind could convince you that he was leaving you anytime soon. If ever. Just as your scars were his, his scars were yours, and nothing could come between two souls with a genuine connection. Not looks, not charm, nor wealth or riches. The value that a true understanding of another's soul was beyond priceless, more rare and more enrichening than anything of the world. Arthur was a wise enough soul to know this fully. Maybe one day you would be, as well. Perfectly imperfect was your love, and Arthur would have it no other way. As long as you were you, that was all he wanted, until the end of his days. -Tucking Arthur into bed HC's
A/N: super super soft Arthur content bc I love it *shrugs* I hope tumblr didn't ruin any of the formatting sksksks i checked 3 times
Length: 2,228
There were just some nights when Arthur needed a little more comfort than usual, and after the first time you had tucked Arthur into bed in that extra snuggly way, it had become his new favorite thing. Much like the gif above, when you made even the slightest sign that bedtime would be soon, he would get up and rush over to bed with unsuppressed excitement. God, he even loved it more than Murray Franklin and cuddling, and that was saying something. Some nights, he would simply just watch you while you did your nighttime routine of work, his skinny frame leaned against the wall, watching your every move with his arms crossed, waiting ever so patiently-despite his burning desire for your comfort-trying to gauge when you would be ready to indulge him in his favorite time of day…or night, rather. Bedtime was Arthur's favorite time of night, of his entire day, even, and an additional layer of comfort before bed was often what he needed to give him that little extra something of a reminder that he was loved. If there was anything that you had learned about Arthur over the years, it was that he was an incredibly huge sucker for extremely playful, intimate moments, especially late at night, when his bones were tired from a long, cruel day. There was just something about being tucked in that healed more things for him than just the harsh day that he had just had. There was something special about the security of the blankets being tightly wrapped around him that squeezed his body like a warm hug, with you kissing him in gently all the while, speaking to him softly and gently as you whispered stories and loved infused words to him before he slept with the sheets tucked around his thin body just so, applying just the right amount of pressure as they were pressed tightly against his body like a cocoon. They healed some of those deeper scars that were embedded within his psyche. He hadn't…..had a fun childhood. He hadn't even had a safe childhood, as a matter of fact. He had been entirely forgotten. His childhood has been the worst part of his life, and it had defined the permanent damage that was in his soul and brain alike. And there was just something about your slightly motherly love that you showed him at times when he needed that extra bit of specific love that his younger self had been deprived of that helped those wounds get a little air, to breathe a sigh of relief that they had been craving since they had been ripped into his essence. He wouldn't ask to be tucked in, of course not. He was always so worried about asking for the wrong thing, or pissing you off somehow. He knew you loved him, but there was just some permanently embedded insecurity in him that kept him from always asking for what he wanted. Needed. Rather, he simply sat in the bed and looked at you with pleading green eyes. Sometimes, he would do it before you were even in the bedroom, and, even if you were in the other room working on something diligently for minutes or even hours, he would just sit there on the bed like a desperate dog waiting for his nightly cuddles and the comfort of being tucked in. In the meantime, he would play with his hair, twiddle his thumbs, and look down at his feet as he dangled them back and forth on the edge of the bed. There were many nights when he went to bed before you, being the more tired and worn between you two. Your work was done more so during the night at home, and his was more so during the day on his feet. You tried your best to join him when he went to bed, knowing how much it comforted him, but you had long nights full of endless assignments, and sometimes he simply needed to go to bed earlier than you. He would take off his shoes, placing them at the end of the bed in the most neat and gentlemanly fashion as he prepared to wait for you. If it was hours? He didn't care, as long as he eventually got to have you put him to bed. You would walk into the room after hours of work, foggy in the head, muttering to yourself about everything that you had to do, your brain busy with lots of busy passionless tasks as you continued mumbling under your breath and thought about everything little thing you had to do that night. All your busy and clouded thoughts would abruptly come to an end when you saw Arthur sitting on the bed, with his floppy locks brown curls dangling in his face, looking at you with pleading boyish eyes as he sat with his legs crossed into one another, looking at you with that question in his eyes. Your heart would melt, forgetting the cruel grind of your day and work instantly. Arthur tended to have that effect on you. "Oh, Arthur," you would mutter softly. "Is tonight one of those nights?" Arthur would nod either vigorously or shyly, depending on how needy he was feeling for you love, and, additionally, how much shame for asking for it he was feeling. Even now, he still felt bad for asking you for anything. You would hum softly and would walk over, kissing the top of his forehead gently, to which he leaned into with pleasure and a soft noise of celebration. This had, after all, been theone thing he had been looking forward to all day, the one thing that had helped him fight his negative thoughts and the harshly spoken words of others- your affection. You would smile softly, and then processed to tussle his hair. Arthur would be reduced to a pile of giggles and furious blushing, his wrinkles deepening into his face as he smiled. Playfulness suited him well. You would gently take his shirt off for him. Arthur would raise his arms up, allowing you to pull the fabric over his head and toss it to the floor. Then, like an excited boy would he bounce under the sheets, burying his head into the pillow, giggling and blushing all the while, so clearly excited for bedtime. You had never seen him this excited than he was at this time of your day. You would get on your elbows and would lean your body on top of his, gently stroking his crawls out of his hair. He would look at you with that blessed crooked smile, the gaps in his teeth greeting you, complimented with shining green eyes. God help him, he would look so helpless and hopelessly breakable in that moment, so easy to shatter in his innocence that it almost seemed tragic how easy he was to crush. But knowing of his endless fragility, how his preciousness was so unbelievably rich and yet could be snatched away if put in one wrong hand, and yet he had chosen your hands to carry his bleeding heart…..oh, it only made your love from that much stronger Arthur would raise his arms in a comical, exaggerated fashion once again to give you space to tuck the bedsheets fully around his torso, beaming at you and giggling to himself all the while as you pushed the sheets around his form and tucked them under him. You would pat the covers all over his thin body until he was "snug as a bug in a rug", as you put it, the saying always making Arthur laugh wholeheartedly, his face squishy, soft, and the absolute definition of adorable as he did so. In those moments, you couldn't help but pepper his chin, neck, and face, hell, every inch of his exposed skin in kisses until tell he was giggling even more, pushing you away playfully with his hands gently as he did so, though of course not actually making any real effort because, oh, how he adored your sweet kisses that perfectly complimented the tightening warm sensation that he felt from the sheets being wrapped around his thin body now. Once his entire body was quite literally bound tight with the sheets around him, you having wrapped the sheets around the entirety of his body so that he quite literally couldn't move unless he made a visible effort, locked tight in the most cozy fashion, did you begin to kiss his forehead over and over and over again until Arthur's eyes begin to flutter shut with the slightest bit of sleep. Arthur loved this feeling of physical tight security, it was like a permeant warm hug that never ended, chasing all his bad thoughts away. Some nights, he would simply drift off that way, with you pressing your lips on his forehead repeatedly, softly speaking sweet little nothings to him until he felt a heavenly peace of sleep overtake him. Sometimes a small "nighty night, Y/N" would escape his lips before he drifted off. Most of the time, however, he simply fell asleep, love stricken eyes blinking sleepily at you before he succumbed to the heaviness of them. The other nights he was a little bit more wound up from his day, a little bit more needy and jittery, and he needed a little bit of extra comfort, aka good natured and love spoken conversation, to help lull him to sleep. This conversation could range from you simply talking about your day, to you talking about your hopes and dreams together, to Arthur ranting about his feelings with your soft hums and nods of understanding, or sometimes, would you even tell him a story. Arthur loved being told stories, especially right before he slept. It reminded him that there was more out there than the cold, unforgiving streets of Gotham, even if it was just in your heads and sleepy conversations. Sometimes, if you tried to get up and leave when Arthur seemed like he was on the brink of sleep, he would gently tug on your sleeve before you could fully get up, looking at you with sleepy, teary eyes. "Wait. D-don't go. Tell me a story," Arthur would practically plead. You would let out a soft little whine of love, and you would sit back down next to him and gently wrap your arm around his shoulder or under his neck so that his head was leaning on your arm. You were a great storyteller, especially with Arthur inspiring you, and you were good at thinking up stories on the spot. So often would you tell him stories of creatures and of mythical stories that were full and complex. Things so different from Gotham that it would make Arthur's eyes light up with wonder. It was a time that was just as therapeutic for you as well, though clearly Arthur was the one that got the most out of it, the appreciation and magic shining in his eyes. You loved him with all your heart, and to spend this time with him reminded you how deep and precious the love that you had made with him truly was. Finally, after an hour or so did you finish, and ever so slowly would you press your lips to his as one last romantic reminder of how deeply you loved him. Or, other times, he would already be asleep before you even finished, and you would simply coo at him softly and turn out the light, murmuring "goodnight, Arthur" as you gently kissed his cheek so as not to wake him, and shut the door behind you. There were some days when you simply couldn't resist him, however, with his brown hair flopped gracefully around him, his innocent face relaxed in an endearing sleep, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. True passion would sweep over you at how much you couldn't believe that such a rare, innocent angel had chosen you, of all people to trust and love, and it was those nights when you would mutter gentle, soft words to him while you watched him sleep, hoping that the words would reach him, even in unconsciousness. Once you were done, you would rush to the other side of the bed and lie down next to him, and with utmost tenderness would you wrap your arms around him, kissing his neck softly, careful not to wake him from his soft, tender and rare moment of peaceful slumber. This was a quieter passion that you two shared, but it was no less powerful in how it screamed of your love for one another. You would feel sleep overtake you as well. Falling asleep while watching Arthur was the sweetest sensation that you had ever been granted, and you were so grateful to be experiencing it now with his soft, gentle essence leaking out of him as his mouth was open slightly in the most adorable way. You would always look forward to morning; you just couldn't wait to see his sparking eyes again. To talk to him again. But for now, with his innocent face knocked out and his limp body pressed against yours, you already knew you had the world against your body, that he was happy, and that was more than enough. - hree is company Summary: To make up for the cruelty of his coworkers, Gary asks Arthur to hang out. It is, after all, Valentine's Day, and both of them are lonely. Arthur eagerly albeit nervously agrees, and what happens for the rest of the night is nothing short of a bittersweet disaster. Luckily, the presence of the person who Arthur has crushed for ages comes from down the hall and saves him from a night that would have otherwise been full of almost nothing but humiliation. A/N: A literal accidental Valentine's one shot sskkssk. I wrote this as just a normal one shot, but since I was posting this on V day anyway, I decided I may as well integrate the holiday in here. It helped make it sweeter so it works! Screw it sksksk. Reader and Arthur are only 'friends' in this, but romance is heavily implied. Fluff. Teasing, bullying, women objectified in conversation, and Arthur having bad laughing attacks and slamming his head against the wall involved. Blood mentioned briefly. Length: 5,071 The men of Haha'a were, as usual, bellowing and bantering in the most obnoxious way possible, unapologetic to anyone who heard them. "So are you going to that Valentine's party tonight?" "Fuck yeah. It's going to be a fucking wild ride of a time. Are we going to go to that strip club later?" "Oh yeah. That's where it's at. We've already talked about that several times. All the details are laid out. We got reservations and everything. We are going to get