#pining
Nico whilst pining over Leo rants to Jason, and Jason being the good bestie he is IMMEDIATELY pulls out his notes and does his best to throw them in fanfic-like situations. Nico is too busy crying over Leo’s cute fluffy hair to really care, but psssst Leo did the same thing and Jason is like u should ask him out! I know it’ll work! Why? um yes! @ both of them and I’m right
I love my boyfriend more than he could ever know and more than I could ever express. The amount of things he does for me is ridiculous and he’s the greatest thing thats ever happened to me.
The second of seven brand new Drarry fics inspired by the seven Weasley siblings.
With a prompt like Charlie Weasley, it’s might not be surprising @janieohio, one of our loyal original members, has chosen to go down the dragon reserve route. Add in a trying-to-stay-professional Healer Malfoy, a crush (or two?), and some unfortunate misunderstandings… Unsurprisingly, pining and humour ensue.
Charlie | Good Job, Healer Malfoy!
Author:@janieohio
Word Count: 6,598
Rating: T
What do you do when the guy you’re crushing on is already in a great relationship and you’re his Healer? No, really, what do you do? Draco wants to know.
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This weekend, we’ll post seven brand new holiday-infused fics, each one inspired by one of the seven Weasley siblings. Each story is a stand-alone work, but together they make up the anthology we call Seven Shades of Weasley.
Over the weekend, we’ll give you 7 fics — plus an accompanying Spotify playlist containing 7 songs, one for each fic included in the collection.
Make sure to also check out the rest of the series on AO3 if you don’t want to miss out on any of the Drarry goodness — and maybe subscribe?
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We — the Seven Shades of Drarry — are a group of Drarry fanfiction writers of different backgrounds, ages, and nationalities who work together in a rare collaboration.
Seven different writing styles, seven different strengths, seven different weaknesses, all united in one project, working together to create unified themed collections based around the number seven. Each theme has seven threads, each writer assigned a thread to inspire their story, and all combined to create The Seven Shades of Drarry.
The writers included in this collab are: @drarrelie,@drarrymadhatterstuff,@evaeleanor,@janieohio,@jessica-doom,@ladderofyears, and @gildedscripture.
Read more about our collaboration here.
Paring:Giacomo Casanova x Fanny Price
Chapter: 4/?
Rating:Explicit
Word count: 3700
Tags: Slow Burn, Fluff, First Meetings, First Kiss, First Time, Mutual Pining, Masturbation
Summary:
When he decided to come to England, it was for the women.
It wasn’t to sell the Italian dresses he didn’t make.
It wasn’t to drink champagne in posh garden parties he didn’t like.
It most definitely wasn’t to fall in love with a woman he didn’t want.
Read onAO3
Tagging@timepetalscollective for the fourth chapter!
CHAPTER 4
He sighed at the feel of his cane getting stuck between two slabs of the rough pavement, a murky paste of mud and rotten grass following their curves down the road that led to his destination. It had rained pebbles, that night, and the street was but a vast canvas of grey and dull colours, thankfully counterbalanced by the deep blue sky free of any clouds. He wanted this day to be a success, and the downpour had already imperilled part of the escapade he had planned. Hopefully, the sun would shine bright enough over the hill sticking from behind the landscape of this horrible city to dry the green slopes, at least partially.
It was a lively city, but much too different from the Venice he knew like the back of his hand. Back in his hometown, it was always busy, buzzing with movements and crowded with people. Portsmouth was similar, but it lacked the organization Italian people had mastered over the years. Here, everything happened in a general hubbub of confusion and chaos, everyone going in and out of small shops as if they didn’t really know what they were doing, brawls blowing up between groups of drunken sailors in front of the pubs, mothers who couldn’t handle their handfuls of kids and sought for help with the kind of desperate look that made him feel uneasy. In Venice, everyone knew where and when they needed to go, people only got drunk on expensive wine in the comfort of their homes, mothers left their kid attended by servants and went about their businesses without having to worry about one of their progeniture falling into a canal. He realized he was starting to miss his country, already.
He shoved his cane under his arm and avoided an old fisherman running down the street with a cart full of cods, sowing a few of his fish in his wake that were quickly picked up by the passers-by. His nose scrunched up at the smell - had had always loathed fish and seafood in general - and he unconsciously brushed his sleeve as if it would chase the strong and sickening fragrance. That was his last clean costume, he had left all the others to the caretaker of the inn he stayed in so he wouldn’t have to survive on one jacket and two pants for the next two weeks, and he very much intended to keep his ruby tailcoat free of any fish or mud or any other filthy treasure this dreadful city seemed to hold. Especially since he had to meet her again. She had accepted his invitation.
A shiver coursed through him at that thought and he grinned to himself when he finally spotted the sign dangling in the breeze at the corner of the street. And there she was. He wished he had noticed how much effort she had put into brushing her rebellious hair first. Or noticed she had gone through the trouble of fitting into a dress that was more elaborate than the one she had worn the day before, but was just a breadth too small for her supple forms. Or noticed, for the first time again, how beautiful she looked and how odd a feeling she made him feel. But he only noticed the way she dabbed the underside of her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief and anxiously fiddled with the pair of white gloved she held in her hand.
His pace grew just a bit faster, the heels of his boots clicking against the wet pavement and his pigtail jumping over the nape of his neck. He wanted to be spotted before he would let his presence known - he didn’t want to provoke her embarrassment and give her enough time to dry her tears and pretend he had been oblivious to them, should she refuse to show them. So, he let his cane fall on the hard tiles of the pavement, let the fake silver lionhead bounce and roll, all while loudly cursing in Italian at his clumsiness. He stole a glance at her, and it was only when she had managed to hide her small square of white precisely where he didn’t want to look that he picked his cane up and walked to her with a smile.
“Squisita Fanny,” he greeted with a small smile, gently cupping her fingers to brush his lips over the back of her hand - and he was glad to feel the ghost of a shiver course through her skin. “Should the sun not have woken up beside you this morning, your face would have been enough to enlighten my day. You look splendid.”
She fought the urge she had to surrender to his touch and his beautiful words - she had promised she wouldn’t let herself be tricked into believing something more could happen. Smile. Laugh. That was all that would happen, not matter where he would decide to take her. And with her face she was sure was still stained with the tears she had missed on her cheeks and her red eyes, she had trouble believing she could truly enlighten his day at all. Still, a woman could not refuse such a compliment, and she thanked him with a courtesy bow and a smile.
“Giacomo, you do look spruce yourself today,” she noted, daring to trail a finger over a golden pattern sewn into the crimson velvet. “The red suits you.”
“Italian blood, mia cara, red is our colour,” he winked as smoothed the seams of his lapels. “How are you feeling today, dolcezza? Is that sadness in your eyes, or are you disappointed to see me?”
“I am most definitely not disappointed to see you, Giacomo,” she was quick to reassure him, unwilling to let him think he had come all this way for nothing. “I am… Things at home haven’t been at their best for the past few days, my brother has just been sent away on mission with my father, and my mother… Well, she thinks I do not exist. I am left with brothers who will never consider me as a sister and sisters who blame me for leaving them behind. So… I am very pleased to see you. I was hoping you would be the one to lift my spirits now that William is gone, and I do apologize if this sounds very presumptuous of me.”
“I will do what must be done,” he sighed with a dismissive shrug - and hurried to smile and lock his elbow around her at her obvious discomfiture. “Italian humour, dispiace molto. I will do my assoluto best to please my Signora today. I have planned what I hope to be an agreeable adventure, but if at any point you are bored, annoyed or tired, per favore let me know and we’ll operate a change of course. The first stop is not far from here, if you wish to follow me, amata Fanny.”
“I should tell you, Giacomo, I do not have much money, and…”
“Everything is already paid for,” he interrupted as tried to find a comfortable position for his arm holding hers, the difference of height making it awkward and energy-consuming to keep it at the right level. “No talks of dues, reimbursements, sharing bills. Well, let’s make it simple. Forget about money. Money doesn’t exist when you’re with me, chiaro? Right now, all you should think about is a colour. Your favorite colour, mia cara, think hard, think fast, we’re almost there.”
“Rosso,” she answered without thinking about it, biting her lip when he stopped walking and looked down at her with a dazed squint of his eyes.
The word had come out naturally, and she feared he had heard way too much more in that simple word than she had intended him to. He seemed pleased to hear his own language, but there also was a flash that brightened his deep chocolate orbs that died so fast she would have missed it if she had but blinked. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
He hoped she hadn’t felt his arm momentarily tighten around hers under the warm trickle of delight that had rolled down his spine. He didn’t know if the tension came from her sudden timidity, or his sudden realization he had kept this particular costume for this day, this moment, by chance or by accident. Red. Her favourite colour. Rosso. An almost flawless Italian carried by her melodious voice, a single word that was enough to wish she could hold a whole conversation and twist his loins into a tangle of lust and passion. It was just a language. Just a word. But it fell into his ears like thick honey and echoed down his abdomen louder than the bang of a gong.
“Parla italiano?” he asked after swallowing a compliment he knew she wouldn’t appreciate, let alone understand. “Perché mi piacerebbe tanto. Hai una bellissima voce.”
She drank his words, but of course, apart from the feeling of amazement and enchantment she could translate from his expression, she didn’t understand much. She giggled and playfully tugged on his arm to spur his long legs forward again, ignoring the odd looks they were given as they ambled down the street - she guessed they did form an unconventional couple, but if she could decide Giacomo would be her friend, she could also decide she needn’t care about what the others thought.
“I am very sorry, Giacomo, that was the extent of my Italian,” she apologized with a small smile, following the lead he had picked up again. “Rosso and pollo.”
“Do I want to know where you learnt those words?” he raised an eyebrow, a half grin putting his dimple on prominent display.
“The neighbours have an Italian grandmother who lives with them,” she explained as they stepped into a less frequented street that smelled of heavy perfume and rough leather. “I might have visited her yesterday evening and borrowed a dictionary designed for children. I wanted to learn more, but… You see, a big sister has to do her chores in a family like ours, even if she’s not regarded as such. I promise I will try to learn more.”
“You don’t need to learn more, dolcezza. One word is enough to…”
“To?”
“To make me happy,” he answered - it wasn’t a lie, more an innocent euphemism she wouldn’t see through, a euphemism that would keep his dignity intact. “Ah, there we are. Rosso it is, then.”
They stopped in front of one of the few luxurious shops that could be found in the otherwise impoverished city, the kind of shop only visited by the Ladies and Sirs who lived in the neighbouring countryside. A few dresses that were worth more than her whole wardrobe were on theatrical display, next to suits so expensive she was sure Giacomo would be offended by the ridiculous number written on the tag.
“I cannot go in there,” she said lowly, smiling at a wealthy woman stepping through the doors with heavy bags. “Giacomo, whatever your plan is, I cannot go in there.”
“Why?” he frowned, genuinely dumbfounded and worried he had made a horrendous mistake. “This is a shop, Fanny.”
“Yes, but there are shops and… Shops,” she emphasized, purposefully glancing at the cardinal dress she didn’t dare admit had been the subject of her wildest fantasies ever since she’d seen it for the first time during one of her many errands in town. “Look at this, Giacomo, this is not for me.”
“Oh,” he simply said - and she felt like a horrible person for bringing the disappointment and embarrassment to his features. “I thought you liked dresses of this kind. I must have misunderstood, please accept my apologies.”
“No, Giacomo, I adore these dresses, I almost sold my grandfather’s engagement ring to buy one of them,” she said with a sad smile, waving one of her gloves at the vitrine. “But they are not made for girls like me, and I don’t wish to go in this shop and look at things I can never have.”
“Primo, these dresses are meant to be worn by women like you,” he started, tapping his thumb on his index, then kept going and tapped his middle finger. “Secondo, any of these can be yours. I have already paid for it, we just need to have it tailored. This is a gift, mia Fanny, and I would very much like it if you accepted it. Per favore. Just this one time. Just this one gift. Just this one dress.”
