#jokerxreader

hello, finally I have made a master list for INDISPUTABLE thank you so much @thekillingjoke-haha for the instructions ❤️ enjoy, and don’t forget I’m open for questions or suggestions :). Enjoy.

Part one

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

A little Joker x Reader something... let me know if you like it, I’ll write the next bit. ;P

    It was evening, and you could hear the last songs of the birds out of the window. You were curled up on the big armchair, your favourite spot, with a cup of cinnamon tea. The television was on. “… another hit by the Joker tonight. Four people are in critical condition after - ”

  You turned the set off. That was quite enough of that. You picked up the book you were reading instead and snuggled into your blanket as Plum, your black cat, jumped up and started purring on your lap.

  Gotham was getting worse, but you didn’t like to hear about that. You had moved to the suburbs as soon as you could so you could get away from the chaos. Moved away from your parents, who were well-meaning and loved you and didn’t understand you at all. When you told them you wanted to be an artist, they said that was great, you could channel that into a lucrative career in advertising. That was just the kind of people they were. 

  So, to please them without selling your soul completely, you became a banker. The days were lacklustre, but you made decent money, and with that money, you moved away from your parents, to this quiet house far from the chaotic energy of the city. At your first promotion, you adopted a cat - Plum - and that was all the company you needed. You resisted your coworkers insistence that you join them at the pub on a Friday night as vehemently as you resisted your mother’s insistence that you join Tinder (“Everyone’s doing it, these days, darling. Ashley - you remember Ashley - well, she married a lawyer this year, and she met him on Tinder.”). 

  At your second promotion, you bought yourself a greenhouse. It was just a little thing that came in a kit in the mail, but it did the job. This time of year, you loved pottering around in it, smelling the damp earth, feeling the warmth of the sun, fussing over your seedlings. You had created a cozy little life for yourself. You even still had time to do a little art now and then, that you shared on your blog. You were happy. Well, let’s say content. And that was enough. The dull ache of loneliness that crept up on you at certain times of night was really a small price to pay for  the quiet freedom you had cultivated.

  Almost time for bed… well, maybe one more cup of tea first. It was Saturday night, after all. As you started to head for the kitchen, ignoring an annoyed miaow from Plum, who had been dislodged from your lap, you suddenly remembered. The seedlings! You hadn’t given them their evening watering! You thought about leaving it… you had given them a good soaking in the afternoon, they should be moist enough to last til morning… but no, you couldn’t risk it, your arugula had been a little delicate lately, and your peppers were only just starting to sprout.

  Reluctantly, you put on your jacket and wellies and headed down the garden path. The night air was chilly. The greenhouse didn’t have a light - you would have to use the light of the nearly full moon to see, but that was all right. You knew it like the back of your hand. 

  As soon as you stepped inside, you stopped. There was a faint click as the door closed behind you. There was something wrong. At the far end of the greenhouse, something was slumped on the chair that looked for all the world like a person. It wasn’t, of course. It must just be a bag of fertilizer or something you had left there… still… it did look awfully like a human figure. 

  Something glinted by your feet. You looked down and saw a little trail of water. The hose wasn’t closed off all the way, and the drips were creating an expanding puddle. Every hair on your body stood up. You always shut the hose. And now, in the puddle of water, you saw colours… faint traces of red and blue… something was very amiss…

  The silhouette on the chair moved. It wasn’t a bag of fertilizer. It was a person. You knew you should run now, run to the house, lock the doors, grab the phone, call the cops. A great plan in theory, but in practice, fear had you rooted to the spot. Meanwhile, the figure shifted slightly, so you could see the outline of a face. Aquiline nose, wavy hair… but that’s about all you could make out. His eyes were in darkness, so you couldn’t tell if he was looking at you, but you somehow felt like he wasn’t. Like he was looking at the moon.

  Failing to move, you decided that the only option was to speak. “What are you doing in my greenhouse?” you asked, voice a hoarse rasp. 

  The silence stretched out between you, and at first you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he did. “I come here sometimes. When I have a bad day.” 

  A shiver ran up your spine when you realized he had been here before, but at the same time, you noticed how soft his voice was. Gentle. Something in you was drawn to this stranger.

  You took a step forward. “This is my home. You shouldn’t be here,” you said. Then you added, tentatively, “Don’t you have somewhere to go?”

  “I like the smell of the plants. I like that you can see the moon through the ceiling,” he said.

