#arthurfleckjokerwritingchallenge

[misfitgirlwrites]

Deep Breaths (Arthur Fleck x Reader)

This is for @arthurfleckjoker2019​‘s writing challenge :)

I had the prompt:

“I won’t let you.”

It was going to be some nice smut but ya girl is depressed so now it’s angst and fluff

This became a bit self-indulgent so to understand a bit better, I have ADHD and because of this I have a lot of RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) moments and the shit IS NOT FUN. So this is basically the reader going through a breakdown and Arthur helps them through it

Warnings: Mentions of suicide/death

Each day seemed to be getting worse than the last and you couldn't control it. It was always a bit difficult to go on about your day but recently it's gotten much harder. Gotham was never a bright and sunny city and it certainly didn't help your mood. Luckily with a break in college, you didn't have to worry about going to classes every day; though sitting in your room and letting your feelings consume you didn't help you feel any better. It was easy to dodge most of your friends but Arthur was a different story. He only lived a few doors down from you so you had a much higher chance of seeing him if you left your apartment, so you chose not to. Eventually, you did run out of the little food you had so you had no choice but to leave and get more.

Everything seemed grey as you forced yourself to throw on some clothes and leave your apartment, making sure you had the money you needed. After a quick glance and seeing that the hall was empty, you made your way to the lift. Usually, you would never take the death trap due to how often it would breakdown or shake violently, but if it were to fall today with you inside, you wouldn't mind at all. Once that became an open possibility, your brain took it upon itself to replay the scenario in your head. You tried not to focus on it, but it was hard not to. By the time the lift got to the first floor, you were zoned out. Your eyes were glued to the ground as you walked but you stopped and blinked seeing feet directly in your path. You looked up and paused.

"Oh...hey, Arthur." You gave the best smile you could. You were more than positive that you looked like shit at the moment.

"______. Are you okay?"

You could tell how concerned he was just from his tone. You gave a quick nod and rubbed your arm, "I'm fine. Nothing to worry about."

You've been doing this for years now. It was better to act like everything was okay than to try to explain yourself. It was stupid, especially compared to Arthur's situation. You didn't want to complain. You gave one last smile and moved to walk by him.

"You haven't left your apartment in three days."

You stopped walking. He was keeping track?

"And...you usually stop by to say hi to my mother. We're both worried about you, and you're my friend. You can tell me if something's wrong." You heard him walk closer to you and your heart began to feel heavy. You refused to cry in front of him right now. You turned to look up at him again.

"Artie, I'm alright, really. It's just that I'm on break from school so I don't need to leave out that much." You could tell that he wasn't buying it.

"Are you sure?"

"I--" your voice cracked and you quickly stopped talking, looking down. The pain in your chest; it was getting worse, "--it's dumb! It's not a big deal--"

"Well, if it's made you this upset it must be a big deal. Did I do something?"

"Oh no. No, you didn't do anything, it's me. I'm so--so oversensitive!" You snapped.

Arthur didn't respond, and you didn't give him much time to either.

"I always get so upset over things that are so small! And I overreact and get angry and do something stupid every single time! You'd think an adult would know how to control their emotions, but no! I get interrupted in a conversation and my brain just wipes out everything I planned on saying and I got so frustrated with my friend because I hate when they do that! If what I'm talking about is that boring then I'm sorry I'm a piece of shit who has nothing else better to do besides sit in their room and write stupid stories! And now it's been three days since I've spoken to either of them and that was probably the deal-breaker for them. They never want to see me again because I threw a bitch fit over a conversation that I don't even remember! So now I've just been sad and I have this pain in my chest that won't go away because no matter how hard I try, nothing I do will ever be right and it just makes me want to--" you realized you had hardly taken a breath and that you were yelling. Tears ran down your face as you stopped to catch your breath and it only made you more frustrated.

"...It makes me want to die. I'm so over them. I'm so over myself--I hate myself. I'm sorry, Arthur." You were very embarrassed now. He hasn't said anything the entire time. Food could wait. You tried to quickly make your way back upstairs but Arthur grabbed your hand.