“Giacomo, I don’t deserve such a gift, I…”
“Please, dolcezza. Please.”
He took a tentative step towards the door of the little shop, gently pulled on her elbow, looked at her with an encouraging smile, and she finally surrendered to his hopeful eyes. The little bell chimed as they stepped onto the shiny wooden floor that creaked under their feet, and the tailor greeted them with a bow.
“Sir Casanova, Lady,” he smiled - more by professional consciousness than true kindness, she noticed. “I will be done with Lady Howards in twenty minutes, if you would please take a look around and see what dress you would like.”
“I think the choice is already made,” he grinned, asking her for confirmation as he pointed to the crimson dress she had spotted in the vitrine. “Feel free to correct me should I be wrong, mia cara.”
“You’re not,” she breathed out, eyes wide in wonderment as she observed the velvet shine under the light. “It looks… Beautiful.”
“And you’re not wearing it, yet,” Giacomo whispered in her ear, glad to see his gift was not left underappreciated. “Kind gentleman, may we help you with your work and put the dress on already? We will leave the adjustments and couture to you.”
“Of course, sir, second wardrobe to the right, if you please. The changing room is through here.”
She followed him to one of the tall wardrobes, watched as he gauged her for long seconds, then picked up the dress which was pinned with a size that should roughly fit her body. He smiled and twirled around with the dress splayed over his chest, obviously delighted she had given in and was about to don the wealthy garment. She still wasn’t quite convinced she was worthy of such a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, but she refused to cause him any more unwanted feelings. If this masquerade pleased him, she wasn’t about to let the wonderful occasion slip under her nose without seizing it. For the first time in her life, she would wear a dress that would make all the women in her family swoon with jealousy.
“Holler if you require any assistance,” Giacomo said with a broad grin, hooking the hanger to the screen painted with exotic flowers. “These can be tricky when you’re not used to them.”
“I’m just scared I’ll tear it,” she shrugged, unlacing the ribbon of her shoulder shawl. “Are you sure you haven’t underestimated my size? I’m rather… Shapely, you see, and the corset looks rather small.”
“It is not too small and your silhouette is divina,” he told her, brushing the back of his knuckles on her hip. “I can stay, should that make you feel better, but we will have to tell the tailor we’re married. I’m not entirely convinced he would fancy the idea of a woman showing that much skin to a gentleman behind his curtains.”
“I would rather… You stayed,” she confessed, nervously clasping her fingers across her chest.
Giacomo was a friend, she repeated firmly at the back of her head, and now that she knew that, she couldn’t see any problem with him seeing her in her underslip. It wasn’t as if she was about to completely reveal herself to him - if that had been the case, she would have refused his help without thinking about it twice. And she would really hate to spoil such a beautiful dress because of a lace pulled to tight or a seam tugged too hard, especially since he was the one spending a small fortune on it. A fortune, yes. So much money she could have opened her own shop and built an entire dynasty for the centuries to come over it. To him, it might have been but a snowflake in a blizzard or a particle of quartz in a sandstorm, a coin fished in a sea of gold and jewels, a blade of grass picked in his hanging gardens of Venezia. A little nothing in his world of so much.
He disappeared for a moment, just long enough for her to fold her shawl and smooth it down on a chair, then reappeared with a pleased clap of his hands.
“Bene, now that we won’t be arrested for indecency,” he started, leaning his cane against the wall and pushing his sleeves up his wrists, “shall we begin, mia cara. I promise my eyes will not wander anywhere they are not required and my hands know how to behave. Do you need help taking that one off?”
“No, thank you,” she said as she reached behind her neck to untie a knot. “The servants at Mansfield Park never helped me, I had to learn fairly quickly how to do it myself. The first time I put a dress with a ribbon in the middle of my back, I had to sleep in it. My best friend set me free the morning later and I was chastised by my aunt because it got wrinkled.”
“I hope you know that whatever happens to that dress, even the worst case scenario, I will always play your friend and never your aunt,” he laughed - a laugh that quickly died down when the knot was released and the nek of the dress curtained over her shoulder blades.
“Don’t cast evil spells like this, Giacomo. You know you only need talk about worst case scenarios for them to happen.”
“Scenari. But I do get your point, no more maledizioni.”
He might have crossed his fingers behind his back when he had promised his eyes wouldn’t travel a forbidden path, or he might not have. Either way, he found himself betraying her trust. Just for a second, he abused the faith she had put in hands. The pale blue dress she had donned finally pooled at her feet, her silk underslip kissed the skin of the round hills of flesh and flapped around her thighs, hidden under the thin nylon stockings. He didn’t look, merely watched it from the corner of a fluttering eyelid. He looked when she bent down to take off her shoes and stepped out of the cage of blue fabric to shove it to the side. Just for a second. A second to imagine how the crevices in the small of her back, defined under the shiny, clinging surface, would feel like against his lips. How the full cheeks of her glorious bottom would react when touched by his fingers. How the strong, curvaceous legs would feel, wrapped around his hips or around his neck, as he slowly, deeply, passionately…
“Giacomo, I know what you’re thinking,” she suddenly said, blood rushing to her cheeks as she covered herself with her brand new dress.
He swallowed a gasp and hurried to pull on his jacket to hide the proud illustration of his rampant imagination, briefly squeezing his eyes shut when his fingers inadvertently brushed against the hardened flesh. No, she couldn’t know. If she had been any other woman, he would already have his pants down his knees, her body bent over the chair and his throbbing erection ramming into her heat. This wasn’t any other woman. This was Fanny. He only had stolen one look, one quick look, not even long enough to remember if the images reeling through his mind were what he had seen or what he had invented. One look, that was enough for his desire to spark, and just enough to taste the bitter guilt at the back of his throat. She couldn’t know. She couldn’t have noticed his arousal, because he was convinced she was too pure to even consider the possibility. She couldn’t realize he was aroused, because that would mean he’d have to tell her about all those things he wasn’t ready to tell her about yet.
He desired her. Only, not like any other woman. Because this was Fanny. She was attractive. Simply, so simply, not like any other woman. She had a beautiful face, an exquisite physique, and he desired her body.
But more than that, and most certainly not like any other woman, he desired who she was. He knew that, because, though that was a foreign and oddly satisfying feeling, he wanted to protect her. To respect her. To care, to please. To make her laugh and smile. To make her happy. To lo….
“Scusi?” he asked after a particularly hard gulp of fear and culpability, chasing the unfamiliar word away from his train of thoughts. “What am I thinking about, dolcezza?”
“About my body,” she continued, unaware that her shy statement brought him to the steep verge of spontaneously combusting. “About my fat body and how it will never fit inside this dress. You really should have picked a bigger size, Giacomo, you underestimated…”
“Your body is perfect as it is, magnifica Fanny,” he hurried to reassure her, keeping his eyes firmly locked on her face. “And the dress is the perfect size, I promise. Should we try it on?”
She nodded her assent with a sheepish quiver of her lips, and his nervous fingers closed around the dress she handed him.
nothing much, just obsessively pining for you at 4:30 in the morning even though you’ll never love me, same old same old
Peter had been given the power of life and he used it to bring Tony back. What about your parents? What about your uncle? Tony helped save the world, sure, but it was already done. He’d lived his life, his family had moved on, his friends had moved on, but Peter Parker got to give someone a second chance and he’d chosen Tony.
Avengers | Tony/Peter | 9k+ | Post-Endgame; Resurrected!Tony; Hand-wavy magic; some recreational drug use
Tony comes back to a world where everyone’s moved on without him. Peter helps.
“I want you to not need to drink just because you spent one night treating me the way you are with Pete all the time.”
“Hey, no - kid, this isn’t about you,” he tries to explain.
“Except it is,” Peter interrupts, “because he’s just like me, but you love him and you can barely even look at me.”
Avengers | Tony/Peter(+Peter) | WIP already at 70k+ | pining; so much pining; what do you call sleeping with yourself?; dubcon in the identity way; also dubcon in the you-made-a-clone-of-me way; this premise sounds crazy but it is so incredibly in character
Let’s say Tony deals with losing Peter on Titan in his own terribly predictable and predictably terrible way: by creating a replacement Peter. But then Endgame happens - Tony survives, and OG Peter comes back.
Arthur Fleck x Original Female Character | Joker AU
[masterlist]| [ ← previous chapter]
⁕
The heavy front door slammed shut behind her, and Wanda let herself fall forward immediately, only barely landing on her soft leather couch. What a fucked up day.
It hadn’t been working on a Saturday that ruined her day, nor had it been the underlying sense of stress she’d been feeling recently; her bad mood solely derived from the incompetence and selfishness of the people around her, the people she was forced to work with every day, the nurses and doctors that didn’t give a shit about others, let alone the feelings and lives of the young kids they worked with. Nobody cares anymore.
Wanda let her hand drop to the hardwood floor and heard her rings jingle together. How can people be so… so self-absorbed, so falsely confident in their actions, how -
She stopped herself and sat up promptly to look at the quietly ticking clock above her TV. 5:12 pm.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she leaned back against the back-rest of her sofa. She’d be seeing Arthur for dinner again at 8.
About a week had passed since they’d met and spent the evening in that cutesy little diner, and she’d only managed to go three days with the receipt with his number on it constantly burning a hole in her pocket before she’d called him.
He’d been somewhat surprised to hear from her, but certainly not opposed to meeting her for dinner on Wednesday, two days later, which had been amazing.
Sure, Arthur was, for lack of a better word, weird. He was awkward, his sense of humour was twisted and dark and his sporadic fits of laughter had the potential to make her feel fairly uncomfortable, mostly because of the people around them, but he was also extremely honest and genuine, extraordinarily caring and loving, especially when talking about his mother, and just an overall delightful human being.
However, regardless of his charming ways of talking, she felt his inner sadness and suffering. He didn’t talk about it much, not even really when she brought such themes up, but Wanda could feel how broken he was and how desperately he needed somebody to talk to - not unlike her.
As much as she yearned to see him again, after this terrible day she felt like she wanted to do nothing but cuddle up in bed with a steaming cup of tea and cry herself to sleep. Maybe she could convince him to do something else, but go for dinner? Maybe just…
She had grabbed the phone’s receiver already, her fingers dialling the number slowly, as if savouring every digit, but her heart was pounding as she finished to hear the dial tone. What if he’s not home? What if he is, and he’s mad that you can’t make it? What if -
“Hello?” The voice that interrupted her nervous spiralling wasn’t Arthurs, but the raspy, weak tone of an older woman. His mum, of course.
“Hi, u-um, hi, is Arthur there by any chance?” The woman on the other end inhaled sharply, and her voice seemed a little stronger than before, now mostly charged with confusion.
“Oh, yes, but… who’s there?”
“Wanda, m-my name is Wanda, I’m a friend of his. Could I p-possibly speak to him?” The woman paused, as if taken aback by her words, then caught herself and continued with an audible smile on her face.
“Yes, yes, of course, hold on just a second.” Wanda could practically hear the haphazard motion that was made to cover up the phone’s microphone, the sound muffled for just a moment, before she could hear everything clearly again.
“Happy!” She really calls him that.
“Yes, mom?” Arthur’s voice called back sounding distant, like a call from far away or a different room.
“There’s someone on the phone for you, her name’s Wanda?”
“Oh, sh - !” His reaction came immediately as her name was spoken, a loud clattering, then suddenly a smashing sound, before a squeaking door opened in a rush.
“Goodness, put some clothes on, Happy, you can’t walk around in a towel, you’ll catch a cold!”
“I will, mom, I will in a minute, give me the phone, okay?”
“Who’s Wanda? Is this your girlfriend?” Wanda giggled, and promptly covered her mouth, hoping neither of them had heard her.
