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drabbles-mc · 11 months

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Unprofessional

Walt Breslin x F!Reader

For Day 10 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Alphabet: jealousy

Warnings: 18+, language, smoking, alcohol, smut

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: The way that I had to fight myself to not let this turn into a 10k fic 😂 I'm already in love with this reader and the general vibe of this fic and idkidk maybe I'll write more for them down the road. Who knows? Not me!

NMX Taglist: @narcolini @ashlingnarcos @hausofmamadas @garbinge @cositapreciosa @southotheborder @artemiseamoon @proceduralpassion (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Walt watched as Sal’s car rolled up to the motel that you and Walt were staying at. He was glad that you at least let someone else bring you home, because based off how you were when he’d left the bar a little more than an hour before, you probably shouldn’t have been behind the wheel. It was usually him that was driving you to and from wherever you had to go, or vice versa on days when Walt didn’t want to put up a fight about it. Judging by the way you were laughing as you opened the door and stepped out of Sal’s car, you didn’t seem to mind the switch up.

He watched you as you leaned on the edge of the window, smiling and laughing still as you thanked Sal and told him that you’d see him tomorrow. Walt caught the way the man waved to him as well, and he returned the gesture from his chair. It was your chair, actually. It’d come out of your room. You set it up in the little stretch of space between the door to your motel room, and the door to Walt’s. You’d be sitting there with your coffee in the morning, and Walt would sometimes be out there in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep, dragging on his cigarettes, not unlike he was now.

You were practically sauntering up to him, the headlights of Sal’s car behind you rendering you as nothing more than a silhouette in the few seconds before he turned around and peeled out the lot to head back to his own spot.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a smile, “you left early.”

He shrugged, noncommittal. “Yea.”

You still felt like you were buzzing, warm more from the alcohol than the actual temperature. Still, even in your slight haze, you could see the annoyance on Walt’s face. “You okay?”

He gave a short nod, his tone and his words not lining up in the slightest as he said, “I’m fine.”

You were in no mood to try and pull it out of him, and even if you were, you didn’t know if you would be anything close to successful. So instead, you swiped the pack of cigarettes off the arm of the chair he was sitting in and took one out for yourself. The two of you were in a constant loop of bumming them off each other—neither of you bothered asking anymore.

“You know,” you spoke as well as you could with your lips wrapped around the cigarette—you sparked the lighter before continuing, “I know shit has been real rough lately, but that doesn’t mean you can’t ever have a good time.”

Walt shook his head, like you were saying the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Looked like you were all having a good enough—”

“Would’ve been nice if you were there, though,” you cut him off, smoke swirling out from between your lips as you spoke. “Couldn’t take, what, three hours out of the twenty-four to not be all broody?” you said, just enough of a smile on your face to keep that question from starting a full-blown argument. Walt gave you another shake of his head and it only caused you to double-down. “We missed you.”

He scoffed. “Didn’t seem like you were missing much of anything when I left.”

You burst out laughing at that. “I’m sorry?”

“No, I’m just,” he took a drag off his cigarette, “just surprised that Sal brought you back. Looked like you were gonna be goin’ home with your new friend there at the bar.”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing as you tapped the ash off the end of your smoke. “You think I’m that easy, Breslin?”

He frowned slightly as he shrugged, an expression that was less about being upset and more about being uncertain. “I don’t know what I think about you.”

The statement was a little bit of a lie. Walt thought about you plenty. Some of it had to do with work, a lot of it didn’t. He’d had plenty of time to think about you since he met you, but there was still a lot that he didn’t know. Like how suave and flirty you could be when you were trying to get a free drink or two out of someone, like how watching you do that put a knot in his gut that had no right to be there.

It was the first time the two of you had ever worked together. Before you all got pulled together into the Smash & Grab that you now were, Walt was working in El Paso while you came over from Miami. Neither of you had known each other prior to this, and while you noticed that Walt seemed to have built a rapport with a few of the other men on his team, you were flying in completely blind. You didn’t know anyone. Walt quickly noticed, however, that that didn’t seem to slow you down. You quickly made it part of your job to get to know everyone at least a little bit, just enough to figure out how you should interact with them for the sake of not letting the team fray apart at the edges. It was a good skill, one Walt made a mental note to work on if you all made it out of this mess alive.

All of you had your own rooms, scattered across a few different low-budget motels. You were all smart enough to not all hole up in the same place together, but no one wanted to be completely alone. There was a fine line between having safety in numbers, and making yourselves easy targets to get wiped out in one fell swoop.

Your rooms weren’t adjoining, but you and Walt did share a wall. The walls were thin enough for him to hear the muffled sounds of your television, or for you to hear him if he was on the phone with someone, but you’d have to have your ear pinned tight to the wall if you wanted to make out the exact words on the other side.

He felt like he’d learned a fair bit about you in the relatively short span of time that he was your neighbor, one flimsy wall away from being your roommate. You were always up early, but went to bed late. He only had the latter part of that down for himself—he’d never mastered being a morning person. He’d step outside to have his first cigarette of the morning and you would already be up, coffee in one hand and a manila folder packed with information in the other. But there were still too many blanks for him to have any right feeling the way he felt about you.

“Hey,” you said with a quiet laugh as you tapped the side of his boot with yours, “Earth to Breslin.” You waited for him to look over at you. “Are we good?”

He shrugged, nodding. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know,” you said as you took an inhale from your cigarette, the warmth from your liquor at the bar fading for the moment as you tried to figure out why it felt like things were suddenly off-kilter between the two of you. “You took off, and now you’re acting different. So…are we good?”

“You just,” he looked everywhere but at you, knowing that he was digging himself into a hole that was going to be a bitch to try and get out of, “you gotta be careful.”

“About what?”

“About all of it!” He dropped his cigarette to the ground and put it out with the ball of his foot. “You can’t trust anyone we—”

“The guy bought me a drink, Walt,” you cut him off, unable to believe that this was the conversation the two of you were having. “I wasn’t telling him trade secrets. Fuck, I didn’t even give him my real name. As far as he knows,” you gestured to where Sal had been a few minutes before, “Sal is my fuckin’ boyfriend.”

Leaning back in the chair, he finally looked at you. “Alright.”

You shook your head. “Alright.” You paused for a beat. “You know, maybe you should’ve stayed for an extra drink or two. Maybe you could loosen up for all of two minutes.”

He didn’t want to keep arguing with you. Really, that was the exact opposite of what he wanted. Even so, it took more effort than it should’ve for him to finally say, “Maybe.”

You weren’t really looking for an argument either. You’d left the bar in a perfectly chipper mood and the last thing you wanted was for it all to fizzle out now. You hadn’t expected to come back to this. Walt always had that edge to him, an overtone of sourness, but this felt different.

“There something we should talk about?” you asked.

Of course there was. There were plenty of things that he should talk to you about. But he wasn’t going to start those conversations, didn’t really know how to. Instead, he pushed up out of his chair, standing up so that the two of you were hardly a step away from each other.

“Shit’s different down here,” he finally said. “So just, just be careful.”

“It’s a little late in the game to have doubts about me now,” you told him. “If you have issues with what I did, how I operate, then you shouldn’t have brought me all the way—”

“It’s not that,” he cut you off. He could tell by the look on your face that you wanted to snap and say, “Then what the fuck is it?” but he didn’t know if he was ready to get into all of that. It definitely didn’t feel like the right time now. “I just…don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” He knew that the statement was skating too close to the complete truth, so he tried to cushion it with, “All you guys, you’re my responsibility. I don’t want shit going south if we can prevent it.”

“Can you be less of a pain in the ass about it?” you asked, the smallest hint of lightness returning to your tone.

He let out a weary chuckle. “I can try.”

You waited for him to have something else to say, but when it didn’t seem like he was going to, you prodded. “Anything else?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but then he backpedaled on it. “No.”

You had the nagging feeling that the conversation wasn’t done, but you didn’t know how to continue it without letting it devolve into another argument. Putting out your cigarette, you gestured to your room. “Drink? Since you bailed early.”

Walt knew that he shouldn’t go, that he should just turn and head back into his own room. But he felt like he owed you this. It was the best he could do for an apology without having to actually apologize.

“So,” he sat on the edge of one of the two beds in your room, the one that didn’t seem like you slept on it every night, “what’d you tell him?”

“Hm?” you asked as you poured liquor from the bottle in your bag into two paper cups. It wasn’t as nice as drinks at the bar, but Walt lost that opportunity quite a while ago.

“Said you didn’t tell the guy your real name. What’d you tell him?” He was as curious as he was jealous. It was a side of you he’d never seen before and he wondered if any of it was genuine.

You laughed as you handed him one of the cups, taking a seat on the end of the bed next to him. “I’ve got a whole rolodex of lines I give people in bars,” you took a sip of your drink, “especially when I’m working.”

He chuckled at the mental image of that, just cards upon cards flipping through in your brain whenever someone approached you and offered to buy you a drink. “Yea?”

“Yea. Why? Looking for some pointers?” you asked as you nudged his shoulder with yours.

“No, no.”

“Sounds like you might be,” you joked. “Should’ve stuck around and seen it for yourself.”

“I saw plenty,” he mumbled out without thinking better of it.

The statement didn’t give you pause so much as the way he said it. Turning to face him, you asked, “What was that?”

He shook his head, a little too quick to be casual. “Nothing.”

The fresh wave of warmth washing over you from the drink you’d been sipping on didn’t slow down the turning of the gears in your brain. “Is…is that why you—”

“No,” he cut you off, already knowing where the sentence was going and not wanting it to go there.”

Your eyes widened for a moment. “All that shit about me being careful,” you shook your head, “and you’ve been sulking here this whole time because you were jealous?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say it like that,” he told you, unable to look you in the eyes.

Leaning back, you braced the palm of your empty hand against the mattress. “Then look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong.” The silence that passed spoke volumes, as did the fact that Walt’s eyes stayed glued to the cup in his hands. “You could’ve offered to buy me a drink,” you said, shifting your tone a little bit, softening the conversation just slightly.

Walt rolled his eyes, not liking the fact that this was all starting to feel a lot like pity. “It’s not,” he sighed, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “just forget it.”

“No,” you said with a laugh, “I won’t.”

Finally, he turned and looked at you. “I have never seen you act like that with anyone before.”

You chuckled. “Yea, well, that’s because they say it’s usually bad form to flirt with your coworkers. Bedroom eyes are unprofessional, apparently.”

That got a choked laugh out of him. “Apparently.”

“I like you, Walt,” you said.

His eyes widened for a moment as he registered what you’d just said. “Yea?”

You laughed, nodding. “Yea. When you’re not pouting quite so much, I like being around you. I’m, you know,” you gestured to the wall behind you, behind the headboards, “I’m glad I share a wall with you.”

His eyes dropped back to the floor. “It’d be stupid to do something, right?”

You shrugged, finishing off your drink. “Yea. But, I mean,” you laughed softly, “it’s also kinda stupid to get jealous over some random guy in a bar buying me a drink sooo…” your voice trailed off.

Walt sighed, letting his head drop back so that he was looking up at the ceiling. No matter what did or didn’t happen next, he knew that he wasn’t ever going to live that down. “Right.”

He followed your lead, finishing off his drink as well. You could see it in his body language that he was about to get up and leave, take the few short steps that would get him back to his room on the other side of the wall. You didn’t want him to go.

Clearing your throat, you said, “Walt?”

He looked over at you, and only got half a syllable out of whatever his response was going to be before you leaned in and brought your lips to his. You felt the way he froze for a moment, a brief hesitation that almost had you pulling away and apologizing. You two had just finished saying it would be a stupid idea.

But then Walt’s brain caught up with the rest of him and he was kissing you back. Empty paper cups fell almost silently to the floor as you brought the hand that wasn’t helping you keep your balance to his chest, fingers curling into the cloth of his flannel and pulling him towards you even more. Walt had one hand on your thigh, the other barely grazing the side of your face, like he was afraid to commit to holding it.

If the circumstances had been different, maybe you would’ve taken your time. Knowing that Walt had been stewing on those feelings for however long would’ve made you a little more patient. But every second since you crossed the border had felt borrowed, and you didn’t want to waste a single one. So you quickly maneuvered yourself, swinging one leg over him so that you were sitting, straddling his lap.

You ran both hands up Walt’s chest, and despite the fact that he still had on his flannel and his t-shirt, he still let out a, “Fuck,” under his breath as your palms and fingers raked over him. His hands settled on your hips as you kissed him again. All either of you could taste off each other was liquor and cigarettes, but at least it was honest.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders as you began to grind your hips against his. He moaned into your mouth as he kissed you, hands sliding from your hips to your ass. Whatever hesitation he’d felt before was long gone now, along with the annoyances the two of you had been volleying back and forth since you got back.

You pulled away just enough so that you could pull your shirt off over your head. Walt was left slack jawed for a moment, taking in the sight of you on his lap with nothing on but your bra and jeans. When the gears finally started turning again, he ran through all the buttons on his shirt faster than you’ve ever seen anyone ever do it before. Within seconds, both his shirts were discarded onto the floor alongside yours.

His hands came to rest on your sides, gentle at first, like he was still wrapping his mind around the fact that he got to touch you like this. Then he gripped onto you with a little more force, bringing you back in so he could kiss you again. His arms wrapped around you, hands splaying across your back. Every motion was punctuated with blunt fingernails and rough callouses, the sensation of it making you put a little more urgency in your movements as your hips moved against his.

Letting his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, he spoke, words coming out muffled against your mouth but you could make them out well enough as he said, “C’mere.”

Deceptively strong in a way that caught you off-guard, Walt had you on your back on the mattress, himself positioned between your legs and hovering over your chest. He kissed you on the lips one more time before pulling away from you. He pulled away just enough so that he could undo the button and zipper of your jeans. You quickly toed off your boots, making it easier for Walt to pull your pants and underwear down your legs and completely off you. You shimmied a little farther up the bed as he rid himself of the last of his clothing as well.

Then he was right back on top of you, one hand cupping your face, one hand gripping onto your thigh. You didn’t let him pull his lips back off of yours, desperate for just a little more. Sliding one hand down between your bodies, you wrapped it around him. The contact immediately caused him to moan, made him buck into your hand even though you hadn’t started moving it yet.

Smiling into the kiss, you brought your other hand up, lacing your fingers through his hair and gripping, tugging just slightly as your other hand started to slowly move up and down his length. He muttered curses against your lips as he brought the hand that was on your thigh between your legs, pulling sounds out of you that he hadn’t even dared to daydream about.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you lined him up at your entrance. You let him feel how wet you already were, dragging the head of him up and down your slit. His hand was balled into a tight fist on the sheets beside your head, trying to have a modicum of self-control. You saw how hard he was fighting to keep it together, and you almost wanted to have something slick to say, but more than that you just wanted him inside you, so you guided him in and he had no hesitation about thrusting the rest of the way into you.

All the stress, the anger, the weight of the world that Walt always made himself carry around on his own shoulders, it all seemed to disappear for a moment. You wondered if it was because he finally found a good enough distraction, or if it was because he could channel all that anger with the world into the thrust of his hips. Maybe things just seemed a little less hopeless when he had you saying his name against the shell of his ear, asking for more.

You made it so easy for him to not have to think about anything but you. Every single part of you felt like it was there for him in that moment, and that feeling alone almost had him seeing stars right off the rip.

