Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.
Warnings: sex, age gap, language, violence, mental illness, assault
Arthur called immediately after you hung up the phone with Tina and Chantelle and asked you to meet him at City Central Station at noon.
“I have to go out to Long Island,” he said, a heavy undercurrent of apology in his voice. “And I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to come with me.”
“Sounds perfect,” you’d replied instantly.
Arthur laughed, surprised. “I, uh…well, I know it’s not very romantic. But it’s kind of an emergency and-”
“I’m there,” you said. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes,” Arthur said. He sounded tense, flustered. You wished you were in the same room with him so you could put his arms around him and calm him down. Comfort him with your body. Among other things.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Arthur assured you. “I’m not hurt or anything. I can explain everything to you on the train. I’m sorry, I-”
“Don’t be sorry, Arthur,” you stopped him. “I’m happy just to spend time with you. No matter what we’re doing.”
You heard Arthur pause, releasing a relieved-sounding sigh on the other end, his tone softening. “I…I couldn't stop thinking about you last night,” he confessed. “I think I even dreamed about you.”
“Really?” you felt an uncontrollable smile spread across your face. Only Arthur Fleck could make you smile like a complete loon.
“Sorry. Is that weird for me to tell you that?”
“No!” you blurted. “In fact, I dreamed about you!”
Arthur laughed. “You did? Last night?”
“Uh…not last night, exactly.” You felt your cheeks heating up and felt glad Arthur couldn't see you blush. “Earlier. Like…maybe after the first time I saw you?”
“That’s sweet, Y/N. Was it a nice dream?”
“It was…very nice.”
If only Arthur knew the true carnal nature of that first dream. You’d get around to telling him someday…hopefully sooner rather than later.
And now, one hour later, here you were: one hour standing on the train platform waiting for him.
You glanced around Gotham City Central Station at all the bustling people - still rushing, still hustling, still rat-racing on a Saturday morning. They were like hamsters on one big gigantic wheel in a cage called Gotham, and although you knew you were one of them, having a day off gave you a refreshed perspective: Exactly who was winning this race? Why did normal people have to work themselves into the ground just to scrape by?
It seemed the winners of this race had already been called a long time ago.
Among the noise, traffic and images vying for your attention all at the same time, you locked eyes with a poster of Thomas Wayne. You shook your head. He was on television all the time these days. People seemed to think Wayne could “fix” Gotham and wanted him to run for mayor.
To put it bluntly: you thought those people were delusional.
There was no denying Gotham was a broken place. But was the wealthy mogul Thomas Wayne really the one to fix it? How could he know what the people of this God-forsaken city needed to get back on their feet? How could someone born and raised with an endless supply of silver spoons in his mouth possibly relate to living on the fringes of society?
The crowd parted and Arthur appeared, holding a newspaper under his arm. He spotted you and smiled. You ran up to him and leapt into his arms. Arthur caught you, spun you, then dipped you over and kissed you. The two of you were living in your own musical fantasy in the middle of a dirty, overcrowded train station.
“I’m so sorry that this is our second date,”Arthur said as he lowered you to the ground. “I wanted to plan something more romantic…a walk in the park, or maybe a trip to the-”
“Arthur,” you stopped him. “Anytime we’re together is romantic. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now but here.”
He smiled shyly and gave you a tender kiss on the cheek.
The graze of his lips against you triggered a slew of wants. You wanted to kiss him again. Properly. In fact, you wanted to do a lot of things to him. The memory of the soft pull of Arthur’s lips against yours the night before had stirred within you like a fever since then - but you were worried that if you started, you wouldn't be able to stop. And there were too many people around. You’d have to behave yourself. At least for the time being.
“So where exactly on Long Island are we headed?” you asked. “And what’s this mystery mission you couldn’t tell me about on the phone?”
Arthur drew in a heavy breath. “It’s…look, I don’t want to sound crazy. I’m not sure if I believe it myself, but last night…”
He was interrupted by your train pulling loudly into the station.
“That’s the one we want,” he jerked his head towards it.
“Oh shit!” you exclaimed. “I just remembered, I didn’t buy a ticket!”
“Don’t worry,” Arthur fished into his jacket pocket and pulled out two small pieces of paper. “I got yours.”
After finding two empty seats together, you placed your hand on Arthur’s and listened. Listened as he told you everything: How his mother had been writing letters to Thomas Wayne (funny how you’d just been thinking about him…though to be fair, his smug face was plastered all over the city). How he hadn’t paid his mother’s compulsive letter-writing much mind. She was set in her ways and tended to overfocus on things that were of little to no consequence. And finally: how last night after coming home from your date, an unexpected burst of curiosity had cajoled him into reading one of her letters…
…in which his mother had disclosed something totally unexpected. Something shocking.
“Thomas Wayne?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows.
Arthur nodded.
“Your…father?”
You blinked. This was so out of left field, it had gone past left field and back to right again. You struggled to pick a reaction; there were so many coursing through your mind and heart. You could only imagine how Arthur was feeling.
“How did your mother even know him?” you asked, agog.
“She used to work for the Waynes. As their housekeeper. Just before I was born.”
You shook your head in stunned disbelief. “I have to say, I don’t know what to think. Do you believe her, Arthur?”
Arthur was silent for a moment, and you gave him space to find the words.
“At first I didn't, really. She hasn’t always been…the best at telling the truth. She thinks things are real that aren’t. I wonder sometimes if I get that from her.”
He unfolded the newspaper on his lap and began leafing through the pages.
“But now, when I look at pictures of him - and his pictures are everywhere - I can’t help but see a resemblance. Maybe it’s all in my head, I don’t know.”
Arthur landed on a picture of Wayne and his wife, gazing admiringly up at him as he waved to a crowd. He tore out the photo and creased back the edges so you both could see it more clearly.
“Do you think I look like him, Y/N?” Arthur asked.
“I don’t know…” You scoured the famous man’s face. The curve of his cheekbones, the arch of his eyebrows.
Like a bolt of lightning, it struck you.
“Shit, Arthur. I don’t know if I’m going crazy, but…now I do kind of see a resemblance!”
“I know,” Arthur said. “Now that I see it, I can’t stop seeing it.”
You peered in closer.
“But why wouldn’t she say anything until now?” you leaned back in your seat. “Why wait all these years?”
“She said she signed some papers promising she would keep it a secret. It was to protect me as their child, some big scandal coming out. But she said they loved each other. They just couldn’t be together.”
“Jesus,” you sat back in your seat. Through the window, the entire world seemed to blur as the train lurched away from the city. “What a fucking rollercoaster.”
“I have to go see him,” Arthur’s voice broke into your racing thoughts. “Talk to him face to face.”
“Of course,” you agreed. “Go to his house and confront him. It’s the only way to get to the bottom of this. ”
You’d been to Wayne Manor only once before: a field trip in the second grade at Burnley Elementary School. Over a decade later, all you recalled about the visit were the Waynes’ dobermans that barked at you and your classmates the entire time. Like you were intruders even though the Manor was a historical landmark with paid tours.
The Waynes were a piece of work.
“Come on,” you took Arthur’s hand as you exited the train station. There were no cabs around like in the Gotham, and the walk from the train station to Wayne Manor would take at least half an hour on foot.
Long Island was worlds apart from the city. Away from the endless, screeching roar of Gotham, you could actually hear yourself think.
You and Arthur made your way down the tree-lined roads. It was autumn and the leaves were beginning to turn gold and fall to the ground. You liked how Arthur made a point to always walk on the outside of the sidewalk, creating a buffer between yourself and the street. Maybe his mother was crazy, but there was no denying she had raised a gentleman.
Arthur seemed to relish holding your hand, the sound of dry leaves crunching beneath your feet.
“So what was that dream you had about me?” you asked playfully, giving his hand a light squeeze. You looked over to see his cheeks flush. His shy smile swept you off your feet.
“Oh,” Arthur gave a small laugh. “I dreamed you were onstage with me.”
“Doing your comedy act?” you giggled. “Like a singing, dancing comedic duo?”
“No,” Arthur shook his head. “I mean yes. Kind of. We were singing and dancing together. I was in my red suit and you were…”
He paused. You shot him a quizzical look.
“I was what?” you prodded.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“What was I, naked or something?”
“No,” he shook his head. His face was even cuter (if such a thing was possible) when it was all embarrassed and flushed.
“You were wearing your Snow White costume.”
Not the answer you’d expected. You let out a laugh.
“I guess that makes sense,” you conceded. “Given you’ve seen me in it at the children’s hospital.”
“It’s not just that,” Arthur confessed as you walked along. “It’s because…well, I didn’t tell you this at the time because I thought it would be weird. But Snow White was the first movie I ever saw in the movie theater.”
“That’s not so strange,” you replied. “It’s a classic, after all.”
“Well…she was also my first love. Snow White, I mean. I saw her up there on the screen and I fell in love with her.”
Now you were blushing. And as stupid as it was, you also felt a pang of jealousy course through you. Yes, you were jealous of a cartoon princess Arthur’d been infatuated with as a child. It was beyond ridiculous, but the truth was: hearing Arthur loved anyone besides you made your heart pound with envy. You just hoped he still didn’t have a thing for her.
“You know…” Arthur’s voice broke into your racing thoughts. “I hope this isn't weird of me to say, but…I'm honestly surprised you would ever be interested in someone like me.”
You stopped in your tracks. Was he trying to give you the brush off? Tell you he was still in love with a childhood celluloid dream? Your heart was jumping up and down, side to side. You couldn’t imagine going on without him in your life.
“What makes you say that?” you asked, measured tone and breath, trying specifically not to sound as psycho as you really felt.
Arthur shrugged. “I’m…older than you, I live with my mother. I have no money. And you…”
You wanted to protest everything he was saying, but reminded yourself to wait patiently for him to complete the thought.
“...you’re a college student.”
“I was a college student,” you corrected him.
“You deserve to live in a beautiful place like this,” Arthur said, gesturing at the verdant surroundings. “Someone who can give you that.”
“Are you breaking up with me?” you blurted. You could feel another episode coming on and as much as you trusted Arthur, you really didn’t want to lose it in front of him again. You especially didn’t want to lose it because he was dumping you. And on Long Island, no less. Crazy behavior was normal in Gotham, but here they’d have you arrested for so much as a shriek here.
“No!” he shook his head immediately. “Not at all. I just…don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping you from a better life. You know I have all these problems…”
You breathed a silent sigh of relief. He wasn’t breaking up with you. He was just concerned, thoughtful, putting your needs ahead of his.
It only made your feelings deepen for him even more.
“Does it bother you?” Arthur asked. “That I’m older than you?”
“No,” you replied. “Does it bother you? Have you ever been with someone younger?”
Arthur pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and shook one loose, bringing it to his mouth as he fished around his other pocket for a lighter.
“I haven’t really dated at all,” he said with an embarrassed wince. “I’m not someone most people would…ever be interested in.”
“That’s not true,” you said, still reeling from the shock that this beautiful, sweet, tender man had never dated. Though to be fair, knowing he’d loved anyone else would have triggered more jealousy. At the same time, you couldn’t wrap your head around how no one could see how amazing he was.
“I’ve never dated, either, Arthur,” you pointed out.
“But that makes sense. You're a lot younger than I am.”
You grinned slightly. “Have you been doing the math? How much?”
Arthur inhaled the first drag of his cigarette, and it billowed out into the clean Long Island air.
“You told me what year you graduated last night. If I’d stayed in school, I would have graduated in 1964. Which means I'm fifteen years older than you. It took me a second to do the math. That was never my strong subject. None of them were.”
You shook your head, then suddenly found yourself laughing. “Actually…”
Arthur looked up at you with big, worried eyes. “Yes?”
“I like that you’re older than me,” you confessed.
“You do?”
“Is that weird?” Now you felt a little embarrassed. You didn’t want Arthur to think you were a freak, but you were just being honest. “I don't like guys my age.”
“You didn't meet anyone you liked at school? I'd think lots of guys would be interested in you.”
“‘Interested’ is a relative term,” you scoffed bitterly. “The guys at Gotham U are…let's just say a lot of them are book smart. And come from rich families. But they act like fucking animals.”
Arthur frowned. “Animals? How do you mean?”
You shook your head. “I'll tell you about it some other time.”
Arthur nodded respectfully.
“The truth is, Arthur,” you continued. “I never liked anybody that way…until I met you.”
Arthur smiled at the ground as you plodded along in sync, then silently took your hand.
“I feel the same way about you,” he said. “When we’re together, it just…feels right.”
“I know,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. “So many things in my life haven’t felt right…haven't been right. But this does. And if it feels right, nothing else matters.”
IMPORTANT UPDATE 8/1/2025: From this point forward, I’ll be posting all new writing, including new chapters of Heartthrob, exclusively on AO3.
Chapter 15 just dropped and you can find it on ao3 under a new author name (ghastella) and title (Heartthrob 2.0):
https://archiveofourown.org/works/68539791
Thank you for being here. Werewolf and go wild!!!
xo ghastella
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My collection of Art Fight attacks this year! While I didn't get to do all the art I wanted to this year, I at least met my personal goal of ten attacks!
(Characters belong to (in no particular order) @xtra2rr3strial, @luisalecto, @factual-fantasy, @cyberscraps, @atomicrow, @megamarine, @heroes-wear-green, @the-garden-jack, @fletchier, @marzibird, Lorelai and Keketyne! )