His girlfriend.
They had talked for hours over dinner, the food almost completely forgotten on the table between them as they chatted about anything and everything. She’d told him about her job, her flat, her everyday problems, and he’d told her about his work as a clown, his coworkers that he seemed to, at least, somewhat enjoy the company of, even though she’d felt an immediate dislike towards most of them, and his mother, whom she’d thought about increasingly lovingly from the way he’d described her.
It had been only when the last sunlight ceased to light up the dreary streets outside that they’d stepped out into the crisp evening air.
He’d offered to walk her home, again, but she’d declined politely, not wanting to be a nuisance, so he’d dropped her off at another bus stop.
As easy and natural as their evening of conversation had been going, as awkward had been saying goodbye. They’d stood close for a few moments, unsure of their actions, until she’d wrapped her arms around his slim frame and hugged him.
Her body had been surging with electricity, her heart beating out of her chest while she’d pressed her face against his shoulder and collarbone, drinking in the closeness and warmth of his body. He’d taken a few moments to reciprocate the hug, and Wanda had found herself surprised by how much she’d wanted him to kiss her as she’d pulled away, even disappointed as he’d merely risen his hand again in a curt wave, turned around and hurried off into the darkness before her bus had even come to a full stop beside them.
“No, mom, not my girlfriend, just - I’ll tell you later okay, just give me the - hello?” There he was, as clear as if he were standing right next to her, and she felt her heart surge as an immediate reaction to him.
“Am I interrupting something?” Wanda snickered as she spoke, but Arthur promptly cut her off with his answer.
“No, no, I was just taking a shower, it’s all good. Is everything okay?”
Just say yes, don’t be a fucking wuss, Wanda.
“That’s why I’m calling, I - actually I’m n-not feeling very well.”
“Oh…” There was obvious empathy in his voice, but also a big hint of disappointment.
“I’m sorry to hear that, can I - ”
“But I still - I s-still want to see you.” The shyness was dominating her voice as she spoke, and she hoped it wouldn’t sound quite as desperate as she thought it did. She genuinely just wanted to see him.
“Oh?”
“I was thinking maybe we can just… go for a walk? I’m sorry, really, if you don’t w-want to, you don’t have to - ”
“No, I’d love to. Do you want me to come pick you up?” His immediate acceptance surprised her as much as she felt flattered, and she struggled not to jump up and down with happiness.
“You don’t have to, let’s maybe just meet at the park?”
“Now?” She hadn’t thought about a time, frankly not expecting him to agree anyways.
“I-i-if you want to, yes, I could be there in about 20 minutes?”
“Yeah, I’ll meet you at the benches out front by the park towers?”
“Okay, I’ll s-see you then.”
“Be careful on the way.”
⁕
She was late. Wanda’s eager and naïve estimate of 20 minutes had been easily overtaken by the delayed bus she’d had to wait for about half an hour alone, leaving her in the middle of rush hour on her way to their meeting point.
Exiting the bus at the park entrance, she could already see Arthur from afar sitting on one of the benches, his leg bouncing up and down in a quick rhythm, his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, directed towards the ground.
The light was draining away already, the low-standing sun hidden behind a solid layer of clouds and she could feel that pressure suddenly, that familiar feeling of something crawling from the pit of her stomach upwards through her throat and nose into her burning eyes and felt her eyebrows furrow by themselves as she walked towards him. Don’t cry, Wanda, come on, don’t cry.
There was barely even enough light to cast a shadow onto the uneven asphalt flooring before her, and he didn’t see her as she walked past, his eyes clamped shut under his furrowed brows, all hidden behind a curtain of dark, shoulder-length hair.
Wanda sat down next to him quietly, her bottom lip quivering so uncontrollably that she had to bite down onto it hard. She folded her hands together and laid them in her lap with the pressure in her chest and stomach increasing steadily, her eyes now feeling like there was a blazing fire burning right behind them.
She took in a soothing but shuddering breath, and then couldn’t keep herself quiet any longer.
“It’s all going to fucking shits.”
“Wanda!” Arthur jolted up, his eyes wide open as he took her in, his shock immediately replaced by worry. The lights around them turned into wavering streaks as she blinked, and she could feel the first tears spilling over the corners of her eyes, slowly running down her cheeks.
Arthur next to her sat up straighter and turned his whole body towards her, his hands unsteadily extended towards her, as if wanting to comfort her, but not quite knowing how. Wanda clamped her eyes shut and tried to speak, to explain herself or apologise, but something was blocking her, didn’t let her speak, only let her struggle with her unsteady breathing.
He seemed to have moved closer as Wanda opened her eyes again, she could feel the warmth radiating off of him as the tears kept coming. She raised a hand to her face, wiping them away carelessly, but as she lowered it again, he intercepted, his long fingers closing around her freezing hand. A jolt of electricity moved through her instantly, making her look up at his anxious face.
“T-this whole fucking town, just one big blob of c-conceited assholes.”
“What happened?”
She told him. They got up and walked, slowly, through the adjacent park as she spoke. She told him all about Will and his disease, about the questionable methods of treatment they were using on him, about the rapid downfall of his health and the kids from the other stations, about the other nurses and doctors and the recent enormous cuts in funding - about how nobody cared.
He walked alongside her, her hand still loosely grasped in his and nodded understandingly every now and again, sometimes offering quick interjections and anecdotes, even a joke that had made her chuckle through her still-teary eyes.
“All of them only care about themselves, not a single thought wasted on others, such fucking n-narcissists.” They’d sat down on another bench, this time overlooking a narrow part of the Gotham River where filthy seagulls were circling over seemingly nothing in the rolling grey stream.
“I wouldn’t say it like that.” Arthur smiled sadly, and a thought came to her mind.
“You don’t swear, do you?” His smile ceased, and he averted his eyes.
“Sometimes… Just not in front of my mom.”
“S-she doesn’t like it, huh?” He shook his head, and she thought back to his mother’s pleasant voice she’d heard on the telephone earlier. “She sounds very sweet.”
“She worries too much.” Who doesn’t? She folded her hands together, trying to warm them up, while his eyes focussed on something far away.
“T-there is a lot to worry about these days.” He nodded slowly, almost absentmindedly, and she was overcome by the urge to hold his hand again to offer some sort of comfort.
“I guess.”
“Sorry to pull you away from her like this, a-after today I just didn’t really feel like going for dinner - ”
“No, no, I get it! I’m… I’m glad you still wanted to meet up.” He turned back towards her, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, and she couldn’t hold back anymore. Her fingers slid over his arm, savouring the feel of the soft fabric of his ochre jacket, and almost instinctively, she interlocked her fingers with his, slowly, but purposefully. He was trembling slightly under her touch, she could feel it, but for her that was only to be taken as a compliment, especially as he readjusted his grip and squeezed her hand softly.
“I’m glad you could m-make it.”
⁕
Arthur insisted on walking Wanda home this time, reiterating that the streets of Gotham were truly dangerous these days and he wasn’t comfortable letting her walk home by herself, especially as her injured ankle had started to act up again.
Her hands were buried deep within the pockets of her thick winter coat as they embarked on the journey in moderately comfortable silence. She could hear him breathing weirdly beside her, as if struggling to decide whether or not to say something, eventually breaking the quiet.
“I have a question.” His voice was serious, all of a sudden.
“Yeah?”
“And you don’t have to answer it, if you don’t want to.” Wanda turned her head to find him regarding her with a somewhat curious, somewhat careful expression, as if he were observing an animal in the wild. She chuckled nervously as they finished crossing a street and stepped back onto the pavement.
“Now you’re s-scaring me, Arthur.”
“No, don’t be - I don’t… Why were you in that alley?” Her feet stopped moving her forward almost instinctively, and she stopped in her tracks.
“What?” He turned around and hurried towards her, obviously worried he’d said something wrong.
“I meant - I just meant the alley, where we met. I told you why I was there, but you never… you never mentioned why you were.”
“Oh.” Oh, indeed. Her head was racing with lies and excuses, like she’d always tried to find when it came to her and Nathan’s relationship. Oh, the bruises? It’s nothing, I fell. The black eye? Just an accident. - You don’t have to tell them the truth.
She shook her head and walked past him, picking up her speed to their former tempo, afraid, just for a moment, that her mouth wasn’t going to let her speak again, but it did.
“I w-was… running from s-someone. My ex, he’s… n-not a very friendly guy.” Arthur was next to her at the blink of an eye as he heard her voice, all ears for everything she was saying.
“What… what did he do?”
Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it, don’tsayit.
“He was - he… have you ever heard about that weird f-fact, that women tend to fall for men like their fathers?” He shook his head slowly, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Life works in m-mysterious ways, he… well, he was just like my dad.” She turned her head to the side and observed the buildings they were passing as a distraction, so she could talk more clearly and freely.
“He was… my dad, he wasn’t a great father, I think I t-told you about him the day we met, he… he hit my mum often, sometimes me. I - I don’t know why I’m telling you this, g-god, I should just - ” Her fingers were covering her eyes as she stopped again and turned away from him in sudden embarrassment.
“Hey, no, no, please!” She was surprised by his short, but exceptionally easily suppressed chuckle and his warm but hesitant hands on her back and forearm. “I’m not gonna force you to tell me more, but I’ll… if you want to, I’ll listen - I’ll listen to anything you want to talk about.” His smile was loving and encouraging, and they continued walking as she explained.
“My dad was abusive throughout my whole childhood, and after my parents f-finally split up about five years ago, he m-moved back here. My mother passed away a c-couple of years ago, not long after that, and about two y-years ago I got the news that my dad’s health had started to det-deteriorate as well, and he was in need of help, so I came here - to help.”
Arthur nodded understandingly, his hands plunged black into the pockets of his oversized slacks, his eyes not leaving hers for even a second.
“I got him into a fairly n-nice clinic, out of the shithole he was living in, n-n-not that he was thankful for anything I was doing, but now he was at least somewhat c-cared for. I started working here full time again to p-pay the bills and visited him every day, and he seemed to be getting better and b-better. I mean, sometimes he was even n-nice to me for once,” her face was overcome by an absent smile for a second, “and then the city cut their budgets and the clinic closed.”
He took in a sharp breath, and she concentrated on looking forward and walking the familiar way towards home.
“I c-couldn’t afford to get him into any of the other clinics, and Arkham State r-refused to take him in because he didn’t have, and I quote, any obvious issues. W-what a load of fucking idiots they are.” They turned a corner, and she could see the memories almost like a movie playing in front of her inner eye.
“Well, I had to take him into my flat and try to c-care for him there, but it didn’t work. He had mental issues, which, I think, is o-obvious by now, and one day, when I c-came home from work, he was just gone. Had taken all of the money I had left from mum and some I’d managed to s-save up and left. I found out a couple of w-weeks later, completely by ch-chance, that he’d passed away.”
Wanda took a shuddering breath, and she felt Arthur move closer, so his arm was now pressing against hers as they advanced through the dingy street.
“I was just w-walking to work, you know, and there he was, on the p-pavement, and there was an ambulance and these fucking asshole paramedics were standing by his side talking shit and - l-long story short, he died of hypothermia out in the open s-streets.”
“Oh my god - ” Arthur had stopped this time, his eyes wide open in horror, his face even paler than usual.
“Don’t be sorry for me, I s-suppose it was better that way, both for him and for me.”
“I don’t - I - First of all, I’m incredibly sorry, but I… I was there…”
“What?” He suddenly pulled out the journal she’d seen him scribble in sometimes from his back pocket and opened his notes, quickly turning the pages until he seemingly landed on the one he was looking for, about half-way through the notebook.
“I was on my way home and there was an ambulance and I got curious and I saw him, I saw… I’m so sorry, Wanda.”
She stepped closer to him, her eyes roaming over the messy pages up to where his fingers were pointing.