He could hear it in your voice, the way you gasped and whined, that you were close. Your nails raked down the side of his face, over the stubble that was getting longer by the day, searching for any kind of tether to hold onto. Your nails left a series of crescents behind, digging into his shoulder and back as you came, your hips desperately bucking up against his. He followed shortly after, reveling in the feel of you, in knowing that he was able to get you like this. He kissed you hard as he came inside you, rough enough to put a little pain in with all of the pleasure.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, you slipped beneath the thin sheet and blanket on top of the bed. Up until now it’d been perfectly made the entire time you’d been staying there. You watched Walt as he swiped his underwear off the floor, pulling them on before grabbing yours as well. He held them out slightly, a wordless question, and you couldn’t help but to laugh as you nodded and let him toss them to you.

You saw the flicker of apprehension on his face, like he was trying to figure out whether or not he should be putting the rest of his clothes back on too. “You can stay,” you told him with a nod, propping the side of your face in your hand. “No point in leaving just to be on the other side of the wall.”

He visibly relaxed at that, relief coursing through him. “Right.”

He climbed in on the other side of the bed, laying close but still leaving a bit of a gap between you. He didn’t know what was supposed to happen now, what the protocol was supposed to be. None of this had been in his plans.

Rolling over, you swiped your pack of cigarettes and your lighter off the night stand that was between the two beds. You held the pack out to him, offering him one. He took one, of course, and since you were the one with the lighter in your hand, he even let you light it for him before you grabbed one for yourself and sparked it up.

He watched as you laid on the bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling as you blew smoke rings. You looked so pleased with yourself, bedsheet pulled up over your chest as you watched the smoke rise and then disappear.

“That your party trick?” he asked.

You laughed, turning your head to look over at him. “Hardly. My last partner, the one I had before I came down here, he taught me how to do it.” You took another drag off your cigarette, puffing out another ring for emphasis. “Too many hours cooped up in a shitty car on stakeouts with nothing better to do.”

He chuckled. “Oh yea?”

“Don’t worry,” you looked over at him with an amused glint in your eyes, “I wasn’t doing this on stakeouts.”

“I didn’t say—”

“You would’ve thought of it later and never let it go,” you cut him off, giving a small dismissive wave of your hand, painting a swirl with the smoke coming off your cigarette as you did.

There was more to be said, you were sure of it. There were discussions to be had, probably boundaries to be laid out. But you didn’t want to get into all of that in the moment. It was good. Things felt good and easy after weeks of everything feeling anything but good and easy. Judging by the look on Walt’s face, he was having very similar thoughts. So you both finished your cigarettes in silence. Walt leaned, reaching over you to drop it into the ashtray. On the way back, he stopped, letting his arm drape across you for a moment. The look on his face was one of asking for permission, like he needed to know that this little bit of softness was okay after everything that had happened.

You just smiled before reaching and turning off the lamp, sending the room into darkness. Rolling onto your side so that your back was to Walt, you gently grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm around you. He slid up behind you so that his chest was pressed to your back, keeping the two of you close. This would do for now. Everything else could at least wait until morning.

#nffalphabet #jealousy #narcos mexico fanfiction #narcos mexico #narcos: mexico #nmx #walt breslin #walt breslin x reader #walt breslin x you #x reader #x reader fic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 2 months

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Congrats on the (well-deserved) 1k! Can't miss that opportunity to ask you stuff >w< 🧠 What's a random little headcanon from (You got me) in the palm of your hand that you didn't get to include, a scene you scrapped or a detail you changed?

✍️ What was your writing process like for Hic sunt dracones?

💀 Would you rather drink tea or coffee?

Thank you so much for the kind words and for the questions! 🥰💖

🧠

Altogether, there was not a lot I scrapped but rather a lot I added. The original outline for this fic was four chapters rather than the six and an epilogue it ended up with, but then the sex scene spiraled out of control (like they tend to do), and then Steve wanted to visit Eddie in his rent before Nancy showed up, and then the platonic soulmates wanted to have a moment in Robin's bedroom and how could I say no to extra Stobin?😅

I'm still very happy with how the fic turned out bc I really like the pacing and I think the extra bits really add to the character dynamics. 🥰

✍️

Oh my God, here we go!

So, everyone is gonna laugh at me now, but when I first thought of that story, I thought it would be SHORT! 🤣

When I started writing, I had everything up to Eddie’s first shift and the fullmoon sex scene planned out, and I thought it would be a relatively quick write that I just needed to get out of my system.

By the time I finished chapter 1, I began to realize that this would … not be the case. 😅 The thing kept getting longer and longer and the backstory and world building kept getting more and more complex, and that poor guy was still stuck in dragon form. 😂

By the time I finally got to the big reveal, I had a solid idea of the ending I wanted (dramatic tower plummet, followed by happy end and throne sex), but the in-between was very, very foggy, and remained like that until I wrote the escape scene almost. (The outline for the entire middle part literally read “they hang out at the lair and fuck a lot” for the longest time. It gave me massive anxiety.) It literally all fell into place when I figured out the role I wanted Wayne to play, and from that moment on, it finally came together. (Except for chapter 13, aka the longest fight scene in existence, which felt like I was bodily wrestling it out of my brain and into the doc.)

The flower crown, btw? Not mentioned in the outline with a single word, I only thought of adding that about one chapter prior. 😅🌸

💀

I'm a coffee gal through and through. There's one brand of tea I'd kill for, though - mango and ginger flavored. I can drink that stuff like water.

I'm celebrating 1k followers - let's chat! 💖

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #1k followers #asks and replies #hic sunt dracones #(you got me) in the palm of your hand

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ecofinisher · 4 months

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Valentines stuff I didn't post during the 14th, because I didn't.

I made a heart with lights on the wall 😐

I picked four random couples, cause I didn't have enough time to search for poses and all that only for said day. (Also I heard about the malware hidden in some mod pages, so I rather avoid the pages for a while)

Ok I added a platform, because otherwise, you couldn't see the heart.

I just realized I had a fourth couple and forgot to screenshot them.....

Don't ask, but I don't like the new Goth version and stuck with the old ones. The only thing I would change would be Bella's skin.

Ah yes, Ayesha Ansari and Xander Clavell in Sims 4 are so unrealistic 💀

Bonus: Ok not a bonus, but that was my previous plan on S3, but I disliked it somehow

Like I had spontaneously the idea to do something for Valentines day on said day and had two ideas in mind. A couple dancing in the middle of the heart or more couples dancing around the heart. I found this on the gallery from the Seasons pack. I just wanted to see, if this would look any cute, but the teeth are bothering.....

But we all know, they DON'T WANT TO DANCE THE WAY I WANTED. And for some reason Gerda was nauseous (Story Progression made her pregnant 😭)

*Sings something romantic in Spanish* Oh by the way, they're Rollan & Gerda from Snow Queen.

7/10 rating for my creation. Weirdly they look better here than in S4.

This was my idea, but they were all on the wrong spot. Then I had a plan C and filmed all couples from the near slow-dancing. THEN JAMIE'S HUSBAND DECIDED WITH ME HAVING THE ACTIVITY TURNED OF GO TO WORK AND BREAKING THE ACTION BY HIMSELF!

With some cute music each couple dancing would be cute :3 Except I didn't know what to put on it 😂 (Watch me put Amy MacDonald over Rollda, because the movie did the same)

Right you become a James Bond-rip-off, when you get Level 10 in Law Enforcement. He's also the dumbass, that decided to leave the dance for work. (He's also a workaholic, so....)

Fun fact: Both their names mean the same thing, but when I made him I just gave him a random name xD

My child-me had weird Sim-ships. But hey, I had a cousin get interested into the game, because of Leighton!

River the rizzler 🤣 Okay, this is what you get from being around a Langerak for too long. (Also I like seeing her in a smoking somehow🥵)

Can't take her expressions here serious.....

It's been raining the whole time and all just enjoyed the party. That's the spirit!

The Adrinette of Sims. Don't ask me why, I think it doesn't make sense.

Ayesha out of nowhere decided to get her husband wet.

Well, that's all. I just wanted to share this here as well. Did it on said day on Instagram, but pictures remain there in low quality.

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fleckcmscott · 1 year

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Glad and Golden Hours

Summary: Two months after Arkham, Christmas Eve is on its way. Y/N and Arthur prepare to host their nearest, dearest friends.

Words: 4,466

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This comes from a request made by @sweet-nothings04. Thank you for the opportunity to add to the Stepping Stones series and get to know Robert a little more - in many ways, he’s still a stranger to me! 😂 Hope you all enjoy! Have a wonderful holiday season! ⛄

Arthur snipped each layer of twine, and the pine's branches lowered in a curtsy of festive green.

They'd gotten a Christmas tree later than usual this season, a mere two days before the holiday. (Mike from New Hampshire apologized for his tree stand's slim pickings. Arthur found the last six and a half footer tucked under a tarp.) With Y/N's return to full-time hours at the office and the burst of gigs that'd come his way, they'd barely had time to breathe. The work was welcome, especially the charity events at the mall and clinic. Waypoints on a map that led to routine.

It'd also taken a lot out of him. Too little tiredness had morphed into too much. His body was still processing the medication switch from Arkham, and starting last Thursday, he'd lowered the dose of his anti-depressant to 20mg, a change suggested by Dr. Ludlow to help with fatigue.

It was a marvel, the difference having a partner made in recovery, how it helped three steps forward remain three steps. (The days it slipped back to two he mostly kept to himself.) He and Y/N had even made love twice this month, including the Saturday afternoon he'd woken her from a nap. A kiss to her bare shoulder and he'd fallen into her. Satisfyingly simple - and initiated by him.

Branches freed, he turned to see her standing before their console stereo, stretching to tape red and gold garland to the wall. Most of their ornaments had come with her from Missouri, but this decoration was theirs. The shiny foil had caught his eye from across the pharmacy aisle, gone into their shopping basket without delay. Started the tradition of adding a bauble to their collection every year.

When she made a disgruntled groan, lifted her right foot to reach a smidge higher, he chuckled. "Let me do that," he said, crossing to her. He taped it a good four inches above her fingertips. The garland dipped in the middle, an approving smile anchored by cascades of color on each end.

"Thank you." She moved to kneel on the stereo, grabbed a big red bow from her left. She hooked it on the smile. "Remind me to start the Swiss steaks in the morning. They have to cook ten hours."

A loose hold on her waist, more of a protective hovering lest she lose her balance. "I think that's the only recipe I've seen in your handwriting."

"I copied it out of a magazine in a doctor's office and served it every Christmas back home. Mabel always took the smallest piece. But the kids liked it and it wasn't half bad. Made it easy to keep an eye on my father, too." That she could mention her past without a hitch in her voice, that she'd share the dish him, turned Arthur's hovering into a caress. She patted his hand. "If you agree with Mabel, you won't go hungry. We'll be lucky to close the fridge, with all Patricia's going to bring."

Ah, yes. Patricia and Robert.

Arthur had gotten close enough to Patricia to hide her paltry smoking from Y/N, to be entrusted with secret tidbits about his wife. But Robert remained an enigma. The man had attended their wedding, like any friend should. Joined blue moon double dates concocted by their better halves. He was quiet, stayed on the periphery.

Patricia also knew the details of Arthur's relapse; Robert barely cracked a grin at his jokes.

Other than when Y/N's family had visited (one bathroom for eight people; bah humbug, indeed), Arthur and she had celebrated by themselves. Truth be told, he would've preferred it stay that way. They'd barely had an anniversary. For his sake, she'd declined her sister's invitation to Thanksgiving. Though it'd worked out in the end, his damned moods had botched Black Friday shopping.

She hadn't minded any of it, she said. He believed her. But he also loved her. There was no reason to let her in on every negative thought, every doubt. When she'd asked about having friends over, her smile had dazzled at the idea. How could he have declined? With everything she'd done for him? He'd hung onto her happiness, a dog finally catching the car it'd been chasing, and said yes.

Now that car just had to be small enough to handle.

"You still up to hosting?" she asked, peeking at him over her shoulder.

He prayed for a moped instead of a tank. "Yeah."

