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jokeringcutio · 1 year

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Cleopatra and the Cult Leader

Written for @nicktremblaywayfu Prompt: You dress up for a party like Cleopatra. Arthur Harrow’s there, and he’s intrigued. Rating: Teen. Read it down below. Fandom: Moon Knight (2022) Pairing: Arthur Harrow x (Female Presenting) Reader

“My, my,” the sultry voice made you turn around to face the man standing in the corner of the room, cane proudly in hand. His wine-red clothes a peculiar choice and you wondered if he was supposed to be some kind of monk. But then, the hair… “Aren’t you a beautiful Cleopatra.”

His silky voice sent shivers down your spine. Erotic, that’s what it sounded like. Sinful, despite saying nothing of the sort. It was a general compliment, one you had heard many times during the night – mostly by friends and people you knew. But this stranger, he didn’t seem actually that perverse with his remark. Just a kind-looking elderly guy who stood in the corner by himself, weight on his cane, complementing the youth on their costume. You bet he said it to every girl he saw and probably didn’t even notice it could be interpreted the wrong way. But hey, that was your mind filling things in like that. With a blush on your cheeks you watched him and wondered if you could get tipsy just on air and snacks. Why else did his voice manage to sent a pleasantly warm tingle down your spine.

I mean, look at the poor man, standing with his cane. He seemed to be older than most of the people around. You wondered why no one had gotten him a chair yet.

“Thank you, sir,” you said, after some hesitation. You flashed him a smile, eyes already searching for a chair to offer him in the vicinity.

“Oh, she calls me sir,” did he just purr? “I like that.” Your head whipped up to look at him, but there was still a benevolent smile on his face. An expression that betrayed no harm. You felt your inhibitions being lowered by it, felt like this was a man that could be trusted.

“You may call me Arthur, please,” he said while his eyes searched for yours. He did not find them, not really. Because you dare not look in his. Just once glance had been enough to know he had you captured, as pure as the gaze within them was. And so you kept yourself occupied by fetching him a seat, which you luckily found very swiftly. Pulling a chair with a wine-red seating from the nearby table, you offered it to him.

“Come sit down,” you said, sweeping your arm towards the chair which you held out for him, “Arthur,” you remembered. And if you drew out his name, it was because you were focusing on the task at hand. You did not look up, and so you missed the reaction that pronouncing his name had on him.

“Such a kind gesture,” Arthur said after a beat. And when you finally did look up again it was to find how his eyes were resting upon you, a kind smile on his lips. He finally stirred and stepped away from his spot in the corner, using his cain to aid him in his steps. There was a lot of noise around as the party was in full swing, youngsters were brawling, music was playing loudly at the other side of the room. It meant that you could not hear the sickly crunch coming from underneath his feet as he stepped to the chair and sat down. “Though,” he said, “it actually should be the other way around, shouldn’t it?”

You blinked stupidly at him when he said that, with him still smiling up at you.

“In more ways than one, I should be the one to offer a chair to you,” Arthur clarified. “A queen should have servants to help her, not be a servant herself,” ah, so that was he was on about. The costume, you reminded yourself. “And a gentleman would offer a lady a seat. But this has been the other way around,” he said, gesturing at his seated frame. He tapped an unoccupied chair next to his, inviting you to sit down with him.

You looked at him. Like, properly looked now. His red pants seemed a size too large for his frame and he was wearing dark-brown sandals that you could have sworn to be black only a moment ago. Must have been the bad light in here. While your eyes roamed upwards, over his body, you took note of the slight belly bulge that you thought might be beneath his blouse. A blouse, which was annoyingly stiffly collared at the neck. And then your eyes met his again to find him waiting. Your cheeks blushed, not that he could probably tell with the layer of make-up you were wearing.

“Well, perhaps I feel more like a gentleman,” you rebuffed, seeing how your words caught him by surprise. His eyes widened slightly, but only for a moment. He had himself under check really fast, you noted. As if he was used to not showing his emotions to others, but this emotion had just slipped through.

“Then why dress as an ancient queen?” he asked, voice low and husky. He seemed genuinely interested as he leant a little closer to you, hand on top of his cane that was stood resting between his legs.

