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yesttoheaven · 3 years

Text

I SEE YOU – chapter III

pairing – arthur fleck x female!reader

wc – 2.6k

warnings – just fluff and a little bit of angst

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

Y/L/N – your last name

🔴 chapter one. chapter two. chapter three.

The actress looked around, enjoying the apartment where Arthur lived with his mother. The place was small, very different from what she was used to, but this simplicity was nostalgic and reminded her of her childhood; when everything seemed simple, despite the difficulties.

Unfortunately Arthur was still at work, but Penny assured her that he would be back soon and added that Y/N could wait for him. At first Brian didn't approve of this idea, considering that the actress was going to an important dinner tonight, but he should know that it’s impossible to say no to her puppy eyes. Now Brian is probably driving to Misty's house, ready to take her to Y/N's apartment, exactly as they agreed the day before. The only difference would be the absence of the actress, but this would be justified with: "She's at Angelina's." Although the plan was apparently perfect, leaving her alone with practically unknown people was worrisome. Y/N's safety was his responsibility. If something happened to her, Brian would never forgive himself, but she stated with all the letters that she would stay inside the apartment, waiting for him with Arthur and Penny. And they were not bad people.

Y/N didn't like to involve Brian in this web of lies, but Misty knew how to be stifling when she wanted to. Visiting Arthur was not illegal, but she didn't see it that way. In her conception, to be friends with Y/N Y/N/L you need to have a bank account with many zeros after the comma.

Placing her manager at the bottom of her thoughts, Y/N's eyes fell on the small table next to the couch she was on. A few magazines were spread out and a shy smile crossed her lips. She would probably never get used to it.

Noticing the young woman's interest in magazines, Penny said:

"This actress is so graceful."

"You think? I hear only bad things about her." Y/N replied, taking one of the magazines and placing it next to her face, reproducing the cover.

When the realization reached Arthur's mother, she looked at Y/N with wide eyes, thinking it was a mirage caused by the effects of the medicines she used daily. When she opened the door and found the woman on the other side, Penny didn't imagine that Y/N was Y/N Y/L/N, the same woman who is in all these magazines.

"That was my first cover... six years have passed and I'm still nervous on camera." The actress smiled, leaving the magazine with the other copies.

"You need to excuse me, I'm too old for that... I watch your movies with my son and I was unable to recognize you."

"It's all right, these photos are usually a little bit manipulated. Maybe that's why you didn't recognize me."

The conversation continued pleasantly between them. Penny Fleck didn't feel like she was talking to one of Gotham's biggest actresses; Y/N seemed to be just a nice neighbor, the one who always shows up for a visit at the end of the day. They only knew each other for a few minutes, but it didn't matter, Penny was comfortable, sharing with her a little bit of his life with Arthur, or Happy as she used to call her son. The actress considered this point intriguing, because when she met Arthur, sadness was the only thing that existed on his face like a second skin, but maybe she was just impressed.

...

Every day was exactly the same for Arthur. He went to work, spent the day spinning his sign in front of a store or visited sick children in hospitals – this was his favorite; Carnival loved to bring joy to them. The time to return home represented some relief for the clown. This meant that his co-workers would have to wait for the next day to continue making fun of him. Arthur would always be a joke for everyone.

Tired for another exhausting day at work – or just being who he is – all Arthur wanted at that moment was to relax by smoking a cigarette. Dragging himself out of the elevator, he made his way to his old apartment and took the keys out of his pocket to open the door. He warned that he was back, but his mother did not respond. Arthur suspected she was asleep, but as soon as he put his feet in the living room, his body froze.

The likelihood of them seeing each other again was one in a million, but here she was, surprising him once again. There was no plausible explanation for what he was feeling at the moment. Accelerated heart. Sweaty palms. And the most sincere smile of his entire life. Arthur was genuinely happy. Seeing the actress again was enough to erase all his problems. Y/N was like a breath of fresh air to his lungs. There was something about her, something that you notice from a long distance, but that Arthur can't put into words.