That irresistible smile came again. She slid backwards off the console, clipping his toes with her heel. She'd just begun to lean into him, when she squinted and sped in the direction of the front door. "Shit, I forgot the poinsettias. I'll run to Ed's. Please get out the lights!"

~~~~~

Thickened liquid shot the mercury to 160 degrees. "Quick, quick, put the pot on the trivet."

Y/N followed Patricia's command. Without the older woman at her side, Y/N wouldn't have trusted herself to make anything involving a cooking thermometer. Black sludge had resulted from her one attempt at chocolate fudge. Scraping it into the trash, she'd forsworn any recipes involving that tool forever.

Two teaspoons of vanilla extract met furious whisking. When Patricia cracked open a bottle of whiskey, Y/N covered the pot with her forearm. Steam dampened the sleeve of her sweater. "Can we add that later?"

"Arthur still not drinking?"

"Besides a sip of my wine every now and then, no."

"He's smarter than all of us combined." Patricia picked up the pot, poured the mixture through a mesh strainer into an awaiting ceramic bowl.

Y/N hugged her at the waist. Patricia had taken a keen interest in Arthur's recovery. Made a point to ask how he was at least once a week, how everything compared to before. It was a first for Y/N, having stepping stones of support to climb. Patricia being her wonderful self was a gift. And she'd been a dear to suggest putting together an old-fashioned Christmas for Arthur, to offer to do the heavy lifting and give them both a break.

Over dinner, she'd updated them on the latest at Shaw & Associates. Her new colleague, the third since Y/N had left, was a total bore. Never wanted to order lunch, completely lacked a sarcasm detector. The Wayne Foundation was looking to start another charity arm, this one for the arts. It followed a trend of donations focused less on the poor and needy, more on galas and museums for the rich and needless. After nearly a decade of chasing, Matt had finally won back his ex-wife Laura. All victory had taken was a river cruise and a prenup.

Arthur had tapped his fork on his plate, his face a mask of bewilderment. "Why marry someone already planning to divorce?"

The Swiss steaks had turned out well enough for Robert to ask for leftovers. He could handle sticking them in the microwave and wanted to give Patricia a well-deserved break. It was flattering, them choosing Y/N's cooking for Christmas Dinner. Patricia's duchess potatoes - her daughter Ruby's favorite - were a buttery take on spuds Y/N could eat every day. And Patricia had prepared a small tray of mac and cheese for Arthur to heat up in the oven, replete with 3" x 5" instruction card and tied with a bow.

Just then, the bathroom door creaked open. Y/N peered into the living room. A hand the size of a catcher's mitt and holding a beer gestured frantically for Arthur to get his butt on the couch. Robert chastised him like an old uncle, groused that he'd missed a touchdown, updated him on the score. Arthur hiked up his trousers. Settled next to him and leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. She bit back a chuckle. Football interested Arthur about as much as hardening cement, and even then, the cement might win out.

When the teams on TV huddled on the sidelines, she came to the rescue. She strode to the back of the couch and bent between them. The seven minutes left on the clock were a godsend. "Miracle on 34th Street is on NCB, and Robert Shaw Chorale's Christmas Spirit is on PBS. Take your pick."

"Robert Shaw," Arthur said.

Robert stood, stretched his arms behind his back. His shoulders snapped, crackled, and popped. "Doesn't matter to me. The Wildcats are gonna blow it either way." He pulled a pack of Silk Cuts from his front pocket and went to the fire escape to light up.

Arthur's brow furrowed into a mountain range. "He's not very friendly. I don't know if he wants to be here. He could watch the game at home."

While Robert was the strong silent type, Y/N sensed a softness hiding underneath. He'd agreed to go to marriage counseling with Patricia. He always ensured she walked on the inside of the sidewalk, a protective gesture from an earlier era. Tonight, he'd rubbed his stomach after each bite of potatoes, a compliment to Patricia's kitchen wizardry.

Y/N offered a gentle reply. "This is their first Christmas without their daughter and grandson." Ruby had married the Gotham General tech she'd met six years ago, and she and Brian were spending the holiday weekend with his family upstate. "You know how when I have a bad day, and I just want to forget it? When we kiss or sit without saying anything? That's enough. Sometimes having a friend sit with you is enough."

Arthur's boyish dimples reappeared. "I won't be kissing him anytime soon."

"Good. That'd send him running back to Burnside."

Later, she served eggnog: three with a shot of whiskey, one virgin. An angelic choir drifted from the television, familiar and comforting as crocheted mittens. Popcorn bowl at her side, Patricia sat on the living room carpet and invited Arthur to join her. She pulled a coin purse from her pocket, took out two big needles connected by a long, black thread. She demonstrated how to slide a fluffy flake down the string.

"I love the smell of pine," Patricia said, five kernels in. "This year we got an artificial. It just isn't the same."

"There's canned pine scent," Y/N suggested. "Donahue's has it by the artificial snow."

"From Aurora Fresheners? We tried that. The whole apartment smelled like a bathroom. When I was a kid, it was real or nothing. My mother hated the needles. One Christmas, when I was six, I asked Santa for a sled. I dragged it over to Cherry Hill - that's down by the water district - and slid right through a fence into the reservoir. They sent mom a bill for repairs. She made me clean up all the needles. With a broom."

Laughter threw Y/N's head back. Although her family hadn't been religious, they'd gone to the usual seasonal social gatherings. Being in the Bible Belt, they'd revolved around the local church. "One Christmas service, a candle caught a lock of my hair. It smelled terrible, like burning rubber. Mabel and I gagged our way to the bathroom."

There were other recollections, of course, ones she kept locked in the keepsake box of her heart. Her earliest holiday season in Gotham had marked seven months in a new state in a new city in a new home. Though only three people worked in her new office, her new boss Matt had planned a Secret Santa. That she'd gotten an Aqua Velva soap on a rope (a discount store bestseller) had made it obvious who'd drawn her name.

For the first time, she'd experienced a truly frigid chill, one that'd frozen her bones. Admired Christmas windows grander than she'd ever seen. Rented ice skates at Gotham Park and exchanged smiles with Ned, a cute man in flannel and jeans who'd complimented her form. The hot chocolate they'd shared at the concession stand had been surprisingly rich. But she'd resisted Ned's suggestions to make a snowman, to surrender her last name and phone number. The evening had ended with thanks and well wishes.

New to herself, she hadn't wanted to play the game of pursuit. Not yet. She'd cherished the quiet of her own place, a hard-won light at the end of twenty years of tunnel. When she'd sat at the counter of a nearby diner on Christmas Eve, sliced turkey roll and canned cranberry sauce before her, a wave of joy had overwhelmed, to the point where she'd had to dab at her eyes.

"Thanks for this," she'd whispered to what was probably nothing. The closest thing to a pray she'd offered in her life.

Arthur's mouth tightened in concentration, popcorn stuck on the eye of the needle. "At school we made paper chains. I brought mine home and taped it on the TV. My mom and I watched the Murray Franklin Christmas Special."

"They had a dance floor for the audience in the sixties," Patricia said. "We got tickets once, really lucked out. Bing Crosby was there, Slam Bradly, too. Remember that, dear?" She directed her inquiry at the sofa.

Robert twisted to look at them over the cushions. "We did a pretty good Lindy hop back then."

"You and Y/N should go next year!"

The flake Arthur had been wrangling broke into crumbles.

Y/N's regard shot to him. There was a tremble in his fingers so subtle only she would notice. Since his spot as a Special Guest, Murray Franklin hadn't been welcome in their homes. Before they'd moved in together or after. Whenever the TV Guide happened to feature his smug mug on the cover, Arthur tore it clean from the spine. He'd flick cigarettes towards bus stop ads for Live! If he was in the mood for late night comedy, he'd catch David Endochrine with her.

"I don't think so," Arthur said. He fingered another kernel to try again. But after a moment, he laid the needle and thread in the bowl, pushed himself to stand. "I, um-" His voice had gone thick, inflected with the raw quality of the wounded. He winced. A whisper this time. "Excuse me." He walked to the bedroom. The door thudded softly behind him.

No one moved a muscle. Breath couldn't be heard. A peaceful rendition of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" began, notes wrapping them in glorious sounds of old.

Patricia straightened, interrupted the peaceful rendition. "That was stupid."

Y/N scooted two spaces across the carpet, placed a comforting palm on Patricia's knee. "He just needs breaks, that's all."

Last week they'd attended her office's Christmas party. He'd done his best to fit in, make small talk, be a person like other people. And he'd been good at it, seemed like a combination of his old and new self, both selves she'd fallen in love with. But after forty minutes, without a hint that something was wrong, he'd asked if it'd be too soon to leave. She'd planned on staying two hours. As they'd held hands on the subway home, she'd mulled over what she'd observed, tried to understand.

She shared that with Patricia. "He'd probably had enough of everyone asking how he was. They'd known he'd been ill but not the details. Arthur likes attention - he needs it more than most people I've met. But I don't think he knew how to answer without saying he'd been in Arkham. It's hard to predict how someone'll react to that."

"I don't blame him," Robert said, his rich baritone kinder than she'd ever heard it. "People can see a broken leg but not when your brain has a limp."

Y/N felt her shoulders loosen, his words an etching of reassurance. "Only dear friends," she said. She moved to check on Arthur, see if he'd been granted some of the peace on earth, impart the goodwill mentioned in the song.

Patricia stopped her with a palm to her shoulder, braced herself against the wall to stand. "I'll go." She straightened the hem of her blouse, grabbed strands of tinsel from the middle branches, and made a beeline for the door.

~~~~~

Arthur sat on his side of the bed, facing the vanity. He disliked the set of his features, dour and stern, as if carved from rough granite. The low light of the bedside lamp bathed but didn't soften. He opened his mouth, practiced loosening his jaw, stretched it until the hinge joint popped.

That Patricia hadn't meant to hurt was obvious, even to a guy with a lot of problems like him. How was she to know Murray had been a father figure? A man he'd loved who'd pierced him so deeply, that that love had bled out and left hatred in its wake? He'd been too silly, too inexperienced to recognize the differences between celluloid and real life. To have thoroughly set himself up for disappointment was almost as embarrassing as the way it continued to sting. Nearly a decade had passed. Time to let it fucking go.

The flash of a police car prompted him to look out the window. Clouds had rolled in, and sparse streaks of moonlight fought their way through the batted cotton. White lights sparkled from an apartment across the street, the tree a perfect display in the front window. Two little girls jumped around their father, relenting only when he doled out gifts from under the tree. Arthur hugged his pillow to his stomach like a life vest.

There was more to the paper chain memory. Visitors from a Catholic charity had gone door to door that evening. Arthur had polished off a bowl of Rice Honeys for dinner, been in the middle of rinsing his dish when the buzzer sounded.

The two nuns towered over him, a couple of emperor penguins. "Are you home alone, young man?" the older one had asked, as if it was weird for a little boy to answer the door.

Uninvited, they'd stepped into the entranceway. Surveyed the walls of the apartment, the open and empty cupboards, the rug that was dirty because they only had a carpet sweeper. They had to have noticed his filthy t-shirt. The lack of tree. Penny passed out cold, her motionless form in the living room chair. At that tender age, it'd felt normal.

The penguins offered two gifts, wrapped in paper covered by shepards and nativities, along with a mimeographed invitation to the candlelight service at St. Swithun's Parish. "Bless you, sweet boy," the younger one had said. Then they'd left, drifting down the corridor like ghosts of Christmas past.

Arthur had scribbled "From: Arthur" on his mother's present. A white lie that'd make her happy, so god wouldn't mind. He'd put the presents on the coffee table. Bounced his stuffed bear and watched Red Skelton, waiting for his mother to come round.

A light knock at the door. The knocker didn't wait for a response to squeak the hinges. Brass trumpets spilled into the room. "I have a real talent for putting my foot in my mouth."

Patricia's self-deprecation forced a crooked grin. He watched her approach in the mirror, loosened his hold on the pillow. He pushed it aside as discretely as possible.

"I hear so much about how you're doing from Y/N," she said. "But never from the source."

"I'm fine."

The woman had a way about her. Warmth oozed out of her like a radiator on a blizzardy night, which allowed her to make the bluntest comments and never offend. A strange sort of equation that never failed to balance. She sat next to him and continued the tradition. "The news talks about Arkham being a place for criminals. It's not reported as a hospital for regular people; it's gossiped about. I'm glad to know better now. And that you're doing well."

If they were close enough for her to share secrets, maybe he could trust her with one of his own. But he couldn't quite return her stare. "Some days are hard. More than I'd like. More than- than I tell Y/N."

"She's the type of woman who wants to know all the facts and figures. That doesn't mean you have to tell her everything."

He bit down another grin. It was too true. And he wouldn't. She didn't need to learn about the nights in the hospital, when he could've sworn he'd felt her arms around him, her breast beneath his cheek, while also wishing she'd stay the hell away from McKean Island. That the years with her were when he'd learned what healthy felt like. That what he coveted more than anything, to the point of cold sweats, was to get back to that. For her. For their marriage. For himself.

Patricia broke through his reverie. "Is today a nice day?"

"Yeah." He turned to look at her, nodded, met her ebony eyes. "It is. But you didn't have to go to so much trouble. With the food and decorations."

Tipsy but honest kindness shone in the curve of her smile. Suddenly, she tossed tinsel on his head, a pile of silver atop his chestnut mop. Frowning, he reached to drag it off, tangling it in his waves. She grasped his fingers on the way down and squeezed tight. "You and Y/N are family, Arthur. You're family."

It took a while to find his voice. "Thanks, Patricia."

In the middle of "Away in a Manger," the television switched off. Stevie Wonder's Someday at Christmas played in its stead. The B-Side, which Y/N found upbeat. It wasn't exactly Arthur's style, but he'd come to appreciate her preference for disco and soul. And it was a welcome change from choral melancholy.

Patricia slurped at her mug, stuck it out towards him. "I need a cigarette. As a trusted family member, would you bring this to the kitchen? Take her with you. I'll owe you all the tea in China."

~~~~~

Y/N tied the shopping bag handles and opened the refrigerator. She'd packed the main and sides separately, otherwise gravy would've ruined the potatoes' crispy finish. As she arranged three Tupperware containers on the top shelf, Arthur came in, Patricia's mug in hand. He rinsed it and took the ladle from the bowl for a refill.

He indicated Y/N's cup on the counter with a tilt of the head. "You want some, too?"

"Please." She closed the fridge's door, gave it an extra push for good measure. "Patricia's quite the charmer, isn't she?"

Arthur snorted, drew his back chin, its skin squishing into pinchable folds. The cheery sound was a breeze that freshened the whole apartment. His gaze fell to the floor before rising to meet hers. He held out her drink. "She's not the only one."

When Y/N took it, her fingers lingered on his for too long to be an accident. She brought the rim to her lips for a sip. She'd add a nip later.

"You're doing great," she said. "I'm proud of you."

His smile blinded, a flash of light to outdo Damascus. The gap between them narrowed, foot by foot, inch by inch. He plucked a bloom from the poinsettia on the counter, tucked it behind her ear. The gesture made her insides ripple in the same manner as a girl's first crush.

"Do you love me?" he asked. The love light gleam in his green irises told her he hadn't asked because he didn't believe it, but because he wanted to hear it.

She stretched the rest of the way to meet his lips and spoke her answer against them. "Completely. Now let's go see what Santa brought."

Multicolor lights glimmered on the pile of presents under the tree. The four of them sat around it, Y/N and Arthur on the floor, Patricia and Robert on two dining chairs due to his aching tailbone. Y/N's cheeks felt as if they were going to melt, the result of alcohol and menopause. She unbuttoned the top of her sweater and held her cold mug to her skin, just below her neck.

Robert hummed approval when he unwrapped the bottle of Ballentine's Scotch, aged ten years. (Thank god they'd gone shopping for their husbands together.) Patricia immediately plugged in the True to Light makeup mirror from L. Ballinger's. She tested the office, day, and evening settings, explained the subtle differences. ("Black eyeliner works better at night.")

The Gormans' gift to Y/N was a clothes shaver from the Windmill Signature collection, a practical, odd tool to remove fuzz and pills from her blazers and skirts. She burst into silly laughter. What else did the "collection" carry? An automatic foot scraper? Premiere upper lip waxing kits? At least it wasn't a soap on a rope. She flicked it on, ran it over Patricia's polyester skirt until she batted her away.

On top of the mac and cheese, Arthur got a Christmas tie deemed cheesy enough for him. Polar bears skated on cursive Merry Christmases on a background of red and white stripes. "I'll put this in my bag," he said, and folded it into thirds. "For December gigs."

The remaining presents would have to wait until tomorrow. A private gift exchange better suited both couples. Arthur had dropped no hints as to what he'd gotten her; she'd shown respect by not snooping. She was certain he'd love the microwavable mug warmer, guaranteed to keep his coffee hot during long journaling sessions. The other box under the tree hid mounds of tissue paper and a bathrobe, midnight blue tinted royal, to be tied at the waist. She giggled, imagining how he'd pluck her folded note from the breast pocket, the blush that'd betray when he got to the naughty part.

Leaning back on her forearms, she sighed a contented sigh. A happiness to rival turkey roll and cranberry sauce swept through her, wetting her eyes all over again. She turned towards the window, gnawed her bottom lip.

White flecks glowed in the orange of the phosphorescent streetlamp, brightening the sky. She recalled that first Christmas in the city, the memories Patricia and Arthur had shared. The holiday wouldn't be complete without making another.

"There's an unplowed parking lot three buildings down," Y/N said, standing. She darted to the coat hooks in the entranceway, snagged their hats and mittens, returned and shoved them at Patricia and Robert. "We can build a snowman." The quirk of Patricia's mouth said she thought Y/N was out of her mind, but she'd play along. She rose to her feet, pulling Robert - mid-trying to open his scotch - along with her.

Arthur burrowed deeper into his bathrobe, a playful skepticism narrowing his gaze. "It's supposed to be ten below tonight."

"We'll bring a thermos. Besides." Y/N sat on his lap, put his cap on his head, and fluffed the pom-pom on top. "Your love will keep me warm."

~~~~~

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

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truessences · 2 years

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Who is on you Hollywood/celebrity boyfriend list hahaha 😂

Okay!

So lol, there are some levels to this. I have a husband and then the rest are boyfriends or (formerly lol or those who never quite made the list but I have my eye on) lol. It's a little crazy but meh I don't care lol. I would never disrespect these people if I ever got to meet them as a fan of their work. Not to mention, some are married or dating and I'm not delusional lol.

