#cus sometimes I feel like they fall a little flat but omg

[shellibisshe]

love how realistic all of your ocs feel!! you give them these little quirks and details that just tie everything into such a nice bow i'm always in awe 💕💕💕

[ajokeformur-ray]

okay so what about getting asleep on the sofa while watching TV and then he wakes you up to go to bed and he's just so happy you're by his side that he dances with you around the room like he does with penny and you're still sleepy and you murmur 'we better dance like this at our wedding, future husband' hhhhf im SOFT

I’m soft omg this is the life ????? also I love that shoulder thing he does in this scene ugh. He’s such a cutie pie.

Warnings: swearing, smoking (why do I still bother tagging these?) and implied nsfw at the end. You may need to bite a pillow to keep from squealing, this is soft.

word count: 1, 981.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @mapreza1 @insomniabird@mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek  @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft@help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92 @that-s-life @dopey-girl-blogs @seeking-dreamland @sweetheart-syndrome @heartxfdesire @xmusichealsthesoulx @0callmejude0 @the-one-that-likes-riddles @hannibalsslut @folliaght @freeeshavacadoo @bingewatchingmylifegoby @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything @okamiredfoxx @sp0okysp0oky @the-pandorabox @mardema @jibanyyan @honeyflvredcoughdrop @emissarydecksetter @jokerfleckk @epidendroideae @chuuntas @stillmabel @pumpkinpeyes@onehystericalqueenposts @the-jokers-wolf @nalsswa @justahyena @arianatheangelworld @soullessblondbitch @gothamslittlejester @twentyonestarrynights @sirianfromsixties

You were exhausted.

All day had you had to be in contact with people. You hadn’t had a free moment to yourself. Even when you had gone outside your university to have a cigarette, people had wanted stuff to do with you. It hadn’t been more than an hour since leaving the apartment building that you had wanted to go home again. At least Arthur didn’t socially wear you out; one look at you and it seemed like he could read your entire mood, and know what to do to be around you peacefully, without causing you any sort of distress. He was an actual angel and you didn’t know where you would be without him. Your entire life revolved around Arthur, and though you knew that that was mildly unhealthy, you also knew that you wouldn’t have it any other way. He was the kind of man to demand that all eyes were on him. He was unaware of the beauty of his own self, and that only increased his allure, somehow.

When Arthur had finally come home from work late in the evening, just as tired and worn down as you were, you had already been curled up on the sofa, ready to go to sleep. Instead, however, you had jumped up with more physical energy than you thought you had left in you, such was the effect he had on you, and reheated his dinner, spoken to Arthur about his day, and made him feel loved. Loving Arthur Fleck was a gift, but it seemed almost surreal for him to love you back just as hard, if not even more than you loved him. He felt deeply, which meant that he hurt deeply, and rarely could he experience a single day without another punch to the face. Sometimes, life expressed that particular sentiment physically, and you were always there with a gentle touch to patch up his wounds. It was the emotional ones which required more tender loving care, and you only gladly obliged. He deserved the entire fucking world, and though you couldn’t physically give it to him, you could make him feel like he was on top of it.

When at last all your daily responsibilities, stresses and duties had been tended to, Arthur had invited you to sit beside him on the sofa. The Murray show was on, but you weren’t concentrating on it. Not only did you not like the host - he was a rude man who preyed on other people to get a cued laugh from the paid audience and sometimes you found yourself wishing that someone would just permanently shut him up - but you were just so tired. You leaned easily against Arthur’s upper arm, feeling his body heat radiate through his thin cotton shirt. Naturally did his arm curl around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. You shifted so that you were pressed completely against his side, his body warding off the chill in the apartment; the heating was just too expensive, even and most especially given that it was winter and therefore, the government could get away with putting up the prices because of the ‘supply and demand’. It was bullshit, but what could you do? You were a working class citizen working to the bone just to survive and therefore, you had no real voice and no power of your own.

You were asleep before you knew it. The scent of cigarette smoke kept your own nicotine craving at bay, and the feeling of Arthur pressed tightly against you and the gentle smell of his cologne kept you in that secured lull which promised a good night’s sleep in preparation for all that was waiting for you tomorrow. You couldn’t wait for Sunday; it was your Day with Arthur. Once a week, every Sunday, did you only make plans for each other. You didn’t leave the apartment on Sundays, anything important could wait until the following day, and so you were left to indulge in each other in whatever means were most appealing on that day. Often, you stayed in the bedroom and played card games, smoking together and watching Charlie Chaplin re-runs.

The first thing that you became distantly aware of was that the bed you were lying against was moving in a steady rise and fall. There was a rumbling just under your ear and then Arthur’s gentle, patient tone threatened to send you right back to sleep.

“Y/N, darling. Come on, it’s time for bed.”

You groaned. “Nope. Sleeping. Shush.”

Another rumble ran through Arthur’s chest and bubbled up and out of his throat, the sound creating a lovely laugh. You adored it when he laughed genuinely. It was such a rare sound and you cherished it, so different was it to the terrifying attacks he so often experienced. 

“No,” Arthur hummed, “You gotta help me get you to bed. I can’t carry you.”

You sighed sleepily and sat up. Arthur laughed both at the expression on your face and the way your hair was sticking up on one side, laying completely flat on the other. 

“Sleepy head.” He teased, his eyes soft and full of love for you. The harsh blue light from the television screen illuminated the dark circles under his green eyes, and you felt guilty. Had you kept him awake while he waited for you to stir?

You stood, taking Arthur’s hand, and he pulled you close to his chest, swaying with you. He spun you slowly, a sweet smile on his face. His hair was fluffy, freshly washed, the dark curls framing either side of his forehead. His waistcoat was perfectly matched with his trousers, and he looked so ethereal. He was heaven sent. As he pulled you close again to dance with you without music, your sleep addled brain failed to consider the potential consequences of your next words.

“I want to dance like this with you at our wedding, future husband.” Your eyes were already sliding shut as you relaxed against his chest.

Time seemed to stop as your words seeped into your brain. Arthur froze and you even felt him stop breathing.

You weren’t tired any more as reality doused you awake just as surely as a cold bucket of water tipped over you would. You stared at Arthur’s still chest, not blinking, your entire body trained on the person in front of you, his hands still tightly gripping you.

A shuddered inhale. A bubble of quiet laughter. Silence.

“What… what did you just say?”

You dared to look up into those beautiful green eyes you so adored. You had memorised that face so well that you could recall it perfectly even in your sleep. Many a night had you fallen asleep staring at it, hoping that its features would find you in your dreams.

Little did you know that your wildest dreams weren’t inside your mind, but physically present in the bed with you.

“What is your shirt made of?” You reached out and plucked the sleeve of his shirt between your thumb and forefinger. You had a reason for the apparent sudden change in topic. You would make your point known in all the ways you could think of. It was the least you could do for Arthur.

“No, Y/N, what did you - “

“I’m getting there.” You smiled patiently, pleading with him inside your mind to go along with you.

Arthur nodded, sighed and seemed to accept that you would repeat yourself when you had had your fun as, with a slight bite of impatience, he said, “I don’t know, cotton or something. Please tell me what you said.” His voice was quieter towards the end of the sentence. Did he think it was a joke to you?

You shook your head and made sure to look him straight in the eyes. “No.” You disagreed. “It’s made of husband material.”

You saw some pre-existing spark in his eyes explode into a fire as the most beautiful smile lit up Arthur’s entire face like a christmas tree. You hadn’t intended to say this here and now, but your mouth had made the decision for you, as it so often did when you were tired. Actually, scrap that - your mouth often made your decisions for you, and your brain was left to figure out the aftermath. Your brain to mouth filter had always been faulty, even more so when you were tired.

“Wait here.” Quick as a flash were you gone, disappeared into the bedroom. You left Arthur’s arms feeling empty with naught for company but the ghost of your touch. Like a whirlwind, you were back just as quickly as you had gone. 

In your hand was a small black box, which was clenched painfully in your grip. Ready? Go!

“Here.”

You handed it to a wide eyed Arthur. His hands were shaking and nearly did he drop the box. He sought to cup it in his hands. “W-what… I don’t -” Laughter. Cruel and painful laughter ripped its way out of your love’s throat, making him cross his arms over his shoulders as he buried his face in the material of his work shirt. He doubled over, turned his back to you, and violent chuckles threatened to destroy the very gentle, loving atmosphere that had naturally occurred when the two of you were together. 

You put a hand on his back, rubbing up and down his spine, feeling the different vertebrae through his clothing. You said nothing, you only stayed, and that meant so much more to Arthur than anything else that you could have done. Guilt racked him as he squeezed his eyes shut. He had ruined the moment. You had just presented your future together to him on a silver platter, the entire scene practically gift wrapped in its perfection, and he had ruined it with his condition. As he quieted to hiccups and straightened up, breathing in deeply, you said, “Don’t you dare think you’ve ruined anything, Arthur.”

He hiccuped, “But - “

“No.” You smiled gently to take the bite out of your words, and pulled him into a hug. Immediately did your fingers find the dark curls at the nape of his neck. Arthur’s head sunk down onto your shoulders, taller than you was he, and he pressed his nose into your jugular. His lips soothed the day’s tension away, and you allowed him to lavish you with kisses.

Slowly did you realise that he hadn’t answered your question.

“Arthur.”

Something in your voice caught his attention and he straightened up.

“Are you gonna’ answer my question?”

“Wait… you weren’t. You weren’t joking?” He was so incredulous, so disbelieving, that you couldn’t help it. Your jaw dropped. Did he really think so little of himself? You didn’t even need to think about it. Yes. Yes, he did.

“I would never fucking do that.”

Arthur looked down to the floor in shame, and you found the fallen box - he must have dropped it during his sudden attack - and picked it up, dusting it off. You opened it to reveal a set of modest antique rings. It was the best you could afford. The design was plain and simple but elegant. 

“So, how about it? Will you marry me, Arthur?”

The ferocity with which he kissed you took you aback, as again and again did he mumble “yes” against your lips. Your legs somehow found his waist, and it was with speedy movements and little care for the late hour that you showed Arthur just how much you had meant your question. The rings lay abandoned on the living room table; you would put them on each other tomorrow. For now, you would consummate the as yet unofficial but official vow to love each other in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part.