Arthur Fleck and Joker Imagines

Gotham's Most Wanted - Part 2

It wasn't that she judged the women for what they did, (Y/n) knew that people sometimes had to do things they didn't want to just to keep food in their bellies and a roof over their heads. She had spent many, many hours working with the poor of the city; she had seen women like these before, she had seen men like Joker before, and although she couldn't understand totally, she had certainly tried. When she had read the reports in the newspapers about Joker, there was part of her that could understand why he had done what he'd done, become what he'd become.

Gotham wasn't the easiest place to live, and Joker's alter ego of Arthur Fleck seemed to have suffered more than most. It seemed to (Y/n) that he had had a lonely life, unloved and mistreated by most of the city. His medical condition, his mother, his stays and mistreatment in Arkham, had all pushed him from being what appeared to have been a sweet, kind, innocent man into the murderous Joker. She knew of Joker's hatred for her brother, of his hatred for her last name, and how he would like to bring her family down; so no matter how much she thought she could understand, she most certainly wasn't going to make things easy for her captor.

The door to the room slowly creaked open, a large shaft of light cutting through the darkness, causing (Y/n) to shield her eyes.

"Ya hungry?" A smooth, warm voice asked from the doorway.

(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered as they adjusted to the stream of light that flooded in; finally, being able to make out a figure in the doorway.

"I brought ya some food, it isn't much but it's better than starving."

(Y/n) knew the voice; it sounded like Joker, but it seemed calmer. A small light appeared as the figure lit a candle, the light from the flickering flame caught on the features of the man. They were angular, but soft; thin and well defined, and his eyes that sparkled in the radiant glow of the wax light, gave him an unnatural beauty that she couldn't deny; and it gave her the same feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had had in the woods when he had touched her cheek.

Coming into the room he placed a plate and the candle on the small table.

"It's some kinda stew, I'm not sure what the hell's in, and I wouldn't ask too many questions if I were you, but it better than nothing." He chuckled, turning to face (Y/n).

"You've taken off your makeup." (Y/n) said, not knowing whether it was a question or a statement.

A small smile formed on his lips. "Yeah, well I can't look that beautiful all the time ya know. Not even I sleep in it."

"I think you look better without it." (Y/n) said.

"I look less intimidating anyway." Joker said, coming to rest on the bed next to her.

"I didn't find you intimidating anyway if you remember." She scoffed, making Joker laugh.

"Yeah, I guess ya right there, you ain't like the usual dames I deal with. One look at the greasepaint and most people run off like scared mice. I found your reaction quiet refreshing."

"Well I'm glad to know that I stimulate you." (Y/n) said, staring into his eyes, knowing very well that her words could mean more than one thing.

As she spoke he felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her, to push her back onto the bed and pound into her relentlessly until she screamed his name over and over again; pleading for him to take her, to do whatever his heart desired to her.

Inwardly he chastised himself, she was a Wayne, and he hated the Wayne's, all of them, including her. He wanted to burn Wayne manor to the ground, to break them, to destroy their name; yet here sat the sister of the man he hated, and all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and protect her from the others, and even from himself. Hell, he'd only just shot one of his most trusted men to protect her, and part of him feared what else he would do before all this was over.