I noticed that there was an ambulance and the paramedics were standing over the homeless man. I walked over because I was interested in what happened to him as I got near them I heard them say “what a way to go on the side walk.” what?? can you imagine that??? dead on the sidewalk with people stepping over you. Maybe he’s happier.
Her eyes welled up with tears again, and she quickly turned her head away from him, swallowing them up silently.
“It’s fine, really, just sorry you had to s-see that.”
“No I’m… I’m the one who’s sorry, really. But then…” His voice was back to the careful, caring guy as he quickly closed the diary and caught back up with her. “What happened with your… your… the guy you were talking about?”
“Oh, yes, he… I met him after I m-moved here, and as dad got worse and worse, he was really the only p-person I had - the only one that was… there for me, I guess.”
Arthur nodded, and she thought she could see just a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He also only had his mum.
“I thought he was nice and a g-good guy, I didn’t see how he started to manipulate me; how he made me do things I didn’t want by making me feel g-guilty, or how he was constantly lying, I didn’t see any of that - not until he started to get aggressive and v-v-violent with me.” She could see Arthur turning away discretely out of the corner of her eye, his eyebrows furrowed, casting a deep shadow over his usually bright eyes.
“After my dad had passed, I was crushed. Not necessarily b-because of his death, I told you, I knew it was probably f-for the best, but I suddenly couldn’t see any meaning in what I was doing a-anymore. My parents were dead, I didn’t really have any f-friends, my colleagues hated me almost as much as I d-despised them so all I had left was Nathan, and I knew that s-something was… off in our relationship.”
They turned a corner to another street, and Wanda could see the multi-story apartment building she was living in in the far right end of her field of vision.
“Then, one day, he went too far. He’d started to ‘punish’ me every n-now and again for irrelevant things he ge-genuinely saw as mistakes and flaws of mine, and that day he… he locked me in the b-bathroom to teach me a l-lesson with no way of getting out and just… left, for days. He told the neighbours that he was going to have a party, and that they shouldn’t listen to any n-noises they might hear.” S he stopped after they’d crossed the streets towards the white, grimy building, only a couple of metres from the front entrance and shrugged as if it was the most natural reaction.
“Well, thankfully somebody did listen, and it’s a l-long story, but I got away. Hadn’t seen him for a couple of weeks until that day you and I met, when he s-saw me in the city by chance and t-t-tried to…” She choked on her breath, the feeling of his breath on her ear and his hand on her throat all too real all of a sudden. “Well, I ran, and that’s that!”
Wanda rubbed her eyes, which were tearing up, as casually as possible, but she could feel him tense up even further beside her.
“I - I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry, that’s just - that’s really… how could anyone - ”
Her hand darted forward to his arm in a meagre attempt at stopping his apologetic stuttering and closed around the fabric instinctively.
“It’s alright, I’m fine now. R-Remember, you asked.”
Wanda observed his worried expression transform into nervousness as she suddenly realised how close together they were standing. Her back was leaning against the wall and he was towering over her, his facial contour lit up dramatically by the street light just behind him.
All words escaped her as she felt his warm breath fan over her face, and she could feel her heart beating so fast that it was actively threatening to burst out of her chest. His face was closer than it had ever been, the contours and premature wrinkles all too visible on his pale skin, but his closeness was making her hands tremble and her eyes flicker down to his lips.
He moved closer, slowly but surely, and just as he was millimetres away from her and she was absolutely certain that he was leaning in to finally kiss her, he took a step back, mumbling a quick goodbye and was gone before she could even turn her head to look after him.
When she awoke from her trance and turned to open her front door, she could still hear his faint nervous cackle in the distance.
Arthur Fleck x Original Female Character | Joker AU
[masterlist] | [ ← previous chapter]][next chapter → ]
⁕
The diner turned out to be a quirky, colourful little space, tucked away between two of the many hulking skyscrapers Gotham had to offer. It was one of the first family-run businesses Wanda had seen in a long time, since the city was largely dominated by corporate-owned restaurant chains nowadays.
They were greeted upon entering by the glow of blue-ish fluorescent lights on the ceiling, that were an especially comfortable change to the dark alleyway, and a friendly older woman, who was wiping down one of the square tables near the entrance.
Arthur sat down to her left after they decided to take up a corner booth right next to a large window overlooking the busy evening streets, his eyes diverted downwards to the white wooden table. They had both started meagre attempts at small-talk on the way, and he’d made her laugh once or twice with some borderline morbid jokes, which she’d found surprisingly funny, but the atmosphere between them still felt very awkward.
A young waitress, that Wanda believed to be the daughter of the older woman, came to deliver them their coffees and a warm smile. Arthur nodded at the lady politely, before his hands came to rest around his steaming cup and he turned his attention back to Wanda.
"So… you’re not from here, are you?“ His hesitance made her smile, and she could feel her heartbeat quicken as she looked up into his eyes, noticing their colour for the first time.
They were green, the kind of bright green that fought through heaps of melting snow to remind you that spring was coming, sparkling in the neon lights like fresh dew on the grass in the morning.
Wanda found herself staring for just a moment too long, and the blush seared through her cheeks so fast she could’ve sworn her face was on fire.
"Oh, t-the accent? Surprised, you didn’t ask earlier. I’m from s-southern England, originally.” She fiddled with the sugar packet and could see him out of the corner of her eye tilting his head slightly after she finished, like a curious dog.
“Then what brought you here?” To this shitshow of a city? Arthur gestured to the window behind him, and she followed his indication.
The darkness was falling over the city like a dark veil, the light grey sky slowly but surely transforming it into an ocean of velvety blackness, only broken up by the warmly lit-up windows lining the sky-high buildings. People were passing the grimy window of the diner, some rushing past, some sauntering along and some just calmly wandering the streets.
“I…” Wanda struggled a bit, the topic of her family being something that she was still fairly uncomfortable talking about. “I… My d-d-dad was American, he was actually b-born in Gotham.” She took a shuddering breath and tried to concentrate on individual faces passing by, distractions usual helping her stutter, which, for some reason, was worse today than it had been in a long time.
"My parents met while he was over in England on a b-business trip, and they had me shortly after. They split up eventually a c-couple of years ago, and he moved back here.“
A group of businessmen walked past, the oncoming darkness making it seem like their expensive black suits were blending right into the Gotham-typical mountains of shiny trashbags behind them, and Wanda had to smile for a moment, realising the irony of her thought. We’re the trash, not them.
"And you went with him?”
“No, I stayed in England. W-well, originally, I did. But then he got sick and needed help, and I came here.”
The men had left, and she now observed a young couple standing by the bus stop just outside, his arm draped loosely across her bare shoulders as they waited in the cold. Their breaths were rising in visible puffs through the crisp air above them, blending in with the neverending cigarette smoke drifting through the city.
“He wasn’t a good dad, hit us and all that, but he was still my dad…”
The jarring sound of a fork clattering onto the black and white tile floor of the diner brought Wanda back to reality, and she realised what she’d just said out loud.
“Fuck, I-I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” She straightened up instinctively as if she was getting ready to leave, and lifted her fingers up to loosely cover her mouth in embarrassment. “I have a tendency to o-overshare and I have problems with s-s-stuttering when I’m n-nervous and then I notice that I’m t-t-talking too much and my stutter gets even worse and I can’t stop and I just w-wish that I hadn’t talked at all, and - ”
“It’s okay, I like listening to you.” His voice was warm and genuine, and she relaxed almost immediately as he spoke.
“The stuttering doesn’t bother me, trust me, I know what it’s like when you have no control over… yourself.” He pointed at himself with a bitter smile and she could feel her heart burn with compassion.
"This condition of yours, h-have you always had that?“ Her mouth had, once more, blurted out her thoughts without her consent, and she was immediately filled with regret. So inappropriate.
"I…” Arthur paused, and she interrupted him immediately.
“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, that was so intrusive - ”
“I’ve had it for as long as I can think, really.” His eyebrows were furrowed slightly, his mouth curved in a slight frown and he seemed to look through her as if lost in thought.
“Must’ve been terrible as a child,” Wanda thought out loud. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to suffer from a condition like his, much less to grow up with such a burden. Adults were often condescending and rude, but kids could be brutal with their words and actions, especially when they were directed at others who were different in any way, regardless of whether the problem was under their control or not.
“It still is.” Arthur murmured, and she felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. Fuck.
“O-of course, I - o-of course, it is!” Now she sounded like the most ignorant person on the planet. As a child. A condition like his wasn’t just a small impediment like her stutter, it could probably impact pretty much every single aspect of his life negatively; how can you say something like that so carelessly?
"I-I just meant, when I was a child I had t-terrible problems with stuttering, much worse than now, and everybody m-made fun of me. I mean, even my t-teachers laughed at me all the time, and if that isn’t the most case-in-point example of our failing educational system, I don’t know what is.“ Wanda saw images flashing before her eyes, her old teacher Mrs Wortham whom she’d despised more than anybody else she’d ever known. Her arrogant way of talking, her exaggerated, fabricated smiles, and her constant malicious words against her, all of it filling Wanda with a wave of anger against the general system that she hadn’t felt in a long time.
"It got to a point where I just s-stopped talking altogether, because not being able to say anything was still better than constantly being l-laughed at, and it was horrible. That’s why I imagine that it must have been terrible growing up with your condition, just b-b-because, well, I mean, I don’t want to bring any of that up, but - all I’m trying to say is: I’m s-sorry, it must’ve been very hard.”
To her surprise, he smiled at her genuinely, then looked down into his half-empty cup of coffee.
“I appreciate that, thank you. I… I didn’t really go to a public school. I did for a while, but it just didn’t work out, so my mom… my mom taught me everything I needed to know.” Arthur avoided eye contact, and Wanda felt like he was really embarrassed about it. She knew about the recent debates, about the people who claimed it was criminal to withhold children from public education, but she couldn’t have cared less; as long as they taught their child the basics and made sure their moral compass wasn’t severely screwed up, what did it matter in which environment the children learned?
“That’s so interesting, it must’ve been a lot of fun to be taught things by someone that’s so close to you and actually cares about you.”
“It was. I mean, I love my mom, but it was hard… it was hard growing up without any other friends.” The sadness that he spoke with made her heart grow heavy in her chest, and her sympathy for him increased indefinitely.
“I know… I - I mean, I can imagine. But at least you had her, right?”
“I did, yeah. She’s the most important person in my life.” His eyes met hers again, and she could see that he spoke the truth, his expression full of warmth and love and Wanda felt a little pang of jealousy hit her. She’d never had the best relationship with her mother, not after everything that had happened, but she’d always longed to have something like this, someone, that would be there in this way at all times.
“I’m glad, she sounds amazing.” Afraid, that her expression might seem somewhat sour, Wanda intuitively covered her mouth as she smiled.
"Do you wanna know what her nickname for me is?“
"What is it?”
“Happy.” Happy. That was the cutest thing she’d ever heard.
“That is so adorable. I have to meet her someday and see, what kind of name she’d come up with for me.”
Something in his eyes changed as she said that, something that apparently gave him a little more confidence, considering he suddenly sat up straighter, his arms laid out on the table in an open gesture, and smiled at her brightly.
“You know, she only calls me that, because I really like jokes - always have.”
“I can tell, and you’re good at telling them, too!”
⁕
"It’s fine, I’ll be fine. You want to go?“ His posture still exuded uncertainty, but as they finally left the dark alleyway, his demeanour seemed to better naturally.
Her head instinctively snapped to both sides as they reached the open streets, her eyes scanning the crowds for the slick blond hair she’d run from earlier, but he really seemed to have gone.
Walking was okay, sometimes a little difficult to place her foot in the right angle as to not feel any pain or injure herself further, but Wanda was way too shy to ask Arthur for help.