"Happy, your friend was waiting for you." Penny broke the silence, bringing them to reality again.

With a smile, Y/N stood up, running her hands over the dress she wore. She approached the man and greeted him in her soft voice:

"Hi, Arthur. How've you been?" Surprised by her own courage, she touched his shoulder and left a kiss on his cheek.

Arthur felt his cheeks turn into two tomatoes and he automatically looked at the ground, hiding a shy smile in the corner of his lips. But knowing that she was waiting for an answer, he took a deep breath, looking at her again and saying:

"Hey, I'm... I'm good. How about you?"

"I couldn’t be better. I hope I'm not bothering you, your mom said I could stay to wait for you."

"Don't say that, you never bother, dear! Now I'm going to leave you two alone so you can talk." The woman tried to get up and Arthur quickly moved to stand beside her, helping Penny back to the bedroom.

It was easy to see how much he loves his mother.

A few minutes later, Arthur was back in the living room, looking a little nervous about the situation. It was possible to state that the actress felt the same way, remembering the reason that brought her to the other side of the city. She didn't want to say anything in front of Penny, but now she could and the words were stuck in her throat.

"I don't know where to start... I'm so sorry for the way you were treated. They couldn't have done that to you, Arthur."

"How d-did you know?"

"Brian talked to the receptionist..." She said, biting her lower lip in an attempt to control herself, but that was not enough. "I'm so mad at Susan! Who does she think she is to treat you that way?"

"Don't be m-mad at her because of me... It's okay, I'm used to it." Arthur replied, trying to reassure the actress. The last thing he wanted to do was be responsible for erasing her smile, but his words made Y/N even more concerned.

"What are you saying?"

"My life is... different from yours." He murmured, shaking his shoulders as if it didn't matter, but the sad expression on his face showed just the opposite. "I d-don't want to bother you with my stupid problems. This is not worth your time."

"But I have all the time in the world to hear you. Please tell me..." Y/N insisted, still trying to understand what he meant by 'I'm used to it'.

Susan had compared Arthur to a criminal; someone dangerous. She judged him by his appearance. His actions. His somewhat confused way of speaking. No. This is not normal. This is not something that Arthur should just 'get used to'.

"C-Can I get you something to drink?" He asked, shifting the focus of the conversation in the blink of an eye. Just a few more words and he could feel the laughter in the back of his throat, begging to leave. And that was not what he wanted.

"But..." The actress tried again, but acknowledged it was time to stop. She showed one of her beautiful smiles and that was enough to warm the man's heart. "Water, please."

Following Arthur into the kitchen, she stood by the door, watching him. Arthur was not a bad person – and he wasn't a criminal either, as Susan thought. Y/N just wanted to have the opportunity to get to know him better. It was as if the man still has his face paint on; as if he were still Carnival and she desperately wanted to meet the man hiding behind the paint, but Y/N understood that invading his space was not the best way to achieve this.

"Oh, thanks!" She thanked him, holding the cup and drinking, as they walked back to the living room. Pointing to the magazines, she fired: "These magazines are old... Are you a collector or something?"

"Not exactly... It was a few months ago, this guy was throwing the magazines in the trash because nobody wanted to buy, but he sold it to me for half the price..." Arthur's eyes widened when he realized what he had said. He scratched the back of his neck, completely embarrassed, but the actress just started laughing.

"It's okay, Arthur. I like your sincerity." She added, finding the situation funny. "But tell me, what is your favorite?"

The man pointed to the third magazine without thinking twice. Unlike the others, this cover was focused only on Y/N's angelic face. She was holding a white rose; the petals of the flower touching her lips painted in bright red.

"You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen in my life." He thought aloud, making her blush with his sincere words.

Y/N was constantly praised. Men and women. Different ages. Nationalities. Some were adorable, others completely depraved, but no one was able to make her feel what she was feeling right now.

Arthur was surprised at himself. This trust was not constant in his life, but close to her, it was as if he wanted to try. It was easy, because he was just telling the truth. Her smile was beautiful.

"So... what is this?" After a few minutes of silence, she asked, pointing again at the small table in the center of the living room.

"Oh, this is my journal!" The man picked up his journal and sat down next to her on the couch. "My therapist forced me to have one. I write my thoughts, some new jokes and other things..."

"I love jokes, but I need to confess that clowns are not my point."

"Don't you like clowns?" Arthur was not angry with her, in fact he thought it was funny. "How is this possible?"

"Don't judge me! It's nothing personal... I don't hate them completely, i just get a little nervous." Y/N started to laugh, being accompanied by him. When the laughter stopped, she said: "Now the million dollar question... What did you think of 'Midnight Seduction'? But you need to promise me that you will be honest with your criticism, right?"

The man shook his head in agreement.

"So I can start by saying that the ending was not as I expected, she died..." Arthur knew it was just a fictional death, but Y/N's flawless performance took that scene to another level. He was paralyzed by her talent. Y/N was definitely born to shine. Her filmography was rich.

"My Diana..." The actress spoke fondly about the character, remembering the day she read the script for the first time. Nobody was expecting this. "I like to imagine that she had a second chance. No prostitution. No drugs. Without HIV. And with someone by your side to love."

"This is a good ending, I like it... Rosalind was the only person who cared about her."

"Oh, did you notice?" Y/N asked, leaving the glass of water on the table. "I mentioned this in an interview, but the next day everyone was distorting my words!"

"It's just... love. What's wrong with that?"

"Unfortunately some people will never understand what love is."

Looking at Y/N and Arthur, it was possible to see that they were opposite poles. Their lives were completely different, but it was intriguing how they always found a connection. Time passed quickly, but they were still involved in a long conversation. Y/N loved to hear the man tell about his work as a clown – obviously he didn't mention the bad side. The actress told about NGOs, some trips around the globe and the preparation to play her characters. Each character was a new challenge and Arthur found it fascinating that she lived several lives in just one.

When the conversation followed a delicate path, Y/N considered changing this path, but she gave up and stood up, walking around the living room with a nostalgic smile growing on her lips. Arthur watched a few interviews, but hearing the actress speak directly to him about her childhood in Narrows was different. She lived in a simple house with her mother and brother. The situation was not easy, they did not have much money. Today her mother and brother are living in France, enjoying a wonderful life because of Y/N and her promising career. She missed them. She talked to them on the phone every day, but that was her best decision. Gotham has become a hostile, completely violent city, but it was in the middle of this violent city that her life changed...

"I was working at a restaurant in the downtown when Misty saw me in that hideous uniform..." Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "She said I was too pretty to clean shitty toilets, but cleaning shitty toilets was what puts money on the table at the end of the month... So she said she had an indecent proposal for me. I figured she would offer me a job at a nightclub... I probably would have accepted it. I was desperate to help my family, but she asked if i would like to be famous... A simple answer, "yes" and see how I look six years later. That horrible uniform became the most expensive designer dresses in the world, my mom has a beautiful house and everything she deserves, my little brother is having all the support for his studies and that girl with dreams turned into a famous actress, but..."

Unhappy.

Y/N completed in her mind, she was not strong enough to say that. She was also not ungrateful. Misty turned the girl's life into a fairy tale, but at the same time it took her life. In six years, she never had a break. Her manager was always bringing her a new job. The actress knew this was important for her career, but she didn't have time for anything other than work. She didn't have time to visit her own family. She was stuck.

Arthur heard someone knock on the door, but he kept his eyes on Y/N. The woman was in absolute silence and close to tears. Her smile was gone. She was suffering in front of him and he didn't know what to do to get this pain out of her.

"You should check this out." She murmured and at first he didn't react, but when the person knocked on the door again, Arthur stood up.

The actress took advantage of the moment to compose herself, trying to normalize her breathing, but when she heard that voice, her body just froze. The next minute the redhead appeared in the living room holding her Prada bag and looking at everything with an expression of disgust, but when she saw Y/N, she said:

"Mon cher, why didn't you tell me you wanted to visit your new friend? You know you don't have to lie to me."

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a/n – likes and reblogs are appreciated but honestly I’d love to know what you all think of this one. really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ♡

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notyourhetloki · 4 years

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Where are the clowns?

- Arthur Fleck (Joker) x Reader -

Pronouns: None! It’s gender neutral ;)

Word Count: 2,042

Notes: This is a repost from my archived blog @/joysmaddworld

“Hello! This is not something I usually do, but since reading this request made by the incredible @ajokeformur-ray , I just couldn’t get this scenario out off my head! So of course, this IS a work directly inspired by her writing and that request in particular, so I recommend you to check it out first! Thank you so much for inspiring me and allowing me to post this, dear <3 Hope you all like it!”

Warnings: Mentions of guns, criminal activity and hospital settings. Spoilers.

“Two police officers were injured in a confront inside the National Bank of Gotham City. The criminals took a large quantity of money to later on scatter it onto the streets on their way out.”

You were barely paying any attention to the TV, too concentrated on eating and balancing the plate on your lap as you sat uncomfortably on your couch; a bad habit you developed as your shifts at Arkham started getting longer and longer. There was not enough time in lunch break, so multitasking was the way to keep track of things happening around.

As you found a decent position, you took a bite of your food to then finally take a glimpse of the TV, and the sight of an armed man wearing a clown mask made you freeze, now completely paying attention to the news.

“All gang members were wearing clown masks to hide their ID, a now considered symbol of the rebel movement that emerged several months back when multiple protests took place around the city, sparked by a statement from the deceased politician Thomas Wayne.”

You watched closely as one masked man appeared to be putting money inside big cloth bags and two others guarded his back while holding guns.

The camera zoomed into one particular individual. Thin, medium length hair, red suit.. but still with a mask hiding his face.

He moved with elegance. Despite the situation, he seemed to be dancing around and thriving on the chaos.

Could it be?

“One of the burglars is suspected to be the missing criminal Arthur Fleck, famously known as Joker. The police department of Gotham City is investigating the possibility of TV star Murray Franklin’s murderer being involved in the crimes committed by this particular gang. Three criminals were injured and are now under arrest, and the remaining five, including the yet to be confirmed Joker, are still to be found.”

You sat and watched the last few scenes from the report, now with a sudden anxiety bubble rising from your stomach... it had to be him.

~ A few months back ~

Since you started working at the Arkham State Hospital, your life took a turn you could never expect. As a naturally empathetic person, you knew you would have to fight to maintain your mental health and sanity intact... working at an asylum would never be an easy job. You just couldn’t predict you would get this affected by a patient.

Arthur was a unique case, a unique man. You had to admit that you had been wary before becoming his therapist... he did kill several men. But as you got to know his case, read his files... your heart just broke. Arthur was the perfect example of what negligence and cruelty could do to a person, or make a person do.

You decided that, despite the circumstances, you would be kind to that man. Try to make him experience a little peace, maybe try to gain his trust and care for him. You wanted to befriend him. And without you even realizing, you had fallen... diving head first in the rabbit hole that was Arthur Fleck, crossing a point of no return.

As time passed by, you got closer and closer to Arthur. Brought him food, bought him quality cigarettes with your own money... tried to care for him as much as you could, especially knowing how the other hospital workers would treat him badly. He appreciated every single little thing, you could see it in his eyes...could feel him starting to open up to you more with each session. At the very first appointments he stayed silent, probably expecting another doctor to say some bullshit and just... not understand. But seeing your actual interest in him, Arthur started getting less shy, and with time, he even dared to get a little bold. Always respectful, but still making you blush at his attempts at flirting. It surprised you to know Arthur could be that caring, and with each visit he managed to find another sweet spot of yours.

For some unknown reason, Arthur Fleck just captivated you. Maybe because he was gentle, polite, interesting to get to know... nothing related to that “freak” image people portrayed of him. They just didn’t care to get to know him... and that infuriated you. Or maybe because he seemed to treasure you so much... no one had ever looked at you the way he did. And Arthur probably never had anyone looking at and caring for him the way you did.

The day Arthur escaped Arkham caught you (and everyone at the hospital) off guard. Several men wearing clown masks invaded the place, held some staff as hostages and broke into Arthur’s cell. You had just arrived at work when it all happened. You rushed to Arthur’s aisle, only to have a gun pointed at you by one of his followers.

"The doctor’s with me!” You heard Arthur’s urgent voice from behind you, he touched your shoulder lightly as to make you turn to face him.

“Are you ok?” You couldn’t properly respond, your breath was taken away as you realized... he was so close. There had been times where you would take his handcuffs off during therapy sessions to provide him some comfort, but... nothing like this. You obviously trusted Arthur to behave in a controlled environment, and for your surprise, it didn’t make you feel afraid to have him standing free right in front of you. There was definitely mutual trust between you two.

He had a much calmer expression now seeing you were ok. The look in his eyes was soft, Arthur always looked at you like that... so you hugged him, something you wanted to do since the first time reading through his files.

He proceeded to explain that those men were the same ones that helped him the day he shot Murray... he really did manage to start a movement, huh?

“I’m not going to stop you, Arthur.” You didn’t want to do that, anyway. “But please... be careful, ok??” you said urgently. That moment finally made you realize how bad you cared for him, how bad you were going to miss him now that he'd be gone. Would you ever see each other again?

Arthur looked at you in the eyes for just a quick moment before he kissed you. He held the side of your face ever so gently, and stole a sweet delicate kiss that surprised you, but made you melt.

He then smiled at you, and proceeded to be rushed out of the hospital by his comrades, leaving you completely speechless. That was the last time you saw Arthur Fleck.

Or so you thought.

Every day you would look into the news, searching for something that might relate to Arthur... you were so afraid for him. Police officers would definitely not be as nice now that he had escaped once again... he could be shot, killed...

You couldn’t fathom that. For weeks you frantically searched for any signs of him, but found nothing.

Months got by and your mind started slowing down a bit, you could only hope he was ok and fine wherever he was.

You missed Arthur... so, so much.

The report from the news channel stayed on your mind throughout the whole day... you felt distracted, distant. Your mind going places you definitely did not want to go. Sometimes you felt like it was best to move on from Arthur, forget him so you wouldn’t suffer so much... but you couldn’t do it. Your heart ached for him, holding onto the hope you had of seeing him again.

When it was just about nighttime, you ultimately decided to take some time for yourself and try to calm your mind a little bit. You started preparing some tea, popped a Frank Sinatra vinyl onto the record player and proceeded to grab a book to read. You couldn’t help but think Arthur would have appreciated the music...

Concentrating to read was proven to be harder than anticipated, so you got up and stopped the music out of frustration. Maybe going upstairs to your room was a better ideia... it had started to rain, that would help you calm down.

Before you grabbed a cup of tea to take to your bedroom, you rushed to close a window you didn��t quite remember opening in the first place... thankfully it didn’t rain inside.

You spent what felt like an hour or so just looking outside of your bedroom window. Watched as the rain fell gently on top of the trees, making the branches full of leaves dance ominously... the movement was so calming combined with the warmth of your tea... you finally started to calm down, the sound of the rain leading you to a trance like state.

The sound of music caught you off guard. At first you thought you were imagining things, but then remembered about the record player downstairs...

“Isn't it rich? Are we a pair? Me here at last on the ground, You in mid-air...”

Your heart skipped a beat, suddenly feeling terrified. You weren’t the type of person to consider a ghost or anything like that... so there were only two valid options in your head: the vinyl started playing on it’s on somehow, or there was an intruder.

Grabbing the switchblade you kept on your desk, you put on a robe and gathered all the courage inside yourself to go downstairs. You took each step carefully to make as little sound as possible, holding your breath involuntarily as you felt your heart pounding heavy on your chest... ok, maybe you were a little bit afraid of ghosts, after all...

“But where are the clowns? Send in the clowns.”

As you took the last few steps of the stairs, you managed to take a deep quiet breath and proceed to peek on your living room.

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Arthur was beside the record player, rocking gently from side to side in tune with the music and with his eyes closed. He was wearing his Joker outfit, makeup and all... he looked beautiful.

“A-Arthur?” you managed to say, starting to tear up and letting your blade drop to the floor.

He opened his eyes and looked at you, letting out a small gasp as he whispered your name. Arthur had planned to visit you for the longest time now, but he knew the dangers and implications of that. He had to stay low for a while, even wore a mask (much against his will) in his last public appearance... but after all those months, he grew impatient. Nothing mattered anymore, only you. And oh, you looked breathtaking. Seeing you now so vulnerable, wearing only a silk robe made Arthur rediscover a passion he thought could never get stronger.

He managed to take just a few small steps before you ran to his embrace... you couldn’t help but cry a little bit, thank goodness he was alright.

“Oh, I was so worried!” you said, now looking Arthur in the eyes. He wiped some tears from your cheeks and held your face gently, taking in the sight of you. Finally... being reunited with him felt so right.

“I missed you, doctor...” he said teasingly, making you chuckle as he smiled fondly at you. Your heart burned with passion, overwhelmed with the happiness and relief that took over you.

You found yourself running your hands up the lapels of his blazer and lightly grabbing at them, and just couldn’t help but pull him into a kiss. A wave of emotions washed through you as he kissed you back slowly, being so gentle yet passionate.

You both spent the night chuckling at each other like two teenagers, dancing around your living room barely letting go of each other’s embrace, kissing and loving each other for hours on end.

You knew what you were getting yourself into. Arthur was definitely not a saint, you knew life with him could get dangerous for both really quickly... it was all really risky and crazy.

But oh, craziness beside Arthur Fleck felt so, so good. You knew deep in your heart it would all be worth it, no matter what.

A/N: Well, I hope y’all like it! I got some amazing feedback when I posted it on my old blog, so I’m excited to see what you have to say about it! Thank you, loves! Enjoy ;^)

#arthur fleck #joker #arthur fleck x reader #joker x reader #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #joaquin phoenix #joaquin pheonix joker #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #self insert

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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years

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you deserve to ask for all the validation. what's on your mind with Joker? gush gush gush! tell us your thoughts!

@into-crazy said: Hey sweetheart💞 dropping by to tell you that you can gush about Arthur HOWEVER much you want🥰 I know I'm always happy to read them, you're always so caring. So please, gush on😭💓

😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺Thank you both for the validation and for letting me gush omg I feel selfish every time I do so I try not to too often ksksks but but buttt!!!!! He deserves it!!!!! And so do I!!!!💚💜💗💙

Under a cut for those who want to skip my gushing!!! 🥰🥰🥰

Okay, I wanna start by just... Joker!!!! Joker Joker Joker Joker Joker Joker Joker Joker - I’m tearing up just from typing his name that many times and my heart is squeezing in my chest omg I love him so so much omg I can barely see my laptop screen I’m cryinggg asdfghjkl 😭😭 He is!!!! Ethereal!!!!! He makes my heart go ✨✨✨✨ and he’s!!!! So!!!! Beautiful!!!

Look at him!!! 🥺😭

Look at this romantic green waves, the worn away white paint, the way the blood and the red paint blends together, the faded blue and the speck of blood on his waistcoat. He’s hurt and broken in more ways than one and bleeding; his inside is shown on his outside in this very moment and he’s so pretty in his pain. I’m crying omg look at him 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I just wanna lay down beside him on the boot of the car and kiss his tears away and wipe his face clean - yeah, we’re in the middle of a riot, so what? He’ll protect me after I’m done protecting him. I’d burn a city to the ground to keep him safe. “It’s okay, Joker, you’re safe.” and I’d run my hands through his hair and tell him I’m proud of him even now, even after everything. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for him. I’d hand wash the blood from his hands (I’m a uterus owner, we know best how to do that), I’d werewolf and go wild with him if he wanted to take me out with him, I’d die for him.

Joker’s impossible for me to describe without using celestial terms but not only is he physically stunning, but he’s also beautiful on the inside and I love him because he is who he is - flaws and all. Though I wish I could take his pain away, I also wouldn’t change a single thing about him because to me he’s perfect. He’s everything I didn’t know I needed right up until the moment I did and he truly did change my life in so many ways. Sometimes I think he’s more real than I am because when I die one day, he’ll remain on this earth, forever immortalised in the hearts of all who know him.

Arthur Fleck will never die.

His entire segment on the show makes me cry so, so hard. Even when I’m feeling apathetic, I will still cry. It’s guaranteed. The way his jaw was clenched, his breaths uneven, his eyes red rimmed with unshed tears... and no one saw him. I don’t understand, I truly just don’t, how he could have a breakdown on national television and no one. saw him. He’s just... I wish I could go out from the audience or come out from backstage and rip into Murrat. I know that Joker didn’t tell them why he committed the murders, he just let them believe whatever they were going to, but that doesn’t explain or excuse humiliating him in public, not respecting that he asked to be called Joker, etc. Here is a man broken and bleeding, here is a man who came here to die and danced on his way to do so, and they’re laughing at him. How??? Oooh I wanna become an octopus so I can bitchslap eight people at a time (might swing back around at some people for a second slap...) for how these people treated him... I know, unreliable narrator, I know, but. Still. Still.

Joker’s just... oh. My chest is tight. I love him. I just!!! Really!!! Love my husband omg 🥺😭 the way his singing is off key, the way he cups people’s cheeks when he kisses them, the way he’s so tender and so gentle and so loving and the way he tries so hard. He sees people for who they really are, he’s so emotionally intelligent and he knows he comes across as creepy and he knows he shouldn’t do some things but he does and I just.... he found me at a very dark (but not the darkest - I’ve been Places lmao) time in my life and he brought me slowly, slowly, into the light and he still does the same for me now and I long to do the same for him. The way he dances and skips, the way he moves, the way his cigarette rubs away some of his lipstick... he is a being made up of music and its the only music I ever want to hear for the rest of my life. I want to sink into every refrain and to never again resurface.

He’s just... he is my entire life. And I don’t care if that’s sad or pathetic, because he helps me. Even in the middle of a panic attack or in the few seconds after I wake up from a nightmare, Joker’s there. If I’m scared because I read the news for too long or because I watched something I shouldn’t have, Joker’s there. If I can’t sleep, if I won’t sleep, if I can’t or won’t eat... Joker’s there. I wake up every day wanting to wake up... because I can see Joker (and the friends I’ve made because of him). He is always with me, and though there are times I doubt he’d even love me, though there are times I doubt he wouldn’t hurt me, though there are times I can’t even feel him around me, I still know right in the back of my head that he is there and he does love me, if only because I love him.

Joker touched a part of me I thought had long since been dead, and he showed me who I had the potential to be. He set me free from a cage of my own making and I yearn to do the same for him. I love him so much and I’m still crying omg 😭🥺 He makes me feel when I can’t feel anything at all and if that isn’t love in its purest form then I don’t know what is!

I still have so much more to say but he always brings me to the point where words run dry, and that’s where I am now. But, in short:

✨✨✨✨✨✨💖💖💖💖💖💖🥰🥰🥰🥰😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺😇😇😇😍😍😍 Even just saying his name makes me go all:

#nonnie #requests closed #erileck #self-shipping

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harleenfleck · 4 years

Text

“Alex Day” (Chapter 2)

Arthur Fleck x Original Character (OC)

Summary: Arthur Fleck is a young man who hates his life despite his young age: School is hell, his mother wants to control every aspect of his life, and has a strange condition that is difficult to explain to others, a condition which has caused him all those laughs and blows against him. But one day her luck changes when she meets the new girl in sky-blue shoes on the first day of school. A girl from California.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Bullying, Friendship/Love, Sadness

Chapter 1

AO3 (full work)

Notes: I am very sorry if I have grammatical or spelling errors, English is not my mother tongue!

Enjoy it!

...

Chapter 2: Sky blue shoes

Arthur didn't know what to think, he was just trying to keep quiet, but that was impossible, after being a little surprised.

Those were definitely women's shoes; would a girl go into the men's room? Or did he, in desperation, enter the women's bathroom and hadn't noticed? If it was the second thing, he was screwed, another reason to be harassed on his first day. He decided to keep quiet and pretend he wasn't there.

He heard how that girl used the sink; maybe she would just wash her hands and leave the place. However, he noticed that the sky-blue shoes were now standing in front of the cubicle where he was.

“Hello?”

The female voice spoke to him. Arthur trembled with fear, what could he say? He covered his mouth with his hand again.

“Huh… I know this would sound weird, but I heard you crying. I know this doesn't concern me, but are you okay? Is there anything I can help you with?”

He fell silent after hearing that, was someone worrying about him? It must have been just courtesy, but very few had ever treated him like this before. Besides, a girl treating him like that didn't usually happen to him. He vacillated a lot, but Arthur wiped his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, grabbed his backpack from the floor, and left the cubicle.

“Holy s…!” The girl screamed when she saw him, "I thought was the woman’s bathroom! I’m so sorry!"

Arthur blinked; she was confused too. Wow, at least he wasn't the only one.

"I-I thought it was the m-men's bathroom. I-I don't really know who this bathroom belongs" The girl suddenly laughed lightly. And her smile remained on her face. Arthur just moved his lips, too shy to smile at her.

"Well, we'll know when we get out of here ... But first, are you okay?" Arthur didn't know what to answer at the time. For a moment, he had felt strange since no one before other than his mother had cared about him. But what could he say to that girl? He was just having a normal day?

“I j-just had problems, that's all” He took a deep breath, making all traces of crying disappear little by little, using the sleeve of his sweater again to wipe his face.

"I’m sorry to hear that I hope those are resolved soon."

Arthur felt so good that someone cared for him, even if he was a total stranger, as she was. His pessimistic mind told him that soon she would leave the bathroom and forget about him. That would probably happen. "By the way, my name is Alexandra, Alexandra Grant, but you can call me Alex."

The girl stretches her hand towards him; Arthur quickly examined that gesture. Was someone introducing himself to him? He must be going crazy.

"Arthur, Arthur Fleck."

After shaking hands, the bell rang; they two walked out of the bathroom, not checking whether the bathroom was for men or women.

…

The two were walking together; it was a very curious thing to see, as they looked completely different between themselves. The girl radiated a lot of energy and happiness, and the boy, well, just didn't have the same shine.

"I haven't seen you before," Arthur said it curious because it was true, he hadn't seen that girl before at his school.

"Do you look at people if they are there or not?" The girl asked him in a tone of voice that intimidated Arthur for a moment.

"N-no, I mean-”

"I’m just kidding” She started to laugh again, and Arthur laughed too, removing the feeling of ruining everything again. “I'm not from here. My family and I moved here this summer."

“Really? Where are you from?”

“California. I’m from California.”

“California…” Arthur's eyebrows rose, and a shy smