sweet-nothings04 - Tumblr blog

sweet-nothings04 · 3 days

Text

soothing away sorrow.

summary: nightmares of the past revisit arthur. he finds his way through them with the help of someone who stays by his side, listening and loving him through it.

warnings: heavy angst, (soft) smut.

word count: 3387

notes: pieces of this were written back in december, other parts in february, and then it all came together when the teaser trailer was released a few weeks ago. it became sort of a response to that. wanting what i've wanted for the past 4.5 years, which is to give arthur all the love and warmth in the world. special thanks to @fleckcmscott for her ongoing support & encouragement! & thanks to anyone/everyone for reading ♡

Birdsong was the new morning alarm as spring arrived in Gotham City. The clocks had sprung forward, making the days stretch longer into night, and the blossoms on the trees had begun to pop. The air was warm. Though smog still hung thickly in the sky, the sun broke through it more often. Though the city seemed a permanent state of gray, the grass was becoming greener, and there were flowers beginning to break through cracks in the pavement.

It was a particularly nice day today, the warmest so far in the year. The warmest feeling came from Arthur’s hand in yours as you walked side-by-side, bumping into each other every few steps as you kept close to one another. You had decided to go for a walk together, to soak up some sun and drink in the fresh air.

Despite the day’s beauty and the day off for both of you, Arthur was quiet. He had been for a few weeks now. This wasn’t uncommon for him, and you tried not to think too much of it, to not worry more than you needed to; but with the way you loved him, you couldn't help yourself.

You looked over at him and watched his eyes fall shut as he took a deep breath in through his nose. His nostrils flared slightly as the breath passed back through. He was focusing on his breathing. You ran a soothing thumb over his knuckles, light as feather, not wanting to pull his focus too much. When he opened his eyes a few breaths later, he threw a glance your way. He still managed to make your heart skip a beat and then make it soar.

A soft smile pulled at your lips instinctually at the look in his eyes before you raised your arm up above your heads. You gripped Arthur’s hand tight as you twirled yourself fast, spinning on your toes until you landed in front of him. It was less of a landing and more of a stumble. He caught you with a soft laugh, making sure you didn’t trip again over your own two feet, guiding you to the side of the walkway. You came to a standstill together. You took a small bow and he offered you a melancholy smile that you knew was only for show.

You leaned in and kissed the upturned corner of his mouth.

“Are you okay?” you asked in a hush before pulling away to look up at him. He nodded, but the look in his eyes gave him away. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide himself from you. But now wasn’t the time to counter him. You reached for his hands where they had been hanging at his sides and held them between you.

“Have any other errands you want to run? Any other stops we should make while we’re out?”

He thought it over. “Oh, I used the last coffee filter this morning. We should stop and get some more.”

Luckily the corner store close by had some in stock. Arthur grabbed a box of those while you browsed. You grabbed a bottle of hand soap that was on sale and the last box of dryer sheets on the shelf.

When you stepped back outside, Arthur shoved the hand holding the bag of necessities in his pocket and took yours in the other. A gust of wind billowed by suddenly, blowing his curls awry and drawing a large cloud bank across the sun.

“Oof. It got cold, didn't it?” you asked, wishing you had grabbed your jacket.

“A little bit.”

You watched his bottom lip wobble as a shiver ran down his spine, giving him away yet again. You leaned in to give him another kiss, hoping your lips would offer him a little warmth.

“We better hurry.”

You picked up the pace as rain drops started to fall. It was coming down in sheets by the time you got back to the apartment. Arthur took his damp shirt off and tossed it by the radiator before taking a seat at the dining room table with his journal. He mulled over old notes with a cigarette tucked between his lips, the window next to him cracked open to let the smoke out and the cool air in.

You busied yourself, wanting to make sure he had the space he needed. You gathered the damp clothes and tossed them in a basket, heading to the laundry room in the building’s basement. When night fell, you popped some leftovers in the oven. There was an episode of Murray Franklin you had missed earlier in the week but had recorded on an old VHS tape, so you popped that in to watch while you ate together. He didn’t laugh as much as he usually did, but he did give a chuckle here and there. He didn’t finish his plate.