They walked about a block, only exchanging small talk and fleeting glances before she spied the diner in question in the corner of her vision. They were crossing the street when it happened: she stepped back up onto the pavement a little too enthusiastically, and immediately felt the now-familiar ache shoot up through her leg again, making her hiss in pain. Her hand grabbed Arthur’s arm for balance, and she felt her face scrunch up in discomfort.
There was a short pause as he took in some air before he spoke, his voice dripping with concern.
"I really feel like I should get you to a hospital or something.” Wanda let her face relax again as the pain subsided slowly, and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.
“Thanks, really, but I know I’ll be fine.” He chuckled, and she could see his face light up ever so slightly all of a sudden.
“You wanna know the quickest way of getting to the hospital?” She let go of his arm as he lifted it and pointed behind her.
“Just stand in the road and wait.”
⁕
Her heartfelt chuckle still rang in her ears as she remembered his previous joke and his pure, pleased facial expression as he’d looked back at her.
“Thank you, I’m - well, I’m trying to pursue a career in stand up comedy.”
Oh. That, Wanda had not expected. She’d enjoyed the jokes he’d told her over the course of the night immensely, but she felt like his sense of humour was very much specialised, so much that the general public would probably not be a very receptive audience to his type of comedy.
However, she was.
"Really? I’d love to come to one of your shows some time.“ He raised his eyebrows as if questioning her enthusiastic response, and seemed to struggle with giving a casual response.
"I-I’ll tell you when I’ve got one coming up.”
“So, what do you do for a living right now?” The embarrassment in his eyes returned immediately, and he lowered his gaze back towards his coffee.
"I work for the… I work as a clown.“ Of course, that explained the remainders of white makeup on the side of his face she’d been wondering about, but something about that seemed… off. Arthur, while he appeared to her like a friendly and interesting person, frankly didn’t seem to be the type to work as a clown. He seemed very sad and almost sickly, and Wanda couldn’t help but wonder how he came to work in an industry that was so very largely based on entertainment and laughter.
"I’ve never met a clown before, I’ve always thought it sounds like so much fun.”
“Well, it depends.”
“What do you mean?” He was still avoiding eye contact as he spoke, his hands fiddling with the sleeves of his dotted white button-up shirt.
“Well, I work for an agency, they’re actually called ‘the ha-ha agency’,” he rolled his eyes warily, “they rent out clowns for a variety of things - good and bad. I get to go to the children’s hospital sometimes, that’s the best.” He looked back up at her unexpectedly, and his eyes were almost glowing with passion.
“There is this one kid who’s got cancer, I think, and he’s always the happiest, always reacts with the most genuine laughter you’ll ever hear. He’s the cutest kid I’ve ever met, and it’s the most gratifying experience to - ”
“Will…”
“Yes, Will. Do you know him?” Wanda had interrupted him unwillingly, but her mind had not allowed her to remain silent as she recognised who he was talking about.
“I do, I - I work there.”
“You do?” She did. William, the boy he was talking about, was on her station, a little orphan boy who had fortunately been lucky enough to receive treatment for his rare case of bone cancer, largely because they didn’t know a lot about his disease yet, so he was perfect for testing out unusual new methods. She shuddered and forced herself to smile at Arthur’s curious look.
"I’m a nurse there. We’re living in rough times, the children are getting sicker and sicker every day, and Will…" Wanda looked him in the eyes and stopped herself from elaborating.
“I’m sorry, you finish first. What’s the bad part?” He hesitated before he continued, maybe wanting to ask her more about her job, but he seemed to catch the fact that she didn’t have any real interest in continuing to talk about it at the moment, so he took another deep breath and kept going.
“Well, sometimes it’s the most demeaning things you have to do as a clown. I don’t have a problem with that per sé, I don’t…” He paused, but Wanda knew what he meant. He didn’t think of himself very highly, and as long as he got paid for what he did, he didn’t care what others thought of him.
“But the people here are just…”
“The worst.”
“Yeah.” Arthur gave her a sour smile, then turned away towards the window. "Got jumped the other day, by some teens.“ Fuck. Her gaze fell back onto the materializing bruises along his jawline and neck, the outsides a pale red with the middles resembling the purple of plums all the way to the dark mauve of blackberries.
"Was my fault, really. They stole something from me and I shouldn’t have gone after them.”
“Sorry about that…” Wanda followed his gaze once more, the darker streets outside now largely empty, only lit up by the yellowish glow of the many street lights lining the pavement, and she lost herself staring at the passing cars. Deep in thought, without looking at him, she mumbled, partly directed at him, partly directed at herself: “What’s become of this world, Arthur?”
⁕
“You sure you don’t want me to walk you home? The streets here are dangerous, especially at night.” Arthur’s words warmed Wanda’s heart as the harsh coldness crept through her jacket, and she shook her head with a smile.
“I’ll be fine, you really don’t have to. I live on the other side of t-town and I know you’ve got work tomorrow, besides, it’s really just this b-bus I have to take and then I’m basically already home.”
“Okay…” He nodded to himself, head now turned towards the ground as he readjusted his pale ochre jacket before thrusting his hands into his pockets dejectedly.
"Listen, I… I really enjoyed t-this, you know?“ His gaze met hers immediately as she stammered, eyes wide open in surprise. "I mean, m-maybe we could do something like this a-again sometime?” Wanda forced herself to smile, and he blinked a couple of times, then rubbed his eyes firmly before refocussing on her. She almost expected him to reject her offer after all this, but he proved her wrong.
"Y-yeah, sure!“ His stutter made her laugh, and even though she’d tried to swallow it as much as she could, she knew he’d noticed. "I’ll… um… I’ll give you my number?” His head was cocked to the side as he suggested the idea, once again reminding her of a cute, curious dog, and she quickly pulled out a pen from her purse, handing it to him.
Wanda could see her bus approaching out of the corner of her eye and quickly took the few steps towards the road to signal for the bus driver to stop. Turning around, she was startled to find Arthur standing right behind her, his hand extended holding her pen and a receipt that had something scribbled on its back in very messy handwriting.
She grabbed it immediately, as the bus slowed down to a stop and nodded at Arthur, not quite knowing under which boundaries to say goodbye.
“I-I-I’ll call you, if I can r-read this.” She grinned, and he chuckled in response as she rose her hand to a cordial wave, the paper grasped tightly between her fingers.
“Be careful.” He added, and she saluted him as she boarded the bus.
“I will.”
With her hand and the piece of paper pressed closely to her chest, the bus closed its doors and started moving almost immediately, and Wanda couldn’t help but feel a tight, pressing feeling in her chest as she studied Arthur slowly moving out of her field of vision.
His hands were pushed back into his jacket pockets, his eyes following the bus as the corners of his mouth curved slightly upwards into a hint of a smile, and then they had turned a corner and he was out of sight.
Wanda sighed and pressed the paper tighter against her chest. She felt like there was so much more to him, so much more mystery to unfold, to learn and know, and she couldn’t help but eagerly await the next time they’d meet.
Arthur Fleck x Original Female Character | Joker AU
[masterlist] | [next chapter → ]
⁕
He’s going to see me. He’s going to get me. He’s going to hurt me.
Wanda’s breath felt like sharp daggers in her lungs, her legs sore from running through the wide, bustling streets of Gotham trying to get away from him.
She had tried to excuse his behaviour for months and months, his violent actions towards her, his abusive slaps and punches and - worst of all - his hurtful words. She had tried to be understanding, kind and forgiving, to be there for him, that’s what people in a relationship did, after all, wasn’t it?
It had only gotten worse. The more she’d tried to help him, the more he’d started acting out on her, had touched her without her consent, had locked her in their apartment for days without food as a ‘punishment’ if she didn’t do exactly what he wanted her to, all until she’d miraculously managed to escape a couple of weeks ago.
It had taken all of her willpower not to call the police on him, knowing full well he would’ve ended up in jail or another facility, not only because of what he’d done to her but his numerous other criminal actions she had witnessed in the time she had spent with him, not even mentioning his constant drug abuse. She’d wanted to be nice.
Wanda hadn’t called the police, had just left him a note telling him to keep his distance, and if he ever did try to come near her again, she would turn him in immediately.
"Dirty fucking bitch!“ he had called her only minutes ago as he’d stumbled upon her randomly in the dirty streets of Gotham before he’d grabbed her dark hair from behind, pulling her back flush against him. The passersby around them apparently hadn’t noticed, if they had, they hadn’t reacted to her precarious situation in any way, not even glancing at her as she struggled against his strong grip. His other hand had wrapped around her throat and pulled her neck back onto his shoulder, so he could talk right into her ear.
"I’ll give you what you fucking deserve for running away from me, for even daring - ” His snarling voice and his grip on her curls had ceased immediately after Wanda had angled her knee and kicked her foot backwards in the general direction of his crotch.
“Ugh!” he’d cried out and she’d felt him falling to his knees behind her. She hadn’t turned around to see, she hadn’t had the urge to actually see his face, she’d just started running as fast as she could, jumping through multiple groups of people as she frantically ran and ran as fast as she could, letting the fear and panic envelop her and spur her on.
Now, as Wanda ran, she knew he was following her, and she knew that, if he caught her, he would kill her. She knew him well enough to know she’d crossed that line he’d talked about so often, and that, in his eyes, she now deserved the ultimate punishment.
The heavy rain that had been pouring down the whole day had stopped, but the pavements were still slick with a thin coat of water. As she darted around a corner, her foot slid through a puddle into a shallow pothole and lodged itself into the crevice, her ankle suddenly bent dangerously far into the wrong direction, and Wanda cried out in pain as she felt the unnatural stretching sensation.
She wasn’t going to be able to run from him, not with whatever she had just managed to do to herself, and she looked around in panic. There was the option of running into the big crowd of people in the public square across the street to her right, maybe getting away with the anonymity of the crowd and fleeing via the subway, or she could take her chances and just try to keep on running as far as she could. Then her eyes fell on the narrow alleyway to her left, which, she knew, he would never expect her to hide in.
Her decision was made, and, within seconds, she was crouched behind a shallow garbage container in the semi-dark alley, watching the street through the gap between container and dirty brick-wall. It took only about 10 seconds until she saw him run past, his usual gelled blond hair messily falling into his face, and then he had passed out of her field of vision.
Wanda waited for at least 5 minutes, crouched behind the container until the water on the ground had soaked through her shoes and socks and her heart had stopped its relentless, torturous rhythm before she finally got up. Her knees were hurting, and her ankle was throbbing painfully, but she was fine, she was alive, and he was gone.
Then she heard the loud crash behind her.
⁕
Wanda whirled around instinctively, now facing the dark alleyway, and saw the silhouette of a man only a couple of metres away from her. He was tall, his shoulder-length-hair flailing around his thin frame as he held onto the container beside him whilst viciously stomping on a couple of trash bags on the ground in front of him, grunting loudly as he went on and on.
He continued his venting for about a minute while she stood in the shadows indecisively, his curly hair damp with sweat as he ultimately stopped to lean his hands on his knees while trying to catch his breath.
The flash of fear she had felt from being startled by the noise had quickly turned into concern for the man in front of her. Sure, it was none of her business, and she could’ve just swallowed her concerns and quietly left the alley, probably without him even noticing, but something about him drew her in, something that made her curious and cautious at once. And what’s the worst that could happen?
“A-are you okay, sir?” Her voice had spoken for her without her meaning for it to, just after her legs had taken her a careful couple of steps closer, wary of putting pressure onto her already-swollen ankle.
The figure before her flinched, and straightened up immediately, still visibly exhausted from his fit and turned his face towards her for the first time.
He wore a white shirt and dark slacks that both looked a little too big on his slender figure, and while he had a kind face dominated by strong features, he looked awfully tired, his eyes sunken in and underlined by dark circles and a drained expression apparent on his face.
“Yeah, sure.” His voice was mildly dismissive, probably certain she was just asking him because of moral etiquette, and not out of actual worry. He was walking towards her now, trying to pass by her with a considerable, polite distance between them, heading towards the exit of the alley she had come from purposefully fast.
“Are you sure?” Wanda asked again as he was just about to pass her, and he stopped in his tracks to turn towards her again. His gaze burned through her, studying her for a long couple of seconds while his hand found its way up to his hair, slicking the wet strands backwards onto his shoulders. She forced herself to an encouraging smile.
“Just a bad day.” His voice was pleasant, deep and relaxing, and his kind smile was audible in his words.
“Aren’t they all bad these days?” Wanda remarked, and he chuckled lightly. Just as he opened his mouth to answer her, she witnessed a sudden drop of blood flowing out of his nose and trail down over his lips, the dark liquid a stark contrast against his pale complexion. “Oh, your nose, hold on.”
She reached for her back pocket and pulled out her clean, white handkerchief, quickly closing the distance between them with limping steps to offer it to him.
He made a rejecting motion and moved to grab his own handkerchief from his shirt pocket only to find it empty, then reluctantly taking hers out of her hand with an appreciative smile.
“Thanks.” he mumbled as he pressed the cloth over his mouth and his nose, and she could see the blood soaking through the white fabric onto his hands.
She stood closer to him now, close enough to observe what the dark alleyway had hidden before: a tall, decently attractive man, pale with dark brown hair, strong brows, and striking, bright eyes that seemed to look right into her soul. Wanda could spot the visible residue of white paint around his temples, crusted blood on his scalp and there were fresh, purple bruises on the side of his neck and jaw, that were just beginning to darken as if he’d only been in a fight very recently.
Her heart sank, and she spoke without thinking again.
“Sorry for w-whatever h-h-happened to you.” She mentally slapped herself to stop her unrelenting nervous stutter and gestured to his neck. “This city’s a dump, honestly.”
His gaze on her seemed somewhat confused now, and he answered after another long chuckle.
“It really is, isn’t it?” He wiped his nose with the handkerchief and she could see that it appeared to have stopped bleeding.
“My name’s Wanda, by the w-way.” She couldn’t stop herself from saying it and offered him her hand in a friendly handshake. His skin was cold and rough and his reaction weirdly hesitant as he shook her hand as if he hadn’t expected her to… be nice?
“Arthur, Arthur Fleck.” That’s a nice name, she thought and gave him another bright smile.
“It’s nice to meet you, Arthur.”
He smiled back at her, a genuine, interested smile, and suddenly, out of nowhere, he burst into hysterical laughter that echoed loudly through the narrow street. Wanda instinctively took a step back as he slapped his hand across his mouth and managed to stop for a short moment, then broke out in even more uncontrollable spurts. Arthur lifted his arm and pressed his face into the crook of his elbow, as his other hand was furiously trying to grab something from his inner jacket pocket.
Great. Wanda immediately regretted having initiated the conversation with this stranger in the dark alley, now convinced that he was absolutely going to pull out a gun or a knife and probably kill her right here, right now. Might’ve as well let Nathan get to me out on the street.
Her ankle was throbbing and her lungs still hurt with the aftershocks of her recent escape. She knew this guy could do anything to her right now, she had no chance in a fight and running was beyond all question.
To her genuine surprise, he didn’t pull out a weapon at all, but a small credit-card sized laminated piece of paper with some text on it and handed it to her with his shaking hand, his body still writing with laughter. She turned the worn out, slightly wrinkled card so she could read it in the sparse light.
Forgive my laughter. I have a condition. (more on back)
Her fingers quickly turned over the card to reveal more information in smaller print.
It’s a medical condition causing sudden, frequent, uncontrollable laughter that doesn’t match how you feel. It can happen to people with brain injuries or certain neurological conditions. Thanks! (Please return the card)
Her heart was beating out of her chest, and as she looked up again, Arthur had fallen back against the brick wall, one of his hands clamped across his mouth, desperately trying to muffle his voice, the other roughly choking himself, turning his loud laughter into a wheezy cough that sounded horribly painful.
“S-so-sorr-ha-ha-ha!”
Wanda was by his side in the blink of an eye, her arm around his upper waist, stabilizing his shaking body against the wall, her voice slow and calm.
“Shhh, it’s okay, you have to relax, Arthur, can you do that for me?” She slid her hand across the one on his neck. He resisted at first, but then gave in, letting her take it softly into hers, away from his throat, leaving behind large white marks on the reddened skin.
“Try and breathe slowly, in and out, okay? Do it with me.” His eyes were on hers, and she could see the tears threatening to spill over being blinked away as he focussed on her, his breathing roughly matching hers, only occasionally disrupted by short chuckles, his convulsing chest now calmly rising and falling.
Wanda’s heart was burning with pity to see him like this. She’d met many people in her life so far, especially since working as a nurse in Gotham, had witnessed many different conditions and disorders, both physical and mental, but this was one of the weirdest ones she had seen so far. Poor Arthur.
He’d closed his eyes, her steadying arm no longer around his waist as he leaned fully against the wall now, his head thrown back against the cold bricks as he caught his breath fully.
Her left hand was still holding his, absentmindedly rubbing calming circles into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger.
“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered quietly, his voice rough and wheezy as if it hurt him to speak at all.
“No need to apologise. Are you feeling better?”
He leaned forward abruptly as though he’d just remembered she was there or had expected her to have gone, his sudden movement pulling his own hand out of hers.
His gaze was once more focussed on her, and he smiled at her apologetically as she handed him his card back.
“Sorry, really, I - ”
“Hey, stop it, alright? W-we all could use some more laughter, especially n-nowadays.”
The stutter was back now, the nervousness surging through her as he, seemingly taken aback by her words, looked at her with a certain twinkle in his eyes before a smile spread over his face again. He’s cute.
“I mean that.” Wanda hesitated as her mind started to wander. He’d leave now, and then she would, too, leaving this alley and this meeting behind them. She’d go back to her flat, back to the same old routine, and she’d likely never see him again. She wanted to, however, because something about him intrigued her and piqued her interest. Her lips moved before she knew it.
“Hey, l - listen, can I do anything n-n-nice for you? Maybe invite you to a c-coffee or something?” What are you doing, Wanda?
“You want to - ” He snorted with laughter but had himself under control almost immediately. “You want to go for coffee with me?” He looked at her, studying her like she was some sort of alien specimen, and she was immediately filled with regret. Stop being so fucking weird, Wanda. You’re just a stranger to him.
“Yeah, only if you want to o-of course, didn’t want to make you feel uh-un-uncomfortable.” Her gaze escaped his, quickly turning her head towards the ground as she felt the embarrassment hit her.
“No, no, you didn’t, no.” He’d taken a small step towards her as he gestured towards the main road anxiously. “There’s… there’s one around the corner, a diner I mean, if you really want to go.”
His demeanour and the way he spoke were dominated by uncertainty, and she couldn’t help but smile again.
“What, you think I’m just saying that?"
"No, it’s just…” Arthur paused, averting his eyes, and she could see that words had escaped him entirely. He let out a soft chuckle that was a bit louder than appropriate, took a deep breath and looked back up at her. “You’re pretty,” he blurted out and seemed momentarily shocked by the words he had spoken.
Now it was Wanda’s turn to laugh at his timid tone and the faint blush that had spread across his cheeks.
“No, you’re pretty!” She retorted, and his blush grew a deeper shade of red, confusion still apparent in his expression. He is pretty.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t… I…” He laughed once more with his hand clamped across his mouth, but just a moment later he was fine, his face still flushed, but his voice back under his control. Wanda couldn’t suppress a chuckle of her own, simultaneously trying to mask how weird she felt about this whole interaction and how she’d felt herself turn red as well after his inept compliment.
“Come on, let’s go.”
The sharp pain that shot through Wanda’s leg as she moved to lead the way out of the side street came as a not-so-gentle reminder of her earlier slip-up, and she nearly collapsed with the shock that came with it. She’d completely forgotten about it while talking to Arthur.
"Fuck…“ she hissed under her breath as she caught her weight with one hand against the dirty brick wall and straightened up again.
"You okay?” He stood just next to her, his hands extended in a helping gesture, but not quite touching her.
"Yeah, I just… rolled my ankle earlier and I guess it’s worse than I thought.“ She let go of the wall, accepting his offered hand in hers. It was still cold, just as much as hers, but she felt warmth rolling all the way through her body from where their fingers touched, and felt positively taken aback by the effect he seemed to have on her just through his mere presence.
He turned out to be stronger than she’d thought (judging by his lanky appearance), supporting her easily as she put her entire weight onto him, testing the limits of her injured ankle.
"You really shouldn’t walk with that.” He asserted with sympathy as she took her first tentative steps, but Wanda soon found a way of walking that didn’t require help or make her gasp whenever the surprisingly painful repercussions of her twisted ankle made themselves noticeable.
"It’s fine, I’ll be fine. You want to go?“ She lifted her head to nod at him and found herself once more intrigued her attraction to this strange man she’d met in a dark alleyway of all places.
What’s his deal?
⁕
King Thirain (Lost Ark) x Reader
Summary:
A simple, innocent question, really. You were just doing a favour for one of the townsfolk, you had no idea how much it would affect your friendship with king Thirain. How it would crack open the geode of admiration you held for each other, and show the glittering insides.
Chapter 3 - The Dawn of a New Day
It had started growing long before it was noticed. Much like a small flower grows from a hidden seed to a colourful flower, basking in the sunlight, strong feelings of affection had sprung roots into his heart and a dark rose-red had coloured his cheeks at the realization.
He had been surprised from the first meeting. A priest and an adventurer suddenly appearing to help the troops, his initial wariness had been beat to the ground much like the assassins that were after his life had been. The surprise had quickly been forgotten however, as more pressing matters appeared at every second. It had been easy to lose himself in work again, forcing all his concentration onto the fight against Scherrit, despite the brief moments of doubt that he could not stop. It was in one of those exact situations, that the adventurer had once again surprised him.
“Are you trying to make me feel better?” He chuckled. The adventurer had nodded their head furiously in return.
To lead his people in battle, it was of outmost importance to be their pillar. A strong, unwavering leader, whose orders’ they could trust. Although he had many friends alongside him, he had not wished to burden them with his troubles – they all had enough to worry about already. Opening up to the adventurer had been a spontaneous action in a vulnerable moment. And yet, he was never given the chance to regret it. The small act of understanding and compassion had only been the first of many. Both father Armen and the adventurer had proven themselves to be important assets in the fight for justice. He felt a strong trust towards both of them, how they both assisted the people around them and were willing to put in the effort to see the work get done. A great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. With the duo on his side, many obstacles that had seen so daunting were overcome with relative ease. With each passing day, the journey to the throne became so much shorter, as land was reclaimed and citizens were freed.
Of course, it wasn’t a painless journey. Despite how strong the adventurer was, and how hard he himself and his men fought, they always lost someone. Sometimes, they were too late to arrive, and civilians were killed, and other times, it was the soldiers. Each death weighed heavily on his mind, but none hit as hard as the old mans – Sir Bernards’ death.
It was then that his doubt gripped him tightly, how could he ever hope to win this, when he lost everyone around him, and Vanguard still did not shine. As the light had faded from Sir Bernards’ eyes, so had all of Thirains’ courage. They needed to continue advancing, but in the dark, damp room of Medrick Monastery, he found himself utterly lost.
The notes of the Song of Valor drifted into nothingness, as the adventurer put down their instrument. That song… It was the old mans’ favourite.
“Thank you. You’re always around to help me out.”
The grief wasn’t gone. It would linger till Thirain had the time to let it out and experience it fully. For now, he knew what he needed to do. And he knew you would stay at his side through it all.
It was soon after that Vanguard finally shone in his hands. The fight with the demon had been something he didn’t expect, and yet it paled in comparison to the fight for Luterra Castle. This was the final fight. If they lost there, he had no doubt that they would be annihilated, and Scherrit would continue to sit on the throne.
Everyone had been tense, and it was understandable. Even the most seasoned warriors recognized the risks, what was at stake if they failed. He had looked to you, and seen the determination in your eyes, as you made your way to one of the battletowers. And then, you were out of sight. It somehow only came as a minor surprise to him, that you had been the one to take out the mages blocking the door with their magic, which had allowed his troops to enter the castle grounds. From there, the two of you had made your way towards the castle, and then separated momentarily, as you stayed behind to fight the guardian.
And then suddenly, the battle was won. And he could finally breathe.
To think that Scherrit had sold his soul for demonic power – and even then, you were able to take him down, while he himself could not even rise from the floor. Truth to be told, Thirain had seen Scherrit as his duty to take care of. He was the true heir to the throne after all, the task of defeating the unworthy ruler fell on his shoulders, and yet. It was impossible for him to feel any negative emotions, as Scherrit’s body fell to the floor, the adventurer standing victorious over the corpse.
Even when your victory was interrupted by the demons making another appearance, you handled them just as well, despite already being wounded from your fight against Scherrit.
After Armen had taken care of his and your wounds, the three of you had made your way outside the castle. The fight was over, but the tragedy was not.
“How can we call this a victory? Every drop of blood spilled here belongs to a Luterran.”
While he had been lost in his thoughts, you had not hesitated in your actions. He soon found you standing before him, holding out a banner out to him, wordlessly imploring him to take it.
His fingers had brushed against yours, as you handed over the banner to him. His eyes had found yours then, and he had felt the words wanting to spill out – how grateful and relieved he was, and how would he ever be able to repay you?
But then you had looked at him, really looked at him, and he felt the sounds dying in his throat. The feeling in your eyes had mirrored his own, relief and gratefulness. It was then that it became an undeniable fact that you had wanted this has much as he had – to see the end of a tyrannical ruler and the suffering that had reigned alongside him. And that you were just as honoured to have fought by his side, as he was to fight by yours.
Sitting on the throne had never been his greatest wish. Power and fame did not motivate him, as it had Scherrit and many other foolish people. If he freely could have chosen his path in life, he would have wanted to be an adventurer. To see the world and all its wonders was a fascinating thought that he rarely had time to indulge himself with. He wondered where you would go from here, when you eventually had to leave. Nights by the campfire had been filled with stories about your journey, and tales from your home country. The prince had been delighted as he listened to your words. How your eyes would light up upon recalling certain events, or the mischievous smile upon your lips, as you told him of the pranks you had pulled as a kid. He had almost felt embarrassed to talk about his own childhood, but you had asked him with such an earnest face, he really didn’t feel like he had a choice. In the end, it had one of the best nights in recent memory, as he let the rest of the world fade away in those precious hours.
In that moment, where his glowed, worn hands were touching yours, a hard-earned moment of peace where he could finally truly appreciate how kind your smile was, a small green bud broke through the dirt beneath your feet.
Grasping the metal pole of the banner in his hands, he turned to face the city of Luterra Castle, his subjects, soldiers and civilians looking to him as he spoke. A ball of grief and relief twisted in his chest, as his eyes flitted over the citizens mourning the loss of their loved ones, clinging to the corpses of the soldiers recently departed as they wailed. No more. He would never let this happen again, the dark skies would eventually clear for the sun to shine. The kingdom would grieve, and so would he, but someday, they would be happy again.
The small bud twisted in the dirt, as the first rays of sunlight broke through.
“Behold, the light you have restored.”
Roots spreading further.
“The dawn of a new day!”
Looking over his shoulder, he finally let himself return the smile you had given him.
Petals unfolding, greedily reaching for the warmth of the sun.
King Thirain (Lost Ark) x Reader
Summary:
A simple, innocent question, really. You were just doing a favour for one of the townsfolk, you had no idea how much it would affect your friendship with king Thirain. How it would crack open the geode of admiration you held for each other, and show the glittering insides.
Chapter 2 - Make Sure You Come Home Safe
The clopping of your horse’s hooves against the forest floor was a welcome sound to your ears. Every day, you would go a bit farther, aiding the still recovering farmers and fighting against the few factions of bandits and heretics that still lingered in the aftermath of Scherrit’s tyrannical rule.
The farmers had complained about a rogue group of bandits ransacking their farms in the night-time, so after snooping around the forest for a bit, you finally managed to pinpoint the location of their hideout. As far as you knew, this was a smaller group, so taking them out shouldn’t take too long. Despite being a skilled fighter, taking so much time off to relax meant you were a bit out of practice. That’s why you made sure to take your time, before you left to continue your journey for the next piece of the Ark. That, and you would miss Luterra.
Your thoughts raced in your head, as you came closer to the hideout. Armen would come along with you for the journey, but Thirain was king now. He would have to stay, which meant your contact would be limited to letters or the occasional visit from you. Your lips tightened into a small grimace.
Going from spending every day together to perhaps never seeing him for months – or years at a time? The thought didn’t sit well with you.
In fact, the weird ball of emotions that welled up in you, distracting you from noticing how close you now were to the hideout.
You only snapped out of it as an unexpected pain bloomed on your back.
-
Finally, he could breathe a sigh of relief. There were many more duties to take care of today, but finishing the restoration plans for the ruined farms in the east had been weighing on his mind. Now, it was finally done, and the orders for the work to commence had been handed to a messenger, who had left mere minutes ago. His calloused fingers rubbed at his temple, easing out the tension.
It was never quiet in the main hall of Luterra castle. People were flocking around, busy with their duties for the day. Guards were positioned along the walls and some stood by his side, ready to jump into action should anything happen. Despite the overwhelming workload that came with rebuilding a kingdom, the air in the hall was filled with a feeling of contentness. Times were still hard, but things got better bit-by-bit, and the people were more than willing to put in the necessary work. A smile graced the kings’ face, as he took in the jovial people around him. Turning to face the advisor at his side, he was interrupted by the sound of heavy steps, as anxious voices filled the air. Thirain looked back down at the hall, searching for the source of distress and his eyes fell on someone unexpected.
If you could describe what went wrong with one word, it would simply be “everything”. The bandits had gotten the jump on you due to your distraction, and after that, well… You had managed to beat most of them, but a small group had managed to evade you and escaped into the forest. Due to your injures, you wouldn’t be able to follow them and be sure to beat them, so you retreated to the nearest village. Figuring you could send a message by dove to call for reinforcements, only to be told that all the doves were currently already in flight or out of commission due to a sickness that had spread. It was shortly after that, that a villager had ran into the village, screaming about a HUGE group of bandits, sporting the same emblem as the ones you had just fought. It seemed they had called in their own reinforcements, and they would be coming soon. Wasting no time, you sped off on your horse, towards Luterra Castle. If you couldn’t get a messenger, then you would deliver the message yourself, despite your battered state.
Luckily, the guards near the entrance to the city had taken your message and assured you that troops would be sent out immediately. One of the older guards in particular had been very adamant that you would most certainly NOT be joining the fight in your current state, and had ordered you to visit the royal healer, Borgen, in the castle to get your injures treated this instant. He gave you the impression of a worrying dad, and you had found yourself unable to oppose his orders.
And that was the summary of how you ended up dragging yourself through the hall of Luterra castle with heavy steps. You faintly registered the voices from around you, some asking if you were alright, but they were promptly ignored. The exhaustion had hit you, just as you had gotten off your horse, and you could barely keep focus on your task to find the healer. That’s why you almost jumped a feet into the air, as someone gripped onto your arms, their worried voice reaching your ears, but their words were unintelligible to your tired ears. With the last of your energy, you managed to croak out: ‘’Need the healer. ‘m gonna pass out.”
You didn’t hear a reply, only muffled voices around you, as you sagged against the one holding onto your arms. They all sounded worried, and you’d have felt bad for their panic if your brain weren’t currently shutting down. A strong arm wrapped around your back, another hooked behind your knees, and you suddenly found yourself hoisted into someone’s arms. You no longer fought against the exhaustion, feeling incredible comfortable in the arms of the person, whose face you still had not gotten a proper look at. Your last action before succumbing to the darkness was glancing upwards, seeing Thirain’s face, his eyebrows knit in worry as his mouth moved. But you did not catch what he said, as your eyes closed.
-
“Now, just take it easy for a few days and you should be alright. You’re the Kings Knight, so I expect you to not make the same mistake many rookie soldiers do and go back into action before you’re fully healed.” The healer Borgen gave you an expectant look, which made you shrink back slightly. Surely he must have had many patients disregard his orders for rest, given how ready he seemed for you to argue with him. The tension left his shoulders as you gave him your positive answer, “Good, good. I would hate to be forced to argue with our national hero. Now!” He clapped his hand together loudly, “You have a visitor, who is very eager to see you. If it weren’t for his status, I would have chased him out of here with a broom when he first brought you. Honestly, I need my space to work.” The last part was muttered under his breath, as he stepped out of the room. Possibly to bring in your mysterious visitor, whom you were fairly certain wasn’t so mysterious actually.
You shifted on the stool; it was fairly uncomfortable to be sitting up again, your body sore all over, mixed with stings of pain. Just as you considered moving over to the bed, where you had awoken, you heard the door open again.
“Oh, good! You look much better.” Came Thirain’s voice, as he hastily walked to stand in front of you. You had to tilt your head upwards to look at his face.
“Borgen sure took his time. Of course, I don’t doubt his abilities, but the wait was terrible. How are you feeling?”
You hadn’t paid much attention to it before now, but you supposed you felt a lot less pain than you might have expected. Guess Borgen wasn’t the royal healer for nothing.
“Borgen must have spent that time productively, because I hardly feel any pain. I’m just very sore all over.” You twisted your arms around a bit, showing that you were indeed fine.
The tension seeped out of Thirain’s posture as you spoke, “You don’t know how glad I am to hear that. I… Oh! Your shoulder…”
“Hm? What about it?” You looked down at the side he was looking at, and noticed a spot that went to your back.
“It seems there is a wound Borgen has missed. Please, sit still.”
Dragging a chair with him, the king placed himself behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes met those of Thirain’s, his hands preoccupied with the gauze to dress your wounds.
“Thanks.” A small smile graced your face.
He let out a quiet laugh, “It’s the very least I can do for you. Even now, after you’ve helped me reclaim the throne, you’re still out there fighting for the good of the people of Luterra.”
He had begun to clean your wound as he talked, gently wiping it with what you believed to be disinfectant. It stung slightly, and he would pull his hand away when you hissed, muttering an apology.
“…It scared me to see you in such a state. Even after our fight with Scherrit you were less wounded than now. What happened?” He inquired.
You hesitated, slightly out of embarrassment, but mostly because Thirain needlessly worrying about you was the last thing you wanted. It had just been a mistake, it’s not as if you were usually that careless.
“…I suppose I let my guard down. I’ve had a lot to think about, about the Ark. They just took me by surprise, but I was able to send them running, and came here to seek assistance.”
That wasn’t the truth, but for some reason you could not bring yourself to tell him about your actual thoughts.
You shifted your body to give Thirain space to wrap the gauze around your shoulder, “I understand your quest is of tremendous importance, but there is a time and place for everything. You simply must not get so distracted when you’re in battle. Things could have gone much worse.” He spoke with a slight edge in his voice. Your ego felt a bit bruised by that, as if you were a child being scolded.
“I’ll be fine! I’m a warrior, you know that. There’ll be more times like this one, but I’ll survive, just like I did today.” Honestly, there was nothing to argue about. You’d be more careful next time, but every battle brought with it the chance of death. These were the conditions both of you had accepted, when you chose to fight for peace.
You could sense the gears turning in his head, even if you couldn’t see his face. His fingers glided over the bandages, making sure they were smooth and tight.