  So he was watching the moon. He reached out a hand and ran it over his mouth. His hand was shaking. Your fear subsided. You took another step forward, knowing you shouldn’t, but something about this man, who could be a psycho for all you knew, a thief, a serial killer, something about him drew you to him like the moon draws the tide. “You’ve been here before?” you asked. 

  He nodded.  “Are you hurt?” you asked.

  “Always,” he whispered. 

  For a moment you were both silent. Then you made a decision. “I’m going to make some tea. Would you like a cup? It’s cinnamon.”

  Although you couldn’t see his face, something about the slight shift in his shoulders indicated faint surprise. He nodded, just slightly. 

  You went back to the house and put the kettle on. Plum wound around your legs, demanding food, as if everything was normal, as if there wasn’t an intruder in your greenhouse. As if you hadn’t just decided to, rather than calling the police to report him, make him tea. 

  You fed Plum and brought out the two steaming cups of cinnamon tea. Your heart was racing as you opened the door. For a second you thought he must be gone, must have taken advantage of your vulnerability to run. For another second you thought he would be hiding in the shadows somewhere, waiting to pounce on you.

  But no. He was sitting right where you left him, elbow on his knee, head in his hand.

  Watching the moon. 

  You brought him over the tea. A ray of moonlight fell across his face, dividing it into light and dark. His eyes were on the dark side, but his lips were palely illuminated. You caught yourself staring. They were beautiful. His hand, grasping the handle of the teacup… he was thin, very thin, but your gaze wandered over knuckles, fingers, nails. For a moment, an image flashed before your eyes of that hand slipping under your shirt, the feel of it against your skin…

  You shivered. He sipped his tea. You sipped yours. Then, since there was only one chair in the greenhouse, you sat on the floor next to him. You sat too close, so your arm pressed against his calf. You told yourself it was in the hopes that the physical contact provided some comfort to him, not because you wanted to feel his warmth. 

  After what felt like forever but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes he spoke. “Why are you so kind to me?” he asked.

  You were grateful of the darkness. Your cheeks were growing hot.  “I know what it’s like to be lonely,” you said softly.

  He nodded. “This city is trash. Everyone in it is filth. Mostly I find it funny. But some nights…”

He shook his head and took a long sip of tea. “I like your greenhouse. I like to come here. It feels safe.”

  You sat there for a long time. You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until you surfaced slightly, deep in the night, and found your head had fallen into his lap. He had one hand buried in your hair. You knew you shouldn’t be here, with this stranger. Shouldn’t let him touch you so tenderly. But all you could think was how safe you felt with him, and you sank into a deep, dreamless sleep once more.

  The warm sun beamed into the greenhouse. You blinked the remnants of the night from your eyes and tried to get your bearings. You were curled on the floor, and as you sat up, something fell off you. It was a jacket, a beautiful, deep maroon colour, unlike anything any of the men you knew would ever wear. Without thinking, you brought it to your face and inhaled. There was the harsh smell of cigarettes, and a musk - an animalic smell. The smell of the man who had been wearing it. You quivered in depths of yourself you had never acknowledged before and pressed your face into the fabric.

  But there was another smell too. Smoky, not unpleasant, but unusual… gunpowder?

  And the more you looked at it, the more you thought there was something familiar about it. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

    It wasn’t until you later, as you walked to the bakery to pick up a French loaf so you could make tomato sandwiches for lunch, that you realized. You passed a television store window, with models stacked up in the display. They all played the news. They were on mute, but when the image changed from the news anchor to shaky footage of a man in clown makeup running down the street, pursued by policemen, you knew. It was unmistakable. The aquiline nose. The curve of the mouth. And of course, the gorgeous maroon jacket.

  The man in the greenhouse. The man who had left his jacket to keep you warm. The man you were undeniably, inescapably attracted to in ways that you had never experienced before…

@obsessedandthirsty @electroma89 @sanguinandoscrivo

-Abigail

4 - New Starts

The streets of Gotham were busy with hurried people every single day of the town's painful existence. No one seemed to care for anyone and that's why when those no ones were walking towards their destination, whether it was their working place or their own homes, their attention never cared to focus on other no ones like Arthur. It looked like he was invisible to every single person that passed near him and his swinging sign, nobody seemed to notice his cheerful dance in front of the music shop.

And well, nobody seemed to see the group of little vandals steal the bright yellow sign from him, nor did them give a single fuck when he was chasing the kids and screaming for others to stop them.

He hated that city.

He hated being invisible, he hated being a no one, he hated running after those stupid teens.

And now he was hating being beaten up by them, curled up on the ground, without any type of power over the situation.