He had mentioned a shower earlier, so you insisted on doing the dishes. You ushered him away from the kitchen and he finally gave in to your insistence with a loving eye roll. When you finished the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, you turned the T.V. off and went to the bedroom to get it ready for bedtime. You turned down the sheets, making an inviting space for Arthur to fall into when he joined you. You set a record on the turntable. Some nights you liked to put music on to fall asleep to - just to listen to, and sometimes, to sing along to. Singing to each other like a lullaby, to calm the voices in your heads, or singing just to make each other laugh.

You turned the record on when he made it there. He sat sideways on his side of the bed, feet still planted on the floor, and flipped his journal open in his lap to jot down one last thought for the day.

In a safer, more private place now, you decided to check on him again. “You sure you’re okay? You seemed quiet today,” you asked as you crawled into the bed on your knees, going towards him and putting your hands on his shoulders. You pecked the prominent blade on his left side before beginning to massage them lightly.

“Mhm. I’m fine.”

When he finished his thought, he set his journal down on the nightstand and laid his palms on the edge of the mattress. He let out a sigh as your hands worked his muscles and rolled his shoulders with your movements, willing them to relax just a little bit. You leaned in to sing a line from the song that was playing in his ear before giving him one last squeeze.

He clicked the lamp off as you buried yourselves under the covers. He leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead, a gesture of gratitude for working his weary joints, before he laid down fully. He slid himself so that he was laying on his side, head propped up in his palm. You reached your hand for his in the dark and he found it, holding it between you.

“I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been working on.”

“I hope I can get this one punchline figured out. It’s been giving me trouble for weeks.”

“You’ll get it. Sometimes we just have to wait for the right time for things to come to us.”

“I guess so.”

“Maybe we can go to Pogo’s sometime this week. I can call tomorrow to see if there are any open reservations. It's been a while since we've been.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Your eyes started to fall shut and you struggled to reopen them. You yawned as he let out a sigh.

“You sure nothing's on your mind?”

“Nope. I'm...I'm just tired is all.”

You relentingly accepted his answer for now, hoping sleep was tugging at him the way it was for you. “Sleep well, sweetheart,” you whispered as you dozed, drifting off before the record finished.

* * * * *

The next morning, it wasn't the birds that woke you, but the feeling of soft, calloused fingers gently skimming down your neck. You shifted and stretched, peaking your eyes open at Arthur. Awake, he met your gaze anxiously. Pale sunshine had just started to seep through the curtains. It sparkled in his eyes, but exhaustion resided in every deep wrinkle adorning them. You reached over to brush a thumb across his crow’s feet.

“Hey, you. How’d you sleep?”

His hand dropped, as if embarrassed now. He gave a one-shouldered shrug. Your stomach dropped as you watched his jaw clench. It was clear tension had been building inside him throughout his sleep, and now it had made itself at home in the fibers of his being.

“What is it, baby?”

His brow furrowed as he took a breath in but couldn’t quite let it back out. You reached out and ran your hand up and down his arm, hoping to soothe him with a gentle tone and touch.

“You can tell me,” you whispered, sitting up slightly to inch closer.

“I had a nightmare,” he finally confessed, voice hoarse and thick as his breath left him in a heavy sigh.

Your heart twinged at the childlike simplicity of the confession. “I’m sorry, Arthur.” You wondered what to do next, what you could say. But you knew the answer wasn’t in you; it was in him. All you could do was give him the space, give him the shoulder to lean on and the ears that listened.

“You want to come over here and tell me about it?”

The more he closed in on himself, the more you craved to be let in. You laid back down your back and guided him towards you, bringing his head to rest on your chest. He let you. Slowly his arms came up and clung to you. You brought your hand to his bedhead, nails gently grazing his scalp, fingertips patiently threading through the waves and working through sparse knots in his curls.

“You only need to talk about it if you want. If it’ll help.” You paused, mulling over whether to say more. What you really wanted to say. You opened your mouth before you could stop yourself and continued. “You don’t have to hold onto this all by yourself, Arthur. You can let me help you hold it.”