Husband: Michael B. Jordan (since 2014 when I saw him in That Awkward Moment. I will watch whatever he is in even if it's not great lol. I'm supportive lol)

Boyfriends Tier 1:

James McAvoy (since 2005 when he was Mr. Tumnus in The Chronicles of Narnia, I remember my reaction to seeing him on screen lol)

Rami Malek (since 2006 when he took those wrappings off as Ahkmenrah in Night at the Museum)

Chris Evans (since about 2005, when he was Johnny Storm in Fantastic Four, then I saw Cellular and Not Another Teen Movie)

Oscar Isaac (2015- I'd seen him in many things prior to him being Poe Dameron but he's such a chameleon I never knew. But Poe Dameron did it for me lol. He is actually my hall pass 🤣. You can ask me why lol)

Boyfriends Tier 2:

Daniel Kaluuya- My gosh, I find him so sexy, soft spoken, intelligent... whew lol

Austin Butler- Newly Officially Added (I've liked him and his work for a long time, got a little obsessed back when I first watched The Shannara Chronicles but he's not in enough stuff for me to go and obsess over him but after Elvis, gotta add him lol. I've rewatched the movie and will continue to rewatch it for him specifically)

Sebastian Stan- Not sure when exactly lol (I first saw him The Covenant, which I watched for Chace Crawford lol, but he didn't grab me then. I'd seen him in lots of stuff after but I think him as Jefferson in OUAT was what got me, then officially him as Bucky specifically in The Winter Soldier and I've been down that rabbit hole ever since lol)

Mena Massoud- Lower Tier 2 (Aladdin obviously lol but I want to see him in more stuff... I want him and Rami Malek to play brothers. I'ma supportive girlfriend lol)

Former Boyfriends of My Roster (or they're not quite on there but I can get a little obsessed with them or I have in the past)

Orlando Bloom- Former (first celeb crush I can remember, I was obsessed)

Chace Crawford- Former (How I got here was interesting but also obsessed)

Elliot Knight- Not sure if I ever made this official lol (when he took that hood off and smiled as Merlin in OUAT, I was smitten lol and I was quickly down the rabbit hole because then I found Sinbad, which was unjustly cancelled on that ending)

Jensen Ackles- Attractive (I can get a little obsessed but he's never made it officially on my list... it might be more Dean Winchester than anything lol)

Tom Hiddleston- Attractive mostly (Obviously because of Loki lol but he was never officially on the list but I did go and watch everything he was in I could find after Avengers (2012)

Kit Harrington- Attractive (from GOT obviously and I also went and watched things he was in outside of GOT)

Chai Hansen- Saw him in Mako Mermaids but didn't fully look at him different till New Legends of Monkey lol (I went and watched Shadowhunters from the beginning because he was in S3 lol and I can't just jump into the middle of the story 😆)

Anyways, that's a lot but yep!

#celebrity boyfriends #celebrity crushes #true answers #michael b jordan #Oscar Isaac #james mcavoy #Rami Malek #Chris Evans #Austin Butler #daniel kaluuya #Mena Massoud #Jensen Ackles #Tom Hiddleston #Kit Harrington #Chai Hansen #Elliot Knight #Chace Crawford #Orlando Bloom

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ladysophiebeckett · 7 months

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Lety from lfmb really did say: "I may keep this affair going, make out with you, go on dates with you, heck I'll even go on a weekend getaway with you, but I draw the line at having sex with you again until you call off your engagement because I feel awful". Sounds about right 😂

If they wanted Lety to be the typical main character that can do no wrong, they could have modified the plot a bit by having Fernando and Marcia take a break from the relationship or something and that Lety only gave Fernando a chance during that period of time (financial mess aside). It seems to me that they hated the romance had to begin as an affair because it made Lety look bad, and that's why they added so much filler to downplay her part in it.

I think that a lot of Lety's arc in Acapulco was focused on healing from heartbreak and meeting someone better who could love her the way she deserved while Betty's was more about personal growth and boosting her self-esteem. Basing this on what I remember, I definitely need to re-watch to be certain.

I love the detail you mentioned about Fernando not being excited about Lety wanting to go to Omar's apartment. At least it shows they adapted the whole revenge arc so that it matched what was shown on the filler episodes. Didn't remember this.

As usual, your observations are spot on.

They had three opportunities to have sex and they didn't. Not once. And only two of them had the intention of sex. The germany trip was business related and paid for by the other company. But it was convenient that Lety got lost and Fernando had to look for her (even tho he said he was worried and yet had time to talk to omar and then change his clothes--but whatever) If you count after the commercial shoot he wanted to take her back to his place and she said no, that would be FOUR missed opportunities.

They had an anti-horny agenda despite them having pretty dream sex in Cuernavaca. And I forgot why they went to there, for some reason i thought it was a business trip but no, he whisked her away for the weekend with the intention of getting some sweet, sweet Lety love making. (I'm making it seem more interesting than it is and it was Not).

If they wanted Lety to be the typical main character that can do no wrong, they could have modified the plot a bit by having Fernando and Marcia take a break from the relationship or something...

If you remove the Fernando\Marcia relationship by having them take a break, then you're doing away with the tension and pressure Fernando feels about being forced to make a commitment to her. He can't take a pause out of the engagement\relationship bc then Marcia will back her brother on dissolving the company and he can't let that happen while the company isnt even in his hands.

Like if Lety is as 'good' and 'pure' as they insist she is in the filler then she never would have agreed to be in a secret relationship with him. There's all these internal driving forces that make Betty (not a typo, i'm talking about the original real quick) make these decisons--it's a tier of choices she makes that concludes with her accepting to secretly date her boss. It didn't come out of nowhere. For the mexican adaptation to insist she's 'good' and 'pure' and to have Fernando himself say 'I corrupted her' is lame. Let Lety be morally grey.

It seems to me that they hated the romance had to begin as an affair because it made Lety look bad, and that's why they added so much filler to downplay her part in it.

They absolutely hated that the protagonist was presented as unattractive AND the other woman. Bc Televisa can only do three types of female protagonists---the poor virgin (thalia's televenovelas), beautiful poor women who want to be rich (ruby\theresa) and middle aged women who were wronged in the past and want revenge (la madrastra\victoria's ruffo's adult career).

Adapting Ysblf was a challenge bc they didn't want to take it seriously. I think we can agree that the original and the mexican adaptation have different tones. Ysblf, for all intents and purposes, is dramatic and serious. Yes, comedy is woven into it but it's done very carefully. In american english media terminology it would be considered a 'dramedy'. While the mexican adaptation is a full blown comedy, so much that when they have dramatic moments they feel out of place.

In regards to the filler---the ratings for this in 2006 were going crazy high. The mexican and US audience couldn't get enough of this. And it was in the same year as the Germany WC. It's not an accident that in the mexican adaptation Conceptos is a PR company instead of a clothes company. Televisa and Co used this novela as an opportunity to promote themselves and others. (Ysblf does this with Pantine and Mario Duarte's album and also trying to boost Cartagena Tourism. Yes, I'm aware of this, before anybody @'s me) Anyway, the filler was to promote televisa deportes and make the show longer bc it was such a hit. IIRC, this novela had low expectations. It was airing in the 5 pm slot in mexico and when the ratings got high, they started airing it at 8pm slot. And you know it made them a lot of money bc they gave the set a makeover and they changed the opening credits various times.

I think you're right, based on my foggy memory. But also, again--this was done bc that's when they decided to make the novela longer. They couldn't let Lety's time away be about her growth and boosting her self esteem because that leads to her makeover and they couldn't let Lety get the makeover bc the joke (they treated it as a joke, not me) that she's 'ugly' would die. And they thought their success lied solely on the fact their protagonist was 'ugly' but funny and quaint. (and also 'pure' and 'good').

I don't know where the pics are but I promise you, Lety was gonna get the makeover in Acapulco. There were bts shots of them testing Angelica Vale in a yellow dress on the beach with curly hair. They're out there, somewhere in google images. And we all waited for it to happen and then it didn't. Bc that's when they decided to make Aldo's part bigger and....well you know what happens.

I love the detail you mentioned about Fernando not being excited about Lety wanting to go to Omar's apartment.

I rewatched that scene and realized it was also done as part of their anti-horny agenda. Two birds, one stone. But yes, they did adjust accordingly to the filler. What I also noticed was, at Yuri and Mijares's event when Lety says she's leaving, Fernando grabs her hands only. He doesn't take her by the elbow like in the original. So not only are we working with an anti-horny agenda, we're also working with an anti-aggressive agenda as well. Bc I'm assuming it would have been too aggressive and scary to have Fernando grab and drag her by the elbow.

She's unintentionally hilarious, bc minus the weekend getaway, this sounds exactly like Betty during the gaslighting arc. Televisa took her backbone and hornyess but they will never take her morally grey spirit that withholds sexy times.

#anon #ask #lfmb

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neil-neil-orange-peel · 1 year

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32 for the fanfic ask post!! :)

32) Are any of your characters based on real people?

I probably don't have the longest list of OCs, if I'm being honest, because most of the fic I've written has just involved canon characters. The OCs I do have aren't so much based on real people, more on other comedy characters (I mean, I hope they're not carbon copies, but y'know, comedy characters are good character bases for fics about sitcoms 😂).

That said, my TNS OC Andy Arsole is based on Ade... although not Ade as a person, more just what an Ade character in TNS might be like, if that makes sense? One day I will actually write Of Bastards and Arseholes, where Andy and Alan argue in the Commons. Maybe.

As for other OCs that I've based on pre-existing comedy characters: the three poltergoosts from A Bastard's Carol were - fairly obviously, since Rick kept pointing it out 😂 - based on Neil, Mike, and Vyvyan. Since Rick got to be the Scrooge, they got to be the ghosts, so to speak. They were fun.

I have four other TYO OCs who have yet to see the light of day. They are part of a Modern/Ghost AU, which will be a massive project since there are eight main characters! The four OCs are each meant to correspond to one of the actual Young Ones - although I'd say they're sorta... better adjusted... on the whole. 😂 Their names are Harvey Poole, Robin "Rob Lowe" Lowe, Madison "Mad" Dean, and Lily "Will/Willy/Dickhead" Shakespeare. Any guesses who corresponds to who? I don't think I've ever revealed their names before, damn...

Oh, and they got a Balowski, of course, so he's based on Alexei and the other Balowskis.

My final fandom OCs pop up in The Basterds of Hammersmith (which is about Vyvyan's family; a TYO/Bottom crossover that is more elongated and angsty than I can honestly justify, but HA!). The first part of the story is very OC heavy because it's centred around an OC: Adelaide "Addie" Basterd. I've already had a few people tell me they like Addie, which really warms my heart. ❤️ I know it can be harder to get into fic with OCs, since we're all really here for the canon characters, so I'm very grateful to the people who've given TBOH a chance.

The comedy character I use as a base for Addie is Edina Monsoon from Absolutely Fabulous. There are some pretty major differences in circumstances: Addie is a teenager, not a middle aged woman; Addie's living in the 1940s, not the 1990s; Addie is working class, not rich. People might look at Addie and not see the comparison at all, and that's fine since I don't want her to be a straight up copy. Addie's supposed to be a much more sympathetic character than Eddy, anyway. I'm really putting her through it! 😅

The other important OCs in TBOH include Eduard [SURNAME REDACTED DUE TO SPOILERS], who isn't really based on anyone. At a push, I'd say he's Ade playing another German character - but he's not really the Red Baron (from Blackadder) or Ace (from TCSP Slags). There's also the Head family, who are relations of a certain Dick Head. Running with the Ab Fab thing, Mrs Head is sorta based on Mrs Monsoon. Dicky, on the other hand, is based on Arnold Rimmer from Red Dwarf. Why? Well, because he's my OC and it's my fic so I've let myself be self-indulgent. 😂 There are some Heads who haven't been introduced yet, so I'm gonna keep mostly stum about them... apart from to ask you all to smoke me a kipper.

There are other minor OCs in that fic - it's fucking massive, so much of it is still a WIP - but I've already waffled enough now. 😂

Thanks for the ask!

#asks #theministryofmorons #fanfic #andy arsole #addie basterd #ocs #my bastard ocs #the basterds of hammersmith

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umberandmochaagate · 2 years

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2, 19, 32, 34, 48 for the ask game!! :)))) or just any you wanna answer

Whew! Thank you @capadipdap and I hope you're prepping for the essays! 😩

2) What are you obsessed with right now? Chemistry. That one post about NileRed has launched me into his YouTube channels just watching so many videos. Brought me back to why I originally wanted a chem degree in undergrad. Psychology who? It's prompted me to practice balancing equations and doing organic nomenclature since it's been a while but just for the hell of it. I've been using the fact that I have to take psychopharmacology next semester as part of my cover but also totally living in my nerdiness openly. It's fun. I forgot how much chem used to be an interest/hobby. He's "made" gloves into hot sauce and broke down how I will not know peace.

19) If you could change your name, would you? What would you change it to? Imma say it like... I wouldn't because I like my name, but I would if I wanted to. But I probably won't ever change it. Fun fact, my parents smashed their names together and added a y to get Casey the day I was born. So the meaning was always like a ship name before we found out it's Irish and I think that's special cuz they didn't know. But! I'd add a middle name and it'd be Celeste.

32) If you could live in a fictional world, what world would you pick? Gimme a Harvest Moon world omg. I was out there farming, gardening, making some shit. Building my house up. Spending time with neighbors and folks. Yeah yeah quests but I can just spend my day walking around if I wanted. Chillin bro. Animal Crossing for the same reason. Just add my friends in we're gonna go lay down at the beach no 9-5 no 6 streams of income thx

34) What's your coffee order? I don't get coffee super frequently so we gotta go by place, but the general rule of thumb is mocha and espress 😂 aight so we got:

Cafe ak lèt/ Cafe con leche (not that much leche) made with the Cafe Bustelo espresso one that I didn't even know was the espresso one or with Haitian coffee. Four tbsp of sugar if made at home, whatever amount the ppl give me at the place. The standard

Cafe Cubano from colada to cafecito. I will drink it straight. No I do not think the espresso has affected me severely over the course of my life. Matter of fact I'll fall asleep.

Dunkin: Mocha iced latte. The standard gay drink but mocha > vanilla, no hate to my girl vanilla though. Kept me up for 7 hr drives across the state. A real g for that

Starbucks: Double chocolate chip frappacinno with the chocolate syrup and whip cream and chocolate shavings etc etc etc. Love that. Don't get it often cuz Starbucks makes it too icy sometimes

Panera: That mocha espresso drink. I used to add extra shots of espresso cuz their regular coffee sucks and I worked open shift. I was sleepy in minutes.

48) Describe your ideal partner. Ahhh, this one. Look, I'm a simple man. All I ask is that they find me with their intentions pure, hearts full, and willing to put in the work to make a romantic relationship healthy 😔

jk of course I ask more than that (but those are also required). Fr Imma want someone who's been working on themselves, and communicate effectively, trusts, is honest, all that fun stuff to and fro. So basically: an open-minded person who is compatible with me and is a genuinely kind person with strong values, humor, and the independence and understanding for what it takes to be a partner in more than just the superficial and physiological levels.

Imma need someone who can handle me personality wise, career wise (directed at all those who falter at hearing that I'm studying to be a psychologist 😂). Plus I am spoiled, I am a spoiled brat. This is framed a warning because for some reason it's not believed when I say I'm the type to expect to have things paid for, planned, provided, gifted, etc. I do reciprocate because I was raised right, but the whole "50/50" thing that's been getting thrown around in the social media world doesn't with how I was raised either. I'm just not gonna be the one carrying everything just because I have a career and still get expected to do more with no actual division/balanced of roles. like it's not happening. We're grown ppl c'mon now (yes I can go deeper in that specifically but I don't play). Approach deities with offerings, thank you. I do prefer someone who falls within my cultures or related, like the African diaspora/Latino/Caribbean/Hispanic cuz of intercultural connection but I really don't mind. Have (verifiable) ambitions/career/goals. Gotta leave it all here cuz I can't put the whole play out on here; said a lot and nothing Oh height at 5'11" up 🧍🏿‍♀️ I'm a big girl okay. Out here 5'7" looking like a slightly smaller Stallion sooooooo it's almost a requirement but not but you get hella extra points

#ask game #be nosy ask game #capadipap #these are so fun #last one in taking applications #requires an essay. 2 personal references 2 professional and 1 psychological history

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jeyramarie · 2 years

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hungry eyes- Florence Pugh x Reader (Part 4)

summary: just when you thought things were getting better, unexpected visitors ruin it

wc: 1,485

warning: cursing? i dont remember🤡, making out

a/n: i told y’all, y’all are not ready for this 😂 if you want a part 5 lmk and if you wann be in the taglist lmk as well!! happy reading 🦋

part 1~ part 2~ part 3~

The nightclub was loud with blinking lights everywhere. The bar was surrounded by men and women ordering drinks left and right and the other half of the people were on the dance floor. Bodies were pressed together, all sweaty as the music ran through their veins.