While his vision was getting blurry, his thoughts were limpid: he was thinking of Y/n. Arthur had gladly found out that he was able to concentrate on her smile so hard that the pain would slowly fade away, as if it morphed into a simple background buzz. Surely a little annoying, but still a lot more bearable.

"Hey! HEY!"

Arthur couldn't understand if something had scared them away or if they were simply done toying with him, the image of her bright eyes was blocking out everything else from his mind. But as his sight was leisurely coming back with an imperceptible ring in his ears, he had started to line out a thin silhouette at the end of the dirt alley running toward him.

The apparently unreal phantom became a lot less imaginary when a hand reached down to Arthur and a pair of arms helped him sit on the ground, feather-like hands holding his sore shoulders.

"Oh lord, Arthur? Arthur can you hear me?"

The clown nodded, a little confused, and as he was gaining back his sight, the voice lulling his aching body seemed awfully familiar all of the sudden.

Was it really her?

His eyes finally managed to center on the person holding him: a worried look met his own and a tear escaped the beautiful irises that were staring at him.

Did he really run that way? Was he really that close to her shop?

Or was she just passing by?

Could he seriously have been so lucky?

"Arthur tell me something!"

She was so so worried.

When was the last time someone looked at him with true and pure concern?

He couldn't remember one.

He shook his head, still a little disoriented.

Please don't let it be an illusion.

Don't let her be an illusion.

"Y-Y/n I... I, them, I I..."

Words failed him as the anxiety and the stress of the fresh abuse were beginning to make their way to his brain. His throat was immediately dry, in a moment his lungs couldn't remember how to work properly, leaving the poor man agonizingly breathless.

Why was she there?

"Haha... Ha... Hahaha... Hahaha-"

A smack echoed through the alley as his own hand harshly hit his mouth in a hopeless attempt to suffocate the uncontrollable fit of laughter.

Y/n saw his body bending over and painfully starting to shake uncontrollably, his face had contorted into a grimace that screamed pain so loud she could feel it scratching her skin.

He wanted so bad for her to just run away, scared of his bizzarre and horrific behavior like everyone else.

Everything would've been so much easier.

Why was she still there? Why was she looking at him like that? Was she going to make fun of him? Was he really crying in front of her?

Was she-

"It's okay"

Her hug was firm and warm, arms grabbing his convulsing body and securing it against her own.

What?

----------------------

Arthur had to take a few minutes breathing with his face buried in Y/n's neck but at the end he had managed to calm down. It was a first time for him, he knew no one ever stroked his hair while he was having an episode, it all had felt so different and strange.

It had made him feel uncomfortably safe.

She hadn't cared for the tight grip he had on her, nor did she complain about the smudget makeup on her jacket. And now that he was sitting on her couch with a cup of hot tea in his hands, everything felt even more safely surreal.

It had started to look so impossible to him for her to be that kind that at the end of the story he was sure that was real: he couldn't be able to hallucinate someone being so gentle with him.

His mind couldn't do something like that.

It could picture a hug, a kiss, the two of them cuddling in his bed, even Y/N naked in his shower.

But that?

He could never have imagined it.

It was too much for him.

He didn't deserve that.

"How are you feeling Arthur?"

Still, she was standing in front of him with a beautiful smile on her delicate face and a bag of ice in her hands. Y/n sat right beside Arthur and put the bag on his shoulder, relieving the ache that a big bruise was giving him. Things like that remembered him how skinny, how powerless, fragile and useless his body was. His dark place was suffocating him once again and once again he was letting it take control.

"Y/n"

"Yes, Arthur?"

He had fell silent once the fit was eventually over, that was the first word after almost an hour since then.

"Earlier, in the alley... That was... I have..."

His voice trailed off, abandoning the sentence little by little.

Why was it so difficult with her? He didn't have his little card with him but he totally could explain his condition. Then why there was no way words would come out?

"A neurological conditon, I know"

He was unexpectedly confused one more time that day.

"How do you..."

"I... I knew a... person with a very similar condition"

"but we can do something about it, right, doctor?"

The screams were echoing through the white walls of the empty hallway, were Y/n could hear them loud and clear.

"I'm sorry to tell you that ma'am, but that's a neurological condition, we can't help that"

Another scream, another torturing cry of pain.

You could hear her head bashing against the wall as if you were in that same room.

"isn't there something we can try?"

"we tried everything"

Foggy memories were passing by in front of your eyes as the buried fear threatened to climb out of its grave.