some pussy tonight, lads." Loud cackles bounced around the small, little cluttered space that was Haha's. There were five burly men standing in the space, indulging their usual loud, sleazy repartee and conversations. They were distastefully talking about every little nasty little thing that they were going to do to those women later that night. There were only two other men occupying the space that weren't a part of this little disgusting brawl, consisting of a thin man named Arthur, who was sitting in the corner facing the wall, scribbling something ferociously in a notebook, lost in his own world-or, at least, attempting to be-and small man named Gary, who was rummaging around in his locker, desperately pretending to be busy with some tasks, trying to hide just how uncomfortable he was. Though they were both desperate to leave, Hoyt hadn't officially released his employees for the day yet, and the two outcasts were feeling something a little bit more painful than just awkwardness as they stood there and were forced to listen to the other men's disgusting banter. This went on for about another half hour, and, by the end of it, to say that the souls of these two men were weary was an understatement. Finally, Hoyt's face poked out in the crack of the door, and he gazed around the small little space with that constant and permanent look of disapproval plastered on his face. "Hey, you lousy fucks, you're free to go," his gruff, tired voice announced. He was partially joking about the "fucks" nickname, but Arthur also knew that he partially wasn't. Hoyt had made it fairly clear some time ago that he did have a genuine distaste for his employees, for whatever reason. With that, the men began to shoulder each other as they made their way out of the stuffy space and grabbed their things. Though Arthur desperately wanted to leave, he was going to wait to go until the space was empty. He waited in a painfully detached state as he stared at the wall in front of him, hearing them grumbling and still joking to the other. They had, for the moment, forgotten about their prey that was Arthur, and he was going to keep himself as small as he could to make sure that didn't change. Arthur was more than content to be forgotten in circumstances such as this. He was quite literally feeling a heavy weight being lifted off of his shoulders as he heard the clink of the door that announced them leaving, the silence that they left behind sounding like music to Arthur's ears. He was always scared to leave before them, convinced that somehow, by getting up, he would draw attention to himself, and therefore he would be made fun of and ridiculed even more than he already was by default. Much rather would he prefer to stay in that forgotten corner and simply crunch up his thin body into himself, pretending to be hyper focused on some project in order to increase his chances of being left alone. He hated the way these men talked. He didn't even understand what these men were talking about, exactly; what was "pussy" and why was it worth bragging about? Arthur's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he thought about it. Was it some kind of medication that made you feel better? Arthur supposed that something like that would be worth bragging about, but what did it have to do with a strip club? Either way, the talks didn't sound like anything good. Gary, like Arthur, simply wasn't comfortable, and although he wasn't teased quite as much as Arthur, he still had his fair share, and, additionally, he simply didn't share any of the superficial, objectifying desires that these men did, so he did much of the same approach to avoid the talk, pretending to be organizing his locker eternally every time the man started talking like…that. There was silence. Arthur quickly seized the moment of rare peace and shot his thin body up, rushing to his locker with inhuman speed, just wanting to grab his stuff and leave as soon as fucking possible. His hands were trembling. He just wanted to go. Valentine's Day was hard enough as it was with his isolation and touch starved nature, and being around emotionally abusive coworkers made it even worse. He just wanted to go home, watch one of his favorite reruns of Murray, doodle in his journal, and fall asleep on the couch. That was the most he could hope for, and, although it was an undeniably a lonely night, as long as he was away from cruel souls would it be enough. Just as Arthur thought he was off the hook and was about to start leaving with his things, his heart dropped as he heard the footsteps of one of them coming back upstairs. Arthur was exposed now, standing up and bringing attention to himself, and, although he was staring at the ground, brown curls flopped in his face, trying so hard to make himself invisible, it didn't work. He saw out of the corner of his eye the man smirk on his meaty face, and Arthur cursed inside of himself. Of course the one time he wanted to be invisible was when he wasn't. His arms were plastered at his side now, thin legs pressed together, completely stuck in the paralysis brought on by anticipation and fear. The man picked up a stray clown nose rolling on the floor and threw it at him, hitting his chest, making Arthur cringe into himself. Although it didn't physically hurt, it was the intention and disrespect behind the action that did. "Hey, Artie boy, you want to come and sniff out the ladies with us?" he egged on, completely and entirely patronizingly. "I know they're all over you." Arthur bit down on his lip hard, already feeling tears begin to roll down his face. "I bet they can't wait to just get their hands all over a handsome guy like you. What with that gangly body and the wrinkled face, and the ribs protruding out of your ass-yep, all that is totally what the ladies go after." The man bellowed over at his own joke, putting his hands to his stomach. Arthur simply pressed his lips together until they were white, and continued to stare at the wall, trying pretending like he wasn't there, that he wasn't seen by this cruel man. Maybe, just maybe, if Arthur pretended hard enough, it would be true, and the man would leave Arthur alone. WIshful thinking. "Hey it's okay, Arthur," he continued once he came down from his fit. Red in the face with that mocking laughter. "I mean, I know it's all jokes. I'll make sure to tell the guys that you have a busy schedule. You know, sitting around and jerking yourself off." With those words Arthur felt his face go red. Arthur did actually did play with himself when he was alone, being so touch starved, and he was already ashamed for it by default. When he was ridiculed for it, it only made him feel even worse for it. He felt absolute shame and self-loathing sweep through his soul. With one last chuckle did the men leave once again, leaving Author standing there, feeling nothing but shame and an emptiness that was overtaking every other emotion at that moment. He felt tears begin to fall down his face, and he chuckled to himself once as he wiped them away with a sleeve. Arthur let out a few audible sobs. His legs were shaking, and he had to sit down for a moment to calm himself down, gasping and heaving, openly weeping. He thought he was alone, that Gary had gone home too, so he let the sobs ring around the space without any suppression. After a few minutes of this, he rubbed his wet face with one worn hand, took a deep sigh, and decided to move forward with what he had to do. He was just getting ready to do his usual routine of gathering his stuff and then rushing home as fast as he could to escape any more abuse that might come his way…..when suddenly he felt a small warm and gentle tap hand on his shoulder. Arthur turn his face ever so slightly in the eccentric, strained way that he did when he was in one of these upset moods. It was almost creepy how he craned his neck, that unreadable look on his face, but Gary knew him better than that. He knew that often, with Arthur, he expressed himself in this eccentric when he was dealing with his inner dark emotions, emotions that would be chased away with even the smallest bit of kindness. "Hi, Gary," Arthur barely managed to mumble through his tears as he bit his lip. He sounded like a small, broken, and disappointed little boy. His face was trembling, and, though he was trying so hard to appear ok, Arthur always wore his heart on his sleeve, and his true emotions were written all over his red, tear soaked face. Gary was looking at him with understanding, smiling at him empathetically, traces of sadness in his own face. He had the complete portrayal of kindness on his features right then as he looked at Arthur. But the look was almost foreign Arthur. They had shared a couple of nice exchanges a few times before, but never so much to the point that he thought that this kind of grace would happen now, when Arthur was at his lowest. Although he couldn't deny that he appreciated it immensely. "Hey," Gary said softly. "How are you doing, mate?" He asked it as a way to show him that he cared. It was blindingly obvious how Arthur was actually doing, regardless of his answer. Arthur shrugged his shoulders as an attempt to try and to rub off the clear crisis that he was having. He didn't answer. He knew that his tears and trembling lip told Gary all that he needed to know. "Hey, there's a party tonight, and I know that neither of us really fit in, or… want to go," Gary continued, a bit shyly. "I mean, if it's alright, would you want to spend tonight hanging out? Would you mind? We could go over to your house or my place." Arthur continued to lift up his face as he continued, suddenly intrigued. "I know that we haven't hung out very much, but that could change. We work just as hard as these guys, and I think we deserve a day off just as much as anyone else, eh?" Gary smiled at Arthur with genuine kindness. Arthur almost felt like he was hallucinating this moment. Surely Gary couldn't actually be asking him to hang out without it being a joke. The only thing that reminded him that it was real was the warm touch from Gary's hand against his thin shoulder, with the voice that was speaking to him that was as clear as day-although, Arthur remembered with a grimace, he had hallucinated voices before. But this was real, Arthur could tell. Ever so slowly, as Arthur's wretched brain began to process that this was truly happening, a soft little smile graced his face, greeting Gary's welcoming eyes that were sparkling like warm honey. "M-m-m-my-my place works," Arthur offered. He couldn't believe he was even getting the words out. "If you want." He was merely offering his place because he knew his mom would be in bed early, and it was those hours that were the longest and the loneliness. Maybe, by having a friend over, those long hours would be redeemed a little bit, although his heart beat nervously at the thought of having someone over. Gary smiled showing his teeth, and he nodded. "That sounds great! What time should I come over?" "I-I-I-I don't know it's up to you," Arthur stuttered. In the wake of the alien concept of kindness, Arthur simply didn't know what to do with himself. He still couldn't believe this is actually happening. Gary nodded happily, and he quickly and gave him a small pat on the shoulder that wasn't patronizing or unfriendly at all-just simply a genuine sign of comfort. Arthur felt a weird, warm feeling strike through his body that he had never felt before in his life. "I'll come over around seven," Gary offered. "Since that's when their party is starting, we can just have our own party and make it twice as good." Gary smiled at him softly, and with that, he began to take his stuff and headed out the door, offering Arthur one last reassuring smile before leaving. Arthur sat there for a couple of moments longer, staring at the ground, still not being able to believe that the last few minutes had happened. He had never had a friend over ever in his life. He never had someone 'hang out' with him before his life. What do people even do when they hang out? What exactly did they talk about? Was there a certain expectation that went along with it that Arthur didn't know about? Suddenly, Arthur fault an intense strike of panic, and he began to rush everything into a bag and quickly, like a child, arms splayed out as he ran, did he begin to rush out the door and run home as if his very life depended on it. For some reason, he was feeling incredibly anxious now, his heart beating against his ribcage like a caged animal. He felt that if he didn't get every little damn thing right that he had ever seen on every TV show that something would go horribly wrong, or that Gary would never talk to him ever again-the only person who has ever showed him kindness. He didn't want to lose that kindness now. Within minutes was Arthur home, tossing his bag carefully to the side, heaving intensely, lungs burning from the cold wind. He began to quickly to throw away everything that meant anything to him. He threw his ten self-made Murray Franklin mugs into the cabinet, all drawn on with sharpie, tossed and threw every outdated knitted sweater that he owned into the closet, threw away every little childish drawing that he had ever made and threw those into the closet as well. He went to the side of the fridge and tossed away every single balloon animal instruction and clown related thing that he had ever bought. Although Gary was a clown himself, Arthur collected many things that showed off just how enthusiastic he was about it, and Arthur was convinced that he always had to hide who he was in order to be accepted. And that was no exception now. Although Gary was always incredibly kind to him, that didn't mean, necessarily, that that he would accept Arthur for him. Arthur had never been accepted for who he was in the entirely his whole life, and he didn't want to find out the hard way now if Gary wasn't any exception to judging him. He need to hide everything that showed off signs of his personality, and then he needed to work. Gary couldn't possibly come over and enjoy himself without having a meal, right? That's what Arthur had seen countless times on channels when people came over, and Arthur begin to work himself silly until he was sweaty ever so slightly, grabbing every instruction book possible on making any