--1st person POV--

"Arthur Fleck! You're ruthless!"

"Sorry (y/n). I'm just following the rules."

In the dim light of the dying candle, he's looking at me all apologetically. His expression sincere. But I can tell he wants to laugh. He's biting back a smile and his green eyes glitter with amusement.

"You don't have to apologise." I giggle, counting out the fake dollar bills. "I just never knew you were so competitive."

"Hey, I'm not competitive." He insists, as he takes the paper money from me. "It's not my fault you landed where you did."

I give a little huff. "I know. But Park Place and Boardwalk are like the most expensive places to own, and you have properties on over half the board!"

He shrugs, smiling innocently, flashing his dimple all over the place. "Well you would insist on buying the cheapest places. You don't get much rent for them."

"Yeah tell me about it. It's like this place. If this building was one of the properties in the game, the rent would be worthless too."

Arthur chuckles and nods in agreement, as he reaches for the dice.

We've been playing monopoly for at least an hour now. I didn't even realise I still had it, nor do I know why I would've packed it when I moved, but it's come in handy tonight. The board game has helped pass the time seeing as there's nothing else to do.

The only problem, other than Arthur driving me to the edge of bankruptcy, is the light in here is barely existent now. The candle is on the verge of burning out and we can scarcely see in order to read the cards.

When it's my turn to go again I wind up landing on yet another one of Arthur's properties, quelle surprise. Not even bothering to hide his grin this time, he informs me that I owe him 250 dollars for rent.

"That's bullshit! It cannot possibly be that much. You're not reading it right." I protest.

Arthur leans towards the candle, squinting at the card he's clutching in his hand.

"I am. It's definitely two hundred and fifty. Sorry."

"Liar, you're so not sorry. Let me take a look."

I lean across to check the amount written on the card, and Arthur clutches it almost possesively to his chest, as if I might steal it from him.

"Are you saying I'm a cheater?" He says in mock-horror.

"I wasn't saying that, but if you won't let me see then maybe you are cheating." I say, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably.

"(y/n) you've offended me." He says playfully. "I don't cheat."

"No? What about before when you took two lots of money for passing go?"

"That was an accident. I forgot I'd taken it already. Anyway I put it back."

I narrow my eyes at him accusingly. "Only because I caught you. Now let me see the card."

"Fine." He snickers. "Take a look. I've got nothing to hide."

Just as he turns the card around the flame flickers sporadically, before finally dying out completely.

It's pitch black, the darkness so dense it makes me feel like I've been swallowed whole by it. Consumed. Panic hits me like a bucket of cold water in the face, making my breathing erratic. My heart rate increases to such an extent that I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.

"It's okay." Arthur's low, honeyed voice says right next to my ear, making me shiver alarmingly. Reminding me how close I was to him before we were plunged into darkness.

Any other time I would instinctively move away, not wanting to invade his personal space. But I don't. I like the closeness. His proximity is reassuring and has a calming effect on my nerves. And whether I should or whether I shouldn't, I like it. Simple as that.

We're both sitting on the floor close to the couch. The monopoly board spread out in front of us. It's funny to think just a few seconds ago I was giggling away, not a care in the world. Now I'm gripped by anxiety, and it would more than likely squeeze me to death if it wasn't for Arthur's company.

"(y/n), I'm right here. There's nothing to worry about." He reassures me.

I nod my head, not that he can see me, and breath in slowly through my nose then exhale out my mouth. I repeat this exercise a few times, until something makes me falter. Long cool fingers find my hand, cautiously searching out my own, before curling around them protectively.

I'd been trying to steady my breathing, but as I sit in the dark in silence, my fingers interlinked with Arthur's, my breathing quickens. My heart begins thumping in my chest and I can feel it in my wrists and my throat. It's pretty cool in the room and yet my palms start to sweat, betraying a nervousness I can't understand.
Or perhaps I just don't want to understand.

"Do you...do you wanna talk? It might help keep your mind off the dark." He suggests helpfully.

"Y-yeah, sure." I croak, swallowing hard. "What d'you want to talk about?"