Arthur could not replace her, being his friend wouldn't bring her back.

He could not redeem your mistakes, nothing could delete what had happened.

But you did still care, and yes, even if he did remember you of her, it was not because you wanted a second chance, but because you really saw something in him.

And whilst your brain was full of something you hadn't thought of for a long time, you could still see the now bare face of the clown. He was completely zoning out, all Arthur could focus on was how your apartment was just like he had imagined: lovely and welcoming, just like you.

The two of you had your minds in two completely different places even though you were looking at the same thing, your living room. But it was okay, it was pleasant, safe. You were just enjoying each other's company.

His sight was scanning your little open space, with the kitchen in a corner and the sofa where you two were sitting right in front of it, only the TV and the white furniture where it was standing dividing the two spaces. The carpets, the pictures on the wall, the color combinations and even the textures, everything there made him think about you, every little piece of that space remembered him of your ethereal being. Since your first encounter, the scrawny clown had discovered that contemplating the idea of you made his chest warm, almost as you had a calming effect on his anxiety.

Maybe he should've said something.

"Thanks again Y/n"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever you want"

Arthur tensed a little and squeezed the cup in his hands as he frantically answered, a gesture that you quickly registered. He was so nervous now, you had the urge to hug him tight but succeeded in restraining yourself from doing it.

Instead you stood up and walked up to the counter in you kitchen, took a piece of paper, wrote something on it, and went back to the couch to give it to Arthur.

"Call me whenever you want to"

He had lost count of how many times you had him confused that day. On the little piece of paper perfectly ripped there was noted a phone number, clearly yours.

But why would you do something like that? Was that a cruel joke?

"You're my friend, I just want to help... And get to know you a little better. So you can call me both when you're not feeling well and when you just want to talk"

"I... Am just confused. Why would you...?"

"Cause this city is horrible. Every single person in this city is horrible. And you're the only one that has showed a little interest in someone else rather than yourself. When you get to know someone new in this city the first thing they say is how rich or poor they are, it's all about money, all about them and them only. It's a never-ending herd of egoistic assholes. But when we had the chance to talk, when you were performing in my shop, you told me about your mother, your dreams and how happy makes you hearing kids singing with you. And that is so rare here in Gotham that I don't want to lose you in the crowd"

Wow.

Where you real though?

You had left him simply speechless. Over the years he had never ever heard someone talk about him like that, in all honesty he had never heard someone talk about someone else like that.

You were really special, weren't you?

He was able to see right through you smile. There was just a honest and kind interest in him, and although it had always seemed impossible for him that someone else could care for his well being, the expression on your face was melting each of his doubts away.

He had always been the one that cared for others, first being his mother, and how it seemed like someone wanted to take care of him.

His smile grew little by little, bringing a tint of almost invisible rose on the man's cheeks.

"Thank you, again"

There were no other words to be said, his expression was enough for you to understand his gratitude. After a minute of contemplating your handwriting, Arthur stood up and turned to face you.

"I'm afraid I have to go now"

"Sure, let me get you to the door"

Said door wasn't that far away, but it was still nice having you with him till there. Saying goodbye was kinda... Sad. Yeah, sad was the right word, for both of you. Arthur had to go back to his reality, once home he had to wash off the little residues of the makeup that were still staining his skin, get dinner ready for his mother, put her to bed and spend the night in his room, staring at ceiling, hoping morning would come soon. And then start all over again.

But what about you? What would you have to go back to?

He wanted to ask you so bad.

Well, maybe...

"Goodnight, Y/n"

“Behold! The Queen of Gotham City!”

Ever since those words came from the clown prince, or rather king, of crime’s lips, your life had never been the same. No one dared look at you in a way not of respect. 

Arthur had taken over the entire city in a matter of days. He had an army by his side from day 1.  He became King and you became his Queen. You ruled equally. People had the misconception that the Queen stayed behind and waited for her King.  In reality, that was not what happened.

Edits made by @the-graphic-designer

On My Mind (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Smut

My Redemption (Joker x Reader Series) (Work In Progress)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 

Chapter 7 |

Broken Angel (Gabriel x Reader)

San Diego (Dean x Reader)

It’s You (Dean x Reader) - Implied smut

Warnings: mentions of murder

Notes: I hope this is okay! I tried and it’s not great..I wasn’t feeling well but I hope you like it!