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks!” Kiara shouted over the music.

“I’ll go help you!” Gabi added. Before you or Flo could say anything they disappeared into the ocean of people.

“We should go dance!” Florence shouted getting closer to you.

“Yeah, let’s go!” You replied and grabbed her hand, pulling her into the middle of the dance floor.

You made it to the middle, lights flashing around you as the bass of the music pumped through your body. Florence began to dance, twirling around with her arms lifted. Your hips moved to the beat of the music and you ran your hand over your body and over your shoulder, pushing your hair away.

You turned around, your back was towards her as your hips kept a steady pace. Suddenly, soft hands crept on your waist making you jump in surprise. You looked over your shoulder and saw Florence with red cheeks and a smirk.

“Is this alright?” She asked into your ear. You turned around, putting your arms over her shoulders and nodded.

Florence wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer to her body as you both loved to the rhythm of the music. You cupped her face and moved your hands between her neck and her jaw, wanting nothing more than to kiss you right then and there.

“Guys! Finally here are the drinks!” Gabi shouted, making you step away from Florence. You took two of the glasses and handed one to the blonde. She took it and raised it towards you with a wink before sipping from it.

“The line was ridiculous!” Kiara shouted over the music as she danced while sipping from her drink.

“Yeah, you guys took forever!” Flo yelled.

“People we’re buying like 3 drinks at a time!” Gabi said moving to the music.

“Italians really like their alcohol I guess.” You chuckled.

All four of you started dancing together. Moving freely to the rhythm of the music as the base pumped through your body. Florence never took her eyes off of you. She paid attention to the way you moved, the way you smiled, the way you drank. The blonde was smitten.

At around 2am Kiara and Gabi announced that they were leaving for the hotel, meaning that you and Florence were alone. You eventually got tired of dancing and pulled Florence into an empty booth you found.

“I’ve never danced that much.” She chuckled.

“Yeah, me neither. The music was good though.” You said, leaning back as you pushed your hair away from your face.

“It was, yeah.”

“Do you want anything else to drink?” You asked.

“Oh no, I’m fine.” Florence replied with a smile making you nod in return. You stayed in a comfortable silence for a bit. Just looking at the remaining people on the dancefloor.

“So you never told me if you had anyone?” She asked suddenly, breaking your trance.

“Someone?”

“Like if you’re dating anyone..”

“Oh! No, I-I’m not. I do like someone though.” You stuttered, tracing your finger around the rim of your glass.

“Oh really? Who is it?” Florence questioned, scooching closer to you.

“I-I don’t think I-”

“Oh come on, it’s just between us girls.” She smiled, cutting you off as you looked at her eyes. You were fidgeting with your fingers, as you thought of a proper way to tell her. You looked down at your lap and took a deep breath before looking at her again.

“Um… I like- I like you..” You whispered and saw her lean back in surprise. Embarrassment and anxiety began to consume you due to Florence’s silence. You had to get out of there.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom..” You muttered and scooted out of the booth, purse in hand as you almost ran to the other side of the club.

You pushed the door open and checked the stalls to see if they were empty before leaning against the sink. The mirror was a bit dirty but you could still see your reflection. Your cheeks were red in embarrassment and your hands were starting to shake.

‘What the fuck have I done?’ You thought to yourself as you moved backwards with both of your hands pressed to your temple. You took slow deep breaths, trying to calm the tightness of your chest. The thoughts in your head were so loud, that you didn’t notice the door opened.

“Y/n?” Florence said softly, making you look up from the floor.

“I-I'm so sorry. I don't know why I said that. It just came out and now I don't know what to do cause you’ve become my friend. A-and youre so cool and nice and-” You rambled.

“Y/n.” She began, trying to get her attention.

“And I just- I don't know. I feel like I ruined everything and I'm so sorry if I offended you or something I didn't mean to. I just- please don't hate me. I’ll leave you alone if you want me to. I'm so sorry, I’m such a horrible person-”

“Y/n! Shut up!” Florence shouted, cutting you off with her hands on your arms.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“Stop apologizing. Stop talking and just look at me.” She said, looking into your eyes. You nodded, biting your lip as your nerves grew.

“Thank you. Now I… I didn’t expect you to say that. I… um… I didn’t expect you to feel the same.”

Your eyes opened wide in shock, not believing that she felt the same way. You connected the dots, you were the girl she had her eyes on.

“I have had you in my head since I saw you at the beach. And then I spoke to you… I got to know you and it just- it skyrocketed from there. I-I find myself just needing to be with you… all the time.” Florence said, moving her hands down your arms to grab your hands.

“All I wanted was to kiss you in the bathroom a-and on the dance floor. It took everything in me not to pull you aside and just… just kiss you.” She took a deep breath, staring at your conjoined hands as she waited for you to reply. You took your hands away from hers and placed them on her cheeks, pushing her face upwards to look at her.

“Then kiss me.” You whispered. Florence leaned up and connected her lips with yours.

Butterflies erupted inside the both of you as your lips continued to move at a steady pace. Her hands moved down to your hips and began to push you backwards until you were pressed against the sink. One of your hands moved to her hair, gripping it softly causing Florence to whimper against your lips. The kiss became heated. Both of your bodies pressed together as your hands ran down her back. You both parted, placing your foreheads together as you caught your breaths.

“We should get out of here.” Florence broke the silence as she took deep breaths. You nodded with a smile and grabbed her hand before moving towards the bathroom door. You moved across the club, making it back to the booth to get your belongings.

You walked back to the hotel, hand in hand as the tension grew every passing second. The elevator doors closed and you stood next to each other in silence. It wasn’t awkward or anything but neither of you wanted to seem desperate.

“Oh fuck this.” The blonde muttered and turned to you, cupping your face to pull you in for a kiss.

Your hands went to her waist, pulling her closer to you before turning the both of you around so she’d be pinned against the wall. Her tongue grazed your bottom lip, making you part them slightly to give her the access she wanted. Your tongues battled for dominance as Florence moved her hands down to your hips as you moved your to her hair.

Her hands keep moving, making their way to your ass when the elevator dinged. The doors opened causing you to part from each other. You both chuckled as Flo grabbed your hands, pulling you out of the elevator to her room. She opened the door and pulled you inside, immediately pulling you in for a kiss. You cupped her cheeks, pushing her against the wall once again as the kiss continued to get heated. Her hands went to your back and began to lower the zipper slowly-

“Surprise!” Someone shouted after opening the door. You parted from the kiss and there stood a confused Zach with a suitcase in his hand.

‘Oh my god.’

florence taglist: @flosbelova @kassies-take @ideas-for-you-to-adopt @florencestann1234 @freewaysigns-underpasses @snooy245 @wandanatvoid @gay-vet-student @yelenabelovastolemyheart @marvelwomen-simp @simpforflorencepugh1 @laaurel @yelenabelovasbxtch @geico-insuranc

#florence pugh #florence pugh fic #florence pugh imagine #florence pugh smut #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh angst #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x y/n

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accio-victuuri · 3 years

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My recent reads ( to those who are looking for something to pick up ) ; I’ve been in a slump for a while and could only finish fanfics so i’m pretty happy that i’m finding stuff that grab my attention.I added links to the Manhua too cause that’s how it usually starts for me. I like a Manhua, it’s not complete— so I look for the source Material.

• Golden Stage : Novel

The usual court politics and it’s actually softer than what the plot makes it out to be. 🤍 This is also considered short, with 77 chapters. ( + 2 for epilogue). enemies to lovers.

The notorious imperial court lackey and the meritorious military general were well-known for their mutual dislike, a pair of arch-enemies set in stone. Who could have foreseen the unexpected change in the winds of heaven: the general injured on the battlefield, both legs disabled, and even forced by the emperor to marry his nemesis. With one marriage edict, two people with mutual hostility are forced to marry and live under the same roof. Yet after these long days together, they come to the realization that this fellow is not truly devoid of any saving grace/unattainable and high out of reach.

• Madness of the Heart : Manhua | Novel - upto chap 120 the rest are here (chap 186) but it’s MTL so i’ll just wait for the first link which has better translation.

If you liked Body Electric or Swallowing the Seas then you’d enjoy this. Modern setting & solving cases. The photo I used looks sweet— but this story covers some pretty serious issues. 120 chapters done and i’m waiting for the rest. Manhua and Novel sequence of events don’t match. The Manhua adds scenes from when they were kids which is in a separate prequel novel all on it’s own. so keep that in mind.

And Mingshu’s love for his gege. lol. 😂😂😂

Upon completing a year-long training program with a special operations team at the Ministry of Public Security, Ming Shu returns to Dongye City to discover that he has a new boss. Many people said to him, "Ming-ge, the new boss is such an enigma. Don't let him harass you." To which Ming Shu replied, "...that guy has been harassing me for years. You guys just don't know it." Ever since Ming Shu returned to the bustling metropolis of Dongye City, strange murders have been cropping up one after another. An unemployed man suddenly goes berserk in a cafe. A mysterious incident occurs at a long-abandoned playground in the middle of the night. Underneath the body of a man who met a tragic end, a second corpse is discovered to be buried. Captain of the Serious Crimes Division, Ming Shu, and Deputy Director of the Criminal Investigation Bureau, Xiao Yu'an, join forces to investigate and solve all these bizarre cases and more.

• Dinghai Fusheng Records: Manhua | Novel

I suggest going for the Manhua first if you’re like me who finds it hard to get into Novels that have lots of characters and unfamiliar settings in general. Anyway. I really like the premise of this story! and the pairing is a SLOW BURN. I love me some slow burn! 🔥 This is the only one I haven’t finished yet, currently on Chapter out 40 but I’m loving it so i’m adding it on this list.

Amidst the Silence of All Magic in the Divine Land, Mara is about to descend. In order to prevent the destruction of the Divine Land and save all the people, Chen Xing, the last exorcist, embarks on a journey to release the sealed spiritual qi of heaven and earth – only four years remain. The road ahead is full of thorns. Watch this cute little koi Chen Xing and the moody and grumpy Protector Xiang Shu, together with numerous people with distinct personalities in their group, working together to turn the tide again and again!

++ some short novels I read. modern setting. no serious conflict and just a good time ✌🏼 really short reads too, 40 chapters.

TATTOO - I wish someone will make an AU of my OTPs following this story. Yes. The MC falls in love with a ~Mysterious~ tattoo Artist. That’s it. I love this trope so I got hooked.

On the night of Xiao Ke’s thirtieth birthday, he shared a table while drinking. The person he shared the table with was a cool man who fit all of his aesthetic desires. It was practically love at first sight. He was thirty; he had reached that age where he was no longer the awkward twenty-something youth. He would pursue the one he liked without hesitation, no questions asked.

FIGHT THE LANDLORD, Fall In Love - I read this cause it’s the same author as Golden Stage. Arranged Marriage. Idiots to Lovers.

Two eldest young masters who looked down on each other were forced into a blind date. Each discovered that the other was the immoral scoundrel who had poured cold water or thrown rotten tomatoes on him during a game of Fight The Landlord two days prior. Now what? Well, let’s secure a partner first and figure the rest out later.

I did an Manhua/Manhwa rec here before if anyone is interested. ✌🏼

#personal #chinese novel recs #bl recommendation #yes i have not finished Mo Du yet and i know that’s sad but i’ll pick it up again when i FEEL like it #im interested in Er Ha but im afraid of the PAIN

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redhead-batgal · 3 years

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Can you do a part two to Somethings got a hold on me?

Type: Fic

Part One: Here

Part Three: Here

Pairing: Criminal! and Fem! Reader x Tim Drake/ Red Robin

Prompts: (I added these.... I don’t really have an explanation why though 😂 they just fit) ✢13: “I don’t owe you a damned thing.” ✢ 20: “I never really mattered anyway.” ✢5 “You mean nothing to me.” “Don’t lie, I know that isn’t true.” and ✢10: “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

Content: Cursing, violence, language, abuse (flash backs), angsty angsty angsty angst, a teeny tiny incy wincy bit of fluff, and mentions of trauma

Word Count (I really need to start doing these more): 8,141 words

(P.S: This is a bit darker than anything else I’ve written, I don’t know why but the angst called to me.)

F/N: First Name, L/N: Last Name, C/N: Criminal Name

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are things in this life that are bound to happen. Some call these things a work of fate. One thing that every person and being is fated to go through is death. Everyone dies at some point. All life has to come to an end whether it be in the beginning of a lifespan, the middle or the end. Whether some deem it too early or not soon enough death always comes. And you knew that it was coming for you.

It had been almost two month since you had a visit from Tim Drake and thwarted the Joker’s escape. Sixty days, one-thousand four hundred and forty hours, eighty six thousand and four hundred minutes and five million one hundred eighty four thousand seconds. You had been counting them, every last one. Even the damn milliseconds. Waiting impatiently for the Joker to strike, waiting for him to enact his revenge. The longer you waited, the more you lost hope. The more you lost of yourself.

It was inevitable. Your death. Sooner or later the Joker was going to attack and you were going to die, you didn’t really dwell on whether or not it was going to be a long death or short one but it was a death regardless.

Your new cell had the markings for every day that had passed since you entered it. Whether it be with your fingernail, a utensil you had snuck in after meals or the zipper of your straight-jacket. Counting didn’t really do anything other than make everything worse, it hurt your hope... not that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Your hope was a fragile thing that had transformed more into a dangerous bacteria of sorts, it was slowly eating away at you. Devouring you whole, day by day, hour by hour that neither the Joker nor Tim did anything. Soon there wouldn’t be much left for either of them to do anything with.

You sometimes thought of the light that he saw in you, how it was disappearing along with the rest of you. How when you thought of your upcoming death, when you actually, truly, thought about it, every day you felt less. You were becoming empty. Hollow, even.

Rumors of how you prevented the Joker from escaping were whispered around Arkham. Some said you did it out of a petty grudge because the Joker never noticed your skills when you were on the streets. Others said it was because he wronged you many years before and you never forgot it.

You wished you could say that you weren’t happy no one had any suspicions about Tim. But that would be a lie. The relief you felt was heavy on your chest and in your lungs. The only part of your hope, that was still hope, seemed to be warm in your chest. You were glad you could hide your feelings, it was best that none of the other villains catch on to those feelings and your relationship- if you could even call it that anymore- with Red Robin, well Tim Drake.

No word, no visits, not even whispers of Red Robin reached you in those two months. Unlike when you first entered Arkham, and you hadn’t identified your feelings as what had a hold on you, the lack of him seemed to hurt more. Especially since you could still hear his words, the final words he said before leaving, echoing in your ears.

I don’t know why, but I like you

Part of you was angry, part of you was glad that he hadn’t tried, if he came back here what was stopping the Joker from escaping again. Except this time there wouldn’t be anyone to save him. What scared you the most was that the Joker was going to use you to get to Tim, you didn’t want to ever be used again. Especially not against him.

