#arthur fleck gets a happy ending

[fleckficgirl]

Arthur Under the Mistletoe 🎄

Summary: You throw a party on Christmas Eve that doesn’t go as planned...but in the very best of ways. Extremely fluffy oneshot and the title speaks for itself :)

Warnings: mental illness

Word Count: 2087

Notes: I was inspired by @jokerownsmysoul​‘s recent post about who she’d kiss under the mistletoe. Obviously, I’m choosing Arthur Fleck as well! Be sure to listen along to the Christmas album hyperlinked in the story, too. Hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

“This is a disaster!” you wailed. “Why did I think anyone would ever come to my party?”

Your tear-filled eyes finally overflowed and you buried your face in your hands.

You realized what a sight you must be: young woman in a sparkly pink party dress and white heels, sitting in her own empty apartment, crying unconsolably...and on Christmas Eve, no less. 

Throwing this party was an idea you’d discussed with your therapist a couple weeks prior. You hadn’t thrown a party since childhood, but the idea had sparked your imagination. Deciding you were going to be more outgoing and invite people over for the first time since you moved to Gotham six months ago had gotten your creative juices flowing. 

You'd invited everyone on the eighth floor, including some of the neighbors downstairs you'd chatted with a couple of times. Now you laughed ruefully at yourself for having gotten so excited about decorating the apartment, planning a menu, music and games....only to be stood up by everyone at your own party.

This gathering was supposed to make you feel less alone. But now you felt more lonely than ever. 

You glanced around your festive living room and kitchen. You’d decorated the walls with Christmas garland. A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra was playing on the record player. A full bowl of punch sat in a large, untouched crystal bowl on the coffee table, along with cookies, cake, chips and finger sandwiches. 

And mistletoe. You’d bought mistletoe and placed it over the front door. You’d also gotten dressed up and put makeup on (which wasn’t the easiest thing to do when dealing with depression). But the party had been set to start at seven and it was now a quarter past eight. The writing was on the wall: no one was coming. 

You stood up from the sofa, figuring it was time to start cleaning up. Dejectedly, you made your way over to the record player and turned it off, knowing the joyful, nostalgic tunes would only depress you further. 

A small knock at the door made you jump out of your skin. You froze. Had you actually heard that, or was it your imagination? Afraid of what might be on the other side, you tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole. 

Was that....Arthur Fleck? From 8J down the hall?

You'd run into him a couple of times in the elevator, but only spoken once, during the garbage strike earlier that year. He was shy and sweet. And beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that you’d gotten completely tongue tied around him...had found yourself blathering some incoherent nonsense about how pretending that the streets smelled like pine needles - your favorite scent - was the only thing keeping you sane through the strike. 

Deep in the back of your mind you'd hoped he would show up tonight. You wiped the tears from your eyes - not wanting him to see you see you upset - and opened the door.

The sight of him now almost made your heart leap into your throat, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. Arthur was wearing a crisp blue cardigan, and his beautiful brown hair was combed back in loose curls. He’d dressed up for the party and looked even more handsome than you’d remembered. 

“Hi, Arthur,” you squeaked.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” Arthur held up a small wrapped gift with a bow on it. “Sorry I’m late. I had a gig that ended at seven and raced back over here to change first.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you replied, letting him inside. “You’re...actually the only one who showed up.” 

Arthur stepped into your living room and spun around, surprised. “I’m the only one here?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying not to break into tears again. “So if you don’t wanna stick around, I understand.”

“But everything looks so beautiful.” Arthur pointed at the garland on the walls. “And you look...especially nice tonight.” He stepped over to the record player. “I love this album. Do you mind if I put it on?”

You sniffed. “Wait...you mean...you wanna stay?”

“Only if you don’t mind having me.”

You shook your head. You were still reeling with disappointment - this wasn’t at all the party you’d imagined - but you were grateful that at least one person had showed up. Even more grateful that that person was Arthur. 

“Please stay,” you responded, a small smile spreading over your face. “I’d love it if you stayed.” 

Arthur beamed and turned the record player back on.

“Can I get you some punch?” you offered, moving towards the coffee table. 

“Sure!” His eyes lit up, almost glittering. “Except, if it has alcohol in it I really shouldn't mix that with my medications...”

“Nope, alcohol-free,” you smiled as you poured him a glass. “And feel free to help yourself to any of the snacks.” 

Arthur took the glass from you and sat next to you on the sofa. “What made you want to throw a Christmas party?”

“Well,” you mulled the question over. “I've been feeling kinda down...kinda lonely. I have some...problems with depression.”

“I know what that feels like,” Arthur said. “To feel lonely, I mean. And sad.” 

“I can get extra sad around the holidays,” you continued. “And I couldn’t fly home to see my family this year. So I thought...maybe I could invite people over. Maybe I’m not the only one who has a hard time at Christmas.” 

"Well I’m glad you threw the party. And I'm really glad you invited me,” Arthur smiled, shyly placing his hand over yours. "When I got your invitation, I knew there was no way I'd miss it.”

“Well, I’m sorry it’s not much of a party,” you lamented. “I guess it's official: all my neighbors hate me. Except you.”

“They don't hate you,” Arthur countered. “They probably just had other plans.”

You paused, taking a thoughtful sip of punch. “You're right,” you nodded. “That's black and white thinking. My therapist tells me I tend to do that. Just because they didn't show up tonight doesn't mean they hate me.”

“You see a therapist?” Arthur cocked his head to one side. “So do I. But all she ever asks me is if I’ve been having any negative thoughts.”

“All I have are negative thoughts!” you joked. Arthur laughed.

“Do you want to open your gift?” he asked. “You don’t have to,” he added quickly. “I read in an etiquette book I got from the library that you're not supposed to open gifts in front of other guests at a party.”

“Well, seeing as how there are no other guests!” you quipped before pausing to raise a sly eyebrow at him. “You checked an etiquette book out from the library?”

“Yeah,” Arthur smoothed back his hair self-consciously. “Well...a party etiquette book. The truth is, I've never been invited to a Christmas party before. Or any parties, really. I wanted to make sure I didn't mess anything up.” 

Giddy at the thought of him sweetly taking the time to research how to behave at your party, you pulled his small gift off the coffee table and held it in both hands. The wrapping was a candy cane pattern and the bow was a simple green shiny ribbon. In that moment you felt that you'd never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

“You wrapped this yourself?”

“Yeah,” he replied sheepishly. “I’m not that good at wrapping, but...I hope you like it.” 

“I love it!” you blurted.

“You don’t even know what it is yet!” Arthur laughed.

Carefully, you peeled away the scotch tape on the side and tore back the wrapping to reveal a small, green candle. Snow-Covered Pines, the label read. 

“I remembered that one time you and I talked in the elevator. You said you liked the scent. Anyway, I saw it at the drugstore and...I thought of you.”

“You remembered that?” Your heart fluttered, feeling embarrassed by the memory all over again, but also touched. “Thank you, Arthur. I love it so much.” 

Arthur was an extremely easy person to talk to. Conversation with others wasn’t something that always came naturally to you, but with him it felt effortless. The next time you glanced back up at the clock, you were shocked to see it was almost ten. 

“Should I put on another record?” Arthur offered as the last song on the Frank Sinatra album spun to an end.

“Sure!” 

Arthur stood up. “You have all the greats here,” he hummed as he mused over your record collection. He selected Nat King Cole’s Christmas album, carefully placing the record onto the turntable before sliding Frank's back into its sleeve. 

“This is my favorite Christmas song!” you clasped your hand to your chest as the familiar notes of the first song poured over your ears. 

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...

“Mine too,” Arthur paused, looking shy. 

“We have a lot in common, Arthur,” you beamed. 

“Did you...did you want to dance?” he asked in a soft voice. “With me?”

You felt your heart start to pound again. “Yes...” you answered. “Except I’m really bad at it. I might step on your feet.” 

“Well,” Arthur said. “There’s no one here to see you be bad at it. Except me.” 

He extended his hand and helped you up off the sofa, pulling you in close as you moved around your living room together. 

“Wow, Arthur,” you murmured after a moment, surprised at the grace in his movements. “You’re a really good dancer.” 

“I know,” he said with mock overconfidence. You laughed and swatted his shoulder. He dipped you. The song ended, but he didn’t let you go. You never wanted him to, wishing this night - the same evening you’d been so eager to forget just a couple hours earlier - would never come to an end. 

“Hey,” Arthur hummed softly after you’d danced a few more songs. “I'm having a great time...but I should really get back to my mother. I’ve gotta help her get ready for bed.”

You paused, disappointed to see him go, but more than happy that things had turned out exactly as they had tonight.

“I had a really wonderful evening, Y/N. I'm glad I got the chance to talk to you.”

“Me too,” you replied. “If everyone else had shown up, I don't know if you and I would have gotten to talk as much as we did.”

You walked Arthur to the front door. He stopped and turned to face you once more. You paused before moving to open the door for him.

“Hey, Arthur,” you said in a small voice. “It looks like we're standing under the mistletoe.”

Arthur blinked and looked up. "Oh," he swallowed, a blush spreading across his face.

“Did your book say what people are supposed to do when they’re under the mistletoe together?” 

Arthur nodded, throwing his eyes to the floor. “Yeah," he said, “they’re supposed to kiss each other.”

“Are you gonna kiss me, Arthur?”

“I'd like to...” he hummed. “But only...only if you want me to.”

“I want you to."

He was shy at first, trembling slightly as he brought his lips to yours. But once you were united in the embrace, the both of you seemed to relax. His arms wrapped around you, his hand moving to delicately cup the side of your face. Arthur’s lips were even softer than you had fantasized. His skin was warm, his cologne flooded your senses. 

“Merry Christmas, Arthur,” you blushed as the two of you came apart. Your mind was spinning and you felt weak in the knees. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” His eyes were closed, slowly fluttering open as he took your hands into his.

"Maybe....maybe after your mom goes to bed, you could come back and...we could watch The Murray Franklin Show on TV together."

Arthur stared back at you. “You watch the Murray Franklin show?” he asked, eyes wide and incredulous. “I’ve been watching him for years.” 

“So have I. It's his Christmas special tonight, you know.”

“I’d love to watch the holiday special with you.” Arthur’s eyes sparkled. "I'll come back after I finish up at home and we can watch it together.” 

You opened the door for him, lingering in the doorway as he stepped into the hall.

"Oh, and...Arthur?"

"Yes?" he paused, turning to face you.

“Thank you.”

Arthur smiled. "What for?"

"For making my Christmas so special."

Notes: Wishing you a safe & happy holiday season. Thanks so much for reading ❤️❤️ 

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck crush #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck fanfic #I love you Arthur #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck gets a happy ending #arthur fleck gets what he deserves #arthur fleck fluff #arthur fleck oneshot #arthur fleck christmas #mistletoe #kissing under the mistletoe #joker 2019 #joker folie a deux #merry christmas #happy holidays #tidings of comfort and joy #comfort and joy #arthur fleck at christmas #arthur fleck dancing #dance with me #all is calm all is bright #arthur gets what he fucking deserves #joaquin phoenix joker #arthur fleck fanfiction #arthur fleck reader #fall on your knees #strike the harp and join the chorus

[bittwitchy]

#jphoenixedit #joaquin phoenix #jokeredit #joker #joker 2019 #joker2019 #joker2019edit #arthur fleck #afleckedit #mine #mine. #no caption we die like men #also i have a migraine #i know theres like a smile after the clown car #i did not cap apparently it so unless it ends up also being a 120 cap scene #we may not see it for awhile #i have decided outside of sophie scenes i simply hate happiness #/this is a JOKE i am JOKING nobody get oFFENDED

[gremlins-hotel]

Post headcanons abt Arthur and his first baby you coward, you fool. The audience arrived, we are here, yet you stay silent upon the stage.

(Just joking ofc, tho id give you a kidney if you gave us some hcs abt their early days <3)

I know it's not a headcanon, but I hope this will still be satisfactory. A moment between a new father and his first son, to whom Arthur wishes the world.

“You coddle him,” came Rhys’ voice, blunt and teasing.

Arthur waved his brother’s words away. They were meaningless like wayward flecks of spume against the broad side of a ship in the face of the treasure held tight to his chest. Sleepless nights, tears, and the terror of the unknowing life. He had watched his son like a hawk for years, and the boy now grew blessedly stronger. Each time little Alfred grabbed his finger, the babe’s grip was vicelike, and Arthur knew the little chubby squish of pain was worth all his toils.

Alfred burbled up at Arthur, seeing his father’s watchful eyes glimmer, a mostly toothless smile scrunching his small face with joy.

Heart squeezing and eyes wide, Arthur knew he would endure it all again as long as that babe was laughing. Hugging the heavy bundle tighter to his chest, Arthur bounced the boy gently as he fiddled with a pocket of his coat. Life was difficult when one-handed, but he hated putting Alfred down. The troubles a baby could get into with any degree of autonomy he did not wish to imagine, not after famine and disease and blood. Alfred seemed determined to bind the world with his gums if his father allowed him, in any case, and to grab it without hesitation. There were dangers on the floor that the boy approached fearlessly. That determination. It was a good thing to have, Arthur knew, but woeful for life still so seemingly fragile.

A faint jingle answering his seeking fingers told the man he’d found his quarry. Arthur whisked the trinket from his pocket in a closed fist, the toy’s chain hanging from between two fingers. The near-sterling silver rings tinkled prettily against one another as he shook his fist above Alfred’s head. Curiosity lit the deep skies held in his son’s face like stars and Arthur couldn’t keep the soft smile from turning the corners of his mouth, shaking the chain again. Skies and stars indeed, for he had never observed someone to watch the heavens so closely at such a young age. Silently he praised the boy’s curiosity; one day it might have its questions answered if Arthur had anything to say about it. He would give that lad the sky and the seas.

Short, squishy fingers reached up for the chain, seeking the noisemaker with excitement. Arthur raised it away from his baby’s reach and took delight in seeing him try again. So he played the cat-and-mouse, jerking the prize just inches from Alfred’s grasp when he waved his hands skyward. Alfred laughed uproariously each time the toy made its metallic clinking and at seeing the smile on his father’s face. Arthur opened his fingers to reveal the rest of the shining silver toy and raised it to his mouth. One end was a sweet little whistle, which he blew quietly in the face of the babe. A high, windy note spiraled out into the air between them and Alfred laughed again, his entire face bright and bold. It made the boy redouble his efforts.

Arthur finally acquiesced, lowering his hand enough for those ferocious fingers to grip the tiny silver rings and tug. Once more Alfred’s burgeoning strength shot a bolt of pride through the man’s chest. With reluctant fingers he allowed the toy to drop into his son’s happy hands. Little curved talons, blunt by youth, curled around the moon-bright metal like a hunting bird content with its catch. The babe brought the whistle end to his soft mouth and immediately made to teethe on the silver. Tiny puffs of breath made the whistle sing and stutter, and Alfred’s eye glimmered happily, gazing up at Arthur as though he’d hung the heavens. Quickly he slobbered on the toy, but Arthur couldn’t help but feel enraptured by his son, drool or not.

