What If/Oneshot: You're attending college at the insistence of your rich parents, but you've grown bored of your studies, and have become rebellious. Professor Fleck is exasperated by your increasingly disruptive behaviour in class, so sets out to teach you a lesson...or two.
** A/N This is 9538 words long, and the first oneshot I've written that hasn't been set in the 80's (canon to the movie) hence the inclusion of modern tech.
But Arthur is still Arthur. He's learned to control his condition to some extent, and he's embraced his inner Joker persona; he just keeps it well hidden....for the most part ;)
--Please note that even though student x teacher ships are technically forbidden, ( y/n) is still a consenting adult--
⚠️ Forbidden love, angst, fluff & extremely moderate NSFW!
--1st person POV--
I chew at a fast pace, not at all nervous, but rather trying to be deliberately obnoxious. I'm sitting slouched at my desk; burning holes through his head with my retinas, anticipating his next move as he flips through the paperwork on....I don't know, some philosophy crap.
Like I give a shit what it is.
I look at the clock on the wall and let out a breath of annoyance. I could be chugging a beer right about now, hanging out with my friends in the late afternoon sunshine, not sitting here waiting for professor Fleck to give me a lecture on bad behaviour.
Okay, admittedly I do not pay attention in class, but that's because I don't want to be here.
Once there was a time when I did give a shit, when I decided to major in philosophy because I wanted to be a critic; specialising in movies because they've always been able to provoke a strong response from me, and negative criticism is my forte.
But...well, let's just say I quickly became disenchanted with my studies last year. I started to feel like I was wasting my life stuck in school, and after a lot of soul searching I came to the conclusion that I was only still attending Gotham State University to please my parents.
If I had it my way I would've dropped out long ago, and the way I've been feeling lately; I think I still might. The only thing keeping me here really in all honesty, is the thrill I get from raising hell in class. Without sounding too arrogant, I'm really quite popular, so others follow my example, much to the teachers dismay.
Take professor Fleck for example; he's a mild-mannered pushover, a dorky guy who's pushing middle age, and it's oh so easy to poke fun at him and get away with it.
And I can get away with it mostly under the pretence of 'debating', seeing as this is philosophy class.
Professor Arthur Fleck is still pretty new, he only took the job at this collage after spring break, but I'll bet he's already regretting it. You can tell by the way he drags his hand over his face; a sure sign of exasperation if ever I saw one. I reckon if this class carries on the way it does he'll suffer a mental breakdown before thanksgiving weekend, and be forced to take time off.
If that seems malicious then I guess that's just the person I am now.
He's a philosophy professor for gods sake, he should have more of a backbone.
A part of me almost feels sorry for the guy, because I was once like him, well, kind of.
I was too polite and accommodating, and what happened?
People walked all over me.
Then I took a stand. I guess something snapped inside of me, and I realised enough was enough. This is who I am now, I don't tolerate any bullshit from anyone, and I'm living a better life for it. I'm popular in school, the bullies have left me alone, and my parents are getting what they deserve for trying to dictate what I can and cannot do, even though I'm (y/a) years old now.
Sure my grades are suffering, but who cares? Certainly not me, and Fleck shouldn't either. I mean, what does it matter to him really? Like keeping me behind now, wouldn't he rather be home doing...whatever guys his age do, rather than being stuck in the classroom with me?
If he's going to give me a lecture then he might as well save his breath. I'm a lost cause, and I want to be. It's my choice. My god given right.
But I highly doubt he will read me the riot act, I don't think the guy has it in him. I've never so much as heard him raise his voice to anyone.
Growing steadily more bored and agitated, I pop a bubble, and he glances up for a second, indicating the 'take out the gum face' routine that usually follows.
But professor Fleck always gives up, as I always point blank refuse to spit it out, and it's not as if he can physically force me to.
"Miss (l/n), you do know why you're here?" He asks me instead, in that low, slightly raspy voice that's so soft it could put you to sleep....especially when he's droning on endlessly about Plato or Karl Marx.
I rest my chin in my hand, ensuring he knows how thoroughly bored I am.
"'Cause you don't have anything better to do?"
His strong jaw perceptibly tightens. "No. We need to discuss your paper."
As he pulls my paper from the file I brazenly smirk at him.
We were all meant to write a paper on the philosopher of our choice and present our reasons for finding their work most compelling.
I instead chose to write a paper on how pointless I think the subject is, complete with my reasons why this class bores me to tears; including Fleck himself.
Although...I couldn't resist throwing in for good measure how it's a pity he isn't more interesting, because he's quite attractive.
And he is, in an unconventional sort of way.
I mean, he's no hunk that's for sure, and he's in his thirties; which makes him at least ten to fifteen years older than me, but with those pretty green eyes, brown hair streaked with grey, and sharp cheekbones; he's undeniably handsome.
Not that I would ever admit it to any of my peers. Shit. They'd never let me live it down.
But admitting it to professor Fleck himself is a different matter. As I typed it out I could just envisage him all flustered and embarrassed.
I couldn't resist wanting to rile him, and it obviously has...
"Miss (l/n), this is unacceptable." He continues, throwing the paper down on his desk, probably in disgust. "You blatantly disregarded the instructions I gave you."
I eye him steadily, my gaze unwavering. "Awe, I thought you would have found it compelling, sir. After all, I've presented a valid argument. I figured you'd want to counter my opinions with a response."
He stares at me, the muscles in his face flexing with irritation. "I won't dignify your opinions with a response, Miss (l/n). You were meant to write a paper on--"
"I know what I was supposed to do." I interrupt him, rolling my eyes. "But what you asked me to do doesn't interest me. Seriously, didn't you read what I wrote?"