Love was a cruel virus, it overtook all of you, and it kept taking. For some reason, the longer you knew it existed, the worse it got. It claimed all of you, wrapping around your heart, lungs, and brain. It was sharply pumping through your veins like a poison. It was worse than the hope, the longer you felt it- the more you thought about it, the worse it hurt.

It was why when you heard the footsteps approaching your cell, when you saw the movements through the very tiny window at the top of the door; your heart skipped a beat for half a second you thought it might be him. That was until the harsh reality of it all came crashing down on you.

He wasn’t here, why would he be? Despite what he said, you didn’t matter, not really, not to him.

As your cell door opened you watched as the guards gave you slightly terrified looks. They knew what you had done, you had crossed the Joker and didn’t appear fazed. Smiling with your criminal side so heavy on you, it felt like stage makeup, you tilted your head at them.

“We going for a trip, boys?” The criminal side chirped while batting your eyes.

One of the guards flinched and the other shot you a disdainful look. They had leg cuffs, which meant either you had a visitor or the Joker was finally striking. A small part of you wished it was the latter, the rest of you didn’t seem to care.

The guard who gave you a disdainful look walked into the cell and you had to stop yourself from flinching. The look on his face, the way he walked, his body language it was all too familiar. Before you could stop yourself, memories hit hard and fast.

A voice yelling over took your ears, you knew the voice a little too well, you knew it’s rasp and sting, you could almost hear your own voice in his. He was your father after all, it’d be a shock if you had nothing in common.

You hadn’t even entered the room and you could smell the stench of alcohol and smoke, the reek of must and sweat. The ground seemed to shake as he stormed towards you, towering over you with an angry gleam in his eyes he swung his fists. Closing your eyes you braced yourself for impact.

Those fists had broken so many of your bones. Your nose, your wrist, your leg, your ankle and your arm. You had more scars than you could count from his fists, more bruises staining your skin different shades of purple, green, yellow and brown. It wasn’t always when he was drunk and high but it happened more often when he was. Each instance involved a lie, a cover up and an escape. Except once.

As his fist hit your face you were suddenly jerked upward. Blinking you found the guards dragging you out of your cell, they had their hands tight on your arms almost as if they thought you were going to try and escape. It didn’t make any sense to you, you were still in the straight jacket, why did they think you’d try anything? It’s not as if you had a reason to.

They began dragging you, because they walked too quickly for your now manacled feet to keep up, halfway across Arkham. Your stomach was doing flips until they turned down the hall where visitations usually occurred. The hall seemed empty, it was like being back in your old cell, everything was eerily quiet and you didn’t know if you should feel relieved or worried because of it.

One of the heavy metal doors opened and instead of guiding you in and removing the straight jacket they shoved you into the room and closed the door behind you. You looked around the room, it was nearly pitch black with a small light at the center, hanging over a table with two chairs.

Whoever was in here, who ever wanted to talk with you, they didn’t think you were a threat. You were slightly offended.

Turning back towards the door you stared at it for a moment as the realization began to sink in. You weren’t going to get out, not until you died or sat down and spoke with whoever was in the room with you. Walking over to the chair you sat down with a sigh.

You heard rustling and then you blinked and standing in front of you was Batman. You blinked again, shock was trying to overcome you as Batman looked you over and you began to do the same to him.

He didn’t sit down, instead he stood behind the chair, clearly trying to look intimidating. He glared at you slightly before you smiled at him tightly.

“Is there anything I can do to help you Batman? Or am I allowed to head back to my cell and rot in peace?” You asked as the criminal side took over.

Narrowing his eyes, much to your surprise, he pulled out the chair and sat down. Resting his arms on the table Batman looked you over again.

“Y/N, drop the act. I’m here to ask you some questions.”

He was blunt, instead of trying to sell you some bullshit. He was, for lack of better words, very straightforward. You straightened in the seat and had your arms been free you would have crossed them. Raising your chin you let out a slight sigh.

“Fine, what do you want to know? I’m an open book... ask your son.”

For a moment you saw him tilt his head to the side as if he didn’t believe what you were saying, other than that his face was blank as if it didn’t matter, as if Tim didn’t matter.

Anger was sharp in your chest, you had seen the cascade of Robin’s Batman had gathered... No, collected would be a better word; sometimes, despite yourself, you worried about how easily Tim would be replaced. Here and now seeing him acting as if he didn’t believe you, it made you angry.

“Do you not see yourself as his father?” You snapped instantly.

Batman’s face twitched, and you closed your eyes cursing yourself. The bitter virus, love, had taken hold of you again and Batman had noticed.

“What do you want?”

Shock hit you hard enough that it appeared on your face. You raised an eyebrow and gave him a confused look.

“Excuse me?” You asked after a moment, your eyes narrowing.

Batman stared at you, and due to his cowl you couldn’t really tell his expression. However his body language was tense which told you something was bothering him.

“What do you want?” he asked almost stiffly, “You saved Red-”

Want? want? What do you want?

“No, stop.” You said, shaking your head as anger crawled up your throat.

They were under the impression you wanted something, that they owed you for saving Tim’s life. It was complete and utter fuckary. Locking your jaw you glared at him and let out a breath.

“He doesn’t owe me anything, you don’t owe me anything. And I don’t owe you a damned thing.”

It was a message of sorts, you were telling Batman you didn’t want his help, that you’d be fine and could handle the Joker’s anger. While it was a lie, it was a fairly clear message... at least to you it was.

“Why?” Batman asked without hesitation, not even blinking at your words.

“Because...” You began as you scrambled for the right words that won’t reveal everything you were feeling, “because he’s the only friend I’ve ever had.”

You watched, seeing Batman’s stance relax slightly almost as if he pitied you. The anger burned in your throat quickly turning into a cold sense of shame. No matter how hard you tried, if it involved the Bats, you had trouble controlling yourself.

Shifting slightly you looked away from him and asked, “Can I go back to my cell now?”

Batman stood up from his seat and moved towards the door, “No.”

The door opened and Batman stepped out as a woman stepped in. She was wearing a white lab coat and carrying a file, she walked to the table and sat down. Smiling at you, the woman gave a very tiny wave, you narrowed your eyes hearing the door shut with a loud click.

“Hello, Miss. L/N. My name is Leslie Thompkins,” She began setting the file on the table and her name twisted in your mind, “I have some questions I hope you don’t mind answering.”

Doctor Leslie Thompkins was a known ally of the Bats, or at least you knew that. Which was probably only because of one person. One person who seemed to keep screwing you over, intentionally or not.

As you thought about Doctor Thompkins relation to the Bats a strange feeling overcame you and you realized something was familiar about the doctor.

“Doctor.” You stopped her feeling a slight panic wash over you.

She blinks and the smile is frozen on her face for a second before it slowly slipped away, “Pardon?”

Doctor Thompkins, you realized, is a psychologist. You were getting interviewed by a damned psychologist.

Fuck Batman and his dickish ways he just crossed a line that should never be crossed. He knew of your history, well... you’d be surprised if he didn’t, but if he did and he did this bullshit- well then it seriously pissed you off.

“You’re Doctor Leslie Thompkins, is there a reason why Batman asked you to interview me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow hearing your own voice spew a bit of venom.

You felt your breath picking up as she studied your movements. A voice in the back of your head told you it was because she was going to use whatever you gave her against you.

“Please let me ask the questions Miss L/N.” Doctor Thompkins replied, her voice calm but a bit stern.

You didn’t like psychologists, nor did you like the fact that Batman wanted you to evaluated. If he wanted to know things he could ask the questions his own damn self. Not use a master manipulator and control freak to pull the answers from you.

“Are you scared of the answer? Or do you believe I won’t like it?” You questioned leaning forwards, “Though I’m wearing this jacket Doctor, you have nothing to fear. I promise.”

The words felt bitter in your mouth, you knew they were a twisted version of what words you had nearly said to Tim. They hinted at the fact that you had the jacket on for a reason, that you were to be feared. You wanted her to be scared of you, before she could even think of controlling you.

Doctor Thompkins eyes narrowed and she smiled tightly at you. She clearly knew of your reputation, or at least knew treating you nicely and pretending to be kind wasn’t going to work. And that your implications were enterally false.

“He wanted me to evaluate you. May I ask my questions now?”

Curt, but polite, that would’ve worked... if you didn’t fea- hate, hate. If you didn’t hate psychologists, of course it would have. Doctor Thompkins and you could have gotten along had she not been here to tell Batman all the dirty secrets she could pry from you... and been a manipulating bitch.

“Why are you here? I don’t believe that evaluation bullshit.” You replied rolling your eyes as you leaned back in your chair, your criminal side taking such a strong hold of you it was hard to breathe.

“Why are you here Miss, L/N?” She retorted.

Replying with true, but short answers will help you out, breathe, you can do this.

You said with a shrug, “Insanity plea, next question.”

“Why did you decide to use an insanity plea for your defense?” She asked as she looked at the folder in her hands.

Honesty was the best option, the faster you answered the faster you got away from here. Of course unless the answer led into another question then another... then of course lying was the best option.

“It was that or deal with the possibility of being raped and assaulted in prison. I thought being considered batshit crazy was the better option.”

She looked up at your words and her eyes softened, the fear, it was a universal fear of women. She wasn’t going to judge you for that... Doctor Thompkins was human when it came down to it. Then again all people were.

“You,” She continued looking away from you, “have an IQ of 135, you are by far one of the smartest people here-”

You stopped her shaking your head. You hated when people talked about your intelligence. In the past, before Arkham- before Tim Drake, you hadn’t minded people talking about your intellect. Hell, you had wanted people to know how smart you were, wanted people to know you were brilliant and to fear you because of it. Just like how you feared your father.

Now, now hearing about your intelligence, hearing people tell you how smart you were made your stomach churn. It made you feel ill because you didn’t like the old you. The person who only cared about themselves, who thought so highly of themselves they ignored others who were going through exactly what they had gone through. Like he did.

Realizing you were acting like him, like your father, it made you fully see how bad of a person you were, made you wonder why Tim had seen any light in you. It made you wonder how you ever thought you could redeem yourself.

However there is no way in hell you were going to let Doctor Thompkins know that, despite how tight a hold love had on your mind, despite how much you wanted to get it over with and spill all your secrets before it was too late you kept your mouth shut and lied. After all love had your mind captive, not your pride.

“You don’t know that.”

Doctor Thompkins’s brow furrowed and she blinked twice before asking “What do you mean by that?”

You had to think of a lie of sorts quickly, and your mind stumbled across one that wasn’t exactly a lie but something that you did believe to be true, however it wasn’t the real reason, because saying the real reason would only lead to talking and you were so damn tired of talking.

“My IQ was determined by a test that is for the intelligence we deem valuable today. For all we know there are geniuses locked away in here because they use different parts of their brain and can’t handle it without the proper medication...” You trailed off as an afterthought, a real one, escaped, “Anyways my IQ isn’t worth shit in a situation like this.”

Doctor Thompkins blinked then looked at you, intrigue clear on her face, “Like what?”

“My situation with the Joker, I’m sure Batman already informed you of what happened.” You replied, shooting her a tight smile.

Slowly, the criminal side of you was mixing with the normal you. Making it so, it wasn’t so fake, more of the you, you’d grown into. You wished some part of you felt overjoyed, but all you felt was guilty and scared. Everyday it seemed you were becoming more like your father. You were beginning to hope the Joker took you out before you became fully him.

“Yes, but there is something else isn’t there?”

A new sense of fear slammed into you as you studied Doctor Thompkins, she was good, too good. She noticed certain things, your micro expressions probably, she was going to use everything she learned against you and you were going to wish you were dead... well more than you did already

“That... that is none of your business.” You said, shaking your head as you refused to meet her gaze.

“I’m going to guess it has to do with your attachments to Red Robin.”

You froze and looked her dead in the eyes, had you not been so angry you would have taken solace in the fact that she flinched. Straightening out you shook your head trying your hardest to keep yourself under control.

“I have no attachments to him,” You replied hearing your voice fluctuate, “He’s my friend- that’s- that is all.”

Doctor Thompkins nodded slightly, leaning in towards you as if she felt she was on to something. As if she thought you were finally opening up, “So it does have to deal with him, him and some tricky emotions if I’m not wrong.”

A sharp breath hit you and you closed your eyes to stop yourself from bursting. You would not yell, you would not break. You could do this.

Opening your eyes you looked at Doctor Thompkins before remarking, “This, Doctor Thompkins, is an evaluation, an interrogation even, but it’s not a therapy session. So, do you have any other questions for me?”

She leaned back slightly before taking a look at the file. Her eyebrow raised and she let out a slight sound before looking up at you.

“Does what your father did to you cause you to have PTSD?”

Letting out a huff you shook your head as a sound faintly echoed around the room, your father was a topic you didn’t like to talk about. Especially since there was only one person you’d ever told about your relationship with your father... well unofficially two, officially one.

“My father may have been a spiteful and abusive bastard, but what happened between me and him is something only one fucking person knows.” You said glaring at Doctor Thompkins, looking to see if she noticed your mistake.

She didn’t, which meant that she didn’t know everything. Which meant there was a possibility she wasn’t told about your childhood by someone. However, you didn’t know that for sure, you had to figure out, you just had to.

“How in the hell did you come to the conclusion my childhood produced PTSD?”

Doctor Thompkins gave you a pitying look, “When you became a criminal Miss L/N, your medical records as a child were put into your file. Any common idiot could see the injuries were caused by abuse. Majority of children who suffered through abuse as long as you did suffer from a form of PTSD.”

She knew, not because someone said something, but because she was a psychologist. A slight sense of relief ran over you, no one had betrayed you, no one had said anything.

Letting out a sigh of relief you remarked, “Well then you already know the answer to your question.”

Doctor Thompkins narrowed her eyes and gave you a strange look. Closing the file she raised an eyebrow.

“What is it that you are avoiding? The emotions that are causing you problems?”

Emotions. Emotions always got you into trouble. Too much trouble.

For a moment the criminal side rose up in you, so quickly it surprised you with words in your throat then on your tongue.

“Emotions are a weakness I can’t seem to rid myself of.” The criminal side spat.

Sighing she shook her head and Doctor Thompkins opened the file again this time pulling a pen out of her pocket. She began writing something as she remarked, “That mask isn’t fooling anyone Miss. L/N.”

The mask was something you had been using since you were a child. It started when the bruises appeared and the questions were asked. The colder and harsher you were the more people left you alone. Letting the mask, your criminal side, stay firm on your face gave her a blank look.

“I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about.”

Muttering things under her breath, Doctor Thompkins wrote things down in the file before looking up at you and tilting her head to the side. Her mutterings rose to actual speech as she studied you almost as if she was asking for answers.

“Hostile... you get hostile when emotions and your mask are brought up.... your father emotionally abused you as well didn’t he? It was more than just his fists.”

As Doctor Thompkins ranted you stood up, your breath stilled in your lungs. Letting out the breath you closed your eyes moving towards the door. There was a slight click you believe to be her pen and you stopped just in front of the door. You did not want to talk about your father, not now, not ever again. You couldn’t relive those memories. Panic climbed up your chest and you felt a hitch in your throat.

“GUARD!” You shouted as calmly as you could, “I’M DONE, TAKE ME BACK TO MY CELL.”

No one came and Doctor Thompkins went silent before sighing. You didn’t turn towards her, instead you started yelling again.

“HEY, I SAID I’M DONE!”

You moved to slam yourself against the door when Doctor Thompkins winced slightly almost as if she knew what you were going to do. You stilled and heard her take in a breath.

“They aren’t going to listen I’m afraid.” She remarked almost guiltily.

You turned towards her, your eyes narrowed, feeling the panic fade into a sharp and bright anger.

“What?” You nearly snarled.

“They have been instructed to keep the door closed till I say I’m done.”

Of course, the bastard thought of everything. Locking you in here until you complied with the Doctor, until you let her take you part piece by piece, just like a puzzle. Just like your father use to.

Walking back to your seat you glared at her before taking in a breath then letting it out. If they wanted you to do this you might as well play the game the only way you knew how. Destroying your opponent by giving them exactly what they wanted.

“What do you want to know?” You asked, pretending to cave in.

It wasn’t hard, acting, pretending to have given up. All you had to do was think about how you were going to die, how probably no one would mourn you. How you were going to be forgotten, just like your father promised.

“Did your father abuse you emotionally?”

You knew how much truth to reveal, how much would make Doctor Thompkins stop asking questions about your past, it would rip open old wounds, but it’d be worth it. It would probably destroy her and some part of you cared, but at the moment you were too tired to listen to it.

“Did he? My father was one of Gotham’s most renowned psychologists Doctor Thompkins. If he couldn’t make me believe that my existence was a mistake, no one could.”

It was a subtle thing, but Doctor Thompkins flinched, for a moment she looked to the left, then messed with her hair by her ear. It took you a second to realize it, but she was wearing an earpiece. Getting fed questions to ask, told which buttons to push.

“Just to be clear, “ You said feeling anger in you hotter than a flame, “that was a yes. He was also fairly adept at psychological abuse, he would smash plates to make me think I was going to get hit. He’d bring friends over that he told me he’d promised me too. When they, men I would have trusted despite my fathers word, tried to hug me or came up behind me to ask something; I jumped and he would laugh like it was all some kind of game. To him I was a game nothing more... when you spend all your time around criminals, you being to become one.”

Actually flinching, Doctor Thompkins swallowed. She looked shaken and you knew you had hit her where it hurt. She probably had admired your father, saw him as a god or idol of sorts. Most psychologists did, most didn’t know who your father really was. It was clear despite your medical records, despite his reputation, she had no clue. No clue you were his daughter and he was a monster.

“Why are you telling me this?” She asked.

Why were you telling her this? Maybe because it felt good to yell at someone like him, maybe because it feels good to make her jump and be scared as she tried to drag up every bad memory... or maybe, maybe because it’s what she wanted even if she didn’t like it.

“It’s what you want isn’t it? You want to know every little fucking detail to see if I’m as bad as him. To see if I’m batshit crazy, and I’ll tell you a secret. I am. I'm so damned crazy I’ve deluded myself into believing that I actually mattered.”

You were rambling now, letting everything loose, because despite how much you hated this, how much you didn’t want Batman and the rest of the bats to know, you wanted her gone. And,... and once you started talking, you couldn’t stop, however,

She was too much like your father, with her fake calm and the endless questions. It made you feel hopeless, after all there was no escape from him, which could only mean there’s no escape from her.

She opened her mouth to say something when there was a slight noise, almost as if she was shifting in her chair. Something flickered in her eyes and she locked her jaw before writing something down in the file.

“Why,” Doctor Thompkins began in a sharp tone, causing you to freeze, “did you save Red Robin? Tell me the real reason, the full one.”

You felt yourself breaking down, actually breaking down. Tears were beginning to form in your eyes and you pushed them back. She had broken you, so easily your father would have laughed. There wasn’t any point anymore, to even try lying. It hurt, it felt like you were swallowing acid with every word.

“Because,” You said leaning forwards as your voice cracked, “I couldn’t watch him die.”

You saw the instant effect your words had on her, almost as if she realized your feelings. Relaxing in her chair, Doctor Thompkins looked you up and down. You had met her eyes and you knew, you knew she pitied you because she knew.

“What about you?” She asked softly as she set her pen down, almost reaching out for you.

“What about me?” You scoffed rolling your eyes.

The pain was setting in your chest so sharp and cold. Love was worming it’s way through your heart, causing you pain because you were finally admitting it. Not fully, but partially. Admitting your feelings. It hurt, hurt to realize how much you cared and how little it mattered.

“Did it occur to you that defying the Joker would get you killed?” Doctor Thompkins questioned, her voice so gentle you had a hard time believing it was her speaking.

You felt your face tremble as the pain expanded and the hollow feeling, the feeling of emptiness hit you so hard your breath hiccupped. Shrugging you sank into yourself a little bit.

“Of course, it just didn’t matter.... I never really mattered anyways. Not really, not to my father, not to any of the crime lords I worked for. Not to him, not to you.” Looking Doctor Thompkins in the eyes you sighed as you remembered she wasn’t here for you, but because of Batman, “Everyone... Everyone just wants to use me and then dispose of me.”

You looked away as you noticed the pity in Doctor Thompkins eyes. Shaking your head you relaxed against the chair as your thoughts spewed from your mouth without hesitation.

“Good thing daddy dearest is gone, though. He’d have a ball at this.”

You remembered the sound of a gun-shot, the smell of the gun powder and the feeling of blood on your face. The man, the man in the mask in front of you, how he almost seemed to be giving you a pitying look, as if he somehow understood.

“What happened to your father?” Doctor Thompkins voice echoed through your memory. You heard a slight sound but ignored it.

“Oh, he’s dead.” You replied as your memory continued.

Your father was dead on the ground, the man was in front of you, it was then the vigilante’s came into the room. The first time you met them, the only time you didn’t have to escape. However it seemed that your rescuer was the one now in need of rescuing, you were unfortunately in too much shock to do anything as the vigilantes chased him out the door.

“Did you-?” She asked as you came back into reality.

Blinking you saw a slightly scared look on her face and you felt yourself revolt against her gaze.

A killer, she thought you were a killer.

“No,” You said, shaking your head as you pushed yourself back from the table with your feet, “no I don’t hurt people.”

She paused for a moment, her face relaxing, before replying, “No, you just steal from them right?”

Something in Doctor Thompkins voice was sharp and bitter, it told you that you had probably stolen from or helped steal from someone she knew. Narrowing your eyes you opened your mouth to speak when there was a clatter in the hall.

It was then you heard the voice of guards, talking fairly loudly. It had to have been newbies, no seasoned guard would talk that loudly in Arkham.

“Word is,” One guard remarked as he passed the room, “he’s out of isolation and is joining the normal crowd for dinner-”

Before you could hear more the guards moved away and your heart stopped in your chest. There was only one person who you knew was in isolation and who the guards would even bother to talk about.

The Joker. The Joker was out of isolation and you were going to dead before sunset.

Fucking shit.

Doctor Thompkins let out a sigh and drew your attention back to her. She was writing something in the file. Then she looked up at you, a serious expression on her face.

“Why don’t we talk about your relationship with Red Robin?”

A sound came from one of the corners of the room. You froze staring at it, your heart beat faster and faster in your chest. Your mouth was still open and you felt it going dry. Someone or something was in the corner, out of your sight and had been this entire time.

You closed your eyes, remembering all the little noises and how afterwards Doctor Thompkins would move away from the subject she was in previously. Whoever it was in the corner, they were practically directing this interrogation- evaluation, whatever it was.

“Come out,” You said softly as you stiffened in the chair, “I know your there.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Doctor Thompkins close her eyes and curse slightly. She pressed a hand to her face and you saw something moving in the darkness.

You watch almost as if the world was in slow motion as Red Robin appeared from the darkness and your heart started beating again loudly in your ears.

Red Robin was here. The Joker was out of isolation. You had to do something, something that would get you out of here and away from Tim, away so that if and when the Joker attacks, he won’t get caught in the cross-hairs.

“What are you doing here?” You asked without hesitation.

Not even blinking Red Robin pulled a chair from the corner and set it next to Doctor Thompkins.

“I’m here to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

The words were like knives to your heart.

I’m here to make sure nothing goes wrong

He didn’t trust you, he didn’t think you could be left alone with Doctor Thompkins. He thought you’d hurt her, he was here to protect her from you. You blinked once as the criminal side covered you. It was almost an instinctive reaction. A protection of sorts.

Your criminal side began to sink in and you let it. If the one person, the only damned person who believed in you, who thought there was any good in you, didn’t trust you enough to not hurt someone, what did that say about you? What did that say about who you were? Why were you fighting so hard to be something your not?

With the criminal side firm on your face you rolled your eyes. Leaning back in the chair.

“As if something would go wrong.” You snorted, “and I don’t believe that shit for a second.”

He wouldn’t be here just because of body guard duty. There must have been another reason... right?

Noting the tense expression on both of their faces, you realized you were right. There was more than one reason for him being here. You couldn’t think of any reason, any real reason for him being here.

“I’m here,” He said, taking in a breath, “to help you.”

Your first instinct was to be touched, to feel all warm inside and let love take hold of you again; that is until your mind reminded you that he probably only wanted to help you out, because if he didn’t your life- your death, would be on his conscience. All because you decided to save him.

You rolled your eyes feeling the love, the bitter virus, beginning to swirl around almost coming to life. However your anger and the hollow, empty feeling were able to beat it back, just for long enough that you could keep a clear head.

“Of course you are,” You snorted sarcastically not looking Red Robin in the eye, “and it had nothing to do with the fact that I saved your life so you feel indebted to me”

You saw a hurt look cross his face and he shook his head almost as if he not only didn’t agree with what you said but knew you didn’t fully believe it yourself.

“That isn’t true you’re my friend, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

Friend, were the two of you actually friends? Almost a third of this so-called friendship happened while you were behind Arkham’s bars. Despite how much you cared about him you had to hurt him. Had to give him a reason to leave and forget you.

“Fucking bullshit,” You scoffed. “I mean nothing to you and you mean nothing to me.”

“Don’t lie, I know that isn’t true.”

You looked up and met his gaze, then the two of you stared each other down. It was almost a battle of wills, to see who would be the first to crack and back down. Despite him being right, you wanted to win so he’d leave, leave and be out of danger. Leave and stop making you feel so... strange.

Love was dangerous and stupid and it made you feel so weird. While most of the time... most of the time he wasn’t here, it made you feel like you were dying, choking on something unseen and strong. When he was here, it was like... it was like you were burning. So quickly and bright, all of your senses were alit and your emotions felt different, more prominent.

Love made you feel like you were finally alive and dying all at the same time.

You didn’t like it, parts of you... the parts of you that were too much like your father told you it was weakness, loving someone. But as you looked at Tim, you couldn’t understand why.

“Do you....” Doctor Thompkins asked, causing you to look at her.

She had the file practically in her lap, her pen at the ready as if she was waiting for you to start spilling your guts at any second.

“Do you want to take the jacket off?”

You didn’t even blink, she was trying to establish a bond of sorts, it was fairly late to be doing that but you weren’t going to have any of it. Besides, being this close to him and having the jacket off was a bad idea.

You knew you’d want to wave your hands around as you spoke, twirl strands of your hair around your fingers, that you’d want to reach out for him maybe even touch him... that however was something you simply couldn’t do. No matter how much you wanted to.

“No,” You said, “for your own comfort I’ll keep it on. Can’t have your bodyguard getting jumpy when I simply move a finger now can we?”

Doctor Thompkins stiffened and Red Robin looked confused before a look of realization crossed his face and he leaned towards you.

“I’m not her bodyguard... is that why you think I’m here?”

“Why else would you be here?”

The words had slipped from your mouth, more of a statement than a question. You knew he didn’t have any other reason. Despite what he said, he couldn’t have a another reason.... or at least he shouldn’t.

“Because,” He said looking you in the eyes, “ I can’t watch you die either and I can’t stand aside as you get yourself killed.”

He paused for a moment and you noticed how his cheeks flushed slightly. Blinking, he looked away from you for a second before continuing, “You’re my friend and I care about you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, your feelings- your love for him slamming so hard into you. Revealing all of the cracks and holes it had made, revealing how much it hurt.

You felt tears in your eyes, you cared about him so damned much and every time you tried to push him away he seemed to fight to right back to your side. You had to get space between the two of you, not only because right now being close to you put him in danger but because you were a danger.

It had taken you nearly seven years to realize you were what your father thought and so much more. A monster, a hazard, a danger. You caused trouble and got people hurt no matter what you did. Despite how much light Tim saw in you, you never could be good, not really, no matter your intentions. You were destined for destruction.

With tears streaming down your face you opened your eyes and looked at him, he looked to be struggling with something, what you didn’t know but you knew it hurt to see him upset. But it would hurt more to see him dead so you straightened yourself out and sighed.

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because you matter to me.”

You blinked in surprise and felt more tears slip down your face. Leaning back in the chair, his cheeks fairly pink, Red Robin looked at Doctor Thompkins.

“Sorry, please continue.” He remarked, clearing his throat.

Doctor Thompkins gave him, then you, a look and she smiled slightly before flipping the page in the file. She looked up at you and narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Do you regret it? What you’ve done? As a criminal I mean.”

The words were on your lips before you could even think it over.

“Yes. I regret ever hurting anyone who felt or went through even a sliver of what I have,” You said looking more at Red Robin then Doctor Thompkins, “But other than that no, I don’t regret a damn thing. Fuck all those damn rich people.”

Both Doctor Thompkins and Red Robin blinked and you swear you saw a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. For a moment you felt a bit of pride, that is until you remembered. The second you got out of here you were dead.

Looking away from Red Robin you watched as Doctor Thompkins wrote something in the file. Once she finished she looked at you and you wiggled a bit in your seat.

“Are we done?”

She nodded and closed the file, returning her pen to her coat. She pushed away from the table and stood up.

“Guards!” She called.

The door swung open almost automatically and two guards, two different guards entered the room. You shot Red Robin one last look as they grabbed onto you and began dragging you from the room.

“Goodbye, old friend.” You called.

It wasn’t just a I’ll see you later goodbye, but a final one. Doctor Thompkins took in a breath and Red Robin flinched. Before either of them could reply or do anything however you were dragged from the room.

As the guards pulled you down the hall you knew what you had to do. You didn’t want to be killed in front of everyone while they were eating; if the Joker wanted to kill you not only would he have to do it himself he’d have to break into your cell to do it. You were going to get yourself into isolation. Might as well die in the place you’d been living for the last two months.

Struggling against the guards grip you began to fight. It wasn’t difficult after so long of being compliant you fighting back was a surprise to the guards. You quickly broke free of their grip and tripped one of them.

As he slammed onto the ground, the other charged towards you, you jumped out of the way only to have the guard grab onto your hair as he passed and yank you with him. You both went tumbling towards the ground. You spun around and your face slammed straight into the tiles.

You felt a slight snap and blood spilling from your nose. Raising your head you looked to find one of the guards swinging at you, perfect.

The second his fist hit your face your head went backwards and the other guard grabbed onto your shoulder. They both yanked you up and began dragging you back towards your cell. You could feel the blood spilling down from your nose and now from your busted lip. A maniacal grin was on your face and for a moment you felt light instead of the heavy hollow you’d been feeling for months.

You heard the sound of a door opening and then you were thrown back into your cell. As you tumbled into it your head hit the ground and the world tumbled into darkness.

When you woke up, you heard your cell neighbors humming and muttering in gibberish respectively. This meant you had missed lunch and it was probably getting dark out. Raising your head you shifted so your legs were under you, then you waited.

You didn’t know how long it would take him, but eventually the Joker would come for you. So you sat, with dried blood on your face, your nose probably broken and your heart essentially shattered in your chest. There wasn’t much that the Joker could do to you that could be worse than what you had already done to yourself.

So when you heard the footsteps, when you heard a slight clanging and the sound of your door beginning to open. You were ready. Ready for whatever torture the Joker had prepared for you. You knew you had suffered a lot and were probably about to suffer a whole lot more. But what mattered was that Tim was safe.

And whether he knew it or not he had a hold on you so strong that it made you see past reason and he had your heart.

With both him and your heart safely away from Arkham, you put a smile on your face and turned to greet the Joker.

Bring it on, you thought.

After all, you were pretty much batshit crazy. Crazy in love. And all that mattered was that you died on your own terms and the person who you cared about was safe. Safe and far away from here.

Love sucked, but it had a strong hold on you and you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Damn.

Love, it always wins, doesn’t it?

#Tim Drake #tim drake x fem!reader #tim drake x reader #Tim Drake x Y/n #reader x tim drake #batboys #batfam #y/n #reader #angst #Red Robin #Batman #Gotham #arkham asylum #two-shot #part two #y/n x tim drake #something'sgottaholdonme #requests

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gatortoe · 3 years

Text

How to make a weighted plush furby (1998 / 2012, boom)

(This tutorial is generalized for both the 1998 and 2012 / furby boom so it will not include process pictures nor will it detail how to close up the faceplate or ears on your furby. I will however provide links to some tutorials for getting you to the point where this one picks up below. Make sure you keep the base of your furby as it will be important later.

Note: The 1998s are easier to skin and prepare for stuffing then the 2012s but the 2012s are often cheaper. Consider your skill level (in my case patience) and financial situation before attempting this project as the plastic beans needed to give the furby extra weight are more expensive than the regular polyfill, and you can get a more polished look with a new in/with box 2012 furby. Or you can be like me and throw caution to the wind. Whatever works for you)

1998

2012/Boom

One of my favorite types of Furbies are those itty bitty spaced out furby buddies. For me they are too small to be much use for stimming and none of their face parts move but the bean bag center has always given these fellows a wonderful little bit of weight. This had me wondering if I could make a full size furby with a bean bag core. Turns out it is much easier than it looks and all you need is some extra fabric of any color, the base of your furby, some weighted pellets for use in your bean bag, and a small amount of polyfill. I personally used the polyfill plastic pellets since they were easy to pick up at my local Walmart. I'd recommend using whatever is convenient or cheapest but you can get heavier beans out there.

The first thing you're going to need is the furby you intend to to turn into a plush. This particular tutorial will work for any 1998 adult, baby or 2012 furby/boom. Be sure to keep the base as this will come in handy later.

Follow the respective tutorial for pushifying your particular furby up until the point where you need to begin to sew up the butt.

Set your furby aside for now.

Using scrap fabric cut two squares roughly the same width but never bigger than the base of your furby. Using the plastic base that came with them is a useful measuring tool for this.

Pin the two squares together and sew up three of the four sides. Make sure your seams are tight so that none of the beans can't escape their soul prison.

Invert the fabric so that your seam allowances are on the inside and add your beans, making sure to add only enough to give the bag shape and weight while still allowing it to deform and move semi-freely. Just enough for it to be a proper bean bag but not enough that you're making a mess when you're sewing it up. Beans do not compress like polyfill.

Note: It is not necessary to turn your bean bag inside out and use a ladder stitch to close it up if it does not bother you. The bean bag is going to be inside the furby and not visible but it bothered me so I chose to turn the bag inside out for a more finished look. Do what makes you happy in life, dude.

Once you have added your beans turn the bag sideways so that the seam is facing you and sew close across the top of the bag going across that seam. Once done you should have a functional bean bag perfect for pelting your siblings or giving your furby a core of beans.

And speaking of your furby, it's time to bring them back!

Make a "nest" for your bean bag inside their skull by laying down a layer of regular polyfill at the top of the head. If you have a furby boom I would recommend adding extra stuffing around the faceplate as this era of furbies have larger face plates that poke further into the middle of the furby then the original 1998s.

Stuff around the bean bag to your desired firmness and set your furby aside one last time. You will see them again real soon.

Again using your base trace a circle around it using your remainder scrap fabric. If you have a furby boom or 2012 and you have the original box you can use the scrap fabric in the top of the box to sew up the butt for a more polished look.

I would recommend giving yourself a large seam allowance and making sure your trace lines are clearly marked. It can be a little bit difficult to sew up the bottom but I find the best method is a combination of pins and ample ladder stitching.

Voila! You now have a weighted plush furby! Enjoy your very shaped friend and give them lots of pets!

(P.s If you use this tutorial and have any progress pics please send them to me so that I might include them in an updated tutorial. I will be sure to credit.)

#furby #safe furby #custom furby #furblr #furby community #solace #plush furby #tutorial #1998 furby #2012 furby #furby Boom

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thelovelymrsc · 2 years

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hey annah! what would you say your top 3 dinner and lunch recipes are? your post about cooking inspired me :))

Hiii gorgeous! I’m so glad you enjoyed that post about cooking! It’s so important to learn💗

It’s hard to choose top of anything because I’m always finding new favs! So I’ll just list a few popular ones.

So I have more indulgent recipes, and healthier recipes haha! I will try to do a mix for you. Keep in mind as well that for health reasons, I’m gluten free so some recipes may seem different! I’ll also have some links and some recipes I made up or have memorized!

Dinner:

Coconut and cilantro chicken: https://pin.it/INuUMz8 this is amazing! Very light and fresh and different. Quite easy to make in my opinion!

Dijon chicken: https://pin.it/4LstUjA I made this one time for some guests and they still talk about the sauce and it’s been forever lol! Definitely a hit. Honestly thinking about making this next week now 😂

Lastly, you need a bowl of soup to cuddle up with this time of year! My favorite staple dish of winter is chicken and rice soup. Here’s my recipe:

1-1 1/2 pounds chicken breast, cooked and shredded set to the side.

3/4 a stick of butter and a drizzle of olive oil in a large pot that has a lid (I use a cast iron Dutch oven) medium heat

Add one diced onion, diced celery, and a bag of shredded carrots and cook til they start to soften then add minced garlic

Four cups of chicken bone broth in the pot, with chicken bouillon powder added at least a teaspoon per cup or to taste.

Add salt (be wary of too much), pepper, thyme, oregano, two bay leaves

Turn up the heat and let it come to a boil then add a cup of white rice. Turn down the heat back down and cover it, leaving a small crack to let steam out if you wish. Check the rice after about 20 minutes by tasting it.

Once it’s cooked, take out your bay leaves and add in a pint of heavy cream, freshly grated Parmesan to taste, juice of one lemon, and the shredded chicken. Stir after each addition. Add more broth if too thick.

Ladle in bowls and serve with more fresh parm 😍chef’s kiss!

Okay now lunch!

Bacon + fried egg on gluten free bread with whipped cream cheese and/or avocado

If we have leftover chicken and veggies I’ll sauté them to heat them (never microwave, I rarely use mine anymore) and put them in a gluten free wrap

I’ll make salads with homemade dressing. I make my own ranch, or a maple Dijon vinegarette.

Lunches are really just that middle of the day grab what’s in the pantry/fridge kind of thing, lol!

I hope this helped at all lovely 💕let me know if you ever want more recipes! I love to cook and bake.

#ac asks #housewife #cooking #baking #kitchen chats

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fleckcmscott · 2 years

Text

A Cup of Cheer

Summary: While waiting for Arthur, Y/N gets ready to deck the halls with love and laughter.

Words: 1,677

Warnings: None

A/N: The idea for this silly little story came to me a couple days ago. I hope you all enjoy it! Thank you to @sweet-nothings04 for her help with the intro pic! (And Dove chocolate wrappers for inspiring the summary. 😂)

With a slight groan, Y/N kicked off her kitten-heel boots and set her canvas bag on the floor. At fifty-six, she had to admit it was getting harder to lug the faithful tote from the apartment to the subway, to the office, then back again. Arthritis had started in her shoulder, a dull ache that seeped into her neck and burned on frigid days. She'd have to ask Arthur to rub Voltaren on it.

But its minty odor, the smell of nursing homes and geriatric wards, would dispel any magic his hands worked. That'd have to wait. They had to celebrate Christmas Eve with stockings and a tumble in the sack, courtesy of a little help from the tablet they'd dubbed The Blue Wonder.

She plucked the pager from her pocket and removed two AAA batteries. There would be no interruptions this year. The president of Ace Chemicals could call her firm to offer the best plea deal money could buy, and he'd have to leave a message. She retrieved envelopes of red, gold, and green from her inner pocket to lay on the kitchen counter. Glossy stamps featuring wreaths and the Madonna made it clear they were Christmas cards, from Missouri, from Gary, from their bank, from past clients. They'd stay sealed until Arthur returned from his final shift at Donahue's.

Deemed too skinny to play Saint Nick (despite the fourteen pounds he'd put on thanks to marriage and middle age), Arthur had been given the role of the Oldest Elf in Santa's Village, open from ten to four Tuesday through Friday, six on weekends. Apart from the pointy shoes, which even he - a clown by trade - had declared silly, he didn't seem to mind it. There were no tips but he received a firm, hourly wage no one tried to weasel out of and free food from the café on the top floor. He'd brought home roasted ham, baked potatoes, and butternut squash twice this week.

That left her with plenty of time to put the finishing touches on their decorations and wrap the last of his presents. He hadn't asked for much, socks and underwear, whatever she saw that she thought he might like, he didn't need anything. But white undies and plain socks had become elusive, displaced by boxer briefs and ever-present black crews.

As well as she knew him, it made figuring out what to get more of a chore than it ought to be. She'd browsed Wishbooks and catalogs, frowned at cigar humidors and ornate belt buckles, wine corkers in the shape of golf clubs. Arthur smoked cheap cigarettes, eschewed belts of all kinds, and found golf a tedious past time of the wealthy. ("Why do rich people play golf? So poor people can carry their bags.")

A consultation with Patricia at their usual deli, the one around the corner from their old stomping ground Shaw & Associates, had been less than helpful. "Oh, Y/N," she'd said. "You remember how old Robert and I are, right? We're getting rid of stuff, not adding to. By the way, did you want our crystal champagne coupes?"

Y/N had finally decided on a fancy pair of oxfords, brown and black, as Arthur's old pair had a hole in the sole, right under the left toe, that no amount of Shoe Goo could fix. And a mini voice recorder so he could dictate any funny observations or joke ideas when a pen or notebook wasn't handy. Wrapping it in shiny silver paper, flecked with holly and crimson berries, she giggled lightly. She could just imagine him strolling along, trying to look nonchalant as he talked into it.

She placed the packages beneath the Christmas tree, far enough from the tree stand to avoid being splashed. She straightened an ornament or two, flicked a blue bulb into joining its teammates in festive blinking. Tall and proud, the fir was broader than usual, far too fluffy, only realized when they'd hoisted it up against the wall between the kitchen and living room. Arthur had clipped some of the branches, leaving his fingers sticky with sap even after three scrubbings. The tree remained a behemoth.

Their felt stockings hung from his writing nook's room divider with care. She filled his with travel-sized boxes of pecan cookies, a jar of macadamia nuts, a package of nicotine gum he'd likely toss over his shoulder. A sachet held tickets to the Just for Laughs comedy festival, scheduled for next spring. And hidden within a satin wrap was a coupon booklet that included such niceties as "Share a Dessert," "Share a Dance," "Share a Shower." The corner of what looked to be a jewelry box poked out from the top of her stocking, catching her eye. Biting down on her smile, she managed to drag herself away before her nosiness took over and spoiled tonight for both of them. (She'd put on whatever it was before The Blue Wonder.)

Standing before the stereo console, she foraged through their albums until she found his favorite for the holidays, Jackie Gleason Orchestra's By the Fireside. Once the record spun at the volume reserved for lovers, she grabbed a spare set of Christmas lights, the kind with large bulbs that were now considered passé, and an extension cord from the storage closet. She headed towards the fire escape, a balcony in disguise.

It'd started snowing, the velvet black sky spitting flakes that looked like cotton candy. Y/N opened the glass door, glowing lights in hand, and tried to catch some on her tongue, remembering the rare snow shower they'd get in Boonville. When she and Mabel would compete over who could catch the most. Three, four, eight. A gust of cold wind sparked a shiver and Y/N swallowed, making a mental note to put on the kettle when she got back inside.

With the care of a weaver weaving an oriental rug, she looped the lights between the balusters, over the top rail, turned her wrists to prevent tangling. Loop, twist, pull, repeat. Loop, twist, pull, repeat. She'd almost gotten to the middle of the fire escape when the cord ran out. There were no more strands in the closet - they'd used two extra trimming the Behemoth. No other trinkets she'd dare expose to the elements. This would have to do. She gave the unfinished job a small shrug. "Still the merriest balcony on the block."

Once she'd secured the end of the cord to the cold aluminum, she leaned on the railing with her forearms, studied the sidewalk. It was busy, bursting with shoppers rushing home after last minute purchases. Children darted between shopping bags and briefcases. One girl, probably twelve, pigtails flying, seized a snowball from a parked car. Wound her arm like she wanted to bowl a perfect game and got a perfect strike - right in the face of her older brother. A squeal, a squeak, then she fled down the street, narrowly dodging his retaliatory lunge.

Suddenly, Y/N heard the scrape, scrape of a shovel on concrete and turned her attention to their apartment building's entranceway. It was supposed to be the Phelps's turn to clear the front of snow and sleet. But there was Arthur, heaping snow to either side of the door with the bright red shovel that was kept in the lobby. She recognized his tan coat first, the hood covering his head, then his slight swaying as he worked. Puffs rose from him, either his breath in the chilly evening air or the lingering smoke of his last pre-dinner cigarette.

A laugh floated from her throat, a laugh she couldn't have held in if she were attending the most solemn hearing. For at that moment, happiness flooded through her, a joy so deep it felt as though she were a newly dug well with devotion as its water. After seventeen years it still surprised her, how her heart kept finding ways to open itself to him, peeling back petals she hadn't known existed. Her cheeks burned, a side effect of undiluted infatuation, the sting of cold.

And a little mischief, too. She shouted down four floors. "Hey, Mr. Fleck!"

Arthur stopped and looked up, along with every other pedestrian who wanted to know what weirdo was shouting. The hood fell back from his head as he squinted at her, the orange streetlamp brightening the plains of his handsome face and lack of cigarette. He'd aged a little, but like any man who'd always appeared older than the calendar claimed, not much had changed. His sideburns had gone silver, crow's feet extended to his left cheekbone, smile lines adorned the right side of his mouth. She couldn't wait to cup his cheeks, warm him up with the heat of her hands, the fire of her lips.

She bent further, lifted one foot in the air and stood on her toes. Softened her shout into a call that would lure him upstairs. "I love you."

His smile broke wide open, until he was all teeth and dimples. "I'll be right up. Put on coffee?"

"I was thinking chamomile."

He grimaced. "No, coffee. With cocoa mixed in. You'll like it." With that, he put the shovel aside to pick up a plastic bucket, started to strew salt liberally across the sidewalk.

Y/N hurried back inside and rubbed her upper arms, brushed the snow from her ashy gray hair. He must have gotten this idea from Donahue's café. She put on decaf and retrieved the box of Universal Dutch Cocoa mix from the middle shelf. Only one envelope was left, which she flipped over. Taped to it was a gift tag. Instead of filling out the To and From sections, Arthur had written a simple note: "You're the sweetest." Though she grinned, it was a compliment she couldn't quite accept. Whether he believed it or not, his sweetness would always outdo hers.

Popping the top button of her form fitting sweater, she boosted herself on the counter, itching for Arthur to stick his key in the door.

~~~~~

Billy Squier - Christmas Is The Time To Say I Love You

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

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

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