meal he could find, looking up recipes from the old outdated cookbook his mom owned. He then began to work at cooking these meals until he could barely even see straight, and within about an hour he had already cooked about six different meals. By the end of it, Arthur was utterly exhausted, his vision blurring, his legs aching. Arthur was sure that not even this wasn't enough, and he needed to do even more to be enough for Gary so he wouldn't hate him. But it was already nearing seven, and he knew Gary would be here soon. Arthur felt his heart throbbing in his chest. He was so fucking worried that he was going to fuck up somehow, and that any chance at friendship would all be over for him forever. The doorbell rang. Right on schedule. Arthur tripped over himself as he quickly rushed to the door and swing it open. He looked down to see the familiar kind face of Gary looking up at him. "Hey!" Arthur almost shouted in his attempt to be friendly and welcoming, trying so hard to appear normal the way he saw other people do. "Hey, Arthur," Gary said warmly. "I brought us some wine just in case we wanted to share it." He indicated to the brown bag that was in in his hands. Arthur grinned his crooked smile-a little toowidely in an attempt to show off just how enthusiastic he was. "W-w-wow, thanks so much Gary!" he exclaimed, sounding a little too overly enthusiastic, his voice booming through the empty hallways. He wanted to make it astoundingly clear just how happy he was to have Gary over. Gary cringed a little bit at how awkward Arthur was being, but he continued to smile at him genuinely. Gary knew he was trying his best, and had nothing but good intentions. "Come in!" Arthur said excitedly, and he opened the all the way open for him. Gary stepped in. Arthur was bouncing from toe to toe as Gary came in. Just seeing someone in the space, who came to visit willingly, for him, was making Arthur unbearably excited and nervous. Arthur was so damn scared, and he still wasn't sure if he was doing anything right. "Wow!" Gary's exclaimed as he took in the the large steaming plates of hot food. "Did you make all this?" Arthur nodded, a little embarrassed and worried at his reaction. Was he not supposed to work that hard? Or was it not enough? Should he have worked harder? To Arthur relief, Gary turned and smiled at him. "Good job, mate. I'm excited to eat it." Arthur felt his heart almost burst out of his chest at the slightest sign of appreciation, of confirmation that he had done something right. "Okay!" Arthur said excitedly, encouraged now. "I'm just let me stir it, and I'll put it on the table and we can meet eat it all night!" He paused. "If…if that's what you want?" Always encouraging, Gary smiled at him warmly. "Sounds good mate," Gary replied reassuringly. Arthur paused in his nervousness, and then frantically nodded. Arthur rushed over to one of the plates, poured all of his manic energy into string it, then picked it up, hands shaking as he began to work on bringing the plate over. But his poor hands were shaking so visibly, so violently, that the second that he picked up one of the meals on the glass plate, Arthur lost his grip, and it smashed with a soul crushing crash onto the ground. The sound made Arthur's blood run cold. At the site of the food on the ground, of the glass, symbolizing his failure, did Arthur freeze in place, every muscle turning into stone. He looked at it as if he couldn't believe his eyes. In Arthur's mind, he had just ruined the only things that made him acceptable to hang out with, and his brain stopped working in that moment. He had ruined Valentine's Day. Someone had finally shown him kindness, and he fucking ruined it. He took a few seconds to simply stare at it, and though Gary said his name, he didn't hear it. Already he was feeling those unbidden laughs taking over, feeling those tormented shudders over taking his throat, and within moments did he begin to laugh uncontrollably as he buried his hand into his mouth, face red with panic and utter shame as his chest contorted into a painful, uncomfortable bending. "Hey, hey, it's alright," Gary hushed reassuringly, rushing over to him, but it was already too late. Arthur was already too far gone, too lost in his misery. Despite the fact that Gary kept speaking kind words to him, Arthur only shook his head as he saw nothing but the black of his vision, felt nothing but the merciless cackles tearing at his throat. This was such a disaster, and nothing was ever going to fix it. He turned away and and started to bang his head against the cabinet, over and over and over as blood began to pour from his head and stain the cabinet. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Gary. He just needed to hit himself until he died. It was what he deserved, and it was all he would ever deserve. — You heard commotion from the apartment that was usually so quiet that one could have heard a pin drop. Your own night was very quiet, unremarkable and lonely as always. You were currently sitting on your couch, simply reading the night away. You has just got off a long day at work, and you were getting ready to lie down and go to sleep, alone, the way that you always did, when suddenly you had heard a loud crash, followed then by some concerning cackles that echoed from down the hall. It was coming from the apartment that was usually so silent that in the past it had honestlyworried you sometimes with how silent it was. But tonight, there was some concerning loud noises coming from down the hall, and, after a few minutes of listening, your curiosity caved, and you put your book down. You poked your head out of the hall and looked towards the door next to yours. The cackles sounded abnormal and tormented, echoing from the thin layer of the door. The tones of the laughs were reminiscent of the voice of the man that Arthur Fleck used when he spoke to you-the few two words that he ever exchanged with you, anyway-and it drove your curiosity to its ultimate peak. You walked over to the door and knocked once, twice, three, times. You wanted to help in any way you could, although, admittedly, you were also just lonely enough that you were curious about what was happening behind those walls. Within a few moments on the door creaked open, the cackles still booming loudly, and you were a bit confused as you saw air meet you. "Hey," a voice greeted. You look down to a small, kind looking man that you had seen several times before looking up at you. "Sorry about all this. We'll keep it down, I promise." "Oh, no," you reassured him urgently. "It's no trouble. What's going on? Is there anything that I can do?" Gary's eyes were full of worry as he looked up at you. "Well, I came over for a little bit of fun for the night, but Arthur's having a bit of a hard time." He opened the door and he let you come in, and gestured over to the back of Arthur that was hunched over into his arm, a pool of blood on the cabinets. You were shocked as you studied the food and glass all over the floor. The cackles were so tormented, so cold, that it made your blood run cold with deep rooted empathy. "I tried to calm him down," Gary told you, "but he just won't listen. Once he gets like this, it's really hard to call him down." Gary rubbed his nervous hands against his pants. You nodded, understanding. Slowly did you make your way over him, being careful to not step on any of the glass and cause another problem. You stepped over the last of glass carefully as you reached Arthur, and you put a hand against his stuttering shoulder. Instantly did Arthur spin around violently, and he looked at you with panicked green eyes as he continued to cackle. "W-W-who-who-what are you doing-here-" he barely managed to gasp out as he continued to be overtaken by his laughs. You bite your lip in concern. "Deep breaths, honey," you reassured him softly. But Arthur only continued to gasp for air as he looked at you with disbelieving, panicked eyes. "Arthur, can we please just calm down so we can work this out?" you suggested softly. Your heart was bleeding at seeing him like this. You had always had a thing for Arthur in the past, despite your few interactions, and though little did you know about him, you could tell hat he had a good heart. To see him in so much pain now made your own heart squeeze in agony, especially on a day like today. But Arthur wasn't able to calm down. Instead, you had to reach out and stroke his face, something that was a little bit inappropriately intimate considering that you weren't together 'like that', but it nonetheless helped him calm down. The only thing that made Arthur calm down with attacks like this was touch. At your steady, gentle hand against his cheek did he feel some peace come over him, and he felt his laughs begin to die down within moments of your soft, warm fingers touching his cheek. Meanwhile, Gary began to clean up the glass and food on the floor, and, soon enough, the room was clean, and Arthur was calmed down, with only a couple of leftover teas falling down his face. Once you were sure he was calm, you took your hand off his face, although, if you were being honest, you didn't want to. "I'm so sorry," Arthur whispered, embarrassed. "This is a disaster." But Gary shook his head determinedly. "No, Arthur. I came here to have a good time with you, and that's exactly what we're going to do. You haven't ruined anything. Is it alright if we keep Y/N with us, since they were so nice to help us out?" At the thought of not having only one but two as company did Arthur's eyes widen in disbelief, and he nodded like an excited child at the prospect. You smile tenderly. This is going to be quite a night. You three spent the night playing games and making gentle natured jokes, not wanting to upset Arthur and further. Although Arthur was quiet at first, by the end of the night he was practically beaming with excitement and happiness, forgetting his former embarrassment. He so damn happythat he had successfully spent the night with two people that he was almost inconsolable, barely being able to speak a word in his happiness, and you can see tears in his eyes as you left behind Gary. "Hey," you muttered to him the right before you went out the door. "I'm sorry about tonight. I really think that we should talk more. You seem like such a sweet man." Arthur's eyes widened even further at your words. He couldn't believe that you were telling him such kind things, especially after the chaotic and wildly insecure side of him you had seen tonight. "I-I would love…..that," Arthur stammered, blushingly furiously. There was so much more he wanted to say. He had admired you for so long, and only now was he taking in just how beautiful you truly were. Never had he allowed himself to even look at you properly before, took scared to even glance in your general direction, but now that he was, oh, you took his very breath away with just how stunning you were, not because of your appearance but simply because of your grace and kind spirit. Your kind and irreplaceable demeanor. "I will love that." Arthur nodded with a dazed look, almost as if he was trying to agree with something that was in his head. Even now, he wasn't quite sure if this was real. You wanted to kiss him so badly, god help you you did, but you didn't feel you could. The poor man already looked so shaken from this unexpected night that you were worried his heart would give out if you gave him one more surprise for the night. Arthur gave you one tender smile. He leaned forward brushed his hand against yours, a gentle whisper of a touch, so shy you almost didn't notice, as a way of saying goodbye in a more intimate way that you were both longing for in that moment. You felt your heart flutter and squeeze excitedly, and you knew in that moment for sure that you had feelings deeper than friendship for this man. For now, though, all you could do was him a kind smile, speak one more gentle "good night", and with that was the door shut, separating you two on some more. Arthur closed the door, his heard pounding with both nerves and indefinable happiness. He was just about to let go, to give up, but something inside of him screamed to jump, to try, to confess his feelings- Arthur ripped the door open, and he stumbled out of it, relieved to see that you weren't back in your apartment just yet. "Y/N!" He shouted, once again a little too loudly, but he hardly cared. And neither did you. Your head lifted up, and you looked at his curiosity. "H-Happy Valentine's Day," Arthur stammered. You smiled back at him warmly, and in that moment was Arthur thoroughly, entirely, hopelessly head over heels in love. "Happy Valentine's Day, Arthur." With a sad but uplifted heart did Arthur watch you disappear back into your apartment. How he longed to join you, but for now, all he could do was shut the door behind him and do what he always did- Dream. Maybe you two would be sharing Valentine's Day a little differently by next year. - the music in his soul Request: I would really love for you to write something about Arthur being an over enthusiastic parent with his baby girl at the baby music classes; I loved how you answered those asks. I understand you're busy, though, so I won't request it right away; I'm just hoping you'll keep the idea in mind for the future. A/N: for everyone with baby fever…sksksk. You being the other parent is briefly mentioned. Sorry if this annoys anyone (I know some people are bothered by this stuff idk) Word count: 1,273 Originally posted by life-or-something-like-lt "It's dance time!" Arthur exclaimed excitedly. "Are you excited?" He was kneeling down in front of his baby girl, her slight trembling and her usually gleeful face that was now reduced to a plain stare giving away that she was beyond nervous. She was currently looking at him with that unusually blank face, not really sure what to make of the situation at hand. Arthur was looking at her with an exhilarated look on his own face. He had come out of his shell in the wake of wanting to ease his daughter's own shy exterior. He took her small hands into his as a form of encouragement and comfort. "Don't worry, sweetheart," Arthur cooed softly. "You're going to be amazing, and Daddy will be by your side the entire time." At Arthur's always soft and reassuring voice did the slightest smile begin to creep up on her face. She was only about a year old, and she had just learned how to stand on her own two feet. Obviously she wouldn't be doing any actual dancing, Arthur would be the one to take that task. She hadn't really wanted to go-she wasn't great at making friends, and she only ever wanted to spend time with Arthur. He was her favorite person in the world. But she had a weakness for being held in her Daddy's arms, and Arthur was certainly going to give her the best time of her life while they bonded with the other parents and kids. Arthur had never been very social, but through raising his baby girl, taking in her joyful spirit and the unconditional love that she clearly had for Arthur all the while, he found himself come out of his shell in every way possible. He was now more than willing to take on the role of the dorky dad, even if it meant some embarrassment. He was no longer the most important person in his life. His family was. Though Arthur didn't want to admit it, he was just as excited for the dance class as her baby girl was, if not more. Arthur loved dance class, even though this was literally just nursery songs for the parents to sway their little ones to. Even so, he was going to do everything he could to get into it and make sure his girl had the best time of her life. "Come on," Arthur encouraged, standing up and sweeping her up into his arms, hosting her chubby legs around his waist as he kissed her soft, round cheeks. "You're going to have an amazing time." Arthur entered the room. It was cluttered with parents and their little ones being swayed in their arms. The music was surprisingly upbeat and catchy, and Arthur already felt the music in his soul intertwining with the literal music that he was hearing now. He smiled gleefully as he came into the room, already beginning to sway his daughter back and forth. She was already smiling the slightest bit, finding comfort in the wake of his confidence. The room was colorful but small and stuffy, and there was only about five parents there total. Even that number of parents could barely be held in this small room. The teacher that was sitting at a desk in the corner, watching them all under on unimpressed gaze. Funny that someone like that would be watching over a place like this, Arthur thought an with a raised brow. He shrugged. That was Gotham for you. Arthur's girl was looking up at him with questioning blue eyes as she sat in his arms. Arthur beamed at her, leaning over to kiss the top of her nose. She giggled and smiled softly. She couldn't resist feeling more joyful whenever Arthur showed love to her. Arthur then began to sway her back and forth in his arms more artistically, more intentionally, and, as the beats in the music began to truly sweep into Arthur, he felt his own shoes begin to tap. Arthur quite literally couldn't help it, he just loved to dance. He loved it more than he even loved breathing. He couldn't be happier than he was now, dancing with the person he loved most, doing the activity he loved most. As he succumbed to the dance and feel the music vibrate through his bones, he began to get a little carried away, lost within his own world. He began swirl both him and his girl into a circle, and, although she was enjoying it immensely, only beamed up even more as Arthur twirled her, tapping his shoes all the while, the teacher was looking over at them with an increasingly judgmental look. The other parents were also shooting Arthur some glances. Most of them were simply swaying their little ones, doing as little as they possibly could to bond with the music. As long as their babies weren't crying, that's all they really cared about. But Arthur wanted his child to have a genuinely good time, and he was truly enjoying the music. He couldn't resist, and he especially couldn't resist making his baby girl laugh and cheer as he danced now. With an ecstatic smile, Arthur began to sway his girl back and forth as he blew into a full-blown waltz with his feet stepping back and forth in ways that were tapping consistently, drawing even more attention as they bouncing against the walls. Additionally, his baby girl's laughter began to fill the room loudly, encouraging him until he was waltzing all around the small space, brushing other parents as he twirled by. Although the dancing was impressive, and although joy was radiating off of both of their bodies, the teacher was not used to seeing two people actually enjoy themselves, and all he saw it as was a disruption. "I'm going to have to ask you two to leave," the teacher snarled sternly, still looking at them with disapproving eyes. "You're disrupting this class. This is meant to be a place where parents can relax and have their babies fall asleep." Other parents were now glaring, echoing the teacher's words with their disapproving gaze. At those words the girl's laugh went from joyful smile to a frown. Arthur looked at her and hummed softly and winked at her. Normally such harsh words would have made him break down and have a laughing fit, but his girl made him strong. "It's okay," he whispered in a voice that only she could hear. "We'll go home and have our own dance all to ourselves." As long as he had you and the baby, that was all the love and approval he needed. At his words his girl smiled gleefully into his eyes. The only person that had this connection to cheer her up whenever she was worried was Arthur. She was a sensitive soul, much like him, and it was only Arthur's special insight into her mind that made him able to reassure her now, having an irreplaceable daddy and daughter connection. With one last swing and a careless swirl of his curly brown hair, he kicked open the door without a care, making a point that he didn't give a damn that they had been kicked out. Although his girl still looked a little upset at the rejection, Arthur kissed her on the nose, instantly making her smile again. "Let's go home," Arthur muttered. "We'll go home and have the best time of our lives with Mommy." She thought for a moment, then nodded vigorously. - Soulmate!AU Summary: You and Arthur have been waiting for this day since you fell in love, and this moment would either make or break the love you shared. A/N: This was an idea I randomly got this morning. I hope this makes sense sksks, I'm just gonna let the writing speak for itself. I'm a sucker for old fashioned soulmate romance. Length: 1,380 Originally posted by daily-joker Your heart was beating against your chest, and you could tell by how intensely Arthur was grabbing your hand that he felt the same. You two had been waiting for this the entirety of the six years that you had been dating. You dared to speak the words you both were thinking. "What if this isn't it? What if we're not the ones that were made for each other?" You instantly regretted your words, hating how they tasted. Arthur closed his eyes, partially exhausted from his own worries, partially weighed down on hearing his worst fears spoken aloud. "No matter what happens, I'll still love you," he muttered under his breath. Despite his words, you could see his doubts in his shaking. Today was the day that would define the rest of your relationship. If there was still a relationship by the time this was over. It was extremely rare, to put it lightly, almost impossible, for two people to stay together after they were confirmed to not be soulmates. Yet, you know you loved him with all your heart, and you knew that you had never felt so deeply for another like you felt for him. You couldn't physically wrap your head around the fact that you might not soulmates-how you could feel this way and have that not be so. You just couldn't believe, wouldn't, believe it. The almost bittersweet, soul crushing love you felt for him with every breath that you shared, every sleepy kiss that you celebrated, with every day that you woke up with his warm arms that wrapped themselves around you as a way to ease you into consciousness. Even now, as you were looking at him with his eyes still closed, with his lips trembling slightly in anticipation, you couldn't imagine loving anyone more than that how you did his own beautifully flawed soul. "Arthur, it's time," the nurse's even voice announced as she came out into the waiting room. "The results will be in shortly after I test you." Arthur nodded curtly, turning his turquoise eyes towards you, shining with worry. You looked at him and nodded, smiled softly as a way of reassurance. So badly did you want to kiss each other in that moment, but, considering the circumstances, that would only make each other's anxiety that much more painful. "Go on," you whispered. "'ll be right here when you get out." You had already been tested, and you two have been waiting for a good twenty some minutes for Arthur's turn. Arthur stood up hesitantly, following the nurse through the white door. You two had been waiting for this moment since the instant you had fallen in love. It went without saying that you two had been attached at the hip for the entirety of that time. Although people were allowed to date, and although people did date, it was very rare for a couple to stay together once they did the test that confirmed they weren't soulmates. You had only just reached thirty, your birthday being about a week ago. You and Arthur had had to wait the entirety of those long years time to see if you were truly meant to be. Society deemed that it was appropriate for a person not to know who their soulmate was until thirty, as authorities felt that it was only proper for them to develop themselves as an individual first. Once a person knew who their soulmate was, they were bound to that person at the hip forever. It was impossible to resist one's soul mate,especially when it was physically proven that they were the one, no matter how much one thought they could, and one's identity was never the same afterword. Although you could understand the rule, you were frustrated at it. You and Arthur had known in some spiritual, unexplainable sense when your eyes had met for the first time that you were both meant to be, but you needed to know in the literal sense. You both had had to wait in suspense all these years, and now that it was truly happening, you both felt like your hearts would surely give out if the results didn't tell you both what you wanted. You clasped your hands together and leaned your head against the wall, breathing in deeply. Your breath was shuttering, and you were trying to ignore how much you were really shaking. If you shook, it meant you had doubts, and if you had doubts, it increased the chances that maybe Arthur wasn't truly the one. If you two yourselves didn't know, then it was more than likely to not be true. As you fought with your dark thoughts, the door creaked back open, and out came Arthur with his brown curls in his face, the nurse behind him. Arthur's face was just as tense as it had been since he had woken up that morning, chestnut brows furrowing and wrinkles deep in his skin as he sat down next to you. "I'll be back shortly," the nurse reassured you both. "How do you feel?" you asked softly as you intertwined your fingers back into his. Arthur's shimmering eyes looked in yours. "Nervous," he admitted with a raspy tone. There was much more than nerves going under his tone, however, a complicated and unexplained array of emotions dancing in his eyes. You nodded, understanding him all too well. Arthur leaned against you, tightening his hand around yours. You squeezed it reassuringly. You two didn't speak as you waited. You simply sat there, communicating through touches and nerves alone. "Arthur, if you're not my soulmate, I don't see you any differently." Arthur's mind reeled at your words. Could that be true? Would you really stay with him? It was extremely rare for someone to stay with their partner after finding out that someone wasn't their soulmate. True happiness would be impossible. It simply…was, knowing that their real true one was somewhere out there. "I hope you're right, darling" Arthur muttered softly. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he was too overwhelmed by his emotions, too occupied by his swirling thoughts that he didn't know even know where to begin. Silence followed. After about a handful of ten minutes, the nurse finally came out with another creak of the door, an unreadable expression on her face. You and Arthur looked up, curiosity blaring in both of your eyes. The nurse had the results in her hands while she looked at both of you, taking in your anticipation. She took a deep breath. "Well?" Arthur urged. He wasn't usually the pushy type, but this meant the world to him. This was his world, as it was yours. You squeezed his hand once again, the only comfort you could offer each other in this intense moment. The nurse let out a heavy side which means both of your hearts drop. Finally, she spoke. "The results are in. You two are soulmates." At her words did an unexplainable heavy weight lift off of both of your hearts. It was a physical sensation. Tears began to form and fall down Arthur's worn cheek, and, without you even realizing it, tears went down yours as well. Arthur instantly sprung his body around and wrapped his arms around your body-the most meaningful hug you two had ever shared in the entirety of the passionate love that you shared. You two now completely belonged to each other, unequivocally and undoubtedly. You squeezed him back with all your might and strength, literally laughing with unspeakable joy and relief into his neck as tears of fell down your face and stained his sweater. The were the most beloved stains Arthur had ever known. You were quite literally marking him as yours in this moment. "I knew you were it, sweetheart," Arthur whispered into your neck. "I knew it." You could only laugh in agreement, shakily coming to trail your face over his so you could kiss his worn ones softly. There were the one thing that made this life worth it, and now they were yours. Officially. As you were his. Indisputably. You two were destined to spend your life together forever and a day in more ways than one, and it started today. -Arthur with a pain/soft BDSM kink
Summary: Arthur hasn't been feeling well lately, and you know the perfect thing to help bring him back.