Having forgotten the watching eyes beside him, it was Rhys’ voice that broke his reverie. “You ordered the coral, after all? No measure too small.”

Arthur blinked, looking up and away, then back to the toy in his son’s burbling mouth. The opposite end of the whistle had a stub of red, red coral from lands far away, polished to a beautiful shine. It was worth it to him. Anything to keep winding spirits and the fey away from his boy who had already suffered enough. No measure too small.

“Someday he will not need it, I hope.”

#callsign gremlin checking in #papa echo november #arthur kirkland // salt wind and green garden #alfred f. jones // daring to fly #arthur & alfred // a king and his crown #hetalia #aph america #aph england #hws america #hws england #alfred f jones #arthur kirkland

[jokeringcutio]

Ok slightly angsty but how would joker and Arthur fleck react to their s/o being kidnapped? 💭

Oh, Anon, I love this one so much <3 I could write an entire fic for this. (I might even...) But for now. Here we go: How would Arthur Fleck and the Joker react to you as their significant other being kidnapped?

Arthur:

It either happened by accident (like a robbery or someone taking hostages at the place you work, and you are one of the few they take along) or you’d been taken on purpose (by one of his enemies).

He’ll find out either via the news on the television, or he’ll receive a personal note. Probably a letter thrown at him attached to a rock. In that latter case, he’ll have a huge bump on his head, his headwound bleeding all over his clothes.

He’d be devastated. No joke here. He has such bad luck. If he comes home to find you have indeed vanished, he will have a laughing fit that never seems to end. His world will shatter.

He’d be all over the place – uncertain of what to do and how to get you back.

If his mom is still alive, then he will be packing to go after you and she will be the one to stop him. Like “What are you doing, Happy? Shouldn’t you leave that to the police?”

Oh, he’ll go to the police all right. It might take him a try or two, perhaps three or four, but in the end, his patience wears thin and he’ll smash his fist on the counter and demand that they’ll bring you back.

He’ll probably feel better once the officers tell them they’ll be on the case. Probably even cracks a smile when he heads back home, feeling good about himself.

But then, once at home, he’ll be reminded of what fate could be in store for you, either by seeing a news item about your vanishing, or by seeing something else that will trigger him.

He’ll think of so many ways that he could lose you. All dark ways, growing increasingly more disturbing as he thinks and thinks, and then, he will just explode.

No, the police won’t be able to find you in time, he’ll think.

He’ll have to do it himself.

He’ll don his Carnival clothes and dress up like a clown. He’ll sit in front of his mirror and stare at himself while he imagines a thousand ways he’ll kill the ones who took you from him.

His costume is too jolly. He’ll take it off again.

He’ll dye his hair. Green. The color you once suggested him.

He’ll put on his funeral suit. It’s the only nice suit he has. It’s red.

He’ll take the gun.

He’ll rescue you all right. You’re in safe hands.

Joker:

If someone took you away from him he’d snap. Oh, he’d be right like Arthur. He’d lose his mind at first, nearly laugh his head off in a fit of painful laughter that makes his stomach ache and his ribs sore.

But then, he’d be on it.

No one is safe around him. Not until he has you back in his arms.

Even his henchmen can expect a gun aimed at their heads if they nag him, distract him or stand in his way (even by accident). Everyone is on their toes while Joker is like this.

Nothing is too dirty. Joker will use all the tricks he has to get you back.

Need bribing? He bribes people. Need convincing through torture? He tortures people. He hires the nastiest of men to work for him if he needs their help to get you back.

It’s all damn messy because no way is he letting the people who did this to you get out of it lightly. A simple killing? Too merciful. Expect pain and slow torturous deaths.

Even those who only slightly assisted or stood by to watch. None of them are safe kids. He’ll punish all of ‘em.

And yes, they die. Even the less significant bystanders whom he blames for your disappearance. The receptionist who let the bad guys in, or the nightguard who had fallen asleep so they could get you out. Expect their gruesome deaths to be reported in the next morning’s newspaper.

And he’ll make sure that his message is sent out into Gotham and far beyond. You are his. No one should mess with you.

He’ll make sure that everybody knows he came for you. He is the first one you see entering the room to rescue you. And you leave the building carried bridal style in his arms. Him smiling down at you while the building behind the two of you explodes in a light show of fireworks.

Arthur/Joker

You love him madly for rescuing you. You have no idea how much he has gone through to come and save you, but you understand how maddening it must have been for him, how hard and how lonely. It had been the same for you. So scared, so afraid to lose him.

Of course you’ll find out about some of the casualties later on. But you’ll never find out the full extent of his terror. He’ll distract you at the right times so you’ll miss it on the news. Or tear out pages of magazines. That coffee spot spilled on that article in the paper? Threw it out, nothing worth reading in it anyway. Just some advert for knickers or something.

He’ll try and keep some of the details hidden from you because he fears that it will scare you away.

He’ll be your hero. Always. Even if others think him to be a villain.

#headcanons joker #anon fill #arthur fleck #joker 2019 #arthur fleck joker #joaquin phoenix #joker x reader #reader being kidnapped and rescued #arthur fleck x reader

[sashaisready]

Chapter Six

Lee Bodecker (The Devil All The Time) x Femme Reader

A year after the sudden death of your husband you find yourself at a loose end, unsure what to do next. You're also learning about your sexuality - your hidden desires and fantasies creeping out now you're no longer playing the role of the good wife. A certain Sheriff in town could be the one to awaken something in you.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 7

Lee had gone back to the station to finish work and you had got to work cleaning yourself up. You had washed your dress which was sweaty from your time in the cell, flecked with mud from the woods and God only knows what else from yourself and Lee combined. You took a long bath, cleansing yourself of the day's deeds – not that you could wash away what you'd done.

As you sat in the bath your mind raced, wondering what this all meant, what you were going to do next. You felt guilt towards Arthur, it felt like a betrayal to do this with another man. In his house, the house he paid for and lived with you. Debasing yourself in his armchair where he had watched TV, writhing against the mouth of another man in his kitchen where he had eaten his meals.

But, Arthur was gone. He was dead. He was never coming back. Living like a nun wouldn't change that. Nothing you did would change that. It had nearly been a year now.

And he'd want you to be happy. You knew he would. He had loved you, and he wouldn't want you spending the next fifty years of your life chaste and lonely, slowly decaying in your modest home like a Knockemstiff Miss Havisham. If it had been you who died, you know you would've wanted him to meet someone new and be happy again.

Could you be happy with Lee?

Maybe.

He certainly made your body happy. It was as if he had discovered a key to your sexuality's cypher, decrypting and unlocking your secrets. You hadn't even really considered the possibility of Lee as a partner, what it would be like to have him come home to you, to cook and clean for him, to share a bed with him. In your mind you had ringfenced him as something physical only.

But maybe?

He wasn't perfect, you knew he had a penchant for booze and if rumours were to be believed then he wasn't a cop keeping on the straight and narrow. And before all this you'd had a nagging feeling about him, like something was wrong.

But he'd treated you well. Mostly. He had been rough with you, demeaned you during your trysts – you had wanted that of course, been aroused by it and bathed in it. But was he like that outside of the bedroom too? Would he disrespect you? Treat you meanly? After years of Arthur's careful affection you're not sure you could handle a man being cruel to you. Despite your stubbornness and occasionally getting carried away with your enthusiasm, you are still quite fragile underneath.

But God, imagine that type of sex for the rest of your life. The thought was dizzying, enticing. Entire weekends spent in bed with Lee, endless orgasms and exploring every sexual curiosity you had stifled with Arthur. It made your head spin.

You laughed out loud at the madness of your thought pattern, getting ahead of yourself as always. You didn't even know Lee and here you were fantasising about a life with him. This was so typically you. The man was divorced, and it was pretty rough going according to the town's whispers, he might not even want to get married again. He might be content with the bachelor life and occasional casual flings with local bored housewives to keep him satisfied. Or maybe women who charged for their services. You would bet good money that you were one of many women he'd taken out in the cruiser for non-police business.

You sighed, sinking into the bath with your eyes closed, your fingers on your temples. All you could do was ride this out and see where it went.

🌼

Lee couldn't get you off his mind.

He was distracted back at the station, making silly mistakes with his paperwork and losing his train of thought. He just kept thinking about the way you'd felt wrapped around him, the sound of your moans in his ears, the mischief on your face as you dripped with his cum.

You were something.

He was thrilled by the duality of you, how innocent and proper you seemed on the surface and then how utterly filthy you were behind closed doors. He liked that nobody else knew what you were capable of, even in their wildest dreams.

It was all for him.

He thought about taking you out in the town, looking pretty on his arm as everyone saw you together. Having a nice dinner and looking respectable, then taking you home and leaving you a quivering mess drenched in your own bodily fluids. Maybe settling down together, him coming home from work to enjoy a home cooked meal and then you sucking him dry as he watches the news with a beer.

Okay, the respectable element may be questioned now that everyone had seen you kicking and spitting at him at the library – but you could work on it.

They'd all be so impressed that he saved the lonely, slightly quirky widow – charming her and making her the Sheriff's nice little wife.

He liked you, too. Not just your mouth. Or your body. But you were sweet. Polite. Also you clearly had a fiery streak within you which kept him on his toes. A nice little wife is fine and all, but he didn't want to get bored, either. And you certainly wouldn't do that.

He wasn't sure what would happen next exactly, but he knew this wouldn't be the end of it. He'd make sure of that.

🌼

Your next shift at the diner came around quickly. You were nervous as you stepped in, tying your apron on and surveying the scene around you. You were grateful that it seemed to be a quiet day with only a few customers milling around. Gina had greeted you with more of a smirk than you would've liked, but she didn't say anything about the library.

There were a few whispers here and there, but nobody was saying anything to your face. And you were used to the whispers, after Arthur. As much as the town loved its gossip, they were also cowardly – doing it in the shadows, too meek to say anything to anyone directly. You kept your head high and pretended you hadn't noticed it, your smile plastered on and your tone sunny. They wouldn't get you down. And you'd give Hell to anyone who tried.

You hadn't heard from Lee. It had been a few days. Probably best to have a bit of space as you still didn't know what it all meant. Still, part of you was disappointed he hadn't called or stopped by. You knew it was silly, he didn't owe you anything, you weren't a couple.

But you couldn't help it.

As if you'd somehow summoned him, he strolled into the diner just as you finished that thought. Your stomach flipped as his bright eyes found you immediately and he tipped his hat to you, smiling. You felt momentarily weak, his gaze was just so penetrating. Your thought about his tongue, his hands...Before you knew it you were making a beeline to him, menu in hand despite the fact he ordered the same thing every time. You realised you were looking at him with gooey eyes and anyone could've seen, but you didn't care. It was as if he was pulling you towards him like a powerful magnet.

Gina intercepted you at the last second, her body a barrier between you and Lee.

"Don't worry sugar, y'know I always handle the Sheriff" she said sweetly, taking the menu from your hand. "And he knows exactly what he wants, so don't you worry about any o'this".

Your face dropped but you realised you had no reason to challenge her, unless you wanted to raise suspicions of course.

"Oh right...of course. Sorry Gina, I guess I just forgot today" you said awkwardly.

Gina laughed and turned to Lee as you trudged back to the kitchen. You looked back at him over your shoulder and caught him glaring back at you over Gina. His brow was furrowed, his smile had faded. Was he...annoyed? It was hard to say.

You kept an eye on him after that, looking for a rare moment Gina wasn't hovering around him to go say hello but she barely let up. If you didn't know any better you'd think she was tethered to him and could only walk a few feet in either direction. You huffed in annoyance.

Then a large group came in and kept you busy with complicated orders and substitutions and complaints about how much ice was in their drinks. It was a family you recognised but couldn't place their names. You were run off your feet, rushing around trying to keep them happy despite it being impossible to meet their ridiculous demands. Stiffed you on the tip too, of course. They always did. You made a mental note to spit in their iced teas next time they came in.

You finally got a chance to check on Lee and your face burned when you saw what he'd been up to in your absence. Gina was sitting on his side of the booth, a finger twirling in her hair as she giggled and tapped him affectionately on the shoulder. Whatever he was telling her must've been hilarious because her giggles got louder and their bodies got closer. Lee was smiling away, clearly lapping up the attention and egging her on.

You felt anger rising from within, suddenly feeling stifled by the heat of the kitchen. You pulled your apron off and flung it behind the counter as you shot out towards the front door.

"Gina, I'm gonna take my break – that last table wiped me out" you sniped as you walked by without looking at them.

"Okay 'hon" replied Gina, clearly oblivious to your annoyance.

The cool Autumn air was a godsend, you needed to get out of there, marching round to the back of the building for some privacy. Christ, what was going on with you? Were you jealous? You knew you were being ridiculous. Gina and Lee could flirt with whoever they wanted. But still, you were so angry. How dare Lee do that right in front of you?

You were suddenly struck by the realisation that Gina had probably had a trip in the Sheriff's cruiser too at some point. Of course she had. Maybe still did. She was always all over him and cordoned him off in the diner like a prized museum exhibit. She may have been with him last night for all you knew. How stupid could you be? To think you were daydreaming about marrying him. God, you really were an idiot. One of many in a rotation of loose bimbos who all thought you were the Sheriff's special gal.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the bricked wall of the diner and closing your eyes. You needed to get a grip.

"Nap time already, babydoll?" came a voice from nearby.

Your eyes flew open. Lee, of course. You crossed your arms trying to appear unfazed while your heart beat out of your chest.

"I'm just taking my break, Lee" you replied deadpan, not meeting his gaze. You could see him in the corner of your eye, his hands on his hips as he watched you.

"In that case - can you spare a few minutes for me?" he asked as he stalked towards you, his voice low and teasing.

You sighed as his hands met your waist, as much as you wanted him you couldn't fight the jealousy you had bubbling inside.

"Or maybe you could ask Gina?" you spat as you wrenched his hands off of you.

Lee laughed, unperturbed by your annoyance. "And why would I ask Gina?" he whispered, lowering his face to meet yours.

You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the ground. "Well you seemed pretty close in there.

Lee lifted your chin with a finger and did a mock gasp. "Don't tell me you're jealous babydoll?" he asked as his thumb stroked your cheek, his voice dripping with amusement. The idea of you jealous and feeling possessive of him was absolutely mouth-watering, his ego was inflating in real time.

You shrugged. "Not jealous...just...clearly there are a lot of girls around town you could have a few minutes with". You had tried to sound casual but it came out much whinier than you'd planned.

Lee laughed again and he continued to stroke your face attentively. 

"Sweetheart...don't get all pouty. Gina means nothing to me, we fooled around a few years back and she has a little bit of a crush on me is all. You're my best girl".

You blush, raising your eyes to meet his gaze. Embarrassed for him to see you like this. Needy and pathetic.

But Lee loves it. Your desire for him just fuels him.

"Yeah?" you ask shyly.

"Yeah" he responds, his voice silky. He kisses your collarbone and you gasp quietly at how good it feels.

"You miss me honey?" he asks, his hand running up your thigh, skimming under your uniform. "That it? You missin' me and feelin' jealous? Have I been neglectin' you? That's so bad of me. Need t'make it up t'you".

You can only moan as his fingers gravitate to your panties, slipping inside of you. You look around urgently but fortunately there is nobody else around, nobody really comes back here except staff and Gina is busy holding down the fort. You rest your head in the crook of his neck.

"Well, it seems she missed me" he coos, feeling the moisture on his digits as your pussy moulds around him.

"Lee..." you whine, shuddering. "I gotta get back to work" you plead.

"Uh huh..." he says gently, dipping his fingers even deeper within you. Your knees begin to crumple as you whine. "Well, I'd never keep a gal from her work".

He roughly yanks his fingers from you and you mewl pitifully at the loss.

"How about I come by and see you tonight, huh?" he asks. "After my shift? Make you feel better hmm? Help keep your jealousy at bay?"

You smile up at him bashfully, nodding with gusto.

He smiles back, "there she is".

He gives you a short, sweet kiss. "And until then, 'hon, I've got a taste to keep me going".

He lifts the hand from under your skirt and begins to suck on the fingers like he'd just finished a fine meal. You gasp, your eyes glazing over with lust.

"Mmm. Delicious" he winks, running a finger under his nose. "And I'll be able to smell you on me all shift to keep me tied over".

You stare at him with stars in your eyes, entranced by him.

He leans over to you, his voice low in your ear, "Make sure you limber up before I get there, babydoll" he warns. "It's gonna be quite a workout" he teases.

You nod rapidly, smiling at him as you turn to go back inside.

He delivers a short spank to your behind as you pass him which makes you yelp.

As you step back indoors and retrieve your apron, you can already feel how drenched your panties are.

#ee bodecker x reader #sheriff lee bodecker #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader #Awakened fic

[promptthebear]

Hi sorry, I don’t rlly know how to request but I hope this makes a bit sense > _ < 👍

🧺Arthur Fleck Joker - Something about Easter, what they would do and would they do hide and seek? Idk surprise us! :3 🙌

Happy Easter too! ✨ 🪺

💐Celebrating Easter with Arthur Fleck 💐

CW: Child abuse, parental neglect, food insecurity.

First off, I can’t imagine that Arthur really celebrated a lot of holidays growing up.

He probably had the typical crafts and class parties at school, which he enjoyed very much, but what would happen at home was kind of a toss up.

If Penny was lucid, and they had the money, I can see her being the type to go all out. Most food bank programs offer special meals or food related to those meals around the holidays. Penny would absolutely take full advantage of that, and do either a turkey or ham dinner with all the fixings.

Arthur remembers these moments fondly, sitting on the couch with a full belly and maybe watching a church service or something on TV while he and his Mom decorate eggs. Having food for days after between the dinner leftovers and the eggs, which for Arthur meant eating like a king at least for awhile.

However, if Penny was having an episode or worse if they were staying with one of her so called “boyfriends?”

Well, in those cases Arthur was lucky if the day passed without ceremony like any other.

Depending on the conditions of their place, Easter could mean he got one less beating on account of the holiday and the closest thing he’d get to dinner was dry crackers and a juice box that he managed to scrounge up from the cupboards, if that.

Arthur doesn’t like thinking about those times too much. It’s just another reminder of all the happiness he missed out on and is desperately trying to bring back into his life.

After meeting and having a relationship with you, he’d probably mention all of this at one point or another when the holidays start coming around.

Even if he’s still living with Penny, or if you have your own place, you’d probably go all out to compensate for his childhood.

You’d probably go as far as to plan an itinerary and a menu, which both confuses and delights Arthur.

Him??? You’re really doing all this for him??? But it’s too much trouble, too much work, at least let him help with the-

Shush baby boy, just relax and let your partner spoil you.

First on the agenda? Special Easter breakfast.

Whether you stay over from Saturday or come early Sunday morning, Arthur is woken up by the smell of pancakes and bacon.

As far as I’m concerned, Easter breakfast is almost as important as Christmas. Especially if you come from a Catholic family and were fasting for lent like mine did sometimes.

Arthur isn’t even off of his sofa bed before you’re putting a heaping plate in his lap.

For a moment, he’d be too stunned to speak. You’d really outdone yourself.

First off, there’s a whole pile of bacon, still steaming hot and cooked to a crisp just how he likes.

“You eat every bite of that, or else.”

It’s not a real threat because you give him a gentle poke in the ribs when you say it. Arthur knows you’re doing it because you care and want him to have a decent meal for once.

Next are the pancakes. Oh my god, the pancakes.

These aren’t your garden variety, maple syrup and butter kind of pancakes.

Like yes, you’ve included those things, but also you’ve gone the extra mile and added in fresh fruit and chocolate chips and even tried to make some into fun shapes.

There’s an “A” shaped one, as well as a bunny with a blueberry eyes and a strawberry nose, and best of all, a clown with banana slice and chocolate chip eyes, a raspberry nose, jam mouth and whipped cream hair.

They’re so pretty Arthur almost doesn’t want to eat them, but does in the end because he doesn’t want you to feel like he doesn’t appreciate it.

Of course, know you’re getting a kiss between each and every bite.

It’s while he’s eating that Arthur also notices the colourful eggs that are stashed around the apartment. He’d look over at you, eyes sparkling with delight and give you a big grin.

“Are we gonna do an egg hunt???”

He can’t remember the last time he’s done an egg hunt, if ever. Even on the good Easters, usually all they did was dye some eggs to eat later since Penny was usually too sick or didn’t have the extra money to commit to an egg hunt.

You’d smile back, and lean down to give Arthur a kiss on the forehead. “Mmm-hmmm, though don’t get too excited. There’s no chocolate in these ones but they’ll lead you to your next surprise”

It’s all Arthur can to do wolf down the last off his food before he’s off like a shot, tearing around the apartment like he’s setting an Olympic record for egg finding.

You love seeing him like this and the way the childlike wonder takes years off his expression and posture. This is Arthur at his most authentic and you want to cherish every second.

You tried to be as creative as possible when hiding the eggs, even in such a small place. There’s six of them in total and Arthur finds them all in about twenty minutes.

Like you said, the eggs don’t contain chocolate but instead are plastic shells that pop open with something inside.

Arthur would spread the contents out on the coffee table and discover that it’s basically a picture puzzle with the pieces cut into horizontal strips.

Immediately, he’s all business. He’d hunch over the coffee table and light a cigarette, his expression one of intense focus.

When you try to help or give him hints, he waves you off, determined to solve this by himself and make the most of your hard work.

So of course, you oblige him. If you’re in the apartment he shares with Penny you’d probably check in on her and make sure she has something to eat, explaining that you and Arthur will be going out for the day.

If it’s a place you and Arthur share by yourselves, then you’d start cleaning up the dishes and the kitchen while he works at the puzzle.

For once the two of you have the chance to bask in peaceful, domestic silence. While you’re excited to do all the activities you planned with Arthur, you know this is what the holidays are really about. Having these quiet moments together where you can just take it slow and not worry about what’s coming next or where you need to be.

You’d just be putting the last of the dishes away when there’s an excited cry from the living room.

You’d poke your head in through the kitchen door to find Arthur, grinning triumphantly around his cigarette with the completed puzzle on the coffee table.

The picture it makes is of Gotham Central Park, specifically the front entrance.

You’d come over to Arthur and lean down to give him another kiss on the forehead.

“Good job babe, you did that so fast! How’d I get lucky enough to get someone who’s handsome and smart?”

Arthur would sit on the couch for a moment, eyes closed and basking in the praise like a cat in a sunbeam.

When he opens his eyes a few seconds later, he’d stub out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and ask “Are we going right now?”

The way he says it is like a kid asking about Disney world, a little breathless and like he can’t quite bring himself to believe it.

That breaks your heart a little, in spite of the glow in the pit of your stomach.

It’s just a trip to the park. You’ve done it a million times or more with your family over the years, but once again this gives you a glimpse of the kind of life Arthur has had until you came along. Things haven’t been easy for him, and so he takes nothing good for granted, no matter how small.

You’d smile at Arthur and reach down to caress the side of his face with your hand

“Yeah, if you get ready in the next fifteen minutes we could probably make the 9:30 train”

Arthur would all but leap off the couch, grinning wide and with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Before you can react, he’s scooped you up into a massive bear hug that lifts your feet clean off the floor.

He’s squeezing you so tight it hurts a little, but you don’t mind. You squeeze back just as hard.

“Thank you so much for doing this” he’d murmur in your ear “I love you so much”

He’d punctuate that statement with a long, deep kiss where he almost leans you into a dip. He’d taste like smoke with a hint of maple syrup, which makes the warmth in your gut blossom and spread in a pleasant tingle across your body.

When the kiss breaks off you’re flushed, panting and unable to say anything more than a half mumbled “you’re welcome”

#arthur fleck x reader #Arthur Fleck x you #Arthur Fleck #The Joker 2019 #easter askbox event #A week after Easter is still soonish enough for this right? #Also sorry it's so short I would've done more but the new Tumblr character post limit made that impossible

[fleckcmscott]

Haunted Heart

Summary: Mabel invites the Flecks to visit for the holidays. On Halloween, more than trick or treats await them.

Words: 5,606

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: In this oneshot (twoshot? 🤫), I wanted to revisit Y/N's family in Missouri, catch up on how Mabel and Ed are doing, and give Arthur a new way to celebrate the holidays. This Halloween story is a tad late, but I hope you all still enjoy it. 😊 Much gratitude to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing and @sweet-nothings04 for her kind support and encouragement. 💜

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!

The notion had sprung from Mabel's gut, not her head. Flown out of her mouth like one of Jason's fastballs flying past home plate.

"Why don't you and Arthur come down for the holidays?"

The plea disguised as a question hung, waited. Tick-tocked in the air and her heart. A sitcom's muffled dialogue came from the other end of the phone line, canned laughter directed squarely at her. The tap of Y/N's fingernails on Bakelite. Once. Twice.

Silence pushed Mabel to continue the sales pitch of the year. "Two weeks would be enough time to do Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. We'd be happy to have you stay here, if you're ready to try that again. Not that before was your fault, I mean- That's not what I mean." Shut up, shut up, shut up!

The airy idea had taken on the sudden heaviness of urgency, paired with an awareness of how much she craved this, how much she had to make up for. Yeah, Y/N had forgiven her. But the wheels of self-forgiveness spun at two miles at hour. And though her sister wasn't one for drawn out heart to hearts, Mabel felt an acute need for amends.

It manifested at the oddest times. When Ashley had taken her first steps, and Mabel realized Y/N had witnessed their dad's last. Or when Jason had gone to the prom, and his date's baby blue dress had reminded Mabel that she'd missed Y/N's wedding. The Widow Brown shuffling through the produce section with her walker; catching Murray Franklin with Ed; card games on family nights, new since Ed's demotion. They induced the pang of not being there. Of not having been there.

The last two years they'd made real process. Weekly calls and surprise cards and quite a few I love yous. They continued to work their way back to each other.

Last summer, Mabel had downed a mint mojito in the airport bar, clung to Ed and the kids, and boarded a plane to the Great Wilds of Gotham, where Y/N and Arthur let them further into their lives. Shown them Dube & Ellis's office building, the city's zoo and botanical gardens, and Amusement Mile. They'd even made reservations at a fancy Italian joint called Bamonte's and caught a show at Pogo's.

At Gotham Beach, Y/N had taught Brian how to skip stones, and Ruthie had returned her magic coin to Arthur. Running down the shore, Ed held Ashley above him like an airplane, zoom zooming all the way. For the first time, Mabel had seen the ocean. Standing on the rocky beach, toes digging into broken shells and jagged pebbles, the water was endless. So vast it could have swallowed her up.

Starting, she'd stumbled back, feeling foolish for never being the type of girl to leave home.

She folded deeper into the den's easy chair, squished herself into the worn leather. "We just love you and would love to see you again."

A click of the tongue across the miles. "I don't see why not. It's one of Arthur's busier seasons, but he doesn't take enough time off, anyway. I'll talk with him. We'd love to see you, too."

Mabel rushed out a breath she definitely knew she was holding. "Really?"

"Yes!" Bright laughter that dimmed to an ahem. "I...can't make any promises about our parents or going to Sunset Hills. Please don't ask me to visit. If I can, I'll tell you. All right?"