"You seem to be under some misapprehension. The rules apply to you also, Miss (l/n). I didn't merely ask you to write the paper....I told you to."
I resume my churlish chewing and blow up another bubble, which makes an even louder popping sound. He is now officially annoyed.
Well, now he knows how I feel.
"Miss (l/n) would you please take out that gum." He commands, as if he could.
I ignore him for several long seconds, revelling in his annoyance.
"Well, Miss (l/n)?" He orders, this time much firmer. Never in that tone before.
"And put it where, Artie?" I ask, tauntingly.
Up his damn ass, is where I would like to shove it. But there probably wouldn't be any room for it, seeing as he seems to have a gigantic stick up there already.
"That's Mister Fleck to you, young lady. How about you put it on your damn forehead since I've had to ask you twice." He retorts, angrily.
Wow. He actually looks serious enough not to mess with.
"Or how about I just keep it here?" I open my mouth, showing the pink bubblegum on my tongue. "If you just let me go now I'll simply drop it in a bin on my way out, okay?"
He bends his head a little, shaking it in what appears to be frustration at my disobedience.
"I've got better things I could be doing right now. It isn't my fault if you have nothing worth going home for, Artie." I smile defiantly, looking up at the ceiling as I blow yet another bubble.
In a flash he rises, grabbing hold of the wastepaper basket by his desk, and I don't notice the pen he uses to burst the gum with; almost stabbing me in the lip.
"Remove it." His voice is always low but it sounds immensely rougher; like a lion getting ready to tear it's prey apart.
I am stunned, and admittedly intimidated by the fury which engulfs his emerald eyes.
"There's no need to get so uptight." I state, rebellious to the last. "It's just stupid gum you know."
He stares me down, making me flinch in my seat.
"Just stupid gum you say? I suppose everything's just stupid to you, (y/n). It makes me wonder why you and those imbeciles you associate yourself with, even bother to show up to my class if you don't want to learn anything."
Imbeciles? Now I am seriously pissed. I might be acting up like a brat but that was hardly professional of him.
"Wow, I didn't know you were capable of being informal. So you do know someone's first name, I feel honoured." I lightly chuckle at his outburst despite being really pissed. "And it's pretty simple, sir. Some of your students are rich kids that don't require any college education whatsoever, because they have handsome trust funds, their parents force them into school despite their disinterest in it." I tilt my chin upwards in defiance, indicating that I'm one of those persons.
He raises an eyebrow. "From what potential I've seen in you, a person who doesn't apply herself to anything, I can't imagine what career you think you can achieve."
His insult catches me off guard. I've never verbally sparred like this with any of my teachers; on such a personal level. And in all honesty I haven't given a career much consideration.
I used to have dreams, goals, that was until I grew tired of trying to live up to my parents unrealistic expectations.
I wanted to be a critic, but I've been toying with the idea of acting in movies now rather than critiquing them. That would be a sure fire way to piss my parents off.
"I intend on becoming an actress."
He snorts derisively. "So you're just going to be another college drop-out chasing the Hollywood fantasy. Your parents must be so proud."
I jump up, almost knocking my chair over. His words having struck a nerve.
How dare he judge me. He doesn't know me. He doesn't know anything about my life, or what my parents are like.
I've been insulted by many people, but never a professor, and I'm not prepared to take it from this one.
Grabbing my bag I stomp over to the door, barely containing my anger.
"I don't recall dismissing you young lady."
I stop abruptly at the door and revert my face to him, popping another bubble for sheer devilment.
"Fuck you, Mister Fleck! You can get me expelled for failing to meet your academic standards, but I don't have to take this shit from you. I'm done with taking shit from people."
"Yet you expect me to take it from you?"
"That's your problem if you're willing to tolerate it. But just because you have no balls and let everyone walk all over you, you don't have to take it out on me, Artie. I have a backbone, even if you don't." I sneer, turning to twist the doorknob.
Screw this. I don't have to stay and take his useless scolding.
A large hand suddenly slams the door shut, and I feel warm, heavy breathing against my neck.
"Look at me....I said look at me you obnoxious little bitch!" He barks with each furious breath, causing my heart to jump.
I turn around, and to my utter shock find an almost completely different man.
His hair is pushed back off his face, his cheekbones squeezing tightly in pure fury. His usually soft eyes are dark, hooded, and glistening with menace.
Professor Fleck suddenly looks like a serial killer who will reach for his weapon at any second and murder me.
Call me crazy but he actually seems really hot.
I feel a chill deep inside me and my knees begin to tremble at his cold gaze.
The sensations are too much; fear trickles down my spine, but a warmth floods low down in my belly.
His large hands are placed on either side of the door, his tall body crowding me back, trapping me. I want to push him away and grasp him closer, all at the same time.
"Give me that fucking gum!" He spits.
My heart starts to race with nerves, then suddenly he slides a hand behind my neck....and kisses me.
He takes my mouth so hungrily I almost fear he's going to bite off my lips.
Fuck.
This man can kiss.
I can't even compare it to none of the timid, half-assed kisses, or frantic kisses I'm used to from college boys. It is so beyond compare.
He knows what he's doing. His confidence is addicting. Reassuring. Possessing.
Instead of fighting him off, I surrender myself to him.
What is wrong with me? I shouldn't permit this outrageous behaviour, I ought to shove him away and run from the room.
But I don't.