You laid in silence for a while longer. Slowly but surely, you felt him relax into you as he listened to your breath, felt the dull thud of your heartbeat. It seemed to calm him and let the tension ease. Finally, he spoke again.

“I was back in Arkham.”

“Back in the hospital?”

“Yeah. Everything just felt so…so real. It was like I had never left.” His hands gripped you tighter. They slipped up and down your sides, repetitive motions of feeling you fully there, solidly in his grasp.

Tears pricked your eyes but you blinked them back. You knew his time in Arkham State Hospital had been difficult for a lot of reasons. In the back of your mind, you knew there was always the possibility he may need to be readmitted, and even though the thought was unbearable, you knew it would be something that could be necessary. You wanted him to know that no matter what, you were here to stay and that if that were to happen, it would be okay. You wouldn't leave him.

“It was always so cold there. Even the water from the showers. The blankets they gave us scratched my skin. It just always felt...uncomfortable, and I still can't shake that feeling sometimes. I still have nightmares of being dragged through the halls if I started to laugh and couldn't stop. There were some guards there that actually thought it was all an act.”

“An act?” you questioned, trying not to sound in too much disbelief.

“Yeah. They’d ask me if it was part of my clown act, if I just was practicing for when I got out. They didn’t care that it was embarrassing or that it hurt.”

“That’s terrible. Were they all like that?”

“Not everyone.” He pondered a bit. “Some of the staff was nice. But a lot of them just didn't know how to help someone like me. So they'd take me back to my room, or any room, away from the other patients until it stopped. I know the medications and the therapy sessions helped in the end, but there was so much else. They’d come back and I’d be hitting my head against the wall just to feel some other kind of pain. Just to try and wake myself up from what seemed like a nightmare. Or to knock myself out so I wouldn’t have to face it the fact that it wasn't a nightmare. It was real. It was my life."

“Arthur." You angled your head down to kiss the top of his. You hated that, no matter what you did, how hard you loved him, you couldn't undo the wounds of the past. You would give anything to heal them.

“The worst part of the dream was not knowing it wasn’t real. And it just scared me because I still find myself worrying that one day I’ll wake up, and you won’t be next to me. That I’ll walk through the door and you won’t be here, and you won’t ever come home. By choice, or because you were never here at all.”

You watched his head go up and down with your breath and tried to keep it controlled, not wanting him to sense the agonizing worry that coursed through you. “Never here at all?” you asked, continuing to run your hands through his hair.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I imagined something like that. Like this.”

You paused and contemplated what to do next. What you could say to ease the worry. You shifted so that he lifted himself back up and you could lay next to him, side by side. You brought your hands to his face and cupped his cheeks, looking into his eyes. Sadness welled in them, an unshed pool full to the brim. You could see the fear in them from scars that would last a lifetime.

You leaned in closer to him, sensing the heaviness of confession still catching in his breath. “I’m here,” you whispered before kissing him. Finally you felt the tears fall. They dripped down and slipped between where your cheeks pressed together, meeting your lips. You tasted the salt and kissed him harder. You pulled away only to whisper it again. “I’m here.”

Finally his lips pressed back. Soft hands came up to cup over yours. Your fingers locked together as he rolled himself on top of you.

“I’m right here. I’m right here with you,” you peppered in between his fervent kisses. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A new tension started to build. You spent your sweet time making sweeter love, basking in the feeling of each other; basking in this feeling that you made for each other, that you made with each other. After a while, Arthur pulled out of you.

“I can't finish. But I want to see you.”

With his lead, your still-interlocked fingers glided down from where they had landed above your head to meet the tender ache between your legs. You reached up with your other hand to brush tumbling curls out of his eyes, tucking them behind his ears so he could see you. His fingers unclasped from yours and slipped gently inside you. He positioned himself above you as you arched your back into his touch.

He listened to the hilt of your breath leaving you in gasps, felt the responsive roll of your hips moving in time with his wrist. His cock twitched at the way you whimpered when his thumb gently brushed your clit. He wanted to remember this feeling forever, the way you moaned his name, and hold onto it for whenever the bad thoughts threatened to overcome the good. For whenever doubt clouded over his better judgment. He pressed his forehead to yours when you finally came, committing this moment to memory.

Your hands circled his neck and you pulled him to you. You held each other in the afterglow, clinging to each other’s shaking limbs.

You caught your breath and held him closer - as close as he could possibly get. You thanked him for letting you in, for sharing what still haunted him. You told him how this is what you wanted, to help him hold what was so heavy. He looked at you, and you knew he understood.

"How do you feel?" you asked, fingers finding their way to his hair once again.

"A little better. I feel like when I tell you these things, you really listen. You really hear me."

"I do, Arthur. I may not be able to fully understand everything you feel, but I understand you. I love you so much. Please keep talking to me. Please keep letting me in. Especially when it's hard."

You laid in bed and talked some more before getting up, cleaning yourselves off, and heading to a nearby diner for a short stack and cup of coffee. Sun streamed through the grimy glass windows and warmed you as you ate. You smiled, watching him take a sweet, sticky bite. His sorrows lingered but he seemed a little lighter now. He looked so beautiful in the morning light. Shadows shifted with the sun and you couldn't help but fall a little more in love as they danced across his features. Outside, the city buzzed. Sirens wailed, and cars honked at people jay-walking nearby, but muffled chatter and laughter filtered in from people passing, and the birds were still singing.

“You want to know something?” you asked as your tongue darted out to lick syrup from your bottom lip.

“Hm?” he hummed through another swig of coffee.

“You give me a smile that no one else can give me.”

His brows knitted adorably, a curious but genuine smile widening across his own face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…I feel different when you make me smile. Yeah, it may look the same as any other…but…you give me a smile that I can feel all the way down in my heart. I know that sounds cheesy, but…I don’t care, Arthur.” You laughed, shrugged to punctuate your indifference as you laid that out on the table. “It’s true.”

His own curious smile transformed into a beaming grin. The realist smile he had given you in weeks. He reached to take your hand across the table.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

You each got a refill of coffee and continued talking about nothing in particular. Your feet brushed against each other under the table as you discussed what you’d still need to do at home, what the week held, what you wanted to make for dinner that night. Suddenly Arthur released his hand from yours and starting to search his pockets.

“Do you have a pen?” he asked, still patting himself down.

You dug around in your handbag and pulled one out, handing it to him. You watched as he rapidly scrawled out something onto a spare napkin. As he wrote, the waitress stopped by to drop off the check. He barely registered her, reading over what he wrote and nodding. Finally, he met your eager and expectant gaze with his own of relief.

“I think this might be the punchline."

“We better get home so you can try it out.”

You dropped some cash on the check and headed for the door. He held it for you before offering his arm to hold as you made your way back home. The walk was quiet, but a different kind of quiet than the day before. You held him tight and thanked whatever was responsible for bringing him into your life.

You knew that everything wouldn’t magically be okay, but not everything needed to be okay. Him sharing what scared him the most, the things that kept him up at night, being comfortable to let you in – that was a start. And it was only the beginning.

The door was open now, and you could walk onward through it together.

tag list: @mama-mischief @fleckcmscott @ralugraphics @jokerownsmysoul @ajokeformur-ray @forever-fleck @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend @flowerglitterwoman

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x y/n

10 notes · View notes

sweet-nothings04 · 12 days

Text

i am so happy to have finally gotten around to this piece - the perfect little slice of heaven that i loved from first word to last. probably one of my favorites ever ❣️

Giggling, she hung the rouge in its spot between concealer and cream foundation. “You make me blush enough already. Did you get what you needed?”

this is so cute 🥹

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. You wouldn’t have hung a Madonna over the bed. I bet you weren’t responsible for that ugly cat candle, either.”

🤣 🤣🤣

On bad days he’d been tempted to throw them out. On good days he’d care for them, because Penny loved them so. Inklings of whimsy in a life of indifference.

i love these descriptions & that last line ❤️‍🩹

Cigarette smoke drifted from the crowd gathered along the storefront. Her wrinkled nose kept him from lighting up himself.

😂❣️always a gentleman!

He jolted to his tiptoes, teeth clenched against the stinging cold.

another lovely description that i could picture so clearly ❣️

A couple of swells like them would make a beautiful pair, better than any Vanderbilt or Wayne.

❣️❣️❣️

When his thumb traced her jaw, her full lips parted, as if about to ask for a dance. Dark brows raised, her pupils dilated, full of unquenchable life. The affection in them, the openness. The caring curiosity and eager readiness to accept all of him made him tremble. Her love felt like rain on his skin, and for once he understood why someone might sing in it.

this is one of my favorite passages of yours that i've ever read. so so so very beautiful ❣️

Their mouths a messy collision of desire and devotion and dreams. Her frame vibrated against his, the pulse under his fingertips beating to the rhythm of his heart.

this is so perfect & i couldn't love it more!!

wow, i loved EVERYTHING about this piece so much! the dialogue was fantastic & each description painted a clear picture, invoking a love so pure it could be reveled in by the reader. you are such a master at crafting these two's story & i look forward to more! 😍

Frills and Thrills

Summary: A typical night becomes anything but typical.

Words: 1,398

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This piece was inspired by the below behind-the-scenes photo; the cinematography of One From the Heart (thanks, Lawrence Sher!); and this very 80s song. No, I am still not looking forward to the sequel - but I will take a hot Arthur Fleck anytime. 😎 Please enjoy! Special thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for her help and support! A very tardy Christmas piece is on the way!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

"That'll be $43.67."

Arthur counted out the bills in his wallet. Before transferring his three prescriptions to Groves Pharmacy - a brisk nine-minute walk from his Burnley address - he'd called for the beige and blue tablets' prices. With his lack of Gothamcare, he'd hoped they'd be cheaper than at Helms. "Disappointed but not surprised" was that night's journal entry.

He'd try the new insomnia pills first, get a fourteen-day supply of the other two whenever he could. See if a good night's sleep in the bed he was almost used to would encourage positive thoughts, lighten black moods to grey. After all, they'd improved since Y/N. Still there, still a teeter on the edge of an abyss. But with a guide rope in the shape of a woman's hand.

Leaving $2.41 in his pocket, he surrendered exact change. Took the white paper bag with blue lettering. Offered a quiet thanks and sidestepped from the pharmacist's counter.

Y/N waited in the cosmetics section, purse on her shoulder, a passive expression on her face. He recognized the creams on the top shelf, a flicker from when he'd shopped for Penny. The silhouette logo, the black label, the rounded corners of the jar. Anti-wrinkle Oil of Olay, then, when money was too tight, the knock-off poured into her Oil of Olay jar. His subtle subterfuge had gone undetected. Wrinkles continued to form in the usual fashion. He'd continued to save a quarter and make the swap.

As Y/N picked up a pink compact, Arthur slinked behind her to speak in her ear. "You're already pretty."

Giggling, she hung the rouge in its spot between concealer and cream foundation. "You make me blush enough already. Did you get what you needed?"

A crooked half-smile. "I think so." He entwined their fingers and started towards the exit, an attempt to halt any further questions that might lead to med and money talk.

Aisle three's endcap had an Easter display, a thousand plastic wrappers crying out for attention. Jolly Jack chocolate bunnies and Cadbury mini-eggs, pastel baskets and cellophane grass. The plush baby chicks were awfully cute, perfect the kids at the children's clinic. He'd jot a reminder to come back after the holiday, grab some plastic eggs and props at half price.

"My parents used to dress us up and take us to our grandparents for a picnic and Easter egg hunt," Y/N said, crouching to browse a set of die cut decorations. "Do you want to do anything for Easter?"

In spite of his mother watching a televised mass and sharing a bag of jellybeans, the day hadn't ever been personal. The Fleck household was anathema to miracles. Even with the miracle he was currently living, he had no desire to celebrate a victory he didn't believe in. "No. Why?"

"You've got a heavy eye on the Peeps - my little sister likes to put them in cocoa. And I thought you were Catholic. Or at least raised Catholic, with all the prayer candles and icons in your apartment."

The answer came firmer than intended. "Those were Penny's."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. You wouldn't have hung a Madonna over the bed. I bet you weren't responsible for that ugly cat candle, either."

Snorting, he rolled his eyes, recalling all he times he'd dusted his mother's knickknacks. The sculpted candles were the worst. They'd developed a weird film sticker than nicotine stains, and grime stuck in every crevice. On bad days he'd been tempted to throw them out. On good days he'd care for them, because Penny loved them so. Inklings of whimsy in a life of indifference.

The never indifferent woman at his side rose to walk with him. Grove's automatic doors opened and they spilled onto the busy sidewalk.

Two blocks up, a light sprinkling began, lent the pavement a velveteen sheen. With each step that sprinkling grew heavier. From a drizzle to a patter to an outright shower. Puddles formed beneath their feet, threatening shoe seams with leaks. Arthur crumpled his paper bag, shoved it in his tan jacket's pocket, and jerked his hood over his head.

The toe of Y/N's kitten heel skidded past a pool as she hopped to the right. "The weather report didn't mention rain!" she cried, ambles escalating to a jog.

A fierce gust sent sheets of water sideways, whipped the hem of her pleated skirt to flash her thighs. Arthur looped his arm through hers, pulled her into an alley to take refuge under the canary, corner awning of Mott's Spirits. Cigarette smoke drifted from the crowd gathered along the storefront. Her wrinkled nose kept him from lighting up himself.

She gathered the collar of her wool coat. "Well, I'd like us to do something small, if that's all right. It's been years since I've celebrated anything, really. I want to put all that behind me again, like last Christmas. Easter Parade's playing at the Majestic this week. I haven't seen it but the summary sounded like you. A song-and-dance romantic classic."

How could he argue with the sweetness of her reasoning? That he was the reason she wanted to celebrate? He gave a little nod. "I think Tuesdays are half price."

Just then, a bell rang out, crisp and clear despite the downpour. A bicycle messenger sped their way, a dozen plastic bags hanging from the ten-speed's handles. Arthur darted in front of Y/N, sought to protect her from the incoming splash. She yanked him tighter, out of the menace's path.

But it was no use. Muddled water pelted the back of his trousers, liquid ice soaked through white socks. He jolted to his tiptoes, teeth clenched against the stinging cold.

Y/N bent to survey the damage. A groan left her, which quickly became a laugh. "What an asshole," she said, then laughed all the harder. The warmth of it loosened his stance, and he found he had no choice but to join in. She settled back against the shop's window, stuck out her lower lip to blow a damp lock of hair from her forehead. The lock remained in place. "If only I'd had my umbrella."

Neon light from a Gotham Lottery sign spilled across her face. "Winners aren't born. They're made!" was the lotto's slogan, and Arthur had finally found a winning ticket. Orange accentuated the tawny flecks of her irises, rounded the curves of her cheeks. A perfect frame even an imagination as vivid as his couldn't improve.

A drop trickled down his scalp, skimmed the side of his neck, sneaked beneath his collar. He'd caught Easter Parade on television years ago. Studied Astaire's steps, how he'd slipped a diamond ring on the leading lady's finger. What would Y/N look like, Arthur wondered, in a lace bonnet, its ribbons tied under her chin? A hat he could loosen while they kissed, hold as a shield against prying eyes?

A couple of swells like them would make a beautiful pair, better than any Vanderbilt or Wayne.

He leaned closer, until her breath brushed his lips. "Kiss me."

Her arms wound about him in an instant, a sudden, welcome pressure on his ribs. He cupped her face. Guiding, following, bracing. Their mouths a messy collision of desire and devotion and dreams. Her frame vibrated against his, the pulse under his fingertips beating to the rhythm of his heart.

At last, a wave of giggles broke them apart. Arthur pushed himself to stretch beyond his shy nature towards the forward, confident instinct he was learning to polish. His eyes flitted between hers, a demure smile adorning his cheeks. "I'd like to make love, if you wouldn't mind."

The blush he caused so easily crept across her face anew. "Last one home is on top," she said, and pressed the tip of her nose to his. "Give me a head start."

With that, Y/N held her purse horizontally above her head and sprinted into the deluge.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics @iartsometimes @fleckficgirl

#rec #💜💜💜

25 notes · View notes