“…I must apologize. I understand that you accept these tasks of your own volition, and I certainly am not in position to chide you, when your help has been so crucial to me. Just…”
The movement behind you grabbed your attention, as Thirain’s forehead came to rest against your shoulder.
It was then you felt something soft and warm pressing gently to your skin, just besides the wrapping. You involuntarily shivered. Did he…?
He let out a soft sigh, before he spoke.
“Next time, make sure you come home safe, okay?”
Home. Where was your home? The quest for the Ark had forced you on a journey that would surely take you across the world, and it could NOT be ignored. It would mean the end of the world. Till the quest was done, and the world was saved, you were effectively a nomad – sort of. What would you even do, when peace had been restored? Regretfully admitting to yourself that you had tried not to think about that at all, worrying that it would hinder your progress for the Ark.
Thirain’s hair tickled your shoulder, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles on your skin. You could feel his steady breathing down your back, and how you had unconsciously synced your own breathing with his. His hand was warm on your bicep, as your own came up to cover it. You hummed in response to his question, before slipping into a peaceful silence, letting yourself lean into his hold.
Fights were exhilarating; riding through the fields of Luterra was thrilling. It invigorated you, made you feel so alive, ready to take on the whole world if it came at you. This moment, the silence only broken by the faint chirps of birdsong heard through the window and the soft breathing of Thirain – how would you describe it? You weren’t sure, but you did think one thing:
When you eventually did find a place to call your home, you wanted it to feel like this.
King Thirain (Lost Ark) x Reader
Summary:
A simple, innocent question, really. You were just doing a favour for one of the townsfolk, you had no idea how much it would affect your friendship with king Thirain. How it would crack open the geode of admiration you held for each other, and show the glittering insides.
Chapter 1 - Just a Question
The battle for Luterra castle was finally over. Had been for a few weeks actually, and yet you still could barely find the energy to leave Luterra Castle and continue on your adventure for the Ark. Instead, you spent the days exploring the city and conversing with the townspeople and the soldiers, whom you had fought alongside with on the battlefield. Your evenings were spent at the tavern, drinking and eating delicious food and enjoying the happy atmosphere. You deserved the break after all, you had helped save a kingdom, so you could take a few days to yourself. It was on one of these particular evenings, that you fell into conversation with the barmaid Vivian.
As your laughter from the story Vivian had just told you quieted down, she suddenly grew silent and eyed you with a look you couldn’t place.
‘’Actually, you’re rather close with king Thirain, aren’t you? Oh, don’t give me that look! We all know you fought against Scherrit alongside king Thirain. Of course you must have some kind of bond! I’ve actually got a favour to ask of you.’’ She leaned closer to you, her hands clasped together as if she was discussing a business proposal. You almost felt compelled to mirror her pose, but you just couldn’t help feeling vary from the intense gaze in her eye. The dim lighting from the torches on the wall gave her face an almost sinister glow, as a sly smile appeared on her face.
‘’You see, I have a lot of great ideas that could really benefit this kingdom, so I think I’d be the perfect fit for a queen!’’
“Okay.” You drawled, “But why would I bother to do that? I’m plenty busy with my own things, why would I spend time trying to set you up with Thirain?” You were fishing, and she knew it.
“…What do you want?” She took the bait.
“My mug is awfully empty, and I seem to have left my wallet elsewhere.” You waved the empty mug in front of her face for extra emphasis.
She let out a groan, “Ugh, fine! I’ll get you an extra round, but only if you promise to do this for me!” She grabbed your mug out of your hands, as you laughed at her obvious displeasure.
“You got yourself a deal, Vivian!”
The great hall in Luterra Castle was lit by the sunlight streaming in through the huge windows. It gave the room a warm glow, a feeling of home surrounded you, as you made your way further into the castle. The very first time you had been here, it had been in the heat of battle. Grey walls painted with sinister shadows, a cold air seeping through the solid stonewalls. It had made you feel as if the building could crumble at any second, so heavy was the pressure of it all.
You had faith in Thirain. He had proved himself more than capable on the battlefield, as a fighter and as a fit leader for the people. He was strong, you knew that. And yet, a sting of panic forced it’s way into your body, as he went to find Scherrit. It had been your choice to face off against the Guardian, which had blocked your path up the stairs, and let him progress further. But it was a battle, and one is never guaranteed to win a battle, no matter how strong one is.
…But that didn’t matter now. The war for the castle was won, and you were safe. Scherrit dead by your hands, you had made sure of it.
Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you finally approached the throne, Thirain standing in front of it. He was currently talking to a knight by his side, before his eyes fell on you, as you approached. A smile grew on his face, as you came to stand in front of him. The knight discreetly made himself scarce.
“You’re here. I take it you’ve spent a few days to rest, as we talked about. How did you like the city? I’m sure the citizens must be happy to talk to the hero who saved Luterra.” Thirain greeted you, obviously pleased to see you again.
“I’d like to think you helped a bit, Thirain.” At this, he laughed.
“Right you are, but I still firmly believe that the war might have been lost, were it not for you and father Armen. It still feels surreal to me that Scherrit would go as far as side with demons… but I’m getting caught up in the past. It’s so good to see you again. Every day since the battle has been so hectic, there’s still so much to take care of. I honestly wish I could take a few weeks off myself. I’d have liked to show you around town, but it seems you’ll have to be the one to show me around instead.”
“It seems that way. But I’ll be happy to do that when you’re finally free.” You just smiled back at him. You had missed him during your last few weeks. It had been hard to adjust, from spending almost every day together in the field, to suddenly having minimal contact for weeks in a row.
As if awoken from a trance, Thirian gave a small cough, breaking eye contact with you. “Was there anything else you needed?” He asked you.
“Actually, if you have the time, I have a question I need to ask you.” You had almost forgotten your deal with Vivian.
‘’Oh? I’ll be sure to answer to the best of my abilities then.’’
‘’What does it take to become queen?’’
It lasted mere seconds, and yet you noticed a multitude of emotions flashing over Thirain’s face, as he opened his mouth and made no sound. His eyes darted around the room, sometimes settling on your face before quickly looking elsewhere, as a slight blush of red began to grow on his cheeks. Why did he look so nervous? Had the question somehow embarrassed him?
‘’Oh, well, I- um, haven’t really had to think about that for a long time. I, uh.’’ He paused to take a quick breath before continuing, ‘’I’ll be honest, I’m unsure of the more formal requirements for the position as a royal consort, but gaining the king’s favour is no doubt the most important, and, well, you…’’ He fumbled, before your conversation was interrupted by a cough from the guard standing besides you, close enough to hear your whole conversation.
‘’Your majesty, if I may. I believe Anessa would have all the answers for the knight’s question.’’
Thirian’s rigid posture seemed to relax just a bit. “Ah, yes of course, you’re right Meehan.’’ He answered, before turning to you, “Anessa would surely be able to teach you more than I would. In fact, I’m sure she would be happy to teach you. You’ll find her just at the room on the right at the end of this hallway.’’ He spoke, giving you a kind smile.
Why were his cheeks still tinted red? Was he getting sick perhaps?
“Great! I’ll go ask her now then. Thank you for the help Meehan. I’ll see you later Thirain.” You shot them both a smile, before heading down the hallway to meet with the mentioned lady.
As your form disappeared around the corner, Meehan noticed how the king would take a sharp breath, opening his mouth, before shutting it tight again. He watched Thirain repeat this process a few times, before words finally managed to leave his lips.
“Meehan, do you… have any idea why the adventurer would ask such a question?”
If Meehan could have gotten away with it, he would have let out his frustration with a sigh, but alas, he was a knight in proximity of his king. Such disrespect would not be acceptable.
‘’My king, I must unfortunately declare myself unable to guess the motivations the King’s Knight had for asking such a question. Might I suggest asking them?”
“Yes, well…”
The sentence faded out into nothing, as Thirian’s eyes were set on the door at the end of the hallway, his attention seemingly drifting elsewhere.
Meehan really wanted to go home.
It was a few hours later that you found yourself back at the tavern, the sun setting outside, people slowly returning to their homes for rest after another fulfilling day.
‘’A convoluted greeting? Really? How snobbish is that? What, no, show it to my anyway! If it’s what it takes to be queen I’ll do it!’’ You were surprised at how quickly Vivian was back on the horse, after you had delivered the info she requested. She stopped to take a small sip from her drink, before getting into your face once again, ‘’I know I can be a good queen, and that my ideas will help the people of Luterra! If you find out anything else on how to become queen, you’ll share with me, right? Promise me!’’
You let out an amused chuckle, before you put your now empty mug down on the table and pushed out the chair to stand. ‘’If it’s really that important to you, then yes, I will. But I’m thinking of doing some quests outside Luterra Castle tomorrow, and I don’t know when I’ll be back, so it might be a while before I find out anything new. Sorry.’’ Your apology wasn’t exactly sincere, but Vivian would just have to live with that. You were the King’s Knight after all, you had much more important things to see to, like getting yourself to bed now, before Vivian bought another round for you, in order to get you to stay.
‘’Hmpf! Fine, but be careful so you can come back and keep your promise! I’m counting on you.’’ She huffed and puffed at your departure.
Turning your head to look over your shoulder at her, you replied with a quick Of course, before hastily making your way up the stairs.
You knew your quest for the Ark would change the course of your life in ways you couldn’t even imagine, but it still felt strange to you, this time of change after Luterra Castle was reclaimed. Thirain had had his fair share of struggles on the battlefield, and even though the battle was mostly over now (there were still a few groups opposing Thirain’s rule, but you’d take care of those soon enough), he still had so much on his plate. To think that he’d have to worry about marriage too someday. In that regard you were happy for the freedom you were granted, despite the entire world literally depending on your efforts. You already did so much for Luterra, and yet, you wished there was more ways for you to help carry the burden that rest on his shoulders.
You knew Thirain wanted to travel the world. A secret desire he had expressed to you many times, wishing he could travel alongside you and see what lay past the kingdom of Luterra. You had made the promise to send him letters regularly and tell him of your travels, whenever you would return to him.
As your eyelids grew heavier, the thought entered your mind that you would miss Thirain, once you had to leave Luterra.
Meanwhile, in the castle, the knight Meehan’s patience was growing thin. It was one thing to listen to his king constantly talking about the benevolent traveller, who had fought for the people of Luterra. How much their contributions meant and how much he would miss them once they left to continue their quest. It was a whole ‘noter thing to watch the king spend the whole day in a daze, barely paying attention to his duties, as he stared longingly into space. Meehan knew damn well what his king was thinking about. WHO he was thinking about.
Honestly, he was too old for this. Young love was an amazing thing to witness, but it was just slightly less amazing when it rendered his king, of all people, an un-concentrated lovesick boy after just a question.
is there such a thing as, like, kind of in love??? no, it’s not a crush; it’s totally love, but… really low-key and quiet. i have fallen in love with this person exactly twice, and the first time it was heart-wrenching, terrible, passionate, unrequited love. and now… look, i know they don’t love me back, but this time it’s actually fine??? i’m really okay, to the point i might not even want a relationship with them. i just. i love them. and they don’t love me back. and i might date other people and i won’t mind at all when they date other people but a part of me will always harbor this weird, soft, quiet love for them, and it’s just like, wow, you mean so much to me in such a weird way and i don’t know how to deal with that.
why do y’all hate the third act breakup so much ?? i want that shit in everything. every romance book, every tv show romance, every movie romance GIVE IT TO ME!! i LOVE the angst and how can u not be obsessed w their utter disdain they have being apart and spending the whole break up crying and obsessing and feeling empty without their person, yeah, i eat that shit ALL the way up every. single. time.
anyway pls drop recs where the characters have 3rd act breakups in shows, movies, and books
(not interested in like death angst but v interested in like forbidden or pining angst and obvi the breakup)