A/N: this is literally horny, disgusting, filthy garbage that has been sitting in my drafts since November because I felt like it was cringe and hated it? Lmao but i wrote it so its gettin' posted. Also I've never done BDSM play real life, so if this is totally inaccurate, IDK im sorry sksks. something about how i wrote this just felt Arthur to me.
Length: 2,467
Warnings: some blood play at the end, pain kink, smut, heavy moods described.
Originally posted by bakmasenonlara
The mind of Arthur had always been scarily unpredictable, and it was a storm that the both of you had to learn to navigate. Arthur hadn't been feeling real lately. As a matter of fact, he felt as if his very essence was slipping through the cracks, like he would tumble over and have his thin body wisped away into the void at the slightest breath of wind. Though the intercourse he shared with you was usually enough for him to break out it, the sex with you lately hadn't been able to break the fog lately. He loved you, he loved you beyond a shadow of a doubt. But not even your nails digging into his back, drawing shy trails of red marks of passion, with your nibbling teeth and words begging for his touch, desperate hungry eyes searching his, could he overcame his illness lately, still feeling like he wasn't wholly "here". It wasn't so much that he wasn't fulfilled emotionally by being with you; it was more that he his mental illness lately had been overtaking his happiness and everything that made him happy, convincing him that nothing was enough, that he would never be able to overcome this dark something that was in his body, making him feel sick. Unbearably so. You noticed something was wrong when he came home one afternoon and didn't immediately have his eyes light up when you asked him with your expression if he wanted to have your usual routine of cuddling, talking, and, if you were both up for it, sexual intimacy. Granted, you two had passionate sex almost every night like you had dinner; it was a part of your daily routine that neither of you could imagine not having in your days, although you were just as content without it. As long as you were together, that was all that mattered. But it simply helped. It helped him come home, helped come down from his rougher days, and it helped him center himself again after hours without being with your touch. You two didn't only bring passion into your lives through your touches; you brought a certain wholeness to the other that you were both convinced neither of you could live without. Which is why your heart twisted with worry when Arthur just mumbled a small, "that's ok," kissing your lips softly as a form of apology. You watched him with worried eyes as he simply brushed past you, put on his pajamas, and got ready for bed. You thought the worst at first; was his love for you fading? Did he not want you the way he used to? But when you lied down with him that night, his arms wrapped around you as tightly as they always were, his lips seeming addicted to pressing themselves against the nap of your neck like they were drinking in life itself while he whispered his usual words of sweet nothings to you until you dozed off, did you know it was something more complex than that. You decided to go out the next day and experiment; you bought a paddle, some bondage, and a blindfold. You searched around your kitchen for some items you could use as well; ice cubes and forks was the best you came up with in your cluttered but simple kitchen. You didn't want to hurt him, at least not in the way that would cause him damage. But he needed to be woken up out of the haze he had fallen into, and you knew the perfect balance between too much and too little for your Arthur. You also took out your hair brush and a back scratcher. You were going to get creative, dammit. You didn't have much, but damn it if you weren't going to make the most of it. When Arthur returned home, he still had that same dulled, fogged over look. You rushed over to him and he hummed happily and kissed you softly, smiling into your lips, but still distant. "Come on, baby," you said softly, taking his hand and leading him into the bedroom. "I want to try something new with you, if you're interested." Arthur's eyes perked up in the interest you were hoping for, and his mouth fell open in slight shock-mostly confusion-as you pulled out a drawer of the stuff you had gotten that day. "I want to try something different," you started, feeling a little embarrassed.. "I know you've been feeling down lately, sweetheart." Arthur scoffed. "That obvious?" His voice was still a bit broken, but he already feeling a spark of life in him. He was currently occupied trying to ignore how his cock was throbbing at the sight of the materials. He already knew what you were up to. "Get into bed," you said. It wasn't a command, just a suggestion. Slowly, Arthur complied, shy, but curious. He lied down face first on the bed, his back facing you. You were feeling shy too; you had never done this before. You pulled yourself on top of him and wrapped his arms with the bondage behind his back, rendering his arms totally helpless while you tied his ankles together, too. "Will this hurt?" Arthur asked suddenly, just as you were pressing the back scratcher and gently rolling it against his bare skin, serving as a tool to warm up to his senses. "It will a bit, honey," you cooed. You didn't see the point in not being honest. "But this is supposed to be the good kind of pain. If you don't like it, you can let me know, and I'll stop right away." You pressed a kiss to his back. "Okay?" "Okay," Arthur mumbled into the pillow. His brown curls were spread around the pillow like ocean waves, and you kneeled up and pulled at a few. You needed to warm him up. Arthur let out a small whimper, and you kissed the back of his neck in reassurance. You then got out the paddle and gently smacked his rear, to which he moaned loudly into the pillow. "Are you ok, sweetheart?" you asked urgently. Arthur nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, just keep going. I think I like it. I mean…it feels strange, but the pain feels a bit nice in a way." You smiled; you knew Arthur so well. You smacked a different spot with just the same amount of force between forceful and considerate, resulting in two red spots on his back. You hit the other spot again but a bit harder, and Arthur moaned again at the pain that shot up through his back. Arthur couldn't help but feel that this kind of pain was so sexy; it was erotic, especially coming from your normally loving hand. In a darker sense, Arthur felt he deserved to feel pain. It was satisfying to feel the strict touches that he had been convinced he deserved to feel throughout his life. Coming from your loving hand, however, it was more so simply refreshing to feel such an erotic touch from the hands that usually spoiled him in sweet and soft touches. It was refreshingly different, and somehow, by having it be you that was doing it, the pain was only a sweetness that was wrapped in an adventurous thrill. "More please," he begged, and shifted himself a bit, trying to readjust so he'd be ready for anot- Smack! Arthur yelped at the pressure that slapped his ass met again with furious deliverance. Arthur buried his face into the pillow again, helpless. His cock was throbbing desperately against the sheets. "Get up," you commanded, feeling a bit bolder, and Arthur did so as best as he could with his legs and hands still bounded, eventually finding himself sitting on the edge of the bed. You went to get the blindfold and put it over his eyes, and he giggled as darkness overtook him. "Where did Y/N go?" he teased playfully. You beamed; you couldn't remember the last time he had been in a good mood enough to make a joke. "I'm right here, baby," you said softly as you pressed your lips to his. Your lips felt so damn good against his when he couldn't see; he could focus fully on the softness of them, on the way the tip of your tongue traced his. By taking away one sense, it was making his other senses all the stronger. You went to grab an ice cube, and traced it around his hot, red skin on his back. He let out a loud yelp. "It-It's so cold, Y/N!" he stuttered painfully. You laughed wholeheartedly, and kissed him on the shoulder. "That's the point, sweetheart." you muttered against his skin. You decided to start taking him in more intensely, and pulled him down onto the bed. You continued to trace the ice cube around his stomach, to which he continued to yelp at helplessly, but he was giggling in between yelps, which was a good sign that bringing him back to you was working. You grasped his cock into your hands, so hard was it already, sticking straight up into the air; he got turned on by you easily. You began to stroke it softly, your hands cold from the ice cube. Arthur was letting out heavy breaths, muttering small little "fucks" here and there, both from the stroking and the sensation of the cold of the ice against his fragile skin. You began to pump him, and your hands worked there way up and and down rhythmically as you continued to stroke him incessantly. "P-Please, baby, ride me.." Arthur just barely managed to choke up. He was so delectably helpless under your touch normally anyway, forget with his hands and legs tied. The thought of him being unable to touch you turned you both on; Arthur with how much he felt like he was owned by you, something he found wildly romantic, to know that he was wanted by someone so much to the point that he was owned; and you, knowing that he loved you and trusted you enough to let him do this to you. Your own heat throbbed passionately at the thought. "Just stay with me baby," you reassured him softly, then placed an ice cube in your mouth, making it as cold as the inside of a freezer. You kissed the tip of his cock with the ice cube freshly melted in your mouth, then took the entirety of his cock into your mouth immediately after you freshly swallowed the ice cube. Arthur gasped at how cold the walls of your mouth were on his skin as you pushed up and down, up and down furiously with your mouth. "Baby, I'm going to c-cum-" Arthur couldn't get the words out through his shuddered breaths, but you got the message. "Come, baby, come into me," you mumbled between his length. You placed your mouth further onto his cock as you spoke the words, and with only two more thrusts from your mouth did he explode into you. You swallowed his fluids with a loud gulp noise, making sure he heard how much you were enjoying and tasting him. You then kissed the tip of his cock as a reward, your lips now covered in both your saliva and his cum. You brought yourself up and brushed your lips against his; he tasted you beautifully with his own starved lips. Quietly did you go over and grab the fork and more ice. You topped yourself back on him and began to scratch at his rashes, red and swollen. Arthur's hips buckled, and he bit down on his tongue to keep from moaning too loudly. You then took the fresh ice, so cold steam was coming off of it, and began to gently caress Arthur's skin with the shocking sensation. Arthur released his suppressed noises and moaned louder than you had ever heard him as you pressed your folds back on to his ever erect cock, and he bucked into you safely and easily, belonging there. You pressed your lips against his jawline as your simultaneously began to pleasure both his chest and legs with the scratches from the fork and the soothing of the ice. You both continued to pound into each other's hips at a maddening and passionate rhythm all the while. You were keeping Arthur busy tonight. Arthur could feel himself coming again, so surreal and sharp was the feeling of your lips and teeth against his skin, the fork and ice against his chest, your warm folds against his cock. Truly, there wasn't a section of his body right now that wasn't being pleasured, that didn't feel lovingly and completely alive. His feet were warm and tingling. He orgasmed a second time, breaking free from the weakly tied bonds in his passion, sitting up and grabbing you against his chest as he continued to pound into you all the more furiously as his desire took over him. You grabbed his back, gasping and moaning as your hands dropped the ice and fork in your passion and dug into his curls instead; he drew his own nails over your back, drawing a bit of blood in his passion. You gasped, but loved the sensation of the sharp mark of your lover's touch. Your own orgasm followed shortly after. Arthur took his fingers and pressed them against your folds as you lifted out of him, sticking his fingers into them, swirling and exploring inside of them, then bringing them out and licking your juices with closed eyes, heaven on his face. He took them to his tongue and closed his eyes momentarily, relishing the taste of you. He then leaned forward and pulled you into his lap, rocking you both back and forth comfortingly. "Thank you, Y/N," Arthur rasped into your ear, gratitude lacing his every voice. "That was wonderful." You smiled. You took the blindfold off, and leaned your head back as you studied his addicting, drowning eyes. They were full of the same love they always were, but they were clearer, more focused, and full of sheer gratitude that you knew him so well to bring him back from his slump. Arthur smirked and took the blood from his fingers that had spilled onto him from your back. and pressed it against his lips and upward, forming the sensation of a smile on his face. You smiled; that was so Arthur that it proved to you that he was back again. You pressed your lips to his softly once more, tasting yourself against his lips, and Arthur's eyes fluttered closed again in absolute delirium at how much he was reminded he how he loved you, how good you were for him. "Anything for you, my love," you whispered softly. - valued kindness Summary: You comes home from work, exhausted and upset. Arthur comes home dressed as Carnival and decides to cheer you up. A/N: a boring comfort piece that I wrote while I was at work. skskks. I also missed Carnival. Length: 1,276 Originally posted by fleckmearthur You shoved yourself through the apartment and threw your body onto the couch. You pulled your arms around your side, already crying into your chest. You weren't even that upset, you were just bone tired exhausted, so spent from the long and aimless hours that were so unfulfilling and making your life feel all the more empty with every passing hour. Was this really meant to be your life now? You shook your head, using your work shirt to dab your tears. You wondered where Arthur was; it wasn't like him to be late. Without you even hearing him, such was his quiet nature, Arthur stepped into the apartment, his clown suit still on. He was, by all accounts, still Carnival in that moment, not just in body, but spirit as well. He was still in that playful, easy going and happy mindset that he was only in when he was doing only two things; being with you, or acting as his alternate clown persona. These were only things in his life that made him feel truly free within his own tormented and damaged mind, and he loved to combine them both into one activity when he could. Though his issues as a tortured soul weren't solved, things had become so much easier because of you in his life, and he found a whole other reason to smile besides his favorite escape, even as he walked into that dirtied apartment that, before your presence in his life, had filled him with nothing but a sense of isolation. Now it was full of nothing but love, and it was that love that compelled Arthur to use his alternate persona to show it now as he saw your sobbing, hunched over from on the couch as he returned home. Arthur's heart squeezed in pain as his green meadows saw you, and his love for you overcame him in that moment like a wave. With a soft sigh, Arthur stepped towards you quietly, putting on a comical, exaggerated frown over his already painted one. He tiptoed over to you, then kneeled in front of you, the largely sad frown still on his face. You were still crying into your legs. You hadn't even noticed he had come home, so silent and unnoticed were his steps. Arthur whipped out a batch of flowers, the same ones he had used for years, and handed them out to you, brushing them against your thigh gently. You let out a sharp yelp of surprise, and visibly jumped back as you saw the electric green haired clown kneeling in front of you. You relaxed instantly "Arthur!" Arthur, or, rather, Carnival, smiled up at you through sweet eyes. They shined through his makeup like precious crystals. Arthur was still gently brushing the flowers against your thigh ever so softly, brushing against your thigh like a soft caress, They were serving as soft touches and whispering kisses against your skin, leaving soft tickles and tingles of comfort. You laughed softly at Carnival's sad expression, mirroring your own in a comical but empathetic way. At your bittersweet laugh that you did through your tears did the slightest gleam of joy light in his eyes, and he couldn't help but allow a twitch of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he looked into the eyes that never failed to bring him nothing but happiness. Carnival nodded towards the flowers, offering them to you. You let out a soft giggle and nodded, taking them into your hands as you considered them. You twisted them in your hands, taking in the bright colors. Fake though they were, they were so bright and beautiful, and, although they were worn from years of use, they had a certain charm about them that emitted a certain special joy inside of you. There a quiet sort of gentle promise in them, something in them that let you know everything would be alright, somehow. You looked over at Carnival. "Just like you," you whispered softy. Carnival looked at you with a confused expression in his soft, naive eyes. You smiled, and nodded towards the flowers. Carnival's striking green eyes followed yours, and when his eyes landed on the flowers, his mouth gaped open with mock shock, and he threw his head back and hit himself softly on his forehead, light heartedly scolding himself for not understand what you meant. Carnival rolled his eyes at himself playfully, and with one gloved white hand did he indicate the question if he could take it from you. You smiled, and nodded. When you handed them to him, the flowers went limp, and Carnival opened his mouth in surprise. He took the flowers and frowned at them in an inquisitive manner. In an attempt to make them bloom again, he hit the stem on his palm several times softly, then his on head, as if to try and get them to suddenly bloom again. When it didn't work, Carnival frowned, and he turned his eyes towards you, tilting his head sideways, asking you a question with his eyes. You know what he meant from that look alone, and, with a small that formed wide against your lips in excited anticipation, you nodded. A joy brighter than joy graced Carnival's eyes, and he leaned forward and dared to press his red painted lips against your own. He smelled of greasepaint, cigarettes, and some grim of the city, but, most importantly, he smelled like Arthur, and that was all that mattered to you as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The kiss was long and intimate, and you felt Arthur's comfort traveling through your body from his lips. "There you are," he whispered against your lips. You smiled into the kiss. Carnival pulled his lips away from yours, caressing the side of your face with a gentle touch, his gloves smelling of paint and the plastic of his costume. As he pulled away, he pushed the button on the flowers, which made them bloom again to full force. Though you smiled, a few more left over tears fell still from your lips, and you sighed and shook your head, a little frustrated that Carnival had to see your sadness, knowing he held so much of his own pain. Carnival saw the glint of sadness in your eyes. A surge of determination went through him; he was more than determined to show you how soothing your pain only helped his; he loved you so that he would do anything and everything to make you smile, and even when you were in pain did he feel a sort of bittersweet joy in his own heart, loathing that you were feeling so badly, but also knowing that he was the one person who could remedy it. Yes, he knew at this point in your relationship how deeply you loved him, how anything he did would cheer you up, and knowing that he was valuable to someone and that he could finally use his desire to help people and actually have it matter gave him a joy he couldn't express, especially someone he loved as deeply as you. It was truly the biggest honor he had ever had to love you, to cheer you up the way that he had the power to do. Never had he felt special to someone before you, never had his kindness felt valuable until you. He had offered it to others, but they had never wanted it. But you did. You did. Carnival hoisted himself up onto the couch and wrapped his arms around you, pressing his lips to the side of your head. You hummed and snuggled into his arms, his clown suit soft and comforting as it pressed against your skin. Carnival began to hum a soft song in his delicate voice, and he cradled you back and forth in his arms until your tears were merely a forgotten thought in the back of your head. - forever yours, unconditionally Summary: You love Arthur with all your heart, but at a few briefly spoken cruel words of two coworkers do your insecurities begin to speak louder than your love for him, and on this fateful night does everything fall apart. ANGST ANGST ANGST with a semi happy ending A/N: Truth be told I am probably only embarrassing myself even further by writing and posting this incredibly self indulgent piece LMAO the irony. Also I won't be suprised if i get hate for this sksks. I almost know for a fact that I will regret posting this but here we go. this is a very personal price that I needed to write. It is a vent piece. Long story short, someone said something to me a few days ago that really got into my head and deeply hurt my feelings. I got so distant and disgusted with myself, and therefore at my love for Arthur. Everything in my mind is intertwined, and when one thing falls, everything falls. I was so hurt by what this person said, and it worked it's way into my mind and I did the worst thing; I started judging myself. I was even judging my creative relationship with Arthur and all my writing for him, my love for him. Everything. So, of course I did the only thing I could do. I wrote about the feelings I was feeling. And it helped. What I wrote about in this piece isn't anything like least actually happened, but it has the same energy to it, the same ashamed and sad, insecure feel. I write to escape my problems, so I wrote my feelings as canon as I could. I know the dialogue at the beginning is a bit cringy and forced, but I wrote that out as a symbol of every insecurity I've had regarding my worth the past year of my life as I've entered adulthood. Really, this is just a gross manifestation of all my insecurities that have plagued me as a person for a good long while now. And I'm sorry our dear Arthur has to suffer for it. ;_; I am NOT trying to romanticize toxic relationships, or problems in relationships. I simply needed to express the flaws that I feel would be in our relationship when I feel this way. Warning: This is a controversial piece. Reader doubts her love for Arthur. Reader hurts Arthur's feelings. Reader has some bad and dark doubts about the love they share. If this is something that may offend you in some way, I would recommend skipping this piece. Reader is meant to be flawed in this piece. This is about a mentally ill Reader who is insecure and loves Arthur with all her heart, but also desperately wants to be accepted and understood by others. It is an emotionally complicated piece, and everyone will probably hate me after they read this. Lmao. I didn't write it this way because I was trying to be intentionally offensive; I wrote it this way because these were actual feelings, or close to them, that I was feeling. Length: 5,043 To say that your desk was covered in the sheer obsession of the love you shared with Arthur was an understatement. You had just finished tapping up a new photo that was taken of you both together by a stranger at the park you had been at that weekend. It was one of many. There were countless others adorning the wall, so much that it left not an inch of space between them. There were messily written love notes in Arthur's scrawny handwriting, drawings, and pages from the journals you shared spread about your office desk. You had framed photos, notes of gentle reminders of comfort written by Arthur, flowers and gifts that were all given to you by Arthur. You loved all these things being there because Arthur was your reason-and the love you shared was the most precious thing had ever happened to you in your life. Arthur filled you with such happiness that sometimes it felt too good to be true-and therefore you wanted proof of him and his love for you around you always. Arthur, after all, wasn't the only one who had trouble believing he was lucky enough to share the love that you did. You were the receptionist, so your desk was the very first thing people saw when they walked in. You thought you saw some judgemental side eyed glances from customers and coworkers at how you showed off your love-but they never once affected how you felt. You knew who you were, you knew you loved Arthur, and that was all you ever needed. Your heart was beating with excitement as you saw the sun go down from the office windows. Only about a few more minutes, and you'd be able to go home to Arthur. The phone rang, and you reached out a hand to pick it up. "Hello, this is Y/N speaking," you said in a even, professional manner. "Hi, sweetheart," Arthur's raspy voice greeted you, tone soft and tender as it always was when he called you. "Arthur!" you almost squealed, trying to calm yourself down so that you wouldn't be overheard by the people that surrounded you. "Hi, baby, how was your day?" "Nothing much," Arthur responded. You could practically see him standing in the kitchen, shrugging in his soft tan sweater as he leaned against the counter, so well did you know him. "Just miss you." Your heart melted. "Aw, sweeteart, I miss you too. I'll be home soon, ok?" "M'ok," Arthur muttered. "I love you." "I love you too. So much." With that you hung up the phone, your heart already racing with feverish excitement at the thought of seeing him again. Never did the feeling grow old-every time you saw him after hours of not, it was just as soul striking as the last time you had. He often looked a bit unreal to you, so much did you love him so. He truly glowed among all the other citizens of Gotham, so rare and sweet was his soul. The day was over, and you were about to head out. You had just shut everything down and were about to walk out, turning the corner towards the door. You were so ready to go home and crash into Arthur's arms, and you strutted through the halls with upmost confidence, knowing that the love of your life waited for you at home. The only thing that stopped you was the suddenly audible voices trailing from the hallway from around the corner. You heard your name being mentioned-heard Arthur's name being mentioned, and, after a moment of thought, you quickly pressed yourself against the wall so you couldn't be seen as you overheard what they were saying. You couldn't help it-curiosity had gotten the best of you. "Hey, that Arthur man ain't right in the head, is he?" "Nah. Totally not. He must have head his head several times as a baby ." A scoff. "His wife is hardly better. I mean, she's always fucking up at work. Has a horrible memory " You felt your blood run. Because of your depression, your memory often suffered. Of course, people often believed this was only an excuse. You considered walking away towards the other exit, but some dark, morbid curiosity, some deep desire to know what others truly thought of you, kept your kept your foot rooted to the ground. "Figures that they would end up together. They're both bad at school, both not that sharp. You know? Trash loves trash." Trash loves trash. The words hit your ears like daggers. "I don't think I've ever cringed so hard at a couple in my life. They're so ugly together. So poor. I almost feel sorry for them." "Yeah. People like that, they aren't going nowhere in life. They settle for one another because they can't get anyone else." A chuckle. "She's so obsessed with him too-look at the poor fucker's desk. I mean, imagine having so little going for you that you have to be that obsessed with your partner who ain't even much of a catch?" "They both working minimum wage for the rest of their lives. They're nice enough, sure-but whew." A low whistle. "Slow, stupid, a party clown? People like that remind you that some people out there aren't worth much." "Couples like that-they'll be forgotten the second they're dead. No one within a ten mile radius will miss them. Or even notice." Some low throated chuckles met one another after the last sentence was spoken. As they continued walking down the hall, their words became low murmurs that were impossible to hear, their throaty chuckles the only thing left your ears could make out. Your hands were clammy, your palms shaking. You couldn't believe you were hearing this-couldn't believe this is what people that surrounded you, people that you knew and talked to, who seemed kind upfront, thought about you and Arthur. You knew people in Gotham were cruel, but not even within your own work space were you safe. And you thought you had been. With a numb, shaking body did you rushed down the hall, looking down and not making eye contact with either of them as you sped out the door, ignoring the call that one of them shouted towards you. You walked home through the rain with numb eyes, tears falling down your already damp cheek. You cared not that you makeup that you had put so much effort into was trailing down your face, didn't care that it was melting down to your chest and that your hair clung to you like a damp rat. You probably looked how you felt, you mused in the midst of your wretched thoughts, and that was the only coherent thought that you had in the damp and suffocating corridor of your mind that was trying to make itself increasingly smaller smaller, smaller, as small as it could go. You felt you didn't deserve to exist, didn't deserve to be here at all. Though the words of others seldom cut you down these days, there was still that weak insecurity from your past self, the part of you that was heavy and pained and tormented, and, worst of all, desperately wanting the acceptance and approval of others-so much to the point that you would consider to throw those that were on your side to the wolves in order to get even just a pat of approval from people that didn't give a damn about you otherwise. This toxic trait was something that had been formed inside of you when you had been isolated as a child, when the incessant need to be accepted by others had gradually been connected to your worth. Though you were aware of how little sense this trait had, you couldn't help it. You literally could not. You loved Arthur-you know you did. More than life itself. But the way people judged you both, looked at you both, talked about you both continued to poke and prod at that small, eternally tender place in your soul that was forever unfixable-that part of you that had been scarred onto you since childhood. The part of you that had burned into you since you had been subconsciously taught that there was something wrong with you-that there was something deeply, horribly and terribly wrong with you. As a child you had been relentlessly bullied for it, and deeply had the wound be wrought into your core. But as people had grown up, as bullying became a foggy thing of the past, your scars had healed-or so you thought. You had made some friends, had had some successes. You had even started to believe that perhaps you were enough-that what everyone else said when you were younger was just cruel children being cruel children. That maybe there had never been anything wrong with you at all, that it was just a rough start in life. The constant dance of mental illness in your head, however, told you a much different story. When you had met Arthur, that was what had attracted you to him the most; that he was like you. That he understood you, sometimes even more than you understood yourself. You felt more with him than anyone you had ever met in your life that he simply understood and saw the illnesses of your mind, and that only made you fall in love with the man you already loved more than life itself all the deeper. You would have fallen for Arthur simply because of his sweet, childlike demeanor and gentle spirit alone, but the fact that you bore the same scars only make your bond all the richer. Together, with your hands intertwined, you faced the world and its cruelties with its lack of understanding of sick souls 'like you'. Not every night was easy; some were full of misunderstanding, full of doubt and fear and the thought that maybe not even the bond you shared would be enough-but always did it come through. Always. But tonight felt different. You could physically feel the burning in your throat, could feel the pain quite literally squeezing in your heart. You couldn't think straight, couldn't feel straight. A dark voice was blaring in your head that you were so ashamed of who you were-of everything that your life was and ever had been. And that included the love you shared with Arthur. How could you possibly love a love that was so mocked by the world? How cold you find worth in it, take pride in it? You knew other's opinions didn't matter, but your flawed, weak, and frail heart already was allowing itself to be twisted and influenced according to the thoughts of others. It had taken you years to build up some of esteem for yourself-years. Even now, though the structure you worked so hard to build was sturdy, there were still so many weak spots that were so painfully easily to shatter, should one throw even the slightest weight at them. You had enough self esteem to pretend that the damage that had been thrust upon you since childhood was not longer there, that you were like any other 'stable' and self respecting adult, but it was merely that; pretending. Deep down, you were still that same isolated, weak child that had been so eager to please. Arthur saw these parts of you and kissed every deep damaged scar that you bore since growing up, using his own pain from childhood to understand yours, turning your bond into the most dark and bittersweet poetry. Arthur had been an unfortunate enough soul that he had experienced both social isolation and parental trauma alike, and though the pain had turned his soul into a fair and beautiful one of endless kindness and understanding, like a diamond being made in the rough, it also meant that he was almost always in some sort of pain. It was only through you and your own pain that Arthur was able to take those holes in his heart and turn it into something beautiful, something worthwhile other than his suffering. Of course, that was also why you had become so unhealthily attached to one another, finding an irreplaceable joy through the bitter pain that you two had never dreamed of become something so beautifully soul richening until you had met the other. Was your love for Arthur….too much? Was it embarrassing how much you loved him, how much you expressed it? Were you, quite possibly, as worthless and as cringy as they said you were? You pushed through the door to your apartment, soaking the floor the second you entered the apartment with your drenched body. Already did you hear Arthur's soft, angelic and gentle footsteps rushing to the door to great you. For once, you didn't want him to.. "No, Arthur," you muttered as he came to wrap his arms around you. Arthur's arms abruptly stopped before they could fully wrap around your waist, and he abruptly froze as he gazed at you with inquiring, confused eyes. "Not tonight," you muttered. Arthur's green gaze scanned your downtrodden, soaked face, makeup trailing down your neck. He took in all of your pain; how your eyes were bloodshot red, how your very head was lowered to the grown, as if some physical weight was on your shoulders. He knew you were in the deepest of pain; he knew before you had even walked into the room. He felt your emotions often while it was happening inside of you, even with you being miles away at your job. Never did he tell you this, but he knew. He knew. "What happened?" Arthur inquired softly. To even hear his voice, the one thing that usually brought you such peace and the deepest sense of tranquility and refuge, currently only made you feel another onslaught of self loathing. How you hated that you longed to be accepted by the world so much to the point that you would hate anything the world hated-even if it meant that you felt loathing for the few things in your life that your true self loved with all your heart when untouched by the cruelty of the world, the things that you quite literally lived for when your soul was left to its own truth, its own peace. God help you, you were weak. You wanted so desperately to be accepted by the world, and right now you were wrestling with the self loathing of the life you had built for yourself, even while knowing that deep down inside, down to the deepest layer of your truth, that you were perfectly content with this life, if only the world allowed you to believe that it was good enough. If only the world left youalone. "Nothing, Arthur," you mumbled, feeling too detached from wrestling with your own demons to consider how this was making him feel. "Just go get some sleep, ok?" You weren't even looking at him; something that you never denied both you and Arthur, especially after a long hard. Arthur's heart stopped. You were locking him out-something you had never done. You told one another everything and anything. Something was truly, deeply, horribly wrong, and the worst part-Arthur couldn't help you through this one. You two had become so alike that it was impossible to insult one without the other. You thought of his episodes, his hallucinations, about how it was just as difficult for him at work as it was for you. Though you loved one another so deeply, was it truly enough if the world loathed you both so much? You suffered from your own illnesses, and you saw that reflected in Arthur, which is why you couldn't bring yourself to look into his eyes now. You loved him for this all the deeper, but that's also why you suddenly couldn't look at him now in your weakest, most insecure state-couldn't look into the eyes that were so alike to yours that it made you uncomfortable with how much you saw yourself in such a broken soul such as him. Normally, you would find nothing but comfort in that concept, knowing full well that Arthur was meant for you. In your current state of sheer self loathing, however, you simply couldn't. You wondered, briefly, with a tormented, intrusive thought, if the world was capable of forcing you into being ashamed for loving someone like Arthur, especially with him being so alike to you, when 'you' was a person you struggled to love. Was it possible that the world could push you into being embarrassed for loving someone like like him? That to even be associated with him, let alone to be so maddeningly in love with him, so hopelessly devoted to him, was something that was truly chipping away at your worth? To love someone so deeply in and of itself was subject to ridicule in this world; let alone love a broken soul such as Arthur, a soul hard to understand to a person without your eyes. Arthur swallowed, and, despite his nerves, he made one more leap forward to show you how much he wanted to be there for you. Always would be try to overcome his own fear of being rejected in order to comfort you when you were in pain. "Can I hold you?" You said the three words that made Arthur's blood run cold. "Don't touch me." You heard a painful intake of air. And with that, Arthur was gone. His lightly padded footsteps were unheard as he stepped away from you, going God knows where into the apartment. Arthur was the kind of soul who disappeared the second he felt unwanted; he would love you forever and a day with even just the smallest hint of love, whether you deserved or not, but at even the slightest hint that he was unwanted did he rush away without leaving a trace. You knew you had broken his heart tonight; he was so fragile, so easily breakable, that even the slightest change in tone could upset him, drive him over the edge. You wanted to go and apologize, but you felt so weighed down, so empty, so cold and devoid of life, that you couldn't bring yourself to do so. You were convinced that at that moment, you were full of nothing but insecurities-literally and metaphorically. You didn't even feel human. The next few hours passed in a dull blur. You took a blanket and sat down on the couch, wrapping the blanket around you, feeling like you didn't even deserve that simple comfort. You didn't drink, you didn't eat. Fuck, you didn't even think. You simply sat with your legs scrunched up against your chest, staring at the wall ahead of you, seeing nothing. You were nothing. You had been born as nothing, had grown up as nothing, lived as nothing. How could you love someone else, when you had no love for yourself? And, more than that, how could you ever learn to love yourself, when the world didn't allow you to do so? You felt numb, hollow, empty. Insecure. And in that moment were you convinced that was all you ever would be. You were embarrassing. Pathetic. Stupid. And maybe everything you touched in life….was too. You didn't know when you dozed off into a pained, unwilling and tormented sleep that was more draining than it was refreshing. Sleep was just as tortuous as awake, and the dreams that tormented you were empty and dull, fleeting and meaning nothing. You woke up with the right side of your head throbbing, and you groaned as you came back into your black thoughts as wretched consciousness greeted you. Once your brain processed through all your heavy thoughts from the day like a tortuous wave and you settled back into reality, you realized it was close to dawn. There was a slight blue hue in the black sky, and for once, the streets of Gotham were quiet. Scarily so. As if it were trying to echo the emptiness in your own chest and heart. You felt your heart pound; Arthur. You hadn't seen him him hours, and the last time you had he had been upset. With a fast beating heart, you pushed the blankets off of your lap and rushed into the bedroom. When you didn't see his thin form under the covers, your breath caught in your throat. There was only one place left to check; the bathroom. If he was not there, then your Arthur was in danger somewhere, or had hurt himself. You rushed over the living room and shoved open the door to the bathroom, breath laboriously breathing down your neck as you frantically looked into the bathroom, slamming the door open wide. Your heart did a squeeze of a contradicting combination of relief and worry as you looked down and saw him on the floor. He was wearing nothing but his baggy blue slacks, and he was curled into himself, shaking and shuddering. His arms were folded into his chest; he was shivering uncontrollably. His brown curls were flopped in front of his face, his happy lines deep into his thin pale skin, hair sticking to his skin, glistening with sweat, his face was crushed up into a tormented scowl. You could hear him cry, could hear his suppressed shuttered cries, no doubt doing so because he didn't want to wake you. Your already painfully dried out eyes somehow formed more tears, and you rushed down and lied beside him. You pushed the brown curls out of his face, cooing softly as you did so. Arthur's sweet eyes dared to flit up to you at the touch of your warm hand; he looked up at you with a slightly crazed look, as if he couldn't tell if you were real or not. He made one last shuddered, tormented shiver, and then pushed his head back into his chest. "T-th-thought you w-we-were a-asleep…" Arthur stuttered through pained breaths. "Shh," you cooed softly, continued to stroke the hair out of his face. "It's alright, baby. I'm here now." Arthur didn't move. He just continued shaking. You felt your heart would give out in that moment, both from soul tearing self loathing and from the sheer empathy you felt towards Arthur in that moment. Gently did you wrap your arms around his waist, and slowly, as if you were handling a baby, did you ease him up. Arthur let out a few tormented hiccups and cackles, and you kissed the side of his face softly-though your self loathing was still greater than the love you felt for him currently, there was a twinge of warmth in your soul that compelled you to grant him comfort. Arthur's eyes were pained and bloodshot as he sat soaked in his sweat on the floor. Beside his feet was something he must have been lying on top of that made your heart stop; it was the journal from the Gotham Health Department you both shared. It was opened up on a page that had the same three cursed words scrawled, over and over and over again. They were written in a haunting fashion, as if to reflect the very torment of the hands that had written them. I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal I am normal Over and over had you written the words one night, tears falling from your face as you had scrawled them with one shaking hand. Arthur has gone to bed already, and you had been left to come home with your tormented thoughts. Normally you would have crawled into bed with Arthur after eating, and Arthur would have hummed happily as he took you into his arms, and you would have forgotten your inner turmoil as you sunk into his arms. But that night you hadn't had the strength. You had simply sat in the small writing desk you both shared and stared at the wall in front of you, looming and mocking in its emptiness. That thought that night had been nothing short of relentless abuse, reminding you of your past faults and mistakes to the point where you could hardly think clearly through the fog in your head. You were so frustrated with yourself, so tired of the ills of your brain that had plagued you for so long that you had clenched your teeth, hunched down, and had begun to scrawl word after word after word until your wrist was cramped and your fingers aching. Tears had poured out of your eyes and had fallen onto the ink, making it bleed against the pages. As if it mirror the absolute wreck that was going on inside of you, you had gone to bed that night with aching wrists, a throbbing headache, and a pounding brain that was nothing but empty and full of self loathing, even as Arthur wrapped his lithe but strong arms around you, so cold in touch but so warm in intention. "Did you write this?" Arthur's whisper snapped you back to reality, his eyes swollen and red as he turned his face towards yours, making the green of his eyes that much more striking than it was by default. "You feel this way?" You couldn't answer; you simply nodded a choked, sickly nod. God help you, you were so sick, and it made you feel even more sick that it hurt Arthur in the process. Arthur closed his eyes, muttered something to himself, and then opened them again. His eyes were full of so much pain and torment, and in them did you see your own pain reflected back. Arthur felt your pain as you felt his, and it was impossible to suffer without the other feeling the same pain; so intertwined were your souls that you couldn't hide from him even when you wanted to. You couldn't say sorry; to say it was too feeble, too worthless, too weak for the way you had hurt him tonight. The only way you could say sorry in a way that was worthwhile was to show him, and with that thought did you lean your head against his bony, thin shoulder. At the slightest touch that you wanted him for the first time that night did Arthur's entire demeanor change, and he stopped shaking slightly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you onto his lap. He wrapped you up until you were sitting on his lap, his chin resting on top of your head, his legs crossing into themselves until you were one bundle of love. You couldn't yet feel it yourself, but you felt the love radiating off of Arthur, and somehow, it was enlightening your soul in the slightest. You didn't deserve him in the slightest, but on a night like this were you reminded that he loved you unconditionally. That sometimes your love was about the other falling entirely, and only being able to see the light in the dark through the warm touch other. "I thought I lost you," Arthur muttered against your hair. He pressed a long, slow kiss onto the top of your head, his eyebrows furrowed in the deepest concentration as he loved on you with all that he was. Even as undeserving as you were. You couldn't speak; so complicated were your emotions that you simply did not have words to even know what to say. Your chest was still hollow, your heart still empty, but with Arthur engulfing you, maybe you would be able to come back from this. "Its, ok," Arthur whispered against your hair, cold breath tickling the hair on your head. "You don't have to say anything." His arms were rocking you back and forth, back and forth. You could never be loved in the world the way you wanted. You would never have a lot of company, a lot of friends, and seldom would you ever be understood by others. You would never have a high paying job, not in the state of Gotham. You would always be wrestling with illnesses in your brain, would always have eccentricities that could be so beautiful when met with the right understanding soul, but so painfully isolating as well. You would never be worth much in the world's eyes, and neither would Arthur. And though the thought made you sick sometimes at how worthless you both were perceived by the world, with Arthur's arms around you, with his kisses and love infused whispers on your head, did you think that maybe you could be strong enough to not care about the world. Only on the man, who was holding you with all that he was, gripping onto you like you were life itself. Like an unbreakable string were your souls connected through the illness you both suffered. It wasn't about romanticizing it, it was simply about how you two understood each other, after a lifetime of being heavy with the unseen sickness that you had that only emitted mocking from the others, building suffering upon suffering. And there you two sat, two tormented souls, desperately trying to heal the other as you both shivered on the cold bathroom floor, the only relief being the fragility of the other. "One day I will fully love myself, Arthur, and this will never happen again," you muttered. "I promise." Arthur stopped his rocking for a moment. "One day we will both learn how to love without hurting the other, and I'll struggle with you through every day until we do," Arthur whispered against your hair. You desperately hoped that what he said was true.