Mabel's chest tightened. At least getting this out of the way would result in fewer eggshells. The curly phone cord wound between her knuckles. "All right. I hope to make the bed for you soon."

~~~~~

Arthur couldn't have agreed faster than if Y/N had asked him to marry her (which he would do again and again and again.) Spending the holidays in the countryside? With his nephews and nieces and in-laws? Even without snow, the celebration would be worthy of an Irving Berlin song, a postcard to paste in his journal.

And, after the tidal wave of their last visit, he'd get to see how Y/N would do.

When she'd mentioned the trip, there'd been none of the pursed lips, the fleeting fear, the cryptic conversation that'd made him wonder what she was hiding. Just a simple matter-of-factness that her family was worth having to make small talk with perfectly nice people she never wanted to see again. A weird notion, yeah, but within her realm of weird, the same realm that made her love Gotham and him.

On the flight down, he turned to a fresh page and jotted a title in the top margin: "Our Trip to Missorie."

Welcoming and warm, Mabel and Ed were as kind as Arthur remembered, an imprint on his heart. Before they had a chance to drop their suitcases, Ruthie and Brian rushed them for hugs, while Jason held back in the way happening teenagers do. Sitting on the play rug in the corner of the living room, Ashley waved and smiled. "Hi! Who you guys?" Hard to believe they'd fed and rocked her a blink of an eye ago.

With Halloween only two days away, they got right to work.

Having an entire porch to decorate, an honest-to-goodness front yard, tickled Arthur's mind, made it whir with creative flair. Not that he didn't love the small touches Y/N put together back home. Die-cut cardboard cutouts on the windows, a jack-o-lantern he lit and set outside the door. How her cat costume cradled her curves and that teasing tail.

Their celebrations were sweet and understated, wholeheartedly them. But compared to an apartment, the possibilities here were endless.

On the way to the supermarket, they'd stopped at a clapboard farmhouse that took the holiday as seriously as evening news. Spooky sounds echoed, an audio effects cassette on infinite loop, howls and screams that prompted a shiver even in the day. Plywoods gravestones - at least a dozen - loomed over coffins, from which rubber masked ghouls climbed. A hooded creature lurked behind a crooked tree, a scythe in its skeletal hand. A guestbook lay open on a music stand by a makeshift crypt.

Arthur declined to sign. Instead, he chose a friendly competition.

"Miller's has cornstalks for sale," Mabel said. She and Arthur were in the basement, digging through box after box of goodies. "We can get some this afternoon. Hay, too. But we'll want to decorate tomorrow - the squirrels'll tear it up, otherwise." She knelt by a plastic milk crate of props and lifted a rubber rat by its tail. "This'll look good on the stairs."

He blew dust from the ears of a blow mold horned owl. "I don't understand how you can love Halloween but Y/N doesn't."

A pause, a gulp loud enough to make him turn. "The kids help," Mabel began. "The first year Jason was supposed to go trick-or-treating, he had a fever of a hundred and two. The poor thing wore his Daffy Duck costume and watched cartoons. Arthur, look at this."

Scooting beside her, he studied the object in her hands. A pumpkin shaped doily, vines winding into curlicues at the edges. It'd ridden in directly from the fifties, akin to Y/N's needlepoint apron, the one her mother hadn't gotten to finish. Mabel's fingers curled as though holding a fragile treasure, stained-glass that'd been cloaked in dirt for too long.

When his gaze met hers, there was melancholy mixed with merry. "Do you wanna use it?" he asked, indicating it with his chin.

"Yeah." Thumbs caressed the seams once more. "Mom would hang it on the door after we carved pumpkins. Did Y/N tell you about that?"

"She doesn't talk a lot about the holidays." A grimace twisted the corner of Mabel's mouth. Leaning into one of the earliest lessons he'd learned, he sought to cheer her, raised a palm in a Hold On gesture. "She tells me more than she used to - about you and your mom and dad. But I think it's still hard. Please. Don't be upset with her."

"I'm not, not at all." Mabel said with an emphatic shake of her head. But she didn't meet his gaze. "What did you do last year?"

The tastes and sounds and sensations of that evening roared through his head and heart. He sought to keep his cheeks from turning crimson through sheer will. "Um. Worked on one of her cases and baked a cake." He cleared his throat twice. "She does like to catch B-Movies on TV in October."

Mabel chuckled. "That's an old tradition. One night she took me to see The Blob at the drive-in. She was always so refined and smart - I had no idea she had such bad taste."

"I don't like them, either. But I watch with her, try to plan something special, you know? Make it about us? There's a Grand Halloween Ball every year. At Wayne Hall. I'd love to take her there someday."

"But she'd have to get better at dancing."

A snort wrinkled his nose, shoulders raised in an agreeable shrug. "Well, loving her makes her easy to dance with. It's just it’s the one thing she's shy about."

"I love her, too." Mabel folded the doily into quarters, grabbed a steel support post, and pushed herself to her feet. "This should be enough to knock the neighbors dead. Help me lug all this upstairs."

~~~~~

"Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom!"

Brian rounded the bottom of the stairs. Careened into the kitchen. Skidded to a stop at the oval dining table, where Mabel, Y/N, and Arthur stood sorting candy. A plastic turtle shell, a repurposed sandbox cover, clattered to the floor. Frantic huffs and puffs that left Mabel wondering if she should grab a paper lunch bag and hold it to his mouth.

The boy pressed an orange strip of terrycloth to his forehead. "I can't tie it!" He pulled the ends past his ears for emphasis.

"Honey, slow down." It was just after breakfast, but the kids were determined to wear their costumes all day. She handed a quarter-filled paper treat bag to Arthur. Turned the boy around by the shoulders. "Where's dad?"

"In the bathroom. Ashley missed again."

Mabel rolled her neck from side to side. Though she adored the stork's little surprise, she'd assumed potty training would be behind her at forty. She'd double-wrap Ashley before sticking her in her pumpkin costume. "Put your dirty clothes in the hamper and I'll start the laundry." Mabel tied the terrycloth into a knot. "Did you find your pillowc-"

"Mommy!" Ruthie's plaintive cry from the downstairs bathroom. "I can't find my makeup!" An unsurprising development, given the last-minute switch from Strawberry Shortcake to Circus Ballerina.

Ensuring the headband wouldn't cut off circulation, Mabel stuck two fingers between it and the crown of Brian's head. "All set! Now get your clothes, then go help your sister."

"But my shell isn't on yet!" He pointed at the forlorn accessory.

"Brian, take a deep breath and count to five." Y/N crossed the linoleum to kneel next to the boy. She retrieved the fallen armor, instructed him to hold up both arms. Held his hands one by one to keep his elbows straight and slip it over his green sweatshirt. Once the shell was in place, she tightened the straps on his shoulders, tightened his belt to keep his plastic nunchaku in place.

"There you go," Y/N said, ruffling his caramel hair. "Now let's go find that makeup."

"I don't have green."

"Mommy!" Ruthie wobbled on the tightrope of excitement and panic.

A much-needed referee, Arthur stepped from behind the table. "I do. I have enough for Ruthie, too." He offered his hand to Brian, wiggled his fingers. When he took it, Arthur gave the quarter-filled bag to Y/N. "Save a treat for me," he said, flashing a grin as he was tugged out of the room.

Smiling softly, she studied the crinkly paper, where a scarecrow waved, clad in a top hat, plaid suit coat, and patched pants. "This looks like Arthur's Carnival costume."

On their vacation north, they'd gotten to meet the professional clown courtesy of a special street performance. Mabel opened a box of taffy. "Is that what he wears for Halloween?"

Y/N answered with a nod. "He works most of the day, usually one or two gigs." She dropped a few loose candy corns into the bag. "That reminds me. I've got to dig my cat costume out of my suitcase."

"Not this year, you don't." A skeptical glare shot Mabel's way. She cackled. "All will be revealed. Your hubby shared a smidge of what you two get up to. I'm glad you're making your own history."

"This is for him, mostly This is the one holiday he insisted on." Lower lip stuck between her teeth, Y/N looked in the direction Arthur had gone, gaze flitting back and forth. Then she leaned forward. "You heard what he said on Murray. I don't think he had many traditions growing up."

It was a truth Mabel had locked in her psyche, one that turned her throat to cotton.

"He likes looking through my photo album," Y/N continued. "We've gone through it probably six times. He asks about every single picture. What I got for Christmas that year, or what game we were playing, or what we had a picnic - he refuses to try egg salad sandwiches." Giggles dissolved to a tender hush. "Sometimes I think he wishes he was there. I don't blame him. His father wasn't around, Penny couldn't take care of or protect him.

"There's a file he took from Arkham - that's the state hospital in Gotham - about his mother and what happened to him. He doesn't know this, but I read everything in it, all of it. Part of me wishes I hadn't, but I had to know. What he went through, I-"

One long inhale, the rapid flutter of her lashes. "I know how hard it is to want to look back at happy times and not find them - even when they're there. We've put a lot behind us. It's nice to be able to appreciate Halloween again, to celebrate with someone who can enjoy it." Wincing, she shook her head. "I didn't mean how that sounded."

Lips pinched, Mabel put a bag in the white wicker treat basket. "You did and that's all right."

"I did love taking you house to house. Remember when you drove your bike into a pothole and scraped your knee?"

That hadn't hurt as badly as the scraping of Mabel's heart. After a moment, she pushed the weight of what she couldn't change off her back and went to her side. "You gave me a Clark bar while dad patched me up."

Y/N folded down the end of the treat bag to seal it shut. "Where are we taking the kids, anyway? The mall?"

"Absolutely not. It was a zoo last year." Stumbling through what must've been a thousand people, all for hard candies a grandmother would be ashamed to have in a lead glass dish on her coffee table. "The elementary school's having a fall carnival for the town. Jeff might be there. Would Arthur mind?"

"They met before and got along well enough to gossip about me." Y/N nestled her bag next to Mabel's, fingertips lingering at the seam.

"How have you been sleeping?" Mabel asked. It'd been a relief when Y/N had forgone a reservation at Four Acres, decided to give the old brick house another try. And while she still took morning walks, they were shorter and came only after a decent breakfast.

"Better. It's not easy to sleep in a new place - or an old place. But I'm getting there. This-" She gestured at the festive mess "- is helping me get there."

Mabel blinked back enough remorse to sling an arm about her shoulders and squeeze. "Good. I want this place to feel like home."

~~~~~

Clad as Carnival, Arthur waited on the living room sofa, pen in hand and notebook on his lap. "I think Y/N's halfing a good visit. She wants to talk with me more now and that's a relief. She isn't tossing and turning in bed - so I can get some sleep! Ruthie and Brian let me paint there faces, like I do at work sometimes. But it was nicer because their my neece and nephew (f?) and-"

"Ready or not, here we come!"

In the dining room doorway to the left, Mabel stood with Y/N, their arms firmly linked. Identical outfits forced a doubletake. Claw clips held back cinnamon hair, siren blue headbands sat snug above their ears. They wore Lycra leotards, capsleeve and V-neck, a fuchsia bright enough to blind. Spandex belts flattered rounded hips, what he figured was a family trait, and blue tights hugged their legs. Fuchsia leg warmers and white Saucony Jazz sneakers completed the ensembles.

Rising, Arthur rolled up his journal and stuck it in his waistband, flummoxed but eager gaze darting back and forth between them. "Who're you supposed to be?"

"The Doublemint Twins!" Mabel said, beaming with pride.

Y/N offered the half-smile of the Playing Along.

"Double the pleasure, double the fun! Look, I even have gum." Mabel retrieved a pack from her belt and doled out a stick each, which had gone soft from her body heat. Arthur hated mint gum; it tasted like trying to quit smoking. But, being in the spirit of things, he accepted, anyway. "Ed and I usually do couple's outfits, but he agreed to make an exception this year. No football player and cheerleader."

Y/N asked, "What's he doing, then?"

A guffaw boomed beyond the woman's shoulders. Slicked back salt and paper hair came into view, a face bathed in blotchy baby powder like a 1940s B-movie extra. A faded white short sleeve button-up was tucked into gray trousers, and a plastic cape was tied loosely at the neck. The cape came to his waist, as if he'd borrowed it from one of the kids.

Fingers curled into claws, he lurched forward and slurred through cheap plastic fangs. "I vant to suck your blood!" He grabbed Mabel by the bicep and bent to her neck.

Giggling, she swatted him away. "Now, now, not in front of the guests."

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I can't find Ashley's tights."

"They're in the bathroom." Mabel rubbed his hairline with her thumb, then grabbed his hand. "You need a widow's peak."

Once they were out of earshot, Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. "I think she forgot we're not actually twins. This is too tight for a school party."

When an outfit accentuated her breasts, she tended to avoid it. As Arthur saw it, though, she had nothing to be bashful about. She was lovely and his. Rouge highlighted the apples of her cheeks, violet eyeshadow flattered her brown eyes. Stepping forward, he pried her hand from her armpit.

A timid laugh bubbled up. She tucked her chin. "You're looking at me like you want to eat me up, but I feel more silly than sexy."

"You're always sexy. Especially when you're silly." He pressed a chalky kiss to her wrist, lingered until he felt her pulse. "What is it they say on GMC? When your bad movies are on? Something wicked is coming this way?"

"Not too wicked, I hope," she said, stealing beneath his plaid suitcoat to cup his sides. "At least, not yet." She bounced to her toes, plush, plum painted lips puckered towards his...

"Bye mom, bye dad!" Jason bellowed from the kitchen.

Mabel did not miss a beat. "Hold on a minute, young man!"

Arthur's mouth bumped Y/N's temple as she turned towards the commotion, then started off with an arched brow.

Ashley shoved under her arm like a sack of flour, Mabel marched out of the bathroom. "Where do you think you're going with that?" She pointed at the VCR sticking out from Jason's windbreaker.

"Mike's mom said she'd rent movies if I brought it over."

Felt pumpkin outfit at the ready, Ed jogged to Mabel's side. The toddler's stubby legs kicked wildly. Mabel passed Ashley to her husband and the interrogation continued, questions whipped off a well-memorized list. "Is this a party?"

"No."

"How many people will be there?"

"It's just some friends from school!"

"Will Mike's parents be home?"

"Yes. No. I dunno."

"Your curfew is ten-thirty."

Wincing, Jason leaned his head against the door. "But we won't even get through one movie by then!" He'd reached that age where being cool was of the utmost importance. While getting his driver's license had added a notch to the cool belt, he currently sounded much younger and uncooler than his sixteen years.

Hands on hips, Mabel let out a huff. "Eleven-thirty and not one minute later." Once the boy nodded, she pecked his cheek and opened the door. "I love you. No speeding."

Though agitation lurked in the air, Arthur couldn't help but find the scene heartwarming, akin to a family disagreement he'd seen on one of his old sitcoms. Something he wished he'd had. Maybe a compliment would soothe the situation.

"You're good at that," he said. "Being a mom, I mean."

Mabel shrugged. "He's growing up so fast - sixteen going on thirty. Let me grab this basket here-" she heaved the basket of treats from the table "-and we can be off."

~~~~~

Boonville Elementary and Sumner Middle shared a quad with Thomas Hart Benton High, with the high and middle schools on a hill on Cooper Street, and the elementary on the parallel Locust Road. Victory Field, a football field surrounded by bleachers and a quarter mile track, delineated where the big and little kids played. A baseball diamond was to the left and a playground sat to the right, which had a merry-go-round, a jungle gym, a metal slide that'd scald you when the sun was out, rickety seesaws, and two sets of swings.

The high school's gym bustled, as if the whole town had joined in celebration. Booths and tables lined the walls, manned by teachers, students, and volunteers from the community. A cakewalk with desserts and other small prizes stood in the center. A sign in an urgent font advertised a bake sale, featuring Ms. Chippy's Blue Ribbon popcorn balls.

Brian and Ruthie steered Ed and Mabel through the throng, to a haunted house hosted in the kindergarten classroom. Mabel shifted Ashley from one arm to the other, calling for them to wait up.

Y/N's face was a mask of unwelcome discomfort. Her hands folded firmly together, her Ready for Inane Conversation stance. It was foreign on her, ill-fitting. Arthur cocked his head, wondered allowed what was wrong.

Skeptical glances scanned the room. "The last time I was here was my high school reunion ten years ago. And I hated every minute of it." Before he could ask for more details, she took hold of his collar, rubbed the worn cotton between thumb and forefinger. The corner of her lips quirked, her crow's feet softened. "But with you here, it'll be worlds better. Should we bob for apples or play bean bag toss first?"

Delighted, he pressed his nose to hers, marked her with a faint streak of white.

They ambled along, Arthur adjusting his wig and tiny hat. Local dentist. Dr. Young manned a completely abandoned station; the red delicious apples and toothbrushes on offer belied why. A tween girl wrapped in swirled, turquoise scarfs and gaudy rings on her fingers, ran Madame Trudy's Palm Reading. Arthur dropped a dollar in the donation jar and held out his left hand.

"You're married," Madame Trudy said with the enthusiasm of the voluntold. A cheap trick, give his wedding ring and the woman at his side. But she was just a kid, and her next prediction made it all right. "You'll be married a long time."

A wizened old crone in a witch's hat and warted rubber nose waved them over. To his surprise, Y/N wore a warm look behind her makeup, the most genuinely welcoming he'd seen when meeting a stranger from her past.

"This girl was one of my best students," Mrs. Spencer said, patting Y/N's hand. Mrs. Spencer was a forty-year veteran of the English department and prided herself on never forgetting a face. "She sometimes got her is and es mixed up, but she always asked the right questions."

Arthur palmed the small of Y/N's back. "That makes sense. She's my best wife."

"I thought I was your only wife," she said, elbow nudging his ribs.

"Come around here," Mrs. Spencer instructed. The pat of Y/N's hand became a firm grasp as the teacher guided her former student to her side of the table. "Tell me all about what you've been doing and the big, wide world you moved to."

~~~~~

Sipping spiced cider by the snack table, Mabel and Ed made pleasant chit chat with Brian's teacher, Mr. Webb. The boy had a knack for natural sciences, and Mr. Webb had a plan for leaf graphing to help him earn his Nature merit badge. Mabel was grateful the boy had a mentor, if not a pal.

In some ways, Brian was younger than his years. Smart and good at school, but he tended to struggle with his peers, miss the social cues that'd turn classmates into friends. Luckily, he'd been enrolled in special classes in the resource room twice a week and good progress was on its way.

Just then, a woman in a sock hop costume came to the table, a woman that Mabel had the misfortune of recognizing. Replete in poodle skirt and saddle shoes, she poured herself an orange drink from a large, yellow cooler.

The prim and proper nurse was a longtimer at the hospital, had won local recognition for excellent patient care. But her method of handling family members should've resulted in a rusty iron medal.

Whenever their dad had been admitted to the hospital, the nurse had admonished Y/N with accusations. That he'd had pneumonia because she'd fed him too quickly. Or that she hadn't turned him enough in bed. Or that he wouldn't have had a UTI, if she'd washed her hands before changing his catheter. How could she not know the basics when her father was a doctor? All as if Y/N were a reckless child, with no acknowledgment of the dreams she'd abandoned to care for him. A realization Mabel had been too immature to recognize.

Though seven years had passed, the disapproval the nurse had displayed - and Mabel's own inaction against it - made her blood slow to sludge. She crumpled her paper cup, steeled herself against recollections that barged in like wanted guests.

"Mom, look!" Ruthie ran to Mabel's side, ballet flats smack, smack, smacking the linoleum floor. "I won it in the cakewalk!" she said, shoving a book at her.

Mabel took the slim paperback, studied the cover of vibrant purple and velvet black, where two tiny ghosts stood before a crumbling castle. The full moon shone through jagged clouds, illuminating a path to a splintered door. Bats and spiders snickered, waiting to greet them with screeches and snares. With a soft sound, she flipped the book to read the synopsis.

Searching for the best treats, sisters Anne and Amelia stumble into a haunted castle. Through phantom wails and creaky hallways, only by facing their fears together will they be able to break free!

Water stung her eyes, lips parted then pursed. She was stricken. Once again the silly girl at the edge of the ocean, taken aback and barely able to breathe. Sisters who were freed by facing their fears together...

"Uncle Arthur can read it to me tonight!" Ruthie said, oblivious to her mother's sudden turmoil.

Mabel wouldn't have had it any other way. Bending to return the book, she offered a tight smile. "That's my girl." She reached into her bra, dug out a five-dollar bill. "I'll be back in just a little bit. Go get something for you and Brian at the bake sale." The girl ran off, darting towards dreams of sweets.

~~~~~

Sodium vapor lights cast shadows across the playground, long, spindly fingers bent at unnatural angles. Leaves rustled in the light breeze, warm but with a nip at the back end. Through hopscotch and four square courts, Mabel hurried across the pavement, steps quickening towards the swings tucked into the furthest corner.

She sat on a worn rubber seat, knees pulled in tight, hands rubbing her upper arms. The earthy smell of wood chips, normally a familiar comfort, failed to reassure. No moon shone tonight. A new moon. If only that wasn't the only thing that was new.

This town was supposed to be familiar and friendly and safe. But while she'd gotten all the safe, it seemed as though Y/N had gotten all the thorns. Even when her divorce had been behind her, the inquires about it hadn't. She'd mentioned it more than once over beers at the Silver Spur. Innuendo in the guise of polite curiosity. The way friends they'd made as a married couple had fallen away.

And when their dad had gotten sick, there'd been enough questions put to Y/N to fill the entire room. How their father was doing, what he needed, but not how she was doing or what she needed. - something Mabel herself had been guilty of far too often. Y/N's eyes glassing over as she tucked her hair behind her ear, always answering the same.

For her, Boonville had been a blackhole. Cold and dark and lonelier than ever.

A silhouette slid into Mabel's peripheral vision, stood a few yards away. Before whoever it was could get closer, she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

The shadow stepped forward. Teased hair, spandexed hips, headband that nearly glowed in the dark...

"Shit." Mabel cleared her throat, consciously eased her voice like the best Beauty Boutique sales representative. "I'll only be a minute, Y/N." She swiped a stray tear from her cheek. "Are the kids all right?"

"Ed's getting Ashley a snack. Arthur's taking the others classroom to classroom to trick-or-treat. I don't think I've ever seen him smile so wide," Y/N said, sitting on the swing beside her. "When I told him I didn't want children, him being fine with it was a relief. But I love seeing him be an uncle. He wouldn't have had that chance - I wouldn't have had that chance - without you."

Mabel winced against her gratitude, the last thing she wanted.

Y/N pulled a long blade of grass from the A-frame's post. Rubbed away the wispy seeds. "You and I haven't talked about the hard stuff. Not yet. It's easier with Arthur because he wasn't there."

"I wasn't either," Mabel said. With all her missing in action, she should've been a regular confidant.

"You're here now and that's what's important to me."

A soft sniffle forced itself out of Mabel's nose. She'd invited Y/N here to atone, to recapture the holiday magic they'd loved as little girls and lost for too long. And here she was being comforted instead. God, how it irked her. She didn't want to burden Y/N, didn't want to wallow. She'd work it out with Ed, her silo of support.

Mabel decided to share a simple truth. "You know, after you got married and moved out, mom let me light the jack-o-lantern. But I'd rather have had you."

Sidling her swing closer, Y/N put her hand on her knee. "There've been enough ghosts between us, Mabel."

A wave of protectiveness swept through Mabel, the same she'd felt when given Jason the third degree. "Let's face them together," she said, ready to start right away. She kissed Y/N's cheek and sprung from the swing. "Now hold on tight."

~~~~~

"Watch your step," said Arthur, a kid on each hand. While Ed and Ashley napped in the school nurse's office, Arthur navigated the downward slope to Victory Field. In clown shoes, that was a feat.

Ruthie and Brian had gotten a haul to be proud of, their pillowcases filled to the brim. Arthur's own pockets were bursting with his favorite butterscotch candies and Palmer chocolate flavored crispy wavers. Y/N insisted the latter were terrible, and he had to admit the chocolates she'd introduced him to were less sickly sweet. But Palmer's distinct plastic taste was tied to the warmth of a kind schoolteacher who'd taken a boy without a costume under her wing.

Girlish laughter rang out in the distance. He blinked in the semi-darkness, guided the kids towards the cheerful sound.

Halfway down the hill, he halted. Unbridled joy stretched his lips, a smile to rival Carnival's.

Crouching behind Y/N, Mabel pushed her on the swing, letting loose an exaggerated groan. Heavy duty chains squeaked in their pendulums with each back and forth. Y/N's legs pumped harder and harder, toes reaching for the stars as if she was ready to fly. "Higher!" she cried, then laughed again. "Higher!"

Brian dumped his sack on the ground, spread out the booty in a big circle. He knelt to arrange the candy into neat rows, sorted by least favorite to most. Offering to trade three rolls of smarties for a Jolly Jack bar, Ruthie flopped down in her tutu and dug into a peanut butter cup.

Half-listening, Arthur sat cross-legged on the lawn, an eager audience to the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

~~~~~

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

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

[five-miles-over]

Could you pleaaaase do flirting headcanons for joker and Arthur fleck? 😍 I bet he can be a charmer~

Thank you for your patience with this ask, anon!

Flirting Headcanons for Arthur Fleck and Joker

Arthur Fleck

Arthur's style of flirting is almost reminiscent of a schoolboy, in my opinion 

He's someone who's been inspired by old Hollywood films and music from the Golden Age

His definition of "flirting" might consist of doing a little dance routine, maybe something reminiscent of Fred Astaire. If he can get someone to play a little music, he'd be more than happy to have "The Way You Look Tonight" or "Cheek to Cheek" play while he performs for you.

the little dance might end with him giving you a little bow, and you would clap for him

"Thanks…You liked it?" He ambles towards you, his hands clasped in front of him like a little boy

"Yeah, I liked it. It was very cute."

"I'm cute? Thanks…uh, you're…you're beautiful." Arthur swayed a little. "Would you…Do you wanna get, maybe a coffee together sometime?"

After the two of you start dating, Arthur would definitely continue flirting with you in the most innocent of ways 

He'd surprise you with a flower, maybe a candy bar, and yes, another dance routine just to make you adore him

All in all, he'd be very respectful and naive with his flirting,

Joker

Joker's style of flirting is 1000x more forward and direct than Arthur's 

If he finds a person that catches his fancy, he'll probably just walk up to them and offer a smooth compliment

He might get their attention with a touch, maybe lightly grab their arm and get into their personal space

"I don't think I've seen you here before. What's your name, doll?"

After you tell him your name, he'd nod approvingly and inch his fingers towards your cheek.  

"How about I buy you a drink?…It's getting crazier out there. Let me put a smile on you." 

When the Joker flirts, he likes to say things in such a way that lets you know that he's the one in control, that he's the one who deserves your time and attention, and that you're the only one he wants. 

#joaquin phoenix #joaquin phoenix joker #arthur fleck headcanons #joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck #joker 2019 #joker movie #joker joaquin phoenix

[jbcomic]

i cried so much watching the trailer it's beautiful my arthur fleck is back i am lucky to be alive to watch this movie i hope we get a happy ending 😥

#arthur fleck #youtube

[thomasshelbydrabbles]

The Messenger (22/22)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Adeline Taylor (OC)

Warnings: period typical sexism, series typical violence, period typical views of PTSD, period typical racism, blood and gore, smut

Summary: It's Darby Day, and all things end as they begin. Adeline clears her ledger and settles old scores. 

**This is a series, so you should read The School Teacher first if you want to understand everything.**

Note:  As the show does, I am loosely using actual events and people from WW1 and other time periods represented in the show. These are fictionalized versions of both events and the people.

Word Count: 3271

A/N: Here we are, the end of another part. I’ve had this ending in mind since forever, and I’m so happy to be able to share it with you all.

Arrow House, 1922

“We’re setting a date.” 

Adeline glanced up at Tommy, watched the firelight cast shadows on the angles of his face. They sat next to each other in bed, the house quiet at this hour of the night. 

“For?”

“Wedding. We’re gettin’ married.” 

Adeline smiled. “Are we? Is that what this here bobble on my hand is?” 

Tommy gazed down at her, eyes soft. He traced the apple of her cheek. “Yes. Once the bloody Darby business is done, I’m marryin’ you. Makin’ you the official lady of the whole fuckin’ house, Missus Shelby. Then we’ll take a whole month off and fuck in every room in the house.” 

She smiled into the kiss she pressed to his lips. “You’re a stubborn sort, Mister Shelby, so I know better than to argue with you about this. So, I’ll be agreeable this once and let you have your way. Consider it my wedding present.” 

“We both know you’re only being agreeable because you want my cock, eh?” 

Adeline smirked. “Take the win, Thomas.” 

With a chuckle he captured her lips again, rolling her beneath him. 

“You’ve not asked me about the Darby.” 

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose before rolling onto his back. Adeline sighed. She could have been having sex. She wished she were having sex. But, there was this nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Like an itch she couldn’t reach. Made the hairs on her arms stand on end. 

“Just got you back, not looking forward to fightin’ with you about whatever bloody plan it is you’ve made for the fuckin’ Darby.” 

Adeline stared at the ceiling. She wanted to comfort him. For the first time in years, she wanted to lie. It would be easier that way, but easy never solved anything important. If it were easy, she could roll on top of him and spend the rest of the night feeling his cock deep inside her. 

“We don’t always win,” she began, voice soft, hesitant. “Got a damn good record of winning, the two of us, but I know I’ve lost a time or two myself. There’s always something unaccounted for in campaigns of this scale. Weather, someone deciding to be clever for once. A bad day.” 

“You’re soundin’ like Pol when she’s been in the port.” 

Rolling onto her side, she took in Tommy’s profile, watched the smoke trail from his mouth as he took a drag from the cigarette between his lips. With a gentle finger, she traced his eyebrow, down the side of his face, lingering on his bottom lip. She re-memorized the shape of his face, the flecks of different shades of blue in his eyes, the pink of his lips.

“I’m not used to having something to lose.” 

Fuck. She hadn’t meant to say those words out loud. Feeling the way Tommy’s body tensed, the slight hitch in his breathing she knew there’d be more conversation to come. 

“We’re not going to lose, so just get that thought out of your pretty little head.” 

“Are you not taking this seriously?” 

Tommy sighed, rolled away from her to reach the side table, and snub out his cigarette before rolling back over to face Adeline. “Always take your safety seriously, love. We’re the Peaky Blinders, eh? Who’s gonna stop us?” 

“Christ, you sound like fucking Arthur with his insane bravado. Use your fucking head, Tommy. We’ve a host of enemies more powerful than the likes of Billy Kimber that don’t give a toss about some little ragtag band of gangsters from the dirty streets of Small Heath.” 

Tommy sat up. Adeline wanted to reach for him, to rub her hand up his back, soothe the tension from his shoulders. She wanted to go back in time, to before this conversation, to when she was under him. That moment had potential. 

“Thought you had it all planned out. You and Alfie.” 

“Don’t be jealous, Thomas, it doesn’t suit you. And we do have a plan, but no plan is without fault. Thinkin’ it is…means you’ve not done enough thinking.” 

“What do you want me to do, eh? Fucking tell me, Adeline.” 

“Be serious. You underestimate our enemies because you don’t understand. I don’t know how to make you understand either.” 

He glanced down at her. “You’re scared.” 

“Petrified.” 

 Epsom, 1922

Symmetry. Adeline poured herself a large glass of whiskey. She kept the bottle next to her as she settled herself on one of the stools. Part of her wanted to laugh at the situation. All things end as they began. From the corner of her eye, she watched Major Campbell take a seat at the opposite end of the bar. She slid the bottle down to him, heard him pour a portion into his own glass. 

“There’s still one thing I’ve not quite sorted out,” Adeline said as she swirled the whiskey in her glass.

“And here you led me to believe you had everything well in hand, Miss Taylor.”

“Oh, I took care of your Field Marshall; his corpse is the reason the King’s guards are making such a fuss. Seems someone reported it had been an attempt on His Majesty's life, and the good Marshall was simply collateral damage. The Irish are proving to be quite clever, and more daring in their maneuvers of late.” 

“You blamed the Fenians?” 

Adeline tossed back the rest of her whiskey. “I cleared my ledger, not one for leaving outstanding debts.” 

“Is that so?” Campbell asked. 

“Aye. He died quickly - if that makes a difference to you. Wasn’t pleasant, but fortunately, I was short on time.” 

“Did you do it yourself, or did you have one of the Peaky Blinder scum do it for you?” 

“Wasn’t Peaky Blinder business, Major. As you informed me, I was specifically chosen for this assignment. Something about my skill set. Information you shouldn’t have been privy to.” She glanced over at him. “How did you learn about Arke, the truth this time, without that nonsense about finding files inside the SIS office.”

“Ah, the one piece of information you’ve yet to divine. I didn’t lie to you about that.” 

Adeline tilted her head, observing his face, his posture. “Perhaps not, but you’re leaving something out, something important that completes the picture. You’re an important man to an important man, but neither of you is important enough to have access to information about me.” 

“Perhaps you’re not as important as you think you are.” 

She looked down at her empty glass and, missed the whiskey the Garrison served. “I would give just about anything, Major Campbell, to be insignificant.” 

“If there is one thing I am certain about concerning you it’s that you were never meant for an insignificant life. If it hadn’t been my desk your file landed on, it would have been another.”

Adeline nodded her head. Perhaps he was correct in his assessment. Nothing simply landed on someone’s desk, certainly not a file so top secret most of the men who knew of its existence were dead. After all, she’d killed them all. Yet, it seemed as though her and Alfie’s lingering fear was justified; they’d missed someone the first time they killed Arke. She couldn’t figure out who it could be that would know not just her name, but her face.

“Just picked my name from a stack of files on your desk?”

Major Campbell took a sip of his drink. “I’d already met you; that’s what caught my attention when I saw your file on my desk. I’ll admit, I had my doubts given what I knew of you, a school teacher in Small Heath being a wartime operative? Now, after working with you, I think the file did you a grave disservice.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It is my contention that if we’d met before the likes of Thomas Shelby caught your attention, we might have found ourselves on the same side, working together.”

“I doubt you would have enjoyed the experience. I’m told, quite often, actually, that I’m rather difficult to work with, even when we’re on the same side.”

Campbell didn’t respond. He finished the whiskey in his glass and stood. Walking to where Adeline still sat, he leaned against the bar.

“Difficult, but valuable. I look forward to working with you in the future, Miss Taylor. Our mission is far from finished.”

The sound of footsteps approaching drew her attention. A small, bittersweet smile graced her face. Closure never quite worked the way she thought it would. She’d expected to feel something…more. When she saw the boys enter the bar, she slid from the stool to greet them.

“Everything sorted?”

Tommy nodded, his eyes fixed on Campbell, who for the first time since he’d entered the room looked nervous.  

“He doesn’t look like much, pet. Much too tidy, right, too clean, to have been such a problem for you.”

Adeline laughed. “Looks can be deceiving. And you’re one to scold me when you toyed with the Italians for as long as you did.”

“Right,” Tommy said, “Let’s get this done before the soldiers and coppers come to clear everyone out.”

“You intend to kill me?” Campbell asked.

“Aye. I’ve no further use for you. Shame for you since I’m convinced you’re someone’s puppet. I thought telling Churchill about me would pull the right string. Seems I miscalculated. Regardless, you’ve brought Arke back from the dead – I’ll not forgive you for that.”

Arthur grabbed Campbell, hauled him over to a chair, and sat him down. Michael hurried to tie him to it.

“Polly know you’re here?” Adeline asked.

Michael glanced up at her, cheeky grin on his face. “She does. Told me to get it fuckin’ right and make her proud.”

Adeline nodded, pleased Polly’d come to her senses. They’d need every advantage they could muster before the dust settled. Everything with Campbell, the Irish, the bloody Field Marshall had been the opening move, something to test the waters.

“Give me his hat,” Adeline demanded, hand out.

With a curious look, Michael snatched it none too gently from Campbell’s head. Alfie handed her a pair of scissors, a knowing look on his face. She took the hat over to the bar and cut it into small pieces. 

“Michael, hold his mouth open.” 

One by one, she shoved each piece into Campbell’s mouth, enjoying the enraged look on his face as Michael tilted his head back.

“I promised myself that day you had me dragged from the house on Watery Lane, that I’d kill you. If you recall, I told you I was making a list of the ways I was going to accomplish that task. Number one was tearing your hat into small pieces, or burning it, and shoving the remains down your throat for you to choke on.”

She finished filling his mouth with as much of the hat as she could fit. Taking a step back, she admired her work. Campbell’s cheeks were red from anger and lack of oxygen, and sweat had begun to gather at his brow. Saliva dripped from his mouth since he was unable to swallow around all the pieces of hat in his mouth. Labored breathing came through his nose and his chest heaved with the effort of it. 

“Tommy?”

He handed her a gun. She placed the barrel against Campbell’s good knee. The fear in his eyes delighted her. Anticipation worked so well in these situations. He knew exactly how it would feel to have a bullet pierce through the delicate bits of his knee. She could linger, draw it out - heighten everything he built up inside his own mind, allow him to be the master of his own torture. Fortunately for him, they were still on a timetable. 

“If you’d had any idea who Arke was, what she was capable of, I think you might have left the file alone, but it’s too late for all that, and I am fond of symmetry. The night I shot you, I regretted only doin’ the one leg as soon as I left the building. Life is too short to live with regret.”

Pressing the barrel more firmly against his knee, just to watch the way he squirmed in the chair, she smiled at him as she squeezed the trigger. His screams were muffled by the bits of his own hat shoved in his mouth. Campbell nearly toppled the chair as he thrashed in his bindings. The movement only made the wound bleed more. Moving to Tommy’s side, she pressed a kiss to his lips.  

“I also wanted to break each of his fingers, and have his tongue nailed to the door of the Garrison, but I don’t want to be selfish. And I know I’ve made you wait to kill him.”

“Pour yourself a drink, eh, love?” Tommy suggested.

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed. “Make yourself all comfy like while we finish ‘im off.”

Doing just that, Adeline walked down the bar, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and sat down on a stool just in time to hear the distinctive sound of a finger breaking. Glancing up, she saw Alfie showing Michael how to do it. Carefully explaining where to pull, to push, which finger to begin with. Tommy and Arthur had both pulled the caps from their heads, no doubt she’d have a pair of eyes to match the tongue

“Do you think you’ve won, Miss Taylor?” 

Adeline looked over just as Arthur knocked Campbell’s face to the side. Mangled bits of his hat sat at his feet covered in blood, and tears, and drool. 

“It’s not always about winning. It could be argued you won, by default or accident, or the hand of God by unearthing Arke,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Can’t change any of that, but this? Our little game of chess, the one you’ve been so fuckin’ smug about, thinking you were winning all along, thinking you were in charge - well, that game I can win. Even if you are just a pawn, removing you from the board might be enough to make the king reveal himself. It’s the long game I’ve been playing, Major Campbell. Shame you never learned that.” 

“This I know,” his voice wheezed from his lips. 

Adeline felt a bit impressed that he could muster words at all.   

“Ahead of you is damnation. But I have the love of God and the certainty of salvation.”

Adeline nodded, finished the drink she’d poured for herself, and stood from the stool, leaving the empty glass next to the gun she’d placed on the bar top. With measured steps she moved to where Campbell hung limply in the chair, supported by the ropes binding him. She knelt down next to him, cupped his blood and tear-stained cheek with her palm, and tilted his head up so their eyes met. 

“Aye. Damnation awaits me, and I’ll greet it like an old friend. And, at that time, I’ll look back on my life, my choices and nod to myself with the knowledge that it was worth it. The sacrifices, the pain - all of it worth it.” Her smile held a sort of mocking pity as she gazed at him. “My dear Major Campbell, when you die, when you embrace this salvation of yours, face your God, will you be able to be honest with yourself, with your God, and claim it was worth it?” 

Oh, the look on his face, the defeat and the anger and the simmering rage would bring her delight for days to come. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I didn’t think so.” 

When she moved back to the bar, she knew the boys would end it quickly. No more sport in it with him so defeated. In the mirror above the bar, her eyes caught sight of Arthur wrapping Major Campbell’s tongue in his handkerchief. She heard Michael and Tommy whispering to each other, and noticed him handing Michael his hat. 

Michael took his eyes. 

Alfie performed a modified circumcision. 

Tommy shot him in the forehead.   

For a moment, the only sound was the distant roar of the crowd. Then the doors burst open and at least a dozen men dressed as coppers flooded into the room. Before they could react, each had at least one gun pointed at them. The man holding her brought his lips to her ear. Adeline’s wide eyes met Tommy’s. Knew he’d do something stupid. Idiot man. She shook her head and watched him grit his teeth. 

“Momento Mori.” 

Ice filled her veins as the whispered words rattled around in her brain. If the man hadn’t had a secure grip on her, she would have fallen to the ground. Impossible scenarios flooded her brain. She’d had this nightmare before. 

Loud enough for the rest of the room to hear, he said, “Come with us quietly, and we leave the rest of ‘em alone. We’re not here for petty gangsters.” 

“Adeline - ”

She ignored Tommy’s shout, shook her head as though it would block out the sound of his voice. She couldn’t look at him. One look at his face and she’d be the one doing something foolish, something that would get them all killed.

Darting her eyes around the room, she caught Alfie’s glance. Silently she pleaded with him to understand. His body tensed, his jaw so tight she feared he’d break a tooth. Squaring her shoulders, Adeline pushed down everything she was feeling. The last bits of herself dissolved as Arke consumed her. She noted the dawning horror of understanding on Alfie’s face. Good. There might still be hope.

“Keep them safe.” 

Taking her statement as agreement, the man holding her began to drag her from the room. She heard the boys struggle, heard them shout after her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she braced herself for the worst. Then, Alfie hollered at them to shut up and she breathed a bit easier. Until she couldn’t hear them anymore. Another part of her heart shattered. Should she have looked at Tommy one last time? Taken in his face? Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Cauterized wounds healed best.    

They loaded her into a police wagon. She snorted as they settled in the back with her. As if she would be going anywhere, or many any sort of escape attempt. They had maneuvered her beautifully. If she weren’t so upset about the whole thing, she might compliment them. 

“You aren’t coppers.” 

They didn’t answer her as the van began to move. Had Campbell managed to arrange this? Ulster Volunteers perhaps? No, that wouldn’t explain the key phrase so cleverly whispered into her ear. Might be Churchill who sent them to collect her, to ensure his weapon remained within reach. He might be powerful enough to have access to that information. Or perhaps, a different file had found its way to his desk. Her silent puppeteer, working from the shadows. 

She closed her eyes, pictured Tommy’s smile as they drove. She lost track of time as they continued. As the wagon rolled to a stop, she opened her eyes. They handed her down from the van. Glancing around she saw nothing but open fields and a single grave. 

A wry smile touched her lips. Looking up to the sky, she closed her eyes, felt the warmth of the sun on her face. “Momento Mori.” 

Gunshots rang out. 

She heard bodies land near her; braced herself. 

Nothing.

Blinking her eyes open, she choked on the air desperately trying to fill her lungs. 

Impossible. 

The man standing before her was dead.  

“Hello, my dear Arke.”

~FIN~

Master List

Tag List: @stevie75 @mootiemoose​​ @ohshititsfenharel​​ @fairy-witch-bitch @portents​​ @alreadybroken-ts​​ @books-livre @missymurphy1985 @lovemissyhoneybee​ @theshelbyclan @highgardenrosexx @dolllol2405

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder fanfiction #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby x oc #the messenger

[ajokeformur-ray]

Sometimes I wanna talk about the very real ways in which Arthur Fleck saved my life in 2019, but I never do so to the full extent because a) it would most likely trigger some people and I don’t wanna do that at all, especially not in the name of expressing myself, and b) some things are meant to stay between you and the bathroom floor at 3am.

It’s impressive how many times Arthur Fleck has given me the strength to save myself, to scoop myself up off the floor at 3am after crying my eyes out, to not follow my intrusive thoughts of cutting all my hair off because I feel so often like I don’t deserve happiness and my hair is one of the few parts of my body I truly love and feel a connection to, to make a meal when I would rather skip and let myself rot, to not want to go to work but doing it anyway because I know it’s what he would want, to take my time brushing my hair because he wouldn’t want me to hurt myself just to get it done faster, to take care of myself when I just don’t care anymore, to try when I don’t think I have it in me anymore… the amount of strength, joy, courage, determination, and “I’ll just do it for one more day” I’ve received from him, is immeasurable. I got a job in a care home, which gifts me with the opportunity of being able to help people because he inspired that in me. I’m doing a psychology with counselling honours degree because I want to help the real life Arthurs of the world, like my brother, who slip between the societal cracks never to return again unless someone is willing to dig them out. He changed my life, saved it, made it better, taught me better ways of being, healthier ways.

Arthur Fleck really DID save my life, he saved me in 2019 and many a time since, and I’ll forever and ever and ever be grateful for the fact that the world got gifted with such a phenomenal character. I’ll truly carry him with me forever, always trying to do and be in ways he would be proud of, as a way to honour all the things he’s given me the strength to do, all the times he’s helped me to save myself. I would not be HERE, I would not be who I am or where I am, if it hadn’t been for Arthur. It sounds so dramatic, but I can’t properly articulate the seriousness of this post. The people who know, though, know.

I just… I’m curled up in bed right now watching Joker and eating coffee ice cream to sign off the end of another busy day which is full of too much work, too much stress, and not enough time. My body isn’t enough, most days, for all the things I have to squeeze into one day every day, but here right now, under my Joker blanket and hugging my Joker cushion while I watch the film and let my body and mind rest, I feel the most at peace I’ve been all week. My chest is still a little tight, but by the end of the film, that’ll totally go away. Arthur literally and metaphorically makes it easier to breathe and that’s everything.

It seems a bit… redundant to say that I love Arthur Fleck, but I do. I really do.

#tw; vent #tw; suicidal ideation #(implication only but still obvious enough that I feel the need to tag it) #this is mostly an appreciation post for our clown boy

[charliedawn]

how would the boys react to the reader singing count the ways. *Count the ways is a five nights at freddy's song... just look at the lyrics if you want*

Author : "That request has been sitting in my inbox for a while. Sorry for the late reply."

Song :

I'll cut you into little bitty pieces

Or freeze you 'til your blood runs cold

Or stab you 'til your heart stops pumpin

I'm here to realize your wish from what I'm told

Like a genie in a bottle

You are trapped in here to play

This game of choosing what I offer

But either way you'll end up choosing what I say

Count the ways, oh, one by one

Make your choice, let's have some fun

Let me tell you all the things that I can do

To fulfill your wishes that they may come true

Now let's get talking little cupcake

No screaming here will aid you through

This game of choosing, little cupcake

Will help you realize what you want to do

Electrocution seems enticing

But so is freezing in the cold

Too many options and decisions

So choose what you would like without the dice to roll

I am the brilliant, one you call intelligent

Of all the ways to pass from this life in an instant

The probability that you'll die in tranquility

Is slim to none when you're in the chest of hostility

Count the ways, oh, one by one

Make your choice, let's have some fun

Let me tell you all the things that I can do

To fulfill your wishes that they may come true

Count the ways, oh, one by one

Make your choice, let's have some fun

Let me tell you all the things that I can do

To fulfill your wishes that they may come true

Silly Millie why remorse

Just let nature take it's course

The Penny Brothers :

Penny would join in or dance with the song while Pennywise would sit down and listen or hum along. They may not have the same enthusiasm, but they would both enjoy hearing you sing in their own way. They would sing along when the especially creepy voice parts. They would even make lights appear and summon the music or transform into animatronics to add to the eerie atmosphere. They're both clowns. They know how to put on a show.

Favorite lyric : Make your choice, let's have some fun.

Arthur Fleck :

Not gonna lie. Not his thing. He may appreciate the lyrics, but the song is just not his style. He would listen to it though, to make you happy and to hear your voice, but wouldn't be thrilled by the song in itself. However, he does relate to some of the lyrics and wouldn't mind the song as much after listening to it a few times.

His favorite lyric : The probability that you'll die in tranquility is slim to none when you're in the chest of hostility

Michael Myers:

He would silently listen to it and hum along. But, that’s it. He wouldn't dance nor sing. He would however compliment you on your singing, but as he doesn’t really get the context of the song ? He would be confused until you tell him about Five Nights at Freddy's and the story behind it.

Michael *tilts his head when he sees Freddy the animatronic and scribbles* : "I like him.."

His favourite lyric : Or stab you 'til your heart stops pumpin

Hedwig :

Hedwig will dance on any song. Really. Any of them. He would like everything you do and just barge in to dance while you sing. He may not understand the lyrics, but he likes the tune and would jam to it. But, some of the other personalities may not appreciate it as much, since Hedwig is supposed to be a child and the lyrics may not be suitable for him. 😅

Barry *sighs when he suddenly takes the light and hears that song again* : "Hedwig..Don’t take the light without asking for permission."

Hedwig *ignores him and put the music louder*

Favorite lyric : Like a genie in a bottle

Jason is usually not a fan of electronics, or anything modern really..He wouldn't really like the song, but he would enjoy having it as background noises during his wood sculpting activity. He wouldn't understand the lyrics, but would listen to your voice and find it soothing. He would also ask for requests later on, maybe lullabies—or any more calming songs ?

Favorite lyric : But either way you'll end up choosing what I say

Freddy is a Rock&Roll fan to the end and it wouldn't really be his kind of music. But, he would listen to it and even pick up some parts to play later (on his guitar) as training. As a musical enthusiast, Freddy would always be happy to learn more and would even ask questions about the song or ask to play his guitar while you sing.

Favorite lyric : I'll cut you into little bitty pieces

Brahms would be a secret and devoted admirer. He would hide behind all the other slashers and silently listen to you singing. It would soothe him and he would be happy to learn more about your tastes in music. He would also bring his favorite songs, so you may share and he might learn more about what he missed during all those years away. Wall boy has a lot of catching up to do.

Favorite lyric : This game of choosing what I offer

Five would be a great listener and understand the lyrics more than most. Of this tortuous game no one might escape and the main character has no say in his own decisions..because everything is controlled. For a long period of time, everything he did was dictated to him and he couldn't get out. Not until he was brought to St Louis and found the other slashers who he could relate to more than anyone. He would find the song relatable and congratulate you on your performance.

Favorite lyric : Silly Millie why remorse

Jack would pass out drunk before the end of the song. Don't take it personally though. He doesn't take his alcool well.

[these-written-reveries]

✧REQUEST INFO✧

ABOUT THE REQUESTS:

Status: Open

➺You can send your request here (please read below if you haven’t already!)

➺It may take me a while to fulfill them and I may not fulfill them in order. I will not give any time frames as to when I will get around to fulfilling requests, as I am disabled and work 2 jobs which takes up a lot of my time. I promise I will do my best to get to them asap!

➺Please refrain from sending the same request multiple times. If you’re unsure if I received your request, send me a separate ask or message and I'll let you know.

➺Anons sending me spicy requests, you're agreeing and confirming that you're 18+. Users below the age of 18 are not permitted to send such requests and will be blocked.

➺To make things more inclusive, I prefer to keep Reader/Y/N’s gender and pronouns neutral, unless important to the story being told. (Note: I do not write male!reader/amab/reader with male anatomy simply because I’m not comfortable/confident writing that.)

➺Just because a specific character isn’t listed below, doesn’t mean I’m not open to writing about them. Ask anyway!

➺If you’re unsure about something pertaining to an idea/request you have, feel free to shoot me a message/ask about it. I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have.

➺I may or may not fulfill your request. I apologize in advance for this. This could be due to a whole list of reasons -such as not having inspiration, too busy with life, it’s simply not for me, etc. I promise it’s not personal!

➺I reserve the right to say no to anything, for any reason, without an explanation.

➺Please be kind and respectful!

MY WRITING PREFERENCES:

➺I LOVE writing fluff/flangst (smut can be a challenge for me, but I’m open to it. *Read below for more info on NSFW content).

➺I specialize in writing happy endings! I do not enjoy writing angsty endings AT ALL and I refuse to do it. You want hardcore angst? I’ll give it to you, but it’s coming with a happy ending. Sorry -all hurt, no comfort- lovers, you freakin’ masochists! (jk, I love you, it's just not for me ❤️)

➺I prefer to write romantic reader-insert fics because I’m a huge sap for all the lovey-dovey stuff. That said, I don’t mind writing platonic reader-inserts depending on what it’s about.

REQUEST RULES:

➺No pregnancy/childbirth/etc.

➺No dub-con/non-con/r*pe/etc.

➺No themes such as: inc*st, pedoph*lia, cheating (unless under false assumption, or in the form of a comfort fic, i.e.: Reader’s ex cheated on them and is comforted by -insert character here-).

➺No personalized name fics (reader-insert only).

➺No sad/angsty endings.

➺No permanent death of Reader and/or pairing character (temporary or assumed death for the sake of angst is okay).

*My rules around what NSFW content I’ll write are case-by-case, as well as anything with darker themes. If you have a question about if I'll write something specific or are seeking clarification about any of the info listed here, feel free to ask!

CHARACTERS I’LL WRITE FOR:

*A handful of these characters I have little to no writing experience with, but I listed them anyway to challenge myself! As with all of my writings, I will put in my very best effort to make sure they are as in-character and well-written as possible!

➺Jokers

            ♡ Arthur Fleck/Phoenix!Joker (P!Joker)

            ♡ Jack Napier/Ledger!Joker (L!Joker)

➺My Hero Academia

*I am not caught up with the show (almost through season 4), so please try to avoid requesting anything with spoilers after this point!

           Class 1-A

            ♡ Bakugou Katsuki

            ♡ Kirishima Eijirou

            ♡ Todoroki Shouto

            ♡ Midoriya Izuku

            ♡ Kaminari Denki

            ♡ Ashido Mina

            Villains

            ♡ Shigaraki Tomura

            Ships (Poly!Ship x Reader only):

            ♡ Kiribaku (Kirishima & Bakugou)

➺Stranger Things

*I will not write any romantic reader-insert fics with Billy Hargrove, Jason Carver, or the kids!

           ♡ Eddie Munson

           ♡ Robin Buckley

➺Supernatural

            ♡ Dean Winchester

            ♡ Sam Winchester

            ♡ Castiel

            ♡ Jack Kline

            ♡ Charlie Bradbury

➺Star Wars

           ♡ Kylo Ren/Ben Solo

REQUEST OUTLINE:

*This is a simple guideline to help get you started with your request in case you’re unsure of what to say.

➺Character:

✧Please specify which character you’d like me to write. (Check list above for which characters I write for.)

➺Premise/Prompt:

✧Include an idea or prompt of what you want me to write about. Be as specific or non-specific as you’d like. If you have a clear idea of what you want, please be as specific/detailed as possible in explaining your request so I can try to write it as close to your vision as possible.

➺Genre/Style (optional):

*If either of these are left out of your request, I will take creative liberty in deciding what it’ll be.

✧Is the story fluff, flangst (fluff + angst), smut, etc.?

✧Would you like a one shot, headcanons, drabble, etc?

➺Pronouns/Gender (optional):

*If not specified, I will most likely keep Reader/Y/N’s pronouns and gender neutral.

✧Specify the pronouns and/or gender of Reader/Y/N. Keep in mind that unless it’s important to the story/context, I prefer to keep things gender-neutral for better inclusivity! (I do not write for male!reader/reader with male anatomy -sorry!)

***

With alllll of that said, you can send your requests here!

♡ Thanks for reading and respecting my rules! ♡

#request info #request rules #requests #fanfiction requests #k.info

[justafleck]

@jokethur​ :  🙊 ― a memory you don’t ever talk about.

   He’s only a child. Rain patters harshly against the window and the inside of the house is stuffy.  Suffocating  .  He wants to open the window.  To stick his hand outside and feel the rain on his skin so that maybe for once he can feel something pleasant for once in his life. Pain is all he recalls, though he cannot recall exactly what happened. A dull, lingering headache remains for what feels like an eternity and his memory draws a blank. His mind is made of darkness and he floats within an abyss of shadowed hands that feel as though they’d pull him down further and he’d lose the last bit of himself. He’s Arthur Fleck, but who is he? Nobody. His fingers find themselves splayed against the window, the warmth of his hand fogs the window against the cold outside and he’s watching people passing by between his fingers. He wonders where they are going, what their names are, their purpose.  He can hear the humming of voices from the television set in the opposite side of the room. It’s the only sound aside from the rain and the soft snoring of the woman passed out on the couch. Penny Fleck.  His mother.  She’s absent, most of the time. He’s chalked it up to the medication that she was prescribed a few weeks back when he had to call an ambulance to take her to the hospital. He found her a week ago in the kitchen, standing before him with a knife gripped tightly in her hand. She was calling him by a different name and threatening to kill the both him and herself, though he cannot remember the details as his memory loss is something relatively new to him. How he ended up back in her custody was as simple as the system failing children like him.  She’s ill and she needs to be hospitalized but they keep spitting her back out, thus leaving her in a child’s care. It’s not fair. The tea kettle whistles loudly, beckoning the young boy to the kitchen where he’d turn it off and pour the boiling liquid into his mother’s favorite tea cup. The tea bag is steeped for three minutes before he withdrew it and threw it into the garbage. His motions are almost robotic: a certain rhythm as he goes through the daily motions of getting his mother’s evening dose of medication out of it’s organizer and brings both the tea and the medication to his mother’s side.  "Ma?" He urges softly, setting down the mug and medication down on the table near her chair before reaching over to gently nudge her shoulder to wake her. "Ma, it’s time for your medicine."  he speaks. She stirs, head turning slightly but still in slumber and Arthur knows to be careful waking her up. He gives her another soft nudge as he prompts her to open her eyes. With heavy lids, they crack open and Arthur is left to gaze upon her blank stare. There was nothing there: she’s like a ghost of a person and Arthur feels as if he’s looking upon his own reflection. The same lifeless stare he’s greeted every time he passes a mirror.  He clears his throat, the pit of his stomach is sinking as he’s far too young to be bestowed the task of taking care of her. But he’s the man of the house: she’s tells him all the time and he knows that no matter how hard things are, he has to take care of her. Is this his purpose? It is. He retrieves the tea and offers the mug to her and she cups it in between both of her bony hands. She takes a few, small sips of it, eyes cast downwards upon the warm liquid as if she was inspecting it closely and Arthur provides her the medication. "You’ve always been such a good boy, happy."  her  voice is almost too quiet to hear, weak and fragile. She’s been sick and he knows this: and though most boys his age were going to school to learn; to get their education and become something of themselves one day, he’s here at home with his mother. He always has been and his education lacks significantly. She’s unfit, and yet, here he stands in her custody. And not a soul questions it. Arthur is diligently watching as his mother takes the medication. He’s quiet as he waits, she’s bound to hand him the cup back well before she finishes; she always does. And right on cue, the cup is passed back to him and he’s met with a grimace. "It’s disgusting, Arthur, what did you put in it this time? Rat poisoning?”  The inquiry weighs heavy upon the boy’s shoulders. He can feel anxiety boiling under the surface as his heart began to pound so heavily he may vomit. There’s a certain fear rooted deep down within him; that he’d disappoint her and something bad was to come of it but he can’t recall what. "I.. I wouldn’t do that ma ― W... why would you say that?" his voice trembles and is met with a scoff from his mother. Her head turns back towards the television, refusing to look at him as if she were too disgusted with him to even grace him with her gaze. "I know you’re poisoning me. That’s why I’ve been so sick." she insists. It’s not true. Arthur’s eyes swell with tears that threaten to fall, a knot forming in his throat and he’s trying to speak but he struggles to bring the words past his lips. "I would never  ― ma, I love you, I ― "  he’s hushed with the simple wave of her hand. "Just stop. I’ll make my own tea from now on." she states. He doesn’t protest; there’s no point. She’s delusional.  "I need you to run me a bath." she then says, deciding to end the subject after letting her suspicions be known. He stands in silent disbelief. Hurt, betrayed. But even so, his shoulders slack and he turns in silence to take the cup to the kitchen sink before heading to the bathroom. He runs the water and it’s mixed with tears that falls from his cheeks. ‘It’s just the medication  ― she doesn’t really mean that’ he tells himself. It becomes something that he has to tell himself every single day. It’s just the medication.

#jokethur #✦✧I've just been working on my material✧✦ ➝ ( drabble ) #aight ima go cry for a while #baby artie deserves so much better than penny

[joaquinfeed]

He's My (Boy)Friend (Arthur Fleck x Reader)

Prompt: Arthur thinks you both are just friends. You believe you've been dating for weeks and are just taking it slow. Misunderstandings ensue.

Note: I am back. As I said on a little post on my page, I couldn't get into this account for the longest time. After a year of not writing for Arthur, here is a new reader fanfic. I hope you enjoy. Please keep in mind that I am very rusty (as I haven't written anything remotely creative in a year), and this may be out of character.

Warnings: Some cursing Word Count: 2453

You’re used to getting yourself into situations.

There are situations in your personal relationships, situations at work, and really, if you’re being honest, your life is mostly one giant situation. However, one constant in your world since moving to Gotham City is Arthur Fleck.

The conversations between you and him have always been easy and unconditional. Neither of you expects the other to fill the silence every time you’re together. Instead, you’re both happy just existing in each other’s space until the next topic of thought comes up naturally.

That’s not to say your connection with him is boring—oh no. Arthur quite literally crashed into your world at Pogo’s Comedy Club one night after tripping into your table and sending your drinks flying onto the ground around you. Since then, your relationship with him has been a whirlwind of comfortable discussions, movie nights, and private comedy show’s containing Arthur’s best jokes.

And because of that, you’ve put absolutely no effort into stopping your heart from calling him near.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

You glance up to see Arthur’s neighbor Sophie standing in front of you with a smirk. Her brown eyes flicker with amusement as she leans against the wall of the building’s lobby.

“Sorry, Soph,” you smile sheepishly. “I was thinking.”

She gives you a knowing look before asking, “What about?”

“You know, just life things,” you shrug, trying to move past her towards the elevator that will take you to Arthur’s floor.

“Life stuff? I believe I’m familiar with that,” she chuckles, following you. “Does this ‘life stuff’ have anything to do with the long-haired, awkward clown from upstairs?”

“He’s not…awkward,” you tell her, pushing the button to the floor and leaning back to look at her. “He’s a nice guy.”

“People can be awkward and nice, you know? The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Fine, he might be a little awkward, but he’s charming too,” you say, crossing your arms. “He’s really sweet and funny, and he cares about people, Sophie. It’s not like you and I are so perfect and—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” she interrupts you before putting a hand on your arm and giving it a squeeze. “I’m not trying to make fun of Arthur, okay? Relax.”

You sigh. “Sorry, people can just be so shitty to him that sometimes I forget not everyone is trying to be malicious.”

“It’s all good,” she smiles. “You gotta stick up for your boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, biting your lip. “My boyfriend.”

The elevator comes to a shaky stop, and the doors slide open with a piercing screech. You step out into the hallway and take a right, walking silently towards Sophie’s apartment.

After a few quiet seconds, she glances over at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Arthur’s apartment is back the other way,” she says, pointing past the elevator to the other end of the long hallway.

“I know, I just—” you stop, hesitating on your next words. “I need some advice.”

Sophie stays quiet, prompting you to continue, but the familiar feeling of embarrassment washes over you as you contemplate your next words to her.

“I’m sorry, I know you’ve got to get inside to your kid, and I’m taking up all your time,” you start, letting out a sigh of frustration. “It’s just—It’s Arthur. How do I talk to him about where we are in the relationship? You know, Soph, it’s been almost five weeks of us dating, and he hasn’t tried to kiss me at all. I realize he could just be shy, but I’m kind of worried that maybe he doesn’t actually have feelings for me.”

“Ha! Arthur doesn’t have feelings for you,” she snorts, her face only turning more serious once she sees your frown. “Y/N, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. That dude looks at you like you literally flew to space and hung the stars and sun yourself.”

You smile softly as Sophie continues to speak.

“If you’re worried about why he’s not kissing you, just ask him,” she shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen? And if you don’t want to do that, just kiss him yourself. Maybe he’s the kind of guy who wants you to make a move first.”

“I guess I could kiss him,” you say skeptically before stopping to roll your eyes. “God, I feel like I’m in middle school.”

“I hear you,” she chuckles. “Dating never gets easier.”

You nod, stepping aside as Sophie unlocks her door and pushes it open. You thank her for her help, and she makes you promise to text her with updates on the ‘Arthur situation’ before she heads into her place, and you turn to walk back down the hallway to the opposite end.

When you reach Arthur’s door, you knock twice quietly, trying to be mindful of his mother, who’s usually napping around early afternoon. You listen carefully, and soon you can hear someone moving about inside. A few seconds later, the door opens up just enough for Arthur’s head to pop out from behind it.

“Hey,” you flash him a gentle smile, and he quickly steps back to open the door the rest of the way. “I didn’t mean to take so long, but I got caught in a conversation with Sophie.”

“That’s okay,” he says, letting you walk inside before shutting the door. “I was just helping my mom get into bed.”

You wait for him to join you on the couch before letting your arms snake around him in a hug, which he immediately returns.

“You’re so sweet with her,” you mumble into his shoulder. “She’s lucky to have a son like you.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, keeping the ambiance around you both hushed and relaxing.

As you hold him close, you feel Arthur’s steady breaths hitting your neck, and you realize for the first time since you’ve met him, he’s not erupting into uncomfortable, painful laughter after a compliment from you.

You pull back just enough to get a look into his eyes, but you only see warmth reflecting back at you. Suddenly, Sophie’s words from earlier are ringing through your ears. Just kiss him yourself. Maybe he wants you to make the first move. Just kiss him yourself. Just kiss him yourself.

For the three seconds it takes your lips to find his, you question whether Sophie’s advice was actually good advice. Still, as your lips finally collide into a soft kiss after weeks of waiting, the only other thought besides “Arthur” in your head is that you better write Sophie a thank you note.

You’re so caught up in Arthur’s taste overpowering all of your senses that you don’t even notice he’s not kissing back until you feel him tense up under your touch. You pull away gently, looking into his eyes, only to see that the warmth from earlier has been replaced by shock.

“Artie, are you okay?”

“I—I’m—” he stammers, his mouth twitching up into a smile.

On anyone else, it would have been endearing, but you’ve known him long enough to realize where this was going.

“Arthur,” you say in a low voice, backing up a few inches to give him some space on the cushioned couch. “What do you need?”

He covers his mouth, his head shaking, as short bursts of laughter sound through the apartment. You sit there, not wanting to ask him any questions that would only spur his condition along.

“S-sorry,” he breathes out between his laughs. “Not—not you.”

You nod sympathetically before walking to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water for him once he’s calmed down. As the sink water fills into the glass, you can hear Arthur’s wheezing turn into shallow breaths as he comes down from his attack.

You turn off the sink handle and walk back to the couch, placing the glass in front of him before taking your place by his side once again.

“Thank you,” he says for the second time that day after taking a few sips from the glass and returning it to the table.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, staying quiet.

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady so you don’t launch him into another attack. “I should have asked if you were okay with it. I just figured it might be okay since it’s been a month since we started this.”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he looks off to another part of the room. You can tell he’s wracking his brain for something; you’re just not sure what, and before you can ask, he’s looking back at you.

“What did we start?”

“Huh?”

“What did we, um, start a month ago?”

“Oh,” you say in realization. “I just meant that we started dating a month ago.”

Arthur’s eyes go wide beside you, but you’re too focused on getting the words you want to say out that you don’t notice.

“I know we promised to take it slow,” you continue. “It’s just really hard to not kiss you. When you make jokes, and your whole face lights up, or when you talk about Carnival and the shows you get to put on for the kids at the hospital, or when you answer the door in your cute pajama pants and messy hair—I mean, just everything. Everything makes me want to kiss you, Arthur. So, when you didn’t kiss me, I thought maybe you didn’t actually want to date me. Maybe you just didn’t know how to say no?”

The room is dead silent for a few looming seconds before Arthur squeaks out, “We’re dating?”

You pause, thinking to yourself. Did he ask me that? Was that a question? You run your mind back over every interaction from the moment you met him until now, and nowhere can you find an explanation as to how you could have misinterpreted the friendship for romance. Everything Arthur has said—everything you have said—makes it perfectly clear that you two are romantically involved. Right?

“Um, yes,” you push out a little awkwardly, hoping this is one of Arthur’s weird jokes. When he doesn’t immediately crack a smile, and instead, you see his cheeks flush red, you realize you truly have found yourself in another situation—a big, ill-fated, uncomfortable situation. Without warning, your eyes glaze over with tears as you come to terms with how much you messed up and what this will mean for your future with the comedian.

“Oh, God, Arthur,” you groan, putting your head into your hands. “I’m so sorry. This is all a huge misunderstanding. I thought you knew.”

“Y/N, can you look at me,” Arthur gently pulls at your arm. “When—why did you think that?”

You sigh. “Last month, I asked you to dinner, remember? I tried to be very obvious that it would just be the two of us. We went to that Italian restaurant downtown. I mean, didn’t you notice that the lights were dim, there were flowers on every table, and every other person in there was with their partner? It was clearly a date-night spot.”

“I didn’t notice,” he says honestly. “I only noticed you.”

You smile, feeling heat spreading through your chest.

“And when we came back to your place,” you continue, “you told me you wanted to take things slow! We had that whole conversation about being hurt in the past, being new to relationships, and all that. I even asked if we were official! How could I not get the wrong idea?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking ashamed and embarrassed by his oblivious behavior. “I thought—I thought you meant as friends.”

You tear your eyes away from his as a fresh set of tears forms. You cannot believe you’ve just been dumped—well, not technically, but it sure felt like it. Instead, and more accurately, you’ve just found out that your romance with Arthur has been no more than a figment of your imagination essentially. Of course, our “dates” were nothing more than friendly outings, you think to yourself. The loving touches, soft hugs, and whispered compliments were nothing but exchanges between two emotionally stunted friends. How fucking embarrassing.

Before you can wallow in self-pity any longer, Arthur starts speaking again.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head ‘no,’ but you both know you’re lying. “I just feel kind of stupid and like I took advantage of you.”

“You didn’t!”

You jump slightly at Arthur’s outburst, but your eyes stay trained on the floor in front of you as you talk. “I was being greedy for something that I never had in the first place.”

“You had me,” he says, almost begging with his words for you to meet his eyes again. “or—or you can have me.”

At that, you finally take a glimpse up, only to find that Arthur has shifted, so your noses are nearly touching once you catch his gaze.

“I can?”

He nods jerkily, emotions flashing across his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize before. I never thought you would want me like this.”

“I don’t know how anyone wouldn’t want you like this,” you tell him. “To be completely clear, I mean romantically.”

Arthur’s smirk at your joke slowly turns into a shy smile as he glances down at your lips that are only inches away from his. “Would it be okay if I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you chuckle as he closes the distance between you two. You cup his jaw, kissing him tenderly as he responds in kind. The kiss is a little clunky and awkward as you two try and figure each other out, but it’s easily the best kiss you’ve ever had.

By the time you finally pull apart, your heart is hammering in your chest, and your head’s a little dizzy from the feeling of Arthur’s lips on yours.

“Okay, and just to make sure,” you start, “I was kissing you with romantic intent. I have feelings for you.”

Arthur gives you a bewildered look. “You have feelings for me?”

“Wha—,” you stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded, before he breaks eye contact to try and gain control over his impending smile. You narrow your eyes in faux annoyance as you realize he’s only joking. “Oh, ha-ha. You think you’re so funny, Mr. Comedian, but you’re just an ass.”

“Well, maybe you will just have to convince me a little harder that we’re dating,” he smiles.

“Oh, I will definitely have to,” you say, bringing up a hand to rest on his cheek, “And after we’re done, trust me, there will be no room for a misunderstanding.”

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #joaquin phoenix #joker #joaquin phoenix joker #joker 2019 #arthur fleck x you #joker imagine #arthur x reader #joker fanfiction #arthur fleck imagine #joker fanfic #Arthur fleck fanfic #Joaquin phoenix fanfic #Joaquin phoenix imagine #my writing is humiliating but it will come back around (maybe)

[whiskehorange]

Arthur Fleck NSFW Alphabet

This is going to be more Arthur centered, of course, but if you'd like for me to do one more Joker based then let me know when requests are open!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare is an absolute must from Arthur. It's one of his favorite part of sex, really. He's extremely soft and gentle with your body, kissing and caressing any mark he may have caused in the process. It's a reward for him as well to see you wrapped around his finger and to be able to lie next to you stress free.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn't give too much thought into his own appearance, but your softness is his favorite. Smooth and soft to the touch and so comforting to him. He also just refuses to pick a one certain body part because he loves all of you equally.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside 100%, although he'll never admit it to you. It's something that has a lot of meaning to him and he really just wants to be a part of you in a different way.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I'm sure he'd keep pictures of you, lewd or not, with him at all times for him to peak at from time to time. Especially on days where the two of you are busy and he doesn't get to spend much time with you. Do what you will with this fact. He keeps them well hidden as well, he'd hate for someone else to see them.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not a lot, at all. It's going to be a learning experience for him and he's more than happy to either learn with you or have you take the ropes. There's a lot he doesn't know about, but he knows he's missing out on something good.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I'm fairly certain it's a close tie between a very close missionary or cowgirl. It's about being able to see your face and have the way to touch/kiss your face.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

During sex, Arthur does like to mellow himself out and take a much more serious and sentimental approach. Of course this goes without having a few giggles here and there but he wants to take this seriously to show you how much he'd do for you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It's not something he keeps up with at all really, so it's curly and dark brown like the rest of his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It's very quiet and sensual. He wants to make sure that you're as comfortable as possible and in the mood as well (perhaps some candles and rose petals in the bedroom)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Of course he's embarrassed to admit that he does it, but he see's it as more of a stress reliever than from sexual tension or need. You're in his mind when he does it, now that doesn't change, but he doesn't too it very frequently.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Pet names, body worship, praise, eye contact, slight edging, overstimulation, etc.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Home, and just about in any room for that matter. As long as you're there with him then he couldn't care.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Overly-nice tasks or favors for each other, sensual eye contact, physical touch, pampering, and seeing you genuinely having a good time with him (extra bonus points if you laugh, he loves your laugh)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation isn't something he'd be into right away, but give it some time and he could slowly slide into it. He still isn't a fan though,

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving, giving, and more giving! It comes with the whole praise and body worshipping and he's more than happy to do it for you. Not only is it a confidence boost for him, but he loves the way you taste. He'd never pass up an offer to receive because that does drive him absolutely wild.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It stays around the more slow/moderate pace up until the very end with quick, harder thrusts until he's finished. Arthur is more concerned with your wellbeing and feelings than his own, so if you want it a certain way he's bound to deliver it for you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

They aren't really his thing, he wants something more meaningful and lasting, he feels as though quickies don't properly show his love for you. He enjoys them while doing them, yes, but it's not something that he himself would ask for.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

It's scary, real scary. Not only does he really want to keep you all to himself but he wants to have no repercussions. It will take him some getting used to and some serious coaxing, but it'll be worth it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depending on the speed, he can finish quite a bit early, but he's also able to pump out a few rounds a night solely driven off of his love for you and nicotine. Max of about...3 rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You'll definitely have to be the one to introduce him to the idea, but he's not against it. He likes to watch you use them and is a bit curious to see how they might work on himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

His teasing is very verbal and he does it quite often. Especially when it comes to telling each other what you want to do to the other. It normally doesn't last very long, but it happens frequently.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Arthur is a bit more on the quiet side up until the very end. He also whimpers and whines a lot which he normally doesn't realize he's doing. He lives to hear your moans and cries and strives to hear you begging.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

His favorite time of the day is when he wakes up before you, seeing your sleeping body lie beside him to peacefully. It makes him not want to get out of bed but, he's positive you'd like to be woken up with some breakfast made by yours truly.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Long and skinny/medium width.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Overall, it can be pretty high, but he knows how to control himself amazingly. You genuinely call of the shots when it comes to sex and if he's in the mood but you're not then he's perfectly okay with waiting.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You definitely fall asleep before him, but this gives him time to give you gentle aftercare until you fall asleep and hold you in his arms. He'd rather think of the two of you for the time being until he himself drifts off.

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #joker x reader #joker film