-

You can feel it; that tightening constricting sensation in your throat, palms becoming clammy, sweaty as you are seated on the edge of the warn out sofa in Arthur’s apartment, well, perhaps you can call it yours too considering how much time you have spent there recently with this unassuming man. Your fingers absently claw at the moth eaten seams in anxiety and your eyes transfixed to the television screen in front of you.

Murray Franklin’s bloody corpse broadcasted on live television.

Bullets riddled the talk show hosts lifeless body, and there was Arthur - no, there he was; Joker.

That once mild mannered, innocent sweet Arthur. His smile flashing back at you in your mind; broad and comforting, warm. All that gone in a flash. What stood now was something else, a crooked greasepaint crimson smirk that sent shivers down your spine; teeth on full display and completely proud of his act.

You recall this memory often, replaying it in your head on autoplay, like a record that will not stop and driving you insane.

Often you find yourself in two minds; knowing it is wrong the acts of violence that Arthur- or well..Joker commits. But on the other hand you have a somewhat understanding of it. The way he lashes out on those who have done him wrong, who have done the world wrong. He’s troubled.

Arthur Fleck Drabble #2

Please be warned: Character death, pls don’t read if this triggers you, stay save. Gifs not mine.

Doctor: „I‘m sorry J, (y/n)... the injuries are too bad. Theres nothing we can do. I am sorry.

Joker is devasted. How could it be possible, you will not be around him anymore. He can‘t kiss you anymore. It should be him, not you. You are an angel. He loves you so so much. He loves your smile, to hold you in his arms on a bad day, loves he can talk to you for hours. You accepted all of him. You fell in love with Arthur and stayed by his side when he turned into Joker. He just can‘t believe this.

SHORT SUMMARY

Becoming a comedian. That's your dream. You have the opportunity to prove yourself because you have a guest appearance on a Murray Franklin Show. But it will be anything but amusing. While you hope for a successful evening, Murray amuses himself with Arthur's clip. Instead of bursting out in laughing you defend the man on the screen. Without knowing that the Joker has kept an eye on you now ...

AUTHORS NOTE

This is my first post on Tumblr, I am kinda nervous! Since English isnt my first language I apologise for any mistakes in the story, I tried my best though, haha-

Also, I didnt write anything for ages, so I am very thankful for any feedback on this! 🖤

Last but not least; Thank you to anyone who is taking her/his time to read the story. 🖤

CONTAINS

- The images/gifs used are from the Joker played by Joaquin Phoenix. Also, the story is based on events that happened in the movie. Still, you can imagine this with any version of the Joker you want to ~

- No real sexual content, but a bit of tension and touching 

- Word count: 1440

STORY

Faster, faster and faster your heart beats, until it feels like it could jump out of your chest at any moment. You could just turn around. It wasnt too late. Your eyes turned to the mirror where you saw your fear-distorted face. The wobbling of your legs - that was one of your habits when you got nervous - made your reflection shake up and down. "Just be yourself" you gave your image as advice and pressed the muscles of the corner of your mouth up, but you could not stop them from trembling. Nervousness was a feeding sensation. You just wanted to disappear, maybe back into your protective four walls, without spectators, without any human soul.

"Are you ready?"  a voice asked coming from the direction of the door. Am I ready? You repeatedly thought to yourself. You pressed your fingertips against your palm and exhaled one last time for the jump in the icy water. "For sure!" came back in response from you.

You stood up and let your hands slide over your dress. Every single fiber tickled your skin. One last look in the mirror; you at least should look good if everything went wrong. A pair of pants would have been more comfortable than this tight dress. You sighed and started questioning everything again. "(Y / N) please stand behind the curtain!" Your body jerks briefly before your feet carry you towards the curtain. While you stood in front of the curtain, you would have liked to disappear - whoosh - just gone like you've never been here. "Please welcome our next guest, (Y / N)!" Tap. Tap. Every single step echoed through the great hall. The clapping of the audience boomed in your ears and the spotlight fell on your pale skin. Swallow. Breathe. Everything would be fine, that was your first appearance. You gave the audience a short smile and raised your hands in the air to greet everybody. "Thank you so much for having me here today" you squeezed out of you as Murray reaches out to you. Next to him, you looked like a trembling puppy taking his first steps. Would you ever achieve this professionalism?

When you sat down on the sofa, Murray asked for an applause again, after all, it was your first time on a big stage. An audience like this and thousands of people watching you in front of the TV, it felt good. It felt really good. As if you could finally be heard. As if that was the beginning of your long-awaited dream as a comedian.

But Murray did not ask you for a joke. Not for a single one. "Today we want to take a look at the something" he told the audience. Alright. Maybe you could do a number afterwards. A clip appeared on the studio screen. It was a man. He held a kind of notebook in his hands. He flipped through the pages until he folded the book and began to speak: "It's funny, when I was a little boy, and told people I was going to be a comedian, everyone laughed at me. Well, no one's laughing now." The uncertainty in his voice promised that this guy was probably just as insecure as you were. You could understand him though. "Youre dead right!" Murray exclaimed with a puffed-up laugh. The audience laughed in rows. "What do you think of our encouraging beginning (Y / N)?" He turned to you and smiled at you. Put on and experienced. That's exactly what his smile looked like. "Are you serious now?" You put back as a question. You did not dare to blink, you even stopped the breath of air that you just took. What did you just say? Why were you so angry? It doesnt matter. It was too late to change what you just said. The moderator's smile slid down his face. The eyebrows snuggled closer to his eyes, which he squashed. He probably did not believe what he had heard himself. "Well" he began unaware, "dont you think that's funny?" Funny? You did not know what was funny about it. This man wanted to make people laugh. But they robbed him of this attempt. "I found the gentlemen you just demonstrated here funny" swallowing, you pressed your fingertips even harder in your hand until it almost hurt. "I do not want to be part of this show anymore." Now or never. You got up and looked into the audience. Disappointed faces. Whispering heads, which leaned towards their counterpart. Everyone was as horrified as Murray. Then you turned to the camera. "I apologize to you on behalf of this show ... keep trying to make people laugh. You already made me laugh." You tried to cheer up the man who had probably just watched this series with great anticipation and was now the victim of a corrosive society.

                               Tonight was your last performance on TV.

TWO WEEKS LATER

You sat in the train. The usual everyday life, working, eating and sleeping. Itwas sad, but it was paying off your bills. You had pressed your bag against your chest, because today the train was overcrowded again. Breathing was hardly possible, it felt like breathing in dust. Not long ago a movement had started in Gotham. Many people disguised themselves as clowns and protested. Triggered by a clown who shot and killed three employees of Wayne Enterprises in the subway. The tense situation in the city did not surprise you. Dissatisfaction. Poverty. Everything carried the city into the abyss. The train jerked your body back and forth, while your eyes remained fixed on the ground. Which station were you at? You looked up - boom - he had met you, the look you would never forget. First ice cold. Rigid. But when he noticed that you returned the intense eye contact, his expression changed. 

He puts a smile on his face, at the same time his right brow made a small jump. Left. Right. Your eyes looked around hastily. Nothing. He actually looked at you. You were overwhelmed. What should you say? Should you even say something? How did this guy know you? Thousand of questions. No Answer. He was different from the rest of the protesters, his face was full of make-up, it was no mask. Somehow it fascinated you. Was that weird? You saw the passion with which he had applied the mak -up. "City Hall" an artificial voice finally said. All clowns gathered before exiting. The squares emptied rapidly. Suddenly, a large hand placed itself on your thigh. The fingers slide into the inner side of your leg and gently pressed themselves into your flesh. "Thank you, beautiful" the deep voice whispered softly in your ear. Goosebumps appeared over your entire body and you released a pleasant sigh. Your ear became so hot that it was barely noticeable. The red lips of the clown easily brushed your ear and made you stare. "You turned my negative thoughts into some .. lets see how I should put it .. pretty" amusing "ones .." You could feel him grinning on your ear and starting to laugh softly. You recognized the laughter, even if it was only short. It was the laugh from Murray's show. The laughter of the man you were protecting. But this laugh, which now escaped his lips, reflected the madness of his soul. You liked it, you liked it a weird way, very much. He removed his face from your ear and looked you in the eyes for a few seconds. You could feel his hot breath on your lips. You may have been apart at one fingertip. His eyes fixed on your lips. Slowly you lowered your eyelids, so that they were only half open. It felt like an eternity until it happened, but finally he put his lips on yours. Nothing. There was nothing more than the overwhelming feeling in you. And the desire not to stop. But after your lips were touched briefly, the artificial voices made another announcement: "Step away, the doors are closing." He looked back hastily, took a few steps back and left the wagon. "Dont miss me too much (Y/N)" He licked his lips briefly and laughed a little louder. Him knowing your name made your heart skip a beat. But it also gave you the most sincere smile since a long time. 

When the train left the weird feeling remained in your entire body. Your eyes followed him until the last moment. "Too late .." you gave back as a late reply.

                 One little taste already made you went crazy for him

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