Arthur remains silent for a few moments while he considers potential topics. It would seem he's stumped for ideas too. For some reason my mind has gone completely blank. All I can focus on is the sensory overload.
Arthur's hand is large, his skin slightly rough, and I decide I rather like the feel of it in mine. There's something so certain and masculine about it. His grip firm but not so tight that it's uncomfortable.

And I can smell the comfortingly familiar waft of cigarettes mingled with his shaving foam, shampoo, and the cologne he uses. It's an odd combination of clean and fresh, with spicy, smoky overtones.

I don't ever recall having paid that much attention to all of these little details before, but I must have done in order to find them so familiar.
And now I'm worried. I shouldn't be noticing these things. I daren't think about what it could mean.

"What is it about the dark that scares you?" Arthur asks, finally breaking the heavy silence. "If you don't wanna talk about it you don't have to. In fact...I shouldn't have asked. S-sorry."

"No, don't be sorry Arthur." I say quickly, not wanting him to feel bad. "It just makes me feel...vulnerable. Trapped. It's like it feels as if it's...touching me, somehow. Surrounding me." I force a strained chuckle. "It's stupid I know."

"It's not stupid. It sounds awful." He gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and I swear I feel my heart melting in my chest.

"What are you afraid of?" I ask without thinking, then quickly add, "Everyone's afraid of something. Even if they say they're not. There's no shame in it."

Arthur's silent for the longest time, and his hand squeezes subtly tighter, betraying his own anxiety. I feel bad now for asking, but I return the squeeze, hoping to reassure him that it's perfectly okay to admit to being frightened of something.

I hear him fumble one-handedly for his cigarettes, followed by the momentarily spark of his lighter, which illuminates his handsome face.

"I...I don't know really." He says after a lengthy pause. "I guess it's...I mean, it doesn't scare me but...it bothers me quite a bit."

"What? What is it?"

He sighs deeply, his voice a barely audible mumble. "I don't know what it's like to be loved. To feel...wanted. You know what I mean?"

His words create a painful twinge in my chest, wrenching hard on my heartstrings.

"Yeah. Um, I think so."

Feeling unburdened by his admittance he continues, apparently eager to give voice to the fear that plagues him.

"It's like...I just wanna know how it feels. To love, and to be loved." I feel him move, and assume he's rubbing the back of his neck like he tends to do when he feels nervous. Another little detail that I've come to notice about him.

Oh hell. Looks like I may have a bigger problem than I first realised.

"Oh, Arthur. I'm sure you've been loved before." I say gently. "You've...you've had a girlfriend, right? At some point?"

To me it seems impossible that he couldn't have had one. I mean, Arthur is...
Well, he's pretty damn adorable and...undeniably attractive in his own, unique way.
There, I said it. I've admitted it to myself.

"Only the one." He admits reluctantly. "She didn't love me though, and honestly...I don't know if I loved her or not. I'm not sure I did, but it was so long ago. I'm starting to worry that I'll never know what it's like. To make that connection. To be certain that I know what love actually feels like."

The tugging of my heartstrings upgrades to yanking, filling me with a deep pang of sadness for him. I can relate to what he's saying on some level. That's why I'm still single. The only difference is I'm sure one of my exes loved me, and I them. So I'm struggling to find any words of comfort to offer.

Instead I find myself trying to lighten the mood by saying, "You just haven't met the right person yet, but it'll happen. Is there nobody special who's caught your eye?"

To my relief he gives an embarrassed chuckle. "Well....there is this one girl who's really nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Ooh, come on then, spill. Who is she?"

"Oh, um. She uh, she lives down the hall from me. Her name's Sophie."

"Sophie." I repeat leadenly. "She's the one with the little girl, right?"

"Yeah that's her. She has a...a really....beautiful smile."

I mutter some incoherent sound in response, feeling the full-on crush of disappointment. It's incomprehensible. It's unexpected. And it's utterly terrifying.
Why should I be feeling so disappointed? It's not like I was expecting him to confess to having a crush on me. Was I? If he did then that would make things weird. So why would I possibly want him to be carrying some secret torch for me? The idea of him wandering aimlessly around his apartment, pining and yearning after me like some lovesick little puppy makes no sense at all.

"Are you okay (y/n)?" His enquiry shatters my eclectic thoughts.

"Y-yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well you didn't answer my question."

"I didn't? Sorry Arthur. I mustn't have caught what you said. What did you ask?"

"I said I was thinking of asking her if she'd like to come and watch my standup at the club. D'you think I should?"

Oh god. How do I answer that? I can't exactly say hell no, it's a terrible idea. Not only because I've heard some of Arthur's jokes. But because there's every chance she might say yes. Which is shitty of me. I should want him to be happy, and I really do.
Just...just not with her.
Not with any woman actually, that isn't me.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
What is happening to me?
This makes me a crappy friend and a horrid fucking person.
And I'm so horribly confused about how I feel now.

"Um, yeah. Sure. Why not?" I manage half-heartedly, my tone of voice hardly convincing.

What am I supposed to say? That I'm selfishly worried that if he starts dating then I'll see less of him? Because that's the only reasonable conclusion I can draw over why I feel like I've suddenly swallowed a lead weight.
Otherwise this irrational jealously can only mean one thing, and I'm so afraid of what that thing is. Especially now that he's just confessed to crushing on Sophie fucking Dumond from upstairs.

"Are you sure?" Arthur persists, sounding a little sceptical.

"Yes I'm sure. Just ask her, Arthur. If that's what you want to do!" My tone is clipped and the words come out a lot harsher than I'd intended. Making me feel even more wretched.

"Okaaay."

My eyes follow the orange glow from the end of his cigarette, as he lifts it to his mouth and takes a generous drag on it.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. Take no notice of me, I'm just being stupid."

Having smoked his cigarette right down to the filter, he stubs it out in the ashtray that's been by his side all evening. Then I feel him shift around so that he's facing me. Our shoulders no longer touching. He's still holding onto my hand, his support unwavering in spite of me having just bit his head off.

"(y/n), you're not stupid. You're the smartest person I know."

But I don't have a beautiful smile, I think sourly. Losing myself to bitter thoughts.

"Is something wrong? You can tell me. Please. I want to help if I can."

Ugh. Why does he have to be so damn adorable. I don't deserve his kindness.

Taking a deep breath, I try to find the right words to express my feelings articulately. In a way that won't make me appear possessive and unreasonable. But the right words seem to dance out of reach, meaning that I end up sounding like a needy, irrational idiot.

"You...you've never invited me to Pogo's. It shouldn't bother me but...well I guess it does." I shrug my slumped shoulders. "I'd really love to watch your standup routine, Arthur. I'd like to come along and sit in the audience, and be there to support you."

"You would?"

"Of course I would. We're friends aren't we? That's what friends do."

"O-oh, just as a friend. Nothing...n-nothing more, right?" He stammers.

My face burns and now I'm actually glad of the dark so that he can't see me blushing.

"Of course." I should leave it at that but my next words seem to tumble from my mouth before I can stop them. "I mean, you like Sophie. You don't like me...like that."

"Like what?"

"Like that. You know...romantically...."

"(y/n)..."

"But maybe I could still come along sometime..."

"(y/n)..."

"Not as a date, obviously. But as your friend--"

"(y/n)!" His voice grows surprisingly stern, the commanding tone forcing me into silence. "I...I would have asked you to come, but I was afraid you'd say no."

I frown, confused by his proclamation. "Why would I say no? I'm your friend, Arthur."

He remains silent for several furious heartbeats, then quietly utters the words that steal my breath away...

"Not as a friend. As more than that."

"W-what?" I gulp, nerves jangling furiously. "What you mean like...you wanted to ask me out? Like on a date?"

"Y-yeah."

Convinced I'm destined for a heart attack, I will my erratic pulse to calm down.

"But...you literally just told me you like Sophie."

"I know."

"Well, if you're interested in her then--"

"I'm not. Not really. I mean, she has a nice smile....but it's not a patch on yours."

"I don't understand."

"What I'm trying to say is, when you asked if there was anyone special who'd caught my eye, I didn't know what to say. So I said Sophie. When really..." He pauses, sucking in a deep breath. "Really it's you. But I didn't want to say anything, because I didn't want to freak you out. (y/n), your friendship means so fucking much to me. I don't want to lose that. Which is why I wouldn't ever dare ask you out."

"So, you're not actually asking me out?" I wheeze. "Not even now?"

"No, because I know what the answer would be. You don't think of me that way."

"I don't?"

"Well no. I figured you didn't. I mean, you don't...do you?"

This conversation is growing increasingly more perplexing and I almost want to cry with frustration. He's dropped such an enormous bombshell, but he's still only semi-admitting his feelings for me because he won't actually come straight out with it and ask me on a date. I'm hinting that I could like him more than I'm letting on, but not admitting to it, so we're just skirting the subject awkwardly. Dancing around each other, as if we're crossing a minefield in the dark.

And the dark is proving to be an effective tool for cloaking our true feelings and desires. But it's also the perfect cover to open up. It diminishes the embarrassment, not having to have this delicate discussion whilst we can see each other.
The mask it provides emboldens me, so that I can take a massive risk. A gigantic leap of faith into the unknown.

I'm alarmed by the rapid rate in which these feelings for Arthur have come on. Indeed, it's as if they've been steadily growing, silently, without me even having noticed at first, and I'd been blissfully ignorant. That is until the devotion he's shown me tonight. And his remark about liking Sophie has shaken me from my slumber of denial. Giving me the wake up call I so desperately needed.

"Kiss me." I say, shakily.

It isn't a question. I want him to kiss me more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life. This coming from a person who's always dreamed of winning the lottery.

Arthur coughs, anxiously clearing his throat. His nerves clearly getting the better of him.

"W-what?"

"I want you to kiss me, Arthur." I repeat with more conviction, feeling steadily braver with each passing second.

Oh god. Is he going to say no? Even after what he's just admitted to? If he does I'll have to get on a plane and leave the country. Change my identity. It would be that embarrassing. I don't know how I'd ever face him again.

A long pause ensues, before finally he moves and I can sense him leaning in closer. Now I'm shaking like a leaf, each nerve-ending standing to attention as I await his lips with agonising anticipation and bated breath.

At long last they come, but no sooner have they made contact they're gone again. As he administers a chaste, soft peck to my lips, our mouths scarcely having even touched.

To say I'm disappointed would be a gross understatement.

"Arthur...?"

"Hm?"

"I want you to kiss me properly. If you like me more than just a friend, then please ....kiss me how you'd like to kiss me."

"Oh. O-okay."

For a moment the deafening silence holds us in it's grip. I realise he's still holding my hand, and my grasp has tightened on his. He takes a deep breath. A loose strand of hair falls down over my forehead. His large hand pushes it back carefully, and then he's pulling me closer, closer until I feel his lips on mine. Devouring me with one kiss, and then another, then another.

Beneath the faint taste of cheap tobacco and coffee, I also taste desire. A desire that has the biological fluids coursing through my body with a power I've never experienced before. Arthur's passionate kisses culminate in a soul-gripping lip-lock, and I feel as if I'm dissolving against him as my body curves into his obediently, liquefying in his arms.

We break fleetingly for air, both of us gasping, him gently nipping my full bottom lip with his teeth, before resuming his sensual administrations. But this time he turns his attention to my neck.

"A-Arthur!" I breath, eyes sliding shut to cope with the sensory stimulation, as he scorches a path down my throat with hot kisses, licking and scraping his teeth across the tender skin.

"(y/n) I've dreamed of this for so long. It...it doesn't seem real."

"It certainly feels real to me."

He groans as I slip my hands beneath his navy sweater, untucking his shirt so I can dig my nails into the soft skin of his back.
I feel myself tilting as he lowers me down, scattering pieces of the monopoly set in the process, but neither of us could care less. We don't care because we're lost in the heat of the moment. Both of us being swept along by the burning need to feel each other closer.

His curious hands explore my body with fevered enthusiasm, making me feel blisteringly hot from the inside out. I whimper helplessly as he finds the super-sensitive spot just below my ear and suckles the skin, relishing the sounds he's drawing from my lips.

As Arthur moves atop me I can feel the distinctive bulge pressing against the centre of my body. There's no mistaking he's wickedly turned on, and the maddening lust I'm feeling as a result of him being so hot and bothered makes me a little lightheaded.

We're getting dangerously carried away. What began as innocent kissing has escalated into something much more carnal, and I don't possess the willpower to stop this before we go any further, even if I wanted to. I want to get carried away with him.

Reaching down between our writhing bodies, I trace his groin with my exploratory fingers, boldly cradling his clothed erection in my palm, working him in my hand.

"Oh god!" He exclaims roughly, rocking his hips into my touch. "(y/n), baby...oh baby, please...please don't stop."

Hearing him call me baby and begging for me to keep stroking him almost makes me come undone right then and there.
But there's an emptiness gnawing away at my insides, and only he can fill that void. I'm desperate to feel him there. To have him inside me. To hold him close and know that we have done this together.

"Arthur...sweetheart....I want you to love me." I keen, displaying a level of neediness that my trembling body alone can't express.

"Are you...(y/n) are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I am."

"You want me to make love to you?"

"Yes. That is if you...if you want to?"

"Fuck. (y/n). What are you doing to me?" He groans helplessly, like a slave to the master of his desires. "Of course I want to. I want you so fucking bad."

His casual cursing is strangely arousing, adding to the already potent mix of his adorableness, charm, and attractiveness.

Within a matter of a few tense minutes of blind fumbling, he's freed himself from the strangling restraints of his black pants, my jeans and panties being pulled down too in the process.

And there, in the dark, on the floor in my living room, Arthur and I become one. Having succumbed to our baser urges. Pure, unbridled lust and the need for closeness. The need for a connection, love and feeling wanted.

He kisses my face, my lips, my forehead, groaning pleasurable, masculine sounds as his agile body presses mine into the carpet, while he begins slowly thrusting inside me.

I squirm and shake underneath him, whispering sordid words of encouragement into his ear, driving him wild.

Arthur's surprisingly skilled, each movement steadily smoother, deeper, faster, our perspiring bodies fusing together. I claw blindly at his shoulders as his thrusts grow even more forceful, more frantic.

Who knew that gentle, sweet Arthur possessed the libido of a wild, untamed beast? Certainly not me, but I'm not complaining.

I reach the pivotal of all pleasures mere seconds before his own release hits, Arthur moaning out my name as I tug on his hair in desperation.

The intensity of my climax is overwhelming, a fierce heat imploding in a mass of glorious tingles. I cry out his name, loud enough for the neighbours to hear through the paper-thin walls.

Someone thumps on the plaster aggressively, yelling for us to shut up.

Arthur shudders violently, then collapses limply on top of me, and I relish the heat radiating from his body. The manly scent of fresh sweat and pheromones. I wind my arms around his neck, holding him close as he buries his face in my hair.

"It looks like we might've upset your neighbours." He pants, his soft voice gilded with malicious mirth rather than remorse.

"Thats too bad." I say with a giggle. "They're going to have to get used to it."

"They are?" He says, surprised, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "You mean this wasn't just a one-night thing? You actually want to...?" He trails off, as if he's reluctant to finish the sentence. Too afraid to actually say the words in case he's got it terribly wrong.

"Be with you?" I supply helpfully, nuzzling his neck lovingly.

"Yeah."

"I do."

"Really? You do?"

"Absolutely. You're an amazing man, Arthur Fleck. You're sweet and funny and kind and handsome, and that's without even taking your, um, shall we say hidden talents, into account."

"Stop, (y/n). You're making me blush." He laughs joyously, and his laughter is beautiful and infectious, and I want to listen to it forever.

I laugh along with him, unable to help myself. Any fears I had of the dark now banished, forgotten thanks to the company of this beautiful man, who I think the world of.

"I don't want to embarrass you, but it's all true. I want you to know how special you are. And maybe in time, hopefully, you'll begin to feel loved, and wanted. Because you totally are."

Running his fingers through the sex-tousled lengths of my (y/h/c) hair, Arthur rests his forehead against mine, so that are noses are touching.

"I already do (y/n). I already do."

End