Imagine: Being the sweet lil' softie you are, you adore Arthur with all your heart and soul. But you also have a tendency to be jealous, and maybe with good reason. This request was made by heysoftie. Hope you enjoy!

Fluff, angst, and will contain some sweet smuttiness in part 3 ⚠️

--1st person POV--

It's 6:58pm, and I'm standing shivering in the cold, drizzly November night, outside the entrance to my apartment building, when I'd actually prefer to be tucked up cozy and warm in the double bed that's waiting for me three floors up.

But I'm waiting. I don't want to be in bed so I can sleep, and I don't want to be in bed alone. Nope. I want to be with my sweet little Artie.
My boyfriend, the love of my life.
We've been an item for almost a year now, and we've been cohabiting for four months. Honestly, I can say I've never been happier in a relationship before.

There's something about Arthur that drives me crazy. Crazy in a good way that is.
From the first moment our eyes met I just knew instinctively that he was the one for me. He was performing in Gotham Square, spinning a sign outside a store. His colourful costume and makeup immediately captured my attention, but it was the vibrancy of his very aura that enchanted me.The way he danced jovially, displaying an uninhibited happiness. I could sense the delight he felt from making people smile. The way his beautiful eyes sparkled with joy had me mesmerised.

It hadn't exactly been love at first sight, but it certainly didn't take long for me to fall head over heels in love with the man of my dreams.

Shy, nervous, and awkward, Arthur maybe isn't everyone's cup of tea. But he is most definitely mine.

In a city that is cruel, bleak and uncaring, Arthur is like a tiny ray of sunlight, battling the darkness on a daily basis, in the hopes of just trying to make people laugh.
Not everyone appreciates his efforts of course. After all, this is Gotham. A corrupt, crime-riddled place, where the majority of the population live in abject poverty, struggling to make ends meet.

Arthur is one of those poor people, but what he lacks in wealth he more than makes up for with spirit.

He works as a party clown for minimum wage, and he's subjected to verbal and physical abuse on a regular basis as a result.
His boss is an asshole. Traveling to and from work is like running a gauntlet. And yet, Arthur loves his job in spite of it all. Because nothing fills him with more joy than making people laugh, or bringing a smile to their face.

To Arthur that is his life's purpose. To spread joy and laughter.

For weeks we were friends, just friends, that was until I couldn't take it any more and ended up asking him out on a date. Well, if I'd have waited for him to ask then I'd probably still be waiting now.
For some reason my romantic interest had taken him by surprise, but he'd nervously agreed.
One date followed another, and as our relationship progressed, by mutual agreement, we moved in together. It makes good financial sense sharing an apartment. He enjoys my company, and it's wonderful being able to snuggle up close to him each night. To wake up next to him each morning.

Life has never been better.

Well, that isn't entirely true. It could be a little better if two things were different, maybe three.

The first thing is, we've never slept together. We share a bed but we've yet to actually do the deed. To go all the way and make love.
I don't mind so much, as I wouldn't want Arthur to take that step if he didn't feel ready. But admittedly, I do get a little frustrated at times.
He's so damn attractive, I can barely keep my hands off him. However, when I've tried to initiate sex he shies away from my advances, so I don't push him.
I can wait until he's ready. Even if having to be patient is driving me insane.

The other thing is, and I know it isn't his fault, but I get the distinct impression that he's not in love with me as much as I am with him.
Don't get me wrong, he's sweet and kind and loving, but I just feel as if he's holding a part of himself back, whereas I don't.
This whole relationship dynamic is completely new to Arthur. Having never been loved like this before, he finds the entire concept quite confusing and overwhelming.
It's foreign to him, so it's taking him time to let his guard down. That fortress of protection he's built around himself and his heart.

Which brings me to the final thing I wish could be different.
Now, I'm no expert in psychology, but it's like he's so afraid of letting someone get too close, he doesn't know how to handle a real relationship.
In the past he settled on merely fantasising about it, and what it might be like.
The focus of those fantasies was Sophie Dumond, a single mom who lives with her only daughter just down the hall from us.
How do I know about it? I saw her name written in his journal, with a small heart drawn beside it.

And the problem is....I know Arthur still has a bit of a crush on her.
He hasn't and won't admit to it, but he doesn't need to.
A woman can sense these things, and I'm no idiot.
So, whilst it kills me softly inside, I do my best to put it to the back of mind, hoping that, like with any crush, it's just a phase, and I'll wait for it to pass.

Just then a big yellow cab pulls up at the side of the road. The rain on the windows obstruct my view inside, so I squint my eyes and wander out from under the archway to try and get a better look.

The rear door swings open, and I smile to myself as the familiar tall, lean figure, climbs out.

Arthur is whippet-thin but I love his body. I love everything about him.
He's dressed in grey pants, white dress shirt and comfy brown cardigan, complete with the tan coloured hoodie-jacket that's seen better days.
His brown hair is wet, the long-ish curls hanging down limply, lacking their usual shiny lustre due to the unrelenting rainfall.

"(y/n), what are you doing out here?" He drawls in his soft, warm voice, upon seeing me stood in the drizzle. My previously washed (y/h/c) hair now frizzing annoyingly, despite me clutching an umbrella.

"Waiting for you." I say as I scurry forward, wanting to shelter him from the perpetual rain, and to kiss his cheek.

"But it's cold, you should be inside where it's warm."

"I'd rather wait for you."

I kiss him twice more. Another I plant on his opposite cheek, the next squarely on his lips. I could kiss him all day and never get tired of it. He's a very talented kisser, which makes me wonder how much practice he's had in the past. He always claims to be inexperienced but his skilful lips suggest otherwise. And I don't want to think about the girls he might've practised with.

I truly hope he finds my attentiveness sweet and endearing. If he doesn't then no doubt he'll see it as constant fussing over him, which might drive him mad.
But I can't help myself.
I'm so in love with the man, and I want to shower him with affection because he deserves all the love in the word.

"Artie!" I cry, suddenly noticing his hampered movements. "You're...you're limping. What happened?"

"Oh, it's nothing really. I stepped off a kerb and twisted my ankle. That's why I took a cab. Sorry, I know we can't really afford it--"

"Don't worry about that." I tell him, taking his arm and wrapping it over my shoulder so I can support his weight. "My poor baby. I wish you'd be more careful."

He smiles down at me. His beautiful smile never fails to make my stomach flutter like there's an entire swarm of butterflies in there.

As we reach the step up under the archway he winces, face contorting with discomfort due to the sprain.
Then I have an idea. A slightly crazy one maybe, but what can I say? I'm crazy about Arthur, and I can't bear to see him suffering or in pain.

"Here, Artie.." I move in front of him, handing over the umbrella, bending at the knee and reaching my arms back. "...I'll give you a piggyback."

"What? No! Don't be silly (y/n), I don't want to hurt you."

"Oh please, you won't hurt me. I'm stronger than you think and you're not exactly heavy."

"It's really not necessary. I can walk. It isn't that far."

"It's far enough when you're injured. Come on, please." I insist.

We argue back and forth for a little while, but when he realises I won't give in he reluctantly relents. I feel his hands on my shoulders, then the weight and warmth of his body as he allows me to hoist him up onto my back.

Okay, so he is surprisingly heavier than he looks, but I don't let that deter me.
We cross the courtyard, him barely able to clutch on due to his constant laughter. I'm laughing too, struggling to move forwards as I hold onto his knees, unable to walk quickly due to my giggling rather than his weight.

I ignore his pleas to put him down until we reach the elevator. Hot and out of breath, I carefully set him back on his feet. He folds down the umbrella with a shake, and presses the button on the elevator panel until it lights up, his eyes never leaving my flushed face.

"You're crazy." He grins, his voice a little hoarser from all the laughing.

"Crazy about you, Artie." I reply, not missing the expression of incredulity that crosses his handsome face.

The elevator arrives, it's heavy steel doors sliding open with a creak, and we step inside.

"That just makes you even crazier then." Arthur chuckles, shaking his head. "But thank you. No ones ever cared for me like you do."

"Well you'd better get used to it."

His gaze holds mine and I feel something stir deep down in the pit of my stomach, heating my insides and making my heart thud a frantic rhythm.

"I think I could." He murmurs near my ear, drawing closer, his proximity sending my pulse rocketing.

No sooner has the door closed behind us when he leans down and kisses me deeply. This is a huge development, as ordinarily Arthur never makes the first move to kiss me first. Naturally excited, I grab hold of him and gently push him backwards, my body pressing his up against the wall. I slide my hands inside his jacket then up under his shirt. I can feel the delicious warm dampness of his skin, and his muscles react, bunching and moving beneath my touch.

Arthur couldn't think of a better, more pleasurable distraction from the throbbing pain in his left ankle. Blissfully wrapped up in kissing each other, after sharing a childlike moment of silliness, laughing together like playmates.
Though there was no hint of playfulness evident in how he was feeling now.
A soft gasp escaped his mouth as he lost all of his senses. A burning fire igniting low down in his belly, a fierce heat coursing through his veins.
It was overpowering, addictive and utterly invigorating.
It made him feel hot and wired, and alive.
And it terrified him in the best possible way.

His hand slides to the back of my neck and into my hair, making me shiver, and I moan into his mouth. He tastes of coffee, cigarettes and spearmints, and despite needing a post-work shower he still smells good. Of my dewberry soap to be exact, which makes me smile mid-kiss.

Having become a little distracted, the elevator clunks to a halt quite unexpectedly and the door opens.

That's when he pulls back haltingly, and looks beyond my shoulder into the hallway, suddenly all flustered

"Oh, um, h-hi Sophie." He stutters, his complexion colouring with embarrassment.

My guts clench violently, making me feel almost nauseas.

"Hey, Arthur. Hi, uh--"

"(y/n)." I grind my name out, seeing as Arthur doesn't say it.

"Right, sorry. I'm terrible with names." She rolls her eyes, a wide smile stretching across her exceptionally pretty face.

"That's okay." Arthur interjects quickly, flashing a broad smile of his own in return. "H-how are you?"

She answers but I don't hear her words. My blood is whooshing in my ears, adrenaline surging through my entire body, making me tremble in temper.
I take a deep breath and step passed her, exiting the elevator.
Knowing how Arthur feels about her makes my blood boil. I can practically feel my skin blistering with the heat of my envy.

I know this isn't healthy, but I can't control it. Every time we run into Sophie in the hall like this, I just want to hiss at her like an angry cat and haul my Artie away from her as quickly as possible.

My feet feel like two breeze-blocks as I make my way down the dimly-lit hall to our front door. A quick glance over my shoulder makes me prickle with irrational jealousy, watching them both engaged in quiet conversation.

You could've had him. I think, sourly.
He wanted you. And you wasn't interested.

As for Arthur, I wish I could physically shake some sense into him.
Is this how it's forever going to be? Me loving him and him pining for another?
He has me. I'm right here but it's like he doesn't see it.
He has my love but he still wants hers.

My eyes grow filmy with unshed tears, and I fight the urge to cry. I fight it hard. Fumbling with the door key, I struggle to get it into the lock, unable to see clearly.

Just as I push the door open with excessive force, I hear the sound of his slow footsteps, reminding me that he's hurt. And just like that, my anger disperses.

"Sorry, baby." I croak, as I rush to assist him. "I forgot about your ankle."

"It's okay. You don't have to apologise (y/n)."

Is it just me, or is his smile brighter than it was before?
I inwardly reprimand myself. I shouldn't torture myself like this. I knew Arthur had a thing for his neighbour before I began dating him.
I guess I was just expecting him to stop wanting her once he had me. But emotions can't just be turned on and off like a faucet. Feelings don't always come in neat, easy to understand little packages.
If they did then life would be a whole lot easier.

His arm is draped around my shoulder, gingerly leaning against me as I help him inside.

I help him out of his wet coat, then manoeuvre him onto the couch so he can swing his legs up.

"You need an ice pack on this to help with the swelling." Carefully I untie his shoe and roll down his sock. "Do you have one?"

He shakes his head, looking unsure. "We have a bag of frozen veg in though, don't we?"

"That'll have to do."

After a quick rummage in the freezer compartment of the fridge, I return with a bag of frozen peas. I wrap it in a kitchen towel then carefully apply it to the tender area around his ankle bone.

"Does that feel better?"

"It does. Thanks (y/n). You're so kind to me."

"That's because I love you, Artie. You're so precious to me."

I look up and I'm surprised to see him looking at me all softly, a blossoming sort of tenderness in his striking jade eyes. It's a look that makes me feel breathless, and I gaze back at him, filled with anxious hope.
I know he has strong feelings for me, and it's as if he's afraid. Afraid of his own feelings. Afraid of allowing himself to become vulnerable. Of getting hurt, being let down.
If only I could convince him that he has absolutely nothing to fear.

"Hey, the Murray Franklin show will be on now!" I say, shattering the almost deafening silence. "I wonder who'll be on tonight."

I switch on the TV and flip through the channels until I find the talk show, the host is one of Arthur's favourite comedians. He watches this religiously, and it's rather out of character for him to have forgotten about it.

Carefully, he moves position, making room for me on the couch so I can lay next to him and watch the show.

"Comfy, love?" He enquires, as he wraps a long arm around my middle and holds me close.

My heart swells.
I love it when he calls me 'love'. It's his only pet name for me, and whilst he's never actually said that he loves me, I find it strangely reassuring.

"Hm. Absolutely. I love snuggling with you, Artie."

"Yeah it's really nice."

A few minutes pass as we watch the show in comfortable silence, laughing occasionally at some remark or joke Murray makes.

And then Arthur coughs and clears his throat. "Uh, it's Sophie's birthday this Saturday. She's having a party at her place."

"Okaaay." I draw the word out, dreading what's going to come next. I have a sinking feeling but I'm desperately hoping that I'm wrong.

"Yeah...she's invited us. That's real nice of her, don't you think?"

There it is. Those three words I dreaded.
"She's invited us."

"Yeah, I guess. Are you sure you want to go though? I mean, you've always said meeting new people makes you uncomfortable. And you don't like being around a bunch of people."

There's a contemplative pause before he answers. His next words anchoring me to the spot with the weight of my sadness.

"Yeah but, maybe it's time I started to try out new things."

Try new things!
So he'll try new things for Sophie, but not for me.
For her he's willing to overcome his social awkwardness and anxiety, and yet he won't even sleep with me. His girlfriend.

I can't answer him. I'm too churned-up, becoming lost in my bitter thoughts.

Don't get me wrong, nobody's relationship is all rainbows and butterflies.
They don't come ready-made, they come in kit-form and you have to work at it together as a team.

My unshakable devotion got us to where we are today, and I will always stand by Arthur, through thick and thin.
At the time of meeting him, I didn't ever want to love someone again, but from the first moment Arthur Fleck smiled at me, I blew it.
But have I been struggling in vain, hoping he'd eventually want me to be a permanent part of his world? Like he is in mine?

Actually, who am I trying to kid? He is my world.

We live together for heavens sake. So perhaps that ought to be enough for me for now. After all, I chose to take every step along the way, knowing that he had unrequited feelings for Sophie.

But damn.
I'm pretty sure if he hit me it would hurt less.