Instead I impulsively wrap my arms around his neck, and run my hands into his hair, suppressing the urge to moan as he takes my face in the palm of his hands; holding me in place so he can slip his velvety tongue inside my mouth, searchingly.
And I'm afraid I might melt, he feels so good.
But then, just as quickly as it began, it ends.
He breaks the kiss, leaving me dizzy with a burning need. I don't want to let go. I want him to take me in his surprisingly strong arms.
I gasp as he backs away slowly, sticking his sinful tongue out at me with triumphant satisfaction; displaying my gum on the tip of it.
My eyes widen in shock at what he's just done. Maybe it was all a perverse dream and I'll wake up at any moment. If it weren't for his slightly dishevelled hair, I wouldn't believe that my professor actually just kissed me....in order to steal my gum.
And I had kissed him back
"What's this?" He reaches out and snatches the tip of my chin, making me blanch. "For once that smart mouth of yours is mute."
I continue to stare at him in stunned silence as he retreats back to his desk with a noticeable swagger. As he sits down he deliberately meets my gaze, and has the nerve to openly chew the very gum that he reprimanded me for.
But damn, he looks so seductive. So godlike.
Who is he?
Certainly not the same geeky professor I've practically ignored for the past few months.
"Get yourself together and leave. I have papers to grade tonight." He says plainly, his voice cool and emotionless.
The surprise and hurt those words cause makes me want to yell at him in outrage. I want to demand an explanation, an apology...another kiss.
I watch open-mouthed as he kicks back in his chair, resting his feet on the desk, one ankle crossed nonchalantly over the other.
My blood is pumping frantically, raging hormones and lust threatens to consume me.
"S-so....that's it? You're not going to tell me what that was all about?" I manage, my voice quavering slightly.
He looks up from his papers, and has the audacity to blow a bubble with the gum, in order to emphasise his point . "I'd have thought it was pretty obvious Miss (l/n). If you won't play by the rules.....then I'm not going to either."
I swallow, feeling heat flood my face. "And what if....what if I like it? You not playing by the rules. What then?"
Swivelling in the chair, he proceeds to spit the gum out into the wastepaper basket.
"Then I guess....you could use my bad behaviour as an incentive. " He smirks, looking every bit the devil he seems. "If you listen in class, drop the attitude and obey me...then I'll make it worth your while."
Wait. Did he just proposition me?
This situation couldn't possibly get any more surreal.
I should tell him to go screw himself, I normally would, but it's like he's weaved some dark magic spell over me, and I'm suddenly powerless against his domineering attitude.
An attitude I never even realised he had.
"You can start by rewriting your paper. I want it on my desk by tomorrow." He's saying now, as he rummages around in his desk drawer for something. "Here...you might find Carl Jung and his philosophy on the shadow diverting enough to hold your attention."
He pulls out a book, and tosses it to me, so I have to scramble forwards in order to catch it before it lands on the floor.
I look down at the cover and see that it's a book on Carl Jung. "But....it says here he was a psychiatrist, not a philosopher."
"Didn't I just say I'm not playing by the rules anymore?" He smirks, but his voice remains stern. "You're now dismissed, Miss (l/n)."
Without waiting to see if he so much as gives me another glance, I gather up my bag, stuff the book into it hastily, and scurry out of the room.
The hallways are pretty much deserted as I run for the nearest bathroom, and I'm thankful for it. I don't think I'd be capable of holding a conversation right now.
Once inside I rinse my face with the cold, harsh water, and snatch a paper towel to dab it with.
Standing here supporting myself against the sink, I gaze into the mirror, and hardly recognise the girl I see. My feathers have been well and truly ruffled. My carefully cultivated indolent, calm, cool composure has crumbled to dust.
My (h/c) hair is a ruffled mess, my cheeks flaming out of control; like a child that's just had her first crush.
I draw some more paper towels and smoothed down my hair, before heading out of the bathroom and towards the front door of the building.
Maybe some fresh air will help clear my head.
The walk to my dorm passes by in a blur, my thoughts still trying to make sense of what just occurred between me and my philosopher teacher.
When I reach my room I'm relieved to find it empty. My roommate Lauren is no doubt out with her boyfriend. We get on really well, Lauren and I, we share the same tastes in music and movies, and I definitely consider her a friend. So it's not that I don't want to see her. I just can't face seeing anybody right now. I'm way too antsy; my thoughts and emotions are in turmoil.
Any other day I would pull out my phone and call one of my friend's to see where they were at, and see if they wanted to go hang out by the lake.
That's usually how we spend our time on weekday evenings.
It's nice down by the lake. It isn't that far off campus and there's always groups of kids down there; listening to music on their phones, chilling out smoking cigarettes and having a couple of beers.
But tonight I don't do that.
Tonight I lay down on my bed and open the book Mr Fleck gave me, my interest piqued.
I'm sorely tempted to text my friend (f/n) and tell her what happened, but I refrain. What would I even say to her? That I sassed Professor Fleck and he retaliated by taking my gum from me with his tongue?
I know exactly what she'd say, once she was over the shock that is. She'd urge me to report him. To file a complaint.
And I don't want to do that.
God only knows why, but I want to see him tomorrow. To go to his class and see if anything so risqué happens again between us. To observe the look on his face when I turn in my paper, which he more than likely isn't expecting me to do, but I'm determined to prove him wrong.
>>----------------------------------->>
The "shadow" is a concept first written about by the famous psychiatrist Carl Jung, that describes those aspects of our personality that we choose to reject and repress.
For one reason or another, we all have parts of ourselves that we don't like—or that we think society won't like—so we push those parts down into our unconscious psyches.
Hm. It seems too coincidental that Mr Fleck suggested I read more about it.
That side I saw of him in the classroom; was that the darker, more daring and dangerous side of his personality clawing it's way to the surface?
I think it was.
Then it got me to thinking about my own darker side.
Have I already embraced it and allowed it to take over my entire personality?
I used to be so much more agreeable. Less obnoxious and aggressive.
Now I'm starting to question who is the real me.
It's like I don't know anymore.
"Shit." I curse under my breath, struggling to enter the combination on my locker while juggling four textbooks.
Thank god I'm finally able to unlock it after five minutes of struggling, and stuff the books in. I had no idea literary arts involved so much reading.
Where the hell am I going to find the time to read even one of those books, when I have such an active social life, and I may or may not choose to binge read as many philosophy books as I can, if I'm going to stay on Mr Fleck's good side....
Or is it his bad side I want to be on?
I glance in the small mirror that's hooked inside of my locker; smoothing my hands over my hair. I apply some raspberry lipgloss, which matches with the laces in my converse, and adjust my baggy sweatshirt so that it hangs loosely off one shoulder.
Whether I like it or not, I find myself wanting to look my best for my next class, and there's no way I can deny it.
I close my locker, and then out of nowhere someone creeps up behind me; placing their hands on my waist. For a moment my heart skips a beat at a wild guess of who it could be. Until I hear an annoying sniffing sound.
Evan. He's cute and all, but he has the worst habit of not blowing his nose.
Using my elbow I swing it back into his side, effectively causing him to withdraw.
"Ouch! Damn, (y/n), what's your problem?" He protests, making a bigger deal of it than what it is.
"That's what you get for invading my personal space, you dick." I say, but not unpleasantly. "You shouldn't sneak up on a girl like that. If you'd have made me jump it would've been much worse, trust me."
He snickers and shakes his head, leaning the back of his arm on the locker above me.
He's a couple of inches taller than me, but he's not as tall as professor Fleck.
Wait.
Am I doing the whole comparing thing now?
Shit. That's not a good sign.
"I didn't see you at the lake last night." Evan drawls, rather blatantly looking me up and down.
"Well yeah, I guess you wouldn't...seeing as I wasn't there."
He huffs, not hiding his irritation. "Very funny. Why didn't you come down? I was hoping to see you."
I set off walking and he quickly falls into step beside me.
Evan is in Mr Fleck's class too, and he's been subtly trying to hit on me for a while now, and I've been brushing him off until very recently. I've given it some thought and reached the conclusion that he is potential boyfriend material. So I've told him I'll consider going on a date with him.
It makes sense to I guess, as I find him attractive enough.
It's just that now, well, I don't know.
"I was uh, busy." I respond to him vaguely, not wanting to admit that I'd actually been studying for once.
I know he'd poke ten shades of fun out of me for it, and as pathetic as it is, I have a reputation to protect. I'm not the sort of girl who follows rules or studies hard. Mostly I wing it these days, and I've still managed to make it this far.
Evan hovers over me, getting under my feet a little as we enter the classroom.
"Oh yeah? Busy doing what?"
"That's my business." I reply coyly, as I slip my paper on Carl Jung out of my bag, and drop it onto Professor Fleck's desk as casually as possible.
He isn't here yet, and for once I take a seat before he arrives, when usually I'd be sitting on a desk, chattering and laughing along with everyone else.
"Hey there, badass." Kayleigh greets me as she takes the seat next to mine, her manicured fingers working frantically over the touchscreen of her iPhone. "I can't believe Fleck kept you behind last night. Holy shit, you must've done something serious to piss him off! He's so laid back he's practically horizontal."
I force a weak smile, and shrug noncommittally. "You know me, Kae. There isn't a teacher yet that I haven't managed to piss off. My reputation as the most disruptive student in school has been well earned, you know."
She laughs, frowning slightly, her concentration still focused mostly on her phone.
"If Dean thinks he can ignore my messages all day again, then he can go fuck himself."
"Oh yeah, about that..." I reach into the pocket of my jeans and pull out my phone. "Have you seen the picture Cameron took last night at the lake? You can see Dean in the background making out with some random."
"Are you shitting me?"
I shake my head, scrolling through my pictures, searching for the incriminating evidence of her on/off boyfriend's sketchy behaviour.
Just then Evan comes over, hopping up onto my desk, having overheard the conversation.
"No shit, (y/n), are you showing her the picture? Man, you're brutal."
"No I'm being a good friend, Evan. Kae has a right to know if Dean's cheating on her, and I'd rather be the one to have to break it to her than her see it on Instagram later."
As I'm too distracted by Evan, who's also blocking my view of the door, I don't see Mr Fleck coming into the room.
The sound of his voice makes me start a little, as he urges everyone to their seats.
He doesn't even apologise for being late like he usually would.
I sit frozen in my seat, becoming uncharacteristically quiet.
He begins jotting down some quote on the board while everyone resumes chatting, as if his presence wasn't even acknowledged.
How rude, I think to myself, before internally screaming.
What am I now, a fucking teachers pet?
"Awe, you're real sweet (y/n)." Evan joked, leaning down closer to me. "Underneath that tough exterior you're just a big 'old softie aren't cha. Who knew?"
"Not you, obviously." I retort, trying to make casual conversation but for some reason I'm just not in the mood.
"Then we need to get to know each other better, right?" He says, grinning at me.
We both jump in surprise at the loud coughing coming from behind Evan.
Shit. Professor Fleck stands there, looking more pissed than anyone in the class has ever seen him before.
"To your seat now, Jenkins." He grinds the words out, impaling Evan with his fierce glare.
"Whoa, take it easy sir. I was just checking on my girl here." Evan replies in his juvenile tone.
Why the hell did he have to say that?
"Idiot, I'm nobody's girl." I hurl at him as he hops off the desk, which elicits a ripple of laughter from the rest of the class.
Mr Fleck glances down at me, striking fear into my guts, then turns his attention back to Evan.
"If you want to check on somebody do it after class. Now either you sit your damn ass down or get out."
Evan flinches due to the severity of his tone, and scurries back to his seat like a frightened puppy.
"And that goes for the rest of you." Professor Fleck barks, barely suppressing his rage. "I wanna hear some peace and quiet for once, otherwise you can ditch this class. If you're not interested in learning then don't waste my time."
Everyone is stunned into silence, gaping at him in disbelief.
"Miss (l/n), I see you're still refusing to adhere to school policy. No cell phones in the classroom." He shouts at me, making me jittery.
I'd completely forgotten that I'd been holding my phone the entire time, and before I have chance to react his large hand swoops down and snatches it out of my grasp.
"S-sorry sir." I stutter, which is so unlike me.
"You'll get this back at the end of class, if you behave."
As he heads around his desk I see his eyes instinctively glance down at the phone.
My stomach drops as I realise I'd been scrolling through my photos, and the one left open, now clearly visible for him to see, is a selfie I took of myself wearing....well, hardly a lot.
I'm not one for taking those types of selfies, but I was drunk at the time and was playing truth or dare with some of the girls, and they'd dared me to send a provocative picture to my former crush, Adam Laing, and I'm not one to back out of a dare.
How fucking embarrassing.
I knew I should've deleted that picture. In fact that's what I'd been contemplating doing when I'd found it in my album, having previously forgotten all about it.
Mr Fleck throws my phone into his top drawer carelessly, and for a brief moment he looks up and meets my eyes, and I feel something in me stir unsettlingly.
All at once I can't help replaying the events of yesterday over in my head once again.
The rest of the class is unaware that our philosophy professor kissed me, and the images cannot escape my mind; Mr Fleck ordering me about in that firm, sultry voice, gripping the back of my neck so he could press his warm mouth against mine.
It should've been horrifying but it wasn't.
It's as if I want him to conquer me. To dominate me.
I bite my lip to prevent my eccentric musings from carrying on, to no avail.
He was on me. His scent. His saliva. I remember the skilful way he manipulated his tongue over mine; taking the gum from my mouth in a way that sounds gross but was bizarrely sensual at the time.
For the first time in, well, forever...not a sound is coming from the students.
Kayleigh glances over to me with a 'what the fuck was that?' look on her face, and all I can do is shrug, acting oblivious.
It was already evident to me that Mr Fleck has a hidden temper, which he's clearly decided to unleash on us today. And maybe it's about time to, he deserves respect.
I observe him for a second. He isn't wearing one of his trusty old sweaters today; instead he's in a snug-fitting white dress shirt, the sleeves of which are rolled up casually, revealing his bare forearms. I never knew how sexy the hair on a guy's arms could be.
But that's the whole point; Arthur Fleck is a man. Nothing like the college boys in athletic pants and graphic-print T.shirts.
With his hair slicked back from his face, and the sharp tie around his neck, he's the absolute epitome of everything that boys my age aren't.
I could date Evan, and have an age-appropriate boyfriend.
But professor Fleck now has my complete and undivided attention.
Has he completely changed?
Is this the new him, or maybe the real him?
I don't know, but I want to know.
"So, these quotes were all penned by a man who wasn't technically a philosopher, but a psychiatrist. One who's observations are still influencing the way we approach both psychology and philosophy today." He says, gesturing to the words he's scribbled on the board....
Show me a sane man and I will cure him for you.
The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely.
Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people.
He raises his eyebrows expectantly. "Does anyone recognise any of these?"
Without thinking my hand shoots up, almost as if I have no control over myself.
In the past year, I haven't once raised my hand to interact with the teacher, or willingly participated in a class discussion.
His unnerving gaze settles on me, and I feel myself drowning in those sea-foam green eyes.
"Yes Miss (l/n)?" He gives a nod in my direction.
"Yes....it's Carl Jung, sir."
"Indeed it is, Miss (l/n)." A wry smile curls his fine mouth, causing an ominous fluttering sensation deep in the pit of my stomach.
The feeling is so unexpected, so frightening, but I don't dislike it.
It feels alarmingly good.
I want it.
Fuck.
The harsh reality hits me like an eighteen wheeler truck.
I now have a thing for my teacher, and yes, Mr Fleck may be much older than I am but who cares?
He's beautiful.
Eventually when class is over, everyone makes a mass stampede towards the door, all except for me that is. I have to get my phone back.
I make my way over to his desk, and wait patiently for him to finish wiping down the board.
Without a word he turns to retrieve my phone from the drawer, passing it to me.
I take it, feeling more than just a little irritated that he's handing the device over without so much as a stern word.
Secretly, the dark place inside of me wants him to scold me.
To teach me a lesson.
"I finished my paper as you asked." I blurt, for want of something better to say. "It's funny, you were right about me needing an incentive, Artie."
Immediately he registers my meaning. Knowing full well what I'm hinting at.
"Yes you turned in your paper, (y/n), and from what I've read so far I'm impressed." He takes agonisingly slow steps towards me, prolonging the anticipation. "However you broke the rules yet again by having your phone out in class."
My brow furrows in annoyance. "Wait, that's not fair. You can't use that against me when I specifically did what you wanted me to do. I won't have my phone out again in class, okay. I've learned my lesson--"
"I doubt that, (y/n). I haven't even taught it you yet." He cuts me off. "You seem surprised? What, did you think that me confiscating it was your punishment?"
A cluster of tingles wriggles down my spine, making me shiver.
He smirks to himself, amused by my reaction as my eyes widen.
"Interesting. I can't tell which excites you more, the prospect of being punished or being rewarded."
"There's only one way to find out, sir." I bat my eyelashes at him unashamedly, and then let out a startled yelp as he suddenly pulls me closer to him.
"You're such a bad girl." His tone drops to an even more seductive pitch. "What am I going to do with you."
I've no time to think of a suitable response, or even to register what's happening, because in the next instant he's sat on the edge of his desk and hauling me across his lap; almost tipping me upside down onto my head.
Holy shit.
He's actually going to spank me.
No sooner has the realisation dawned, when he brings his hand down and his large palm connects to my left butt cheek in a firm slap.
"Ow! Fu--!"
"Language, (y/n). You know profanity is unacceptable in the classroom." I can hear the audible smile in his voice, his malicious mirth, as he strokes me through the fabric of my jeans, before smacking me again.
"Y-you're enjoying this, aren't you?" I squeal, stupidly. But I'm struggling to think straight as I lay sprawled across his knees.
"Yes. Why, aren't you?"
His fingers squeeze my ass, caressing and rubbing the cheek that he's slapped, and...shit, it feels surprisingly good, his strong hands massaging the pain away.
"Mhm...y-you don't have to enjoy it quite so much." I retort, which elicits a devilish, throaty chuckle from him.
"You're a fine one to talk, Miss (l/n). I seem to recall you enjoying the way I removed your gum yesterday."
If my face wasn't already bright red from being tilted over, I would be blushing furiously.
"Ooh, what happened to (y/n)?" I ask, hoping to change the subject. "Aren't we passed using formalities now that we're...uh, more intimately acquainted?"
In a swift movement he flips me back up, and has to steady me as I struggle to regain my balance.
"I'm still your teacher." He husks, rising to his feet so that he's towering over me, his hands gripping my waist in a tightening grasp.
"And yet...here you are, sir, fornicating with your student." I tease.
"Hm, I like it when you call me sir." His hands trace over the outline of my body, exploring my feminine curves.
I exhale shakily, fighting for breath as I feel the touch of his cool fingers, ghosting over my warm skin as he slips his hands beneath my sweatshirt.
"A-and...what are you going to call me, sir?"
He nuzzles his face into the space beneath my head and bare shoulder, feathering sweet, delicate kisses along my exposed skin.
"I'll call you whatever you like, baby."
Baby?
The word sounds so foreign, so sinful coming from him, and I find it incredibly sexy.
He says it like it's a cuss word, as if it's filthy. Nasty. And it's so fucking hot.
"Baby...I-I like baby."
"Yeah? And what else do you like, hm?"
His hands run over my breasts, and I ache with the maddening need to feel his touch without the inconvenient barrier of material.
"O-oh...you, sir. I like y-you."
"You like me, huh?" I can feel him smiling against my lips, as his mouth finds mine. "Who was the picture for?"
I falter for a second, thinking I must've misheard him or something.
"W-what?"
He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and tugs on it lightly, teasingly.
God, I swear this man could get me off without scarcely even touching me.
He is turning me on that much.
"The picture on your phone, you bad girl. Who was it for? Evan Jenkins? I know your type is an incompetent moron, which makes me wonder why you'd be so interested in me all of a sudden."
"They're not my type, not anymore." I babble breathlessly, leaning into his forbidden touch; hungry for more. "I want you, sir. I...I don't want anybody else."
"Oh really?"
"Yes I do, I want you so bad."
At that he suddenly pulls away, leaving me temporarily confused.
He steps back, taking heavy slow breaths, and stares at me for a few seconds without moving an inch, until he lashes out; knocking everything on his desk to the floor with one, smooth sweep of his right arm.
I jump at the sound of everything hitting the floor one after the other. Papers scatter everywhere, a pair of reading glasses fall down; breaking one of the lenses.
He clears the distance between us and aggressively lifts me onto the desk; almost slamming me onto it. I gasp but he swallows my racing breath as he kisses me so forcibly, tugging on my hair firmly to force my mouth even more onto his.
My thoughts scatter into a million fractured pieces. Everything other than him, Arthur Fleck, just ceases to exist. There is only him, and in this insanely passionate moment he has become the centre of my universe. The focal point of my existence.
Who would've thought he'd be so reckless, so demanding, so fiercely sensual.
If this is his dark side, then my own dark, rebellious side craves it.
Craves him.
He crosses my legs around his waist roughly. His smooth tongue finds its way passed my lips, entangling with mine as he swirls it around; kissing me with a desperate, possessing dominance, practically making me purr like a kitten.
This is reckless, daring, and so freakin' hot.
My arms wrap around his neck as I submit myself to him. We're both gasping, in need of air but neither of us want to stop, fearful of shattering the heady spell that's holding us in it's defeating grasp.
"Do you want me in here?" He whispers, gently sucking on my bottom lip.
I let out a needy moan, and gasp, my senses unravelling with the intensity of his clothed erection pressing against the centre of my body.
Yes. Desperately. I can't deny it.
My body is aching with a burning need for his touch. To feel him closer. As close as we can possibly get.
"Yes, A-Arthur...please take me now." I beg, the yearning in my voice evident.
"Not yet, baby. It wouldn't exactly be appropriate now would it? Me fucking you right here in the classroom."
My hands go to his chest, and he allows me to gently shove him away without any resistance.
"Wait, what the hell? Why would you do this...throw all your shit on the floor, if you didn't even intend to go through with it?" I demand.
I feel ashamed and foolish, and horribly confused.
Why would he toy with me in such a way?
"Because, you need to learn that you can't always have what you want, and when you want it. You have to learn to be patient, and to deal with your emotions in a more mature manner."
"Mature manner? Seriously? You're going to lecture me on maturity, professor? After this stunt you just pulled?"
His gaze holds mine, and he's looking at me with surprising tenderness. A blossoming sort of affection I'd never dare believe was possible coming from him.
"Don't...don't call me professor."
I jump down from the desk, rearranging my rumpled clothing.
"Why not? You are my teacher after all."
I cross the room to collect my bag, when suddenly he bursts into abrupt laughter.
What the hell? Is he laughing at me now?
The humiliation cuts deep, cleaving through me like a blade drawing blood.
"Is this amusing to you? You demeaning me like this?" I spin around, and I'm not prepared for the sight of him clasping his throat, as if he's trying to stop himself but isn't able to.
"You know, I thought you were...special. That you'd treat me better, with you being more mature and experienced, but I was wrong." Tears pool in my eyes; clouding my vision, but I'm still able to see him shaking his head. "You're no different to the rest of them. The guys my age who play games, who just pick you up and drop you like you're nothing but a toy to be played with."
I'm crying now, roughly trying to brush the tears from my flushed face. I can feel myself shaking. Whether it's due to anger or hurt I can't be sure, probably both.
Arthur's laughing dissolves into gasping, and choking. It's bizarre and uncomfortable, and it sounds downright painful.
It's enough to give me pause, my anger now being replaced by concern.
"Arthur? Are you okay?"
He nods his head, but judging by the deep shade of pink he's turned and the rib-racking, strangled noises he's making, he clearly is anything but okay.
"Do you....do you need me to fetch the nurse?" I drop my bag onto the floor, and rush to him, placing an arm around his shoulder, which is easy to do seeing as he's bent over at the knee.
"No, I-I....I'm o-kay." He wheezes, as he leans in against me and I respond by cradling his upper body in my arms.
"What is it? What's happening, what's wrong?"
"I...h-have....a cond-ition."
The rush of relief washes over me, moving me to tears once more, as thankfully his laughing subsides.
Now it's all over he straightens slowly, dragging his hands through his hair; regathering his composure.
"What is that condition, Arthur?" I ask, hoping I don't offend him. "You can tell me, sir. I swear I won't tell anyone."
He smiles weakly, as he continues to take long, deep breaths.
"It's a neurological condition, caused by severe head trauma when I was a little boy. It's my brain's way of processing anxiety. I've learned to control it better as I've gotten older, otherwise I wouldn't be able to teach."
I gaze at him, my bottom lip trembling precariously. "You mean I did this? I made you anxious? Oh god, I'm so sorry--"
"No, don't apologise." He interjects. "It wasn't you directly. It was just seeing you get all worked up. I really didn't intend to upset you. You missed the point of what I was trying to teach you. Patience, self-control, they're important life skills. I wasn't trying to humiliate you. That's not who I am, I wouldn't do that."
I get it now, and nod understandingly. "I'm sorry for comparing you to boys my age. You're nothing like them. It was dumb of me to think like that."
He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Yes that was pretty insulting, but...every time you mention the age difference it reminds me that we shouldn't be doing this."
His words wind me, making me realise just how much I want him. Because the thought of us having to go back to being nothing more than student and teacher leaves me cold, and the disappointment is crushing.
"Sir, I can be more mature. I know I act like a punk but that isn't the real me."
"Sure it is. It's the other side of you that's exerting dominance over yourself as a whole. It's part of your personality. Just like it was the darker side of mine that kissed you, and threw you on the desk just now. I let that part of myself get carried away, but I'm able to control it mostly. Just like I learned to control my condition. And you can too. You have to find balance, and learn to control that rebelliousness."
Everything he's saying resonates with me and makes perfect sense now. I've lost all sense of balance and control, until he recognised it, perhaps even recognised a little of himself, in me.
But the point is he helped me. Found me even, when I was most lost, and without him I know I'd probably carry on the way I have been doing and throw my life away, then live to regret it when I'm older.
"A-Arthur...will you help me?"
Reaching out, he cradles the side of my tear-stained face; stroking my cheek softly with his thumb.
"That's what I've been trying to do (y/n)."
"What about the kissing and stuff?" I ask him, my heart now in my throat. "What made you do that?"
He sighs. "I was showing you my rebellious side. That doesn't mean I didn't want to kiss you, because I did...and I still do. But you're a (y/a) year old girl--"
"Yeah, I'm passed legal." I interrupt, defiantly.
"I could lose my job. You're still my student."
"Only for a few more months." I smirk, mischievously. "Besides you knew that when you started this. We can be careful. Nobody will find out, I can keep a secret."
He laughs, a genuine one this time, and it's so beautiful the sound quite literally steals my breath away.
"Can you really?"
"For you, sir. I'd do anything for you."
>>-----------------------------------------<<
"Are you sure about this?"
I tilt my head back to gaze up at my older lover; lifting my shades so that I can look him in the eye. "Artie, will you stop worrying. I've already told you, I don't care what people think. I didn't care when my so-called friends called me a boring bitch when I started studying harder, did I?"
I really didn't. Prior to becoming involved with Arthur, I would've thought it would bother me, but it didn't.
They all thought I must've lost my personality but I didn't.
I found it again.
Arthur helped me find the balance between the more polite, sensible side, and my reckless, rebellious side, so I'm a happy combination of the two.
I can still be carefree and have fun, but that doesn't mean I have to be obnoxious and rude anymore.
"Yeah but, your friends will be down here." He continues, his brow furrowing with worry.
"And? They'll finally get to meet the mystery man who's responsible for making me so happy, and for all the amazing grades I got."
"Not to mention all the hickeys you've had." He winks at me, making me giggle. "But when they find out it's me...won't you be embarrassed? What if I have an episode? If I get too anxious and laugh, I wouldn't want you to be ashamed of me."
I come to halt on the sandy pathway, forcing him to stop too as I press my hands to either side of his face.
"Listen, I could never be ashamed of you. Don't ever think that. I love you! And they'll love you too once they get to know you like I do. But hey, if they can't accept we're together then I don't want them in my life."
His serious pout melts into a heart-stopping smile. "Shit, I love you (y/n). You're so fucking sweet."
His strong, capable arms encircle my waist and he pulls me close, lowering his head so he can press a limb-melting kiss to my lips, making me swoon.
It's a glorious summers day. The sun is shining brightly, and there isn't a cloud in the powder blue sky; which is a rare occurrence in Gotham.
Now that the warmer weather is here I can't wait to spend lazy days in the garden with my guy, and long evenings out on the porch; sipping a beer as we listen to music.
Now that graduation is over and we can officially be an item, I'll be moving in with Arthur. My parents are bringing the rest of my things over next week, and they're actually looking forward to meeting him.
At first they'd been a bit sceptical due to the age gap, but they love that he's a professor, not to mention the fact that he keeps me grounded, and saved me from dropping out of college.
Arthur's old house is owned by the university and situated on the outskirts of the campus. It's surrounded by trees, which made it secluded enough to enable me to sneak over there almost every night, where we'd spend the time studying; he'd help me revise, and read to me while I lay in his arms.
We'd also eat together, dance, and make love a lot.
Just as I'd suspected, he was all man.
A man with needs, desires, and demands...
"If you want me baby, then you're going to have to be completely mine." He'd told me, the very first night I went to his home. "I don't want anyone else kissing you, touching you, or fucking you. Do you understand? I don't share. I won't have you any other way."
Remembering those torrid words, his stormy eyes, still makes my body feel hot and wired.
Naturally I'd agreed to his terms, grabbing hold of his tie and tugging him closer as I'd replied with, "I'm all yours, sir."
Then we'd crossed the line; me eagerly unbuttoning his shirt, him slipping my panties off, before taking me in his, conveniently large, bed.
Afterwards I'd collapsed, leaning my head against his chest; listening to his heart beating as he'd wound his fingers through my hair.
Life had taught me to be cautious with my expectations, but Arthur far exceeded them.
It had been difficult at times in class, having to act blasé in front of everyone else; trying to keep from grinning like a smitten idiot as I replayed our heated exchanges over in my minds eye.
He taught me philosophy, self control, self acceptance, as well as several new positions in bed...and the bathroom, and in his study too.
Oh god, the study. My eyes used to glaze over in class just thinking about it.
Seeing him wear a particular tie that he'd bound my wrists with the night before always made me blush at the erotic memories it evoked.
Arthur can be kinky; he likes to dominate me, and tie me to the headboard while I call him sir and beg him for release as he teases and tortures me with his skilful tongue.
But he's also incredibly romantic; he buys me flowers, reads me poetry, and enjoys us sitting down to candlelit meals together.
Physically the relationship is more than satisfying, as well as being emotionally fulfilling too. His sweetness, his sexiness, is so potent, no wonder it hadn't taken long for me to fall helplessly head over heels for him...
"Artie...I love you. You know that, right?" I'd blurted out one evening, as I sat curled against him on the couch.
He'd immediately ceased stroking my hair, and looked up from the book he'd been reading aloud from.
"You...you shouldn't say things like that, (y/n). Not unless you really mean it."
"I mean it! Shit, Arthur, you've shown me what love is. What it can be. I guess I was hoping you could learn to love me too. I don't expect you to feel the same so soon, but..."
The tip of his finger against my lips silenced me.
"(y/n), I've had to deal with rejection, betrayal, and disappointment all my life and it damn near destroyed me. I'm not strong enough to suffer any more of it." He swallowed hard, and I sort of got the impression that he'd been waiting for this for a long time. And it was finally happening.
"So....are you sure you love me? Are you absolutely certain of your feelings? Because if the answer is yes then I'm afraid you're stuck with me. I don't love in a half-hearted fashion. It's all or nothing with me."
I felt the thrill run through me at his words.
I wanted nothing more in the world than to be loved so ardently by him forever.
"I've realised since getting to know you that I've never been in love before. I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you, Arthur." I let out a shaky breath. "I love you, I love you with all my heart."
That was eight months ago, and I'm more besotted with him now than ever.
He's my absolute everything, and I am his world he says.
As we wind our way along the path towards the lake, he squeezes my hand, noticing that I've been lost in my thoughts. "Everything okay, beautiful?"
"I've never been better, sweetie." I answer, with a smile.
And I honestly haven't, thanks to him.
End