"No."

"Arthur--"

"______, please." He pulled you close and hugged you tightly. You buried your face into his chest and let out a sob.

This was Arthur's first time seeing you like this and he didn't like it.

"Every day no matter how I feel or where I look, I can see myself dying in the worst way possible. Is it bad that I want it to happen? Is it bad that I want to just end it?" You whimpered, holding him tightly.

Arthur tried to respond, but a stifled laugh came out instead. You sniffed and didn't let him go as he began to laugh. You closed your eyes and rubbed his back as he buried his face into your neck.

"I'm--I'm sorry--" he wheezed.

"It's alright." You muttered, "deep breaths."

You both received weird glances from the few people who came and went, but neither of you moved. Once Arthur's laughter died down, he let out a cough to clear his throat and lifted his head up a bit.

"I know exactly how you feel, ______. I feel like that every day and--and seeing you makes those thoughts go away even if it's only for a little while. You can't leave me after giving me this happiness. I won't let you."

You started to cry again, even though you didn't really want to. Arthur just held you close and closed his eyes.

"Deep breaths."

You let out a small chuckle hearing him say that back to you. "Thank you, Arthur."

"You're welcome."

You finally pulled away and you missed his warmth almost immediately. You wiped your eyes and took a breath before looking up at him. "I owe you and your mother some ______ time, don't I?" You already felt so much better. The emotional weight that was pushing your heart down was gone and you felt like you could finally relax.

"You don't have to."

"Well, I want to. So how about you and I go to the store and get some snacks so the three of us and watch reruns of Murray?" You offered.

Arthur smiled, "that sounds perfect."

~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed! Writing this really helped me honestly~

-MG

[lavenderwatercolor]

Cranberry Vodka, Arthur Fleck x Reader

Prompt: “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”

Warnings: Cursing, drinking.

Pairing: Arthur Fleck/Reader

A/N: I wrote this for the #arthurfleckjokerwritingchallenge hosted by @arthurfleckjoker2019, I thought it was a cute fluffy one-shot and I hope you all enjoy!

***

You have a history of getting a little out of hand when you drank. Nothing crazy like getting into fights at the bar or parading naked through the streets, but you were a little… enthusiastic about things. Like when your neighbors brought over peach cobbler to welcome you to the neighborhood you cried and called them beautiful and told them you loved them.

And when you met Arthur, you were a little more than tipsy. You were at a comedy club with your friends and sat down at the only table available, which was his. After a few more dirty martinis you were chatting up a storm, asking him every question you could think of. 

When the show ended you gave him his number and that started a beautiful friendship, and you tried not to drink around him after that.

You and Arthur had a very interesting friendship. It was quite obvious he had a little crush on you, you could tell because of the way he looked at you. He snuck glances at you when he thought you didn’t notice, with this look in his eyes. Like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. 

It would be far from the truth to say you didn’t feel the same way. Maybe not in the way he was so deeply enthralled by you, but you did think of him as more than a friend. How could you not? He was so kind, so sweet, he would do anything for you and you knew it. 

Arthur never had a friend. Sure, he had ‘friends’, but none of them were in it selflessly. At work, they’d call him their friend, but only to butter him up for favors. Other people that he saw often in his life were in no way considered his friends. His social worker, the woman at the pharmacy who would give him his prescriptions, the manager of his apartment, they were all just side characters in his own sad novel. 

But you. He adored you. You were his only true friend. The only person to help him when he needed help, the only one to check up on him out of the blue and make sure he was okay, the only one that didn’t get uncomfortable when he laughed.

So, you tried not to ruin it with your drinking. 

One night though, your neighbors brought over a bottle of vodka, assuming from their first meeting with you that you enjoyed alcohol. You very much loved alcohol, you loved to drink, but hard drinks like vodka were one of the worst things you could consume. You always got lonely and invited people over, and if you were with people you became way too flirty. 

It just so happened, you were alone on a Friday night and opened the bottle. The cork popped open and you made yourself a Cape Cod, your favorite mixed drink. Cranberry juice and vodka, with a lime on the edge. 

After your first two drinks, you reached the lonely stage and called up Arthur. 

It took a few rings, but he picked up. 

“Hello?” He answered, sounding as if he didn’t expect a call. You looked at your watch and realized it was nine P.M. You hoped you didn’t wake him or his mother.

“Hi, Arthur. It’s (Y/N).” You smiled into the receiver, laying back against your couch while you took a sip of your drink. It was smooth, sweet, with a little surprising tang.

“Oh, (Y/N).” His tone brightened and you felt your heart warm at the change in his voice. “How are you, how was work?”

“Work was fine, boring, as usual.” You found yourself twirling the phone cord around your finger, grinning like you were a high-school girl talking to her boyfriend late at night. “How was your day?”

“Uh, fine. It was fine.” 

“Are you busy? Or anything?” 

“Uhm, no. No, I’m not busy. Why, is something wrong?” The sudden concern in his voice was evident, new nervous thoughts running through his head. 

“No, not at all. I was wondering if you uh, if you weren’t busy maybe you could come over?” Your mind raced to think of an excuse, normally when you asked him over at night it was for dinner or if you had a funny story about your day. But your day was uneventful and you had eaten dinner in town. You didn’t even have left-overs to offer.

“Sure!” He said before you could lie your way out of awkwardness. “My mother, she just went to bed. So sure, I can come over.”

“Okay!” You breathed out a shaky laugh, taking another sip of your drink in an attempt to calm yourself down. “Okay, well, I’ll see you soon!”

The two of you hung up and you went to freshen up your makeup and pour yourself another drink. He took a while to get to your place since he walked, and you would have offered to pick him up if you hadn’t been drinking.

Arthur rang your doorbell shortly after you prettied yourself up and drank two more cocktails.

“Arthur, hi!” You beamed as you opened the door, welcoming him into your house. 

“Hey.” He smiled sheepishly and walked past you, taking his coat off and hanging it by the door. “I saw a cat on the way over.”

“Aw, a kitty?” You swooned over the thought and closed the door behind him. 

He raised a brow at your strange dreamy attitude but said nothing about it, only nodding. “Yeah, a brown cat. Looked old.”

You led him to your living room and quickly picked up your empty glass, not wanting him to know you were drunk. In your state of oblivion you had no idea that it was painfully obvious how drunk you were. Not to mention the sweet smell on your breath and the way the cranberry juice had stained your lips. He gave you the benefit of the doubt though, since you weren’t acting nearly as out of control as the night he met you.

“So, how was your day?” You drew out your words, which of course, didn’t go by Arthur unnoticed. 

“You already asked me that. On the phone.” He was amused by the way you were acting. The way you slurred your speech and stumbled around the room was funny to him, you acted much different than his coworkers when they drank. Randall invited him out once to drink with them. Accepting his invitation was a decision he regretted almost immediately. 

You were much nicer, though, much more warm and comfortable. 

“Oh, right.” Your laughter, oh how he could melt just listening to it. “Well, do you wanna watch a movie? Halloween is coming on soon.” 

Arthur was a bit confused as to why he was there, every time he had come over to your house, it was for a specific reason. No one had ever invited Arthur over to just ‘hang out’. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t happy, though, it meant you enjoyed his company enough to have him over for no other reason than to just be with him. 

“Yeah, sure.” He shrugged, not even trying to keep the bashful smile from his face. 

You sat close to him on the couch, maybe too close to him, judging by how stiff he sat. Every time your arm would accidentally brush against his, he would tense up for a few seconds. It was adorable. And the fact that you were well past drunk only made him more appealing to you. 

“Ease up, Arthur.” You said after a while of him doing this over and over. “It’s just me.”

The way you spoke only made him more nervous. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to say something, but his throat felt far too dry to speak. He barely managed to croak out an ‘I’ before he choked on his own words. 

Did you truly make his that nervous so easily? You could have toyed with him a bit, been cruel and made it worse for him, but you couldn’t bare do something like that, not when you were in the state you were in. 

You didn’t see your next action as malicious. Really, you didn’t think much of it at all. You only wanted to be closer to him. But if your goal had been to relax Arthur, you had done the complete opposite. You leaned in closer to him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He smelt so good, aside from the smell of old cigarettes. You could barely put up with that.

Arthur fucking froze. 

“What cologne do you wear?” You asked, turning your head so you could smell him better. Doing so, your nose brushed against his earlobe, sending sinful chills down his spine. He had no fucking idea what cologne he used. It was the same bottle his mother had bought him for Christmas all those years ago. 

“It smells so good.” You continued when he didn’t answer, only nuzzling your face further in his neck. 

He had no idea what to say. He was a thousand miles beyond nervous, his heart was slamming 200bpm against his chest, and his right leg bounced uncontrollably. He’d never felt his heart beat like that before. He imagined this was what cocaine felt like.

Apparently, leaning your head on his shoulder wasn’t close enough for you, so you looped your arms around his waist and curled into his form. 

Okay, it was time for Arthur to start asking questions. “(Y/N),” His voice trembled as he spoke. “What are you doing?”

What were you doing? Wasn’t it obvious? “Do you not like it?” You asked, ready to move if he so wished, but for the moment you remained where you were. 

He answered immediately, tripping over his own words. “No! I mean, I like it just fine, I just, don’t know why you’re… being like this with me.”

“Uhm,” You laughed, looking up at him. “Because I like you. And I want to.” 

His heart jumped to his throat. “What did you just say?”

“I said… what did I say?” You giggled, trying to play with him a little. You’d always been a playful drunk. 

But Arthur was having none of it. “(Y/N), please,” 

The tone of his voice was enough to make you understand the seriousness of the situation for him. “Okay, I’m sorry.” Leaning up so you could look him in the eyes, you smiled. “I said I liked you.” 

If you could burn one image into your head for the rest of your life, it would have been the look on his face when you said those words. His features went slack, all but his lips, they twitched into a smile of disbelief. Seeing him go through a range of emotions at once was an experience all on its own. 

“Wait,” Suddenly, he didn’t look so happy anymore. “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?” He furrowed his brows, glancing down at your cranberry reddened lips. 

“A little.” You admitted, biting your bottom lip. “But, a drunk mind speaks a sober heart.” 

His eyes scanned over your face, searching for anything he could use to help him understand what the fuck was going on. You were drunk, he had known that since he walked in your house. So what did that mean? Were you lying? Was it the alcohol talking?

“Arthur, you’re thinking too much.” You sighed and reached up to brush a stray brown curl from his face. “It’s not hard to believe, is it? I mean, I invite you over for dinner all the time, we go out together every weekend-”

Arthur leaned forward, his heart racing, and kissed you. 

You hadn’t expected him to be so bold. You kissed back, boy, did you kiss back. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and sighed, thankful he had made the next move.

When you pulled back from his lips he was silent for a moment, only to lick his bottom lip and chuckle. “You taste sweet.” Before he even realized what he was saying he had said it. For a split second he panicked, but when you giggled and leaned in to kiss him again his fear subsided.

“I’m actually really glad I’ve been drinking.” You admitted once the second kiss was broken. Arthur listened intently as you sat back in the couch, resuming your position of cuddling him. “I don’t think I would have told you that if I was sober.”

Arthur smiled to himself as he felt you relax against him. Yeah, well, in that case, he was really glad too. 

[fanficlibrary82]

Cleaning Day

Hello, all! I wrote this piece for @arthurfleckjoker2019's writing contest! I hope you enjoy!

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

Warnings: Mild Suicidal Thoughts

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

It was rare that both you and Arthur would be off on the same day. So, when the day finally came, neither of you knew what you wanted to do. You considered taking a walk, but the garbage strike was still going on, and it was colder than either of you would be comfortable in. So you had settled on cleaning the apartment together.

"Hey, my favorite!" He beams as Frank Sinatra's famous lilt crackles through the speakers.

You smile, watching him dance. For the past few months, Arthur had been getting more and more confident, around you, at least. He would dance, share his new material; one time he even sang for you.

You had been so lost in thought that you didn't realize that he had danced his way over to you. With a small flourish, he took your hand and spun you.

A swift kiss to his cheek resulted in you giggling at the slightly stunned expression as he reached to touch where your lips had been.

"Come on, loverboy, the sooner we start the sooner we finish, and the sooner we can cuddle."

You see his eyes widen briefly before he scrunches up his face in mock concentration.

"Hm...just cuddle?"

You laugh and give an over exaggerated wink, loving how he felt comfortable enough to flirt.

"If we finish before midnight then maybe there'll be more."

He laughs, and your heart soars; it wasn't the pained laugh of his condition, but one of genuine joy. You wanted to hear it forever.

He gave you a quick kiss before snatching the duster from the coffee table.

"I'll take living room if you take kitchen?"

You nod. "Sounds perfect."

For the first 15 minutes, things were fine. You rinsed and scrubbed the dishes, singing along to the radio with Arthur. But as you reach for the next dish, your song stutters and a cold feeling settled over your heart, one that was all too familiar and entirely unwanted.

"Aw, but I love hearing you sing that part!" Arthur pouts from the other room.

You shake your head a little and call over your shoulder, trying to keep your voice steady, "But I love hearing you sing, Artie!"

He snorts, making you turn to watch him. He's singing louder, bouncing along to the music and using the handle of the duster as a microphone.

It makes you smile, but the joy is only skin deep.

Before he could see you, you turn, trying your hardest to focus back on the dishes.

'Rinse, scrub, rinse, dry,' you thought, hoping you could keep your mind occupied. Unfortunately, the simplicity of the task at hand made it easier for your mind to wander. And wander it did.

"Why would someone like him love someone like you?" A thought with a voice a little too similar to your own spoke.

"There's no way this'll last, you'll ruin everything, like you always do!" Another chided.

The third voice scared you the most because of how concerned it seemed, how much it seemed to genuinely care. "There's only one way to be happy forever, you know..."

Without realizing it, your blank gaze had shifted to the knife rack. The blades glinted ominously, and your hand seemed to reach out of its own accord.

"Hey, isn't this that song you love?" Arthur called, but his words fell on deaf ears.

He turned, following your eyeline. When he saw what you were staring at his blood ran cold. Your eyes were glazed over in an all too familiar way, and it was almost like he could hear the voices too.

"End it all..." they seemed to sing in harmony, "we promise it won't hurt for long..."

Quick as a whip, he crossed the apartment, song and dance long forgotten.

"Honey, I-I need you to look at me, ok?" He began softly, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You jump, snapping out of your trance. You realize that you had grabbed one of the knives and hastily slide it towards the sink.

"Why did I...Arthur, when did I get a...?" A tear slides down your cheek, and Arthur cradles your face, wiping it away with his thumb.

He gently bows your head and kisses its crown. "It's ok, love. Nothing bad happened, and that's what's important." He lifts your head to look at you, and he smiles gently. "Right?"

You take a shaky breath, but nod. "Nothing...nothing happened."

He smiles, relieved, and reaches for your hand, but you draw back, realizing that they're both still soaking wet. "Hang on, let me -"

He rolls his eyes and takes it anyway. "It's just water, it's ok." He begins to sway, lightly tugging you with him. "Dance with me?"

The familiar feeling of his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand grounds you, like he's pulling you out of your own head.

"I'll always dance with you, Artie."

He grins and pulls you close, one hand folded over yours, the other slowly rubbing up and down your back. You revel in his embrace, laying your head on his shoulder and breathing in the sharp scent of his cologne.

"Thank you, Arthur, for...for everything," you say softly.

He places a soft kiss to your temple and you can feel his voice through his chest.

"Forever and always, I'm yours, my love."

The apartment never did end up being fully cleaned, but in the grand scheme of things, getting to dance with the love of your life isn't the worst way to spend a Sunday.