“Well, she did wear a beard at times,” you retorted, betraying that you had a bit too much knowledge on the subject at the ready.

“You know that?” Arthur asked in surprise. Oh great, this old man knew such a cheeky fact? You couldn’t remember the last time someone you spoke knew about this. Well, perhaps some of your friends who also watched Horrible Histories.

“It’s not the reason I dressed up like her,” you quickly said, biting your lip while you placed your hand on the arm of the empty chair. Perhaps you should sit down and join him. He intrigued you, after all. And apparently he was eager to talk to you.

“No?” he asked, confirming that he wanted to conversation to last. “Why then?”

“I was a great fan of her in the Asterix and Obelix Twelve Works movie,” you joked, seeing his blank expression. A disappointed glint appeared in his eyes and you could not help it. He looked so lost, like a man whose world came tumbling down. It was quite the sight to see.

When he saw you started laughing, the corner of his own lips twitched upward as well. Good, he finally had caught that it was a joke. You sat down in the chair next to him.

“Surely, you would want to be admired?” he said when your laughter bubbled down. “Have boys fawn over you?”

You let out another laugh, this time because his suggestion sounded silly to your ears. “Oh, no. I just wanted to put on something pretty,” you pursed your lips, eyes focused on nothing particular in front of you while your mind drifted off. “I did not think of it to impress others. But I suppose you are half right. Perhaps I did want boys to fawn over me.”

Was that a smirk you saw from the corner of your eyes? When you focused your gaze upon Arthur again, it was gone. He seemed to still be smiling his kind smile. Well, you probably had imagined it.

“You aren’t the first, I’m afraid,” Arthur said, hand gesturing as he spoke. “There are a few more Cleopatras in sight tonight,” you followed his gaze to see another girl, standing near the snacks at the buffet, laughing with her friends.

“But has she met and talked to an expert on the subject?” you said, turning your eyes back to Arthur to give him a wink.

His smile stifled somewhat, not disappearing completely. But his expression seemed to harden, if only just a little. “No, she has not,” here he paused, giving you both time to think. “What makes you think I am an expert?”

“You know who I am dressed as,” you retorted with a smile.

Arthur seemed to let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit. “Everyone knows who Cleopatra is,” he said, voice sounding just a little tired.

“Almost everyone,” you said, then snorted as you thought of at least a few people that had absolutely no idea.

Arthur remained quiet at this, and you took your time to study the other Cleopatra’s outfit again. Now her costume, it looked amazing. An ancient Egyptian queen much like you, but with much more detail and more expensive material.

Wow. You wished you could have had that.

“She will turn heads,” you said absentmindedly. Did you hear Arthur chuckle or was that just your imagination again? “She certainly caught yours,” you added, and was there twinge of jealousy to it?

You looked at the man by your side again. No smirk. No sign of a chuckle. Just his kind smile and a soft twinkle in his eye. “Perhaps I have a thing for ancient beauties.”

“Are you calling me old?” you instantly said, and luckily, Arthur’s eyes widened slightly as if he seemed to realize his mistake.

“No, no, you are definitely not old. Pardon my bad phrasing. I meant that I have a particular interest in ancient Egypt, and therefore I notice anything that is connected to it. Young ladies dressed as Egyptian pharaohs included.”

You pondered his words for a moment, “You collect old Egyptian artifacts?”

Arthur’s smile turned slightly crooked now, but there was something of enthusiasm latched to his voice. “Let’s say I have a fascination for a particular Egyptian deity.”

“That is so cool,” you said, then looked at the buffet to see the other Cleopatra was being joined by a friend who was wearing similar Egyptian clothes. Katy Perry, you thought amused. Dark Horse. Something that looked similar to it. “Oh, look, there’s more of us,” you exclaimed happily.

Arthur’s wry smile had turned into the standard kind one again. “Ah, seems I am surrounded,” he drily remarked. But you could hear he was loving the fact.

“Cleopatra, coming at ya,” you started to sing, then laughed when you saw the confusion spread on his face. He probably was too old to get that reference. Embarrassing, really. Had you truly started to sing in front of him?

“Ah well,” you quickly said, rescuing yourself from the awkward situation by clearing your throat and wishing you had one of these nice drinks in front of you to look at or at least toy with, so Arthur wouldn’t see how nervous you really were. “I must say, I wouldn’t have minded going as Nefertiti, but I had trouble getting the headdress. So I went for Cleopatra instead.”

You turned to smile at him again, only to meet his calculating eyes. What was he thinking about, you wondered?

“So what if Cleopatra was a female pharaoh? She wasn’t the only one. There were more like her. Well,” here you caught yourself. “Perhaps not quite like her, but at the very least there have been more women in power that I could have dressed up as.”

You were quiet for a moment, not even noticing how Arthur reacted to it. “I could have gone dressed like one of them early Anglo-Saxon saints. But yeah, I admit, I wanted to be a little more exotic.”

“And so you chose Cleopatra,” Arthur said, “for her beauty.”

“Because I did not get the right hat,” you defended, arms folding in front of your chest, unintentionally pushing up your breasts in this dress that had a ridiculously low cleavage there. Did Arthur’s eyes flick down for a moment? No, you must have imagined it.

“Besides, there was way more to her than just her beauty,” you continued, not even giving the old man a chance to say something in between. “What if I said I dressed up like her not because of her beauty or her charm?” You looked at him with a triumphant smile, waiting for his expression to change.

“Not even because of her wit,” you continued, “for she had a pretty good reign granting Egypt stability for years!”

Okay, perhaps you got a bit enthusiastic there.

Arthur’s chin dipped slowly forward, eyes become more intense. He liked what you were doing, you could tell. His right finger was gently tapping the tip of the crocodile’s head that adorned his cane. Fancy, you thought, and wondered at which fancy dress shop he had gotten that.

“What if I said,” you lowered your voice, leaning slightly closer to him as if what you were about to tell him was confidential information, “I dressed up like a murderer?”

“That is an interesting theory,” his retort came swiftly, without a beat for thought. He leaned in a little closer to you, mirroring your movements with his own. “And what would make you say such a thing?” his voice was husky, a whisper that barely reached your ears over the sounds of music and chatting around you.

“Because Cleopatra had to kill her own sisters to get on that throne.” You could see how your knowledge about the ancient queen impressed Arthur, for his brow raised ever so slightly and his gaze became less dark.

“Plus,” you continued, holding up your hand to count down the facts on your fingers, dress slipping temptingly around your frame with each movement you made. “She married her own brother, had him killed, did the same thing again with a second brother she had,” you licked your dry lips, Arthur’s eyes following the movement and this time, you did notice it. He was watching your mouth, intently. “Then she did the rumpy-pumpy with not one but two Roman political figures of importance. I mean, the list goes on. She was an interesting woman with many more aspects to her than just her looks.”

You chuckled and shook your head. It helped, because now you could not see how captivated Arthur was looking at you. “I mean, that is, if you even liked her looks. Have you seen recent days reconstructions based on historical evidence? I mean, the nose!”

And you instantly flushed when you saw his eyes dart to your nose, as if making a comparison in his mind. Eh, yeah. Your hands flew up to embarrassingly cover it up. “I know, I know, don’t look. I mean, hers was worse!”

“I think,” you held your breath while you watched him lean in closer, his cane set aside, while he spoke with a warmness to his voice that send little sparks of electricity down your spine. He raised his hands carefully, as if not to frighten you. Then, with a delicate movement, they came to rest upon yours.

“You know a lot about her history,” Arthur’s voice was a low murmur.

His fingers gently rubbed past the back of your hands, before gently enclosing them. You felt how he carefully pried your hands away from your face. His eyes kept a hold on yours, not allowing you to move away from his gaze so you could not see what he was doing or how he was still holding your hands. You could only feel it. Feel him, and hear his voice while you drowned in the blue oceans that were his eyes.

“And that you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Did he just call you pretty again? Was that the implication?

“T-Thank you, sir,” you stumbled over your words. When you got embarrassed you instantly turned polite again. Arthur seemed to have noticed and clicked his tongue again.

“Like I said,” he had let go of your hands, but placed one of his on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. You felt the warmth from his palm and it sparked a flame deep within the pit of your tummy. Damn, this man was something else.

“Arthur is fine.”

“Arthur,” you repeated, seeing a smile emerge on his face upon hearing you say his name.

“Now,” you quickly said, afraid of what would happen if you allowed him to manipulate you more. Because that was what it was, right? How else could this man give you butterflies and sent your body alight this quickly with just a touch and his words? “You still haven’t told me what you are dressed up as.”

Arthur’s smile became even wider. But something had changed about it. He was showing his teeth, like a crocodile ready to bite its prey. “Me? Oh, it’s nothing. Want to hazard a guess?” There was a playful glint in his eyes.

“Tibetan monk?” you instantly said only to watch a thoughtful glint pass within his eyes.

“Not quite,” he said, and then the hand was gone from your shoulder and he shifted in his chair.

“But I am on the right track then?” you teased him, smiling at him while giving him another once over. “Hmm, pity you’re not dressed as a Roman leader,” the words came out before you could consider them. “We could have matched.”

“Perhaps we match better than you anticipate, dear,” Arthur said. Your thoughts halted. What did he mean by that? Was it another clue to who he was dressed up as?

“How about this? I’ll give you another chance, but after I got us a drink,” he hesitated, fumbvled as he reached for his cane and attempted to get up from his chair. You panicked and instantly stood up, ushering him to sit down.

“No, no,” you said, “let me get it.” Your hands pressed against his chest seemed to stop him, and he looked up at you with a smile.

“That is so very kind of you,” Arthur said. You felt the heat radiate from his body beneath your palms, as if it could be absorbed by your hands. How come this man was this hot, literally?

You merely returned the smile, forcing your own decrepit thoughts away. “Of course, stay seated. Just tell me what you like,” you said.

Did his eyes just darken again? For a moment you could have sworn there was something dangerous about the man’s expression. But it had passed too quickly. It must have been your imagination.

“Just some soda, that’ll do.”

His hand reached up until you felt his thumb brush past your lower lip. What was he doing? Another spark of something hot warmed your core. A low hum escaped from the depth of his throat, the sound low but feral.

“And get something for yourself too,” Arthur said, his low murmur hardly reaching your ears through all the noise of the party. His thumb was still caressing your lip. “You are parched.”

Then his fingers left your lips and you felt bare again, bereft of the warmth of his touch. “I-I am a bit thirsty,” you admitted, stumbling over your words because your heart was tripping inside of your chest. What the hell was up with that? You silently moved into an upright position again. You had to keep your breathing in check because your heart was beating wildly in your chest.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, slowly stepping away from the enigmatic man. Arthur remained seated, a source of calmness during the otherwise wildness of the party, his cane rested between his legs, his blue eyes upon you as you left to fetch the drinks.

You did not see it, but you felt his eyes heavily upon your back, knowing that he was watching you as you went.

AN: I hope you enjoyed <3 Let me know if you did. The prompt was originally sent by me to Nicky, then we philosophized about different interesting things, and I write this as one of the possible scenes to occur :) So I have many more ideas for the reader dressing up like an ancient Egyptian and Harrow being intrigued.

Just tagging my lovelies @willshipanything-blog and @grabberwife42 for some Ethan inspired (and this time largely innocent) content. I am working on that Grabber fic like I promised you....I'm 3 chapters in. Estimate it might be up to 15 now with the outline. Keeping you up to date.

Want to be tagged when I upload Ethan-characters related content? Just Grabber syuff? Just Harrow stuff? Or only Joker/Arthur Fleck related content? Or idk, I write a lot of stuff, just let me know in my inbox. I used to do tags. I need to do them again.

Want to request a little drabble? I can do more than just dark smutty stuff, I promise! I mean, look at me now :D So please, don't hesitate to send stuff in. Also Reblogging is nice. :)

I'll probably be adding this one to AO3 soon, but not all my works are on there (for instance the Kaiserschmarrn fill for Harrow or the nsfw Joker/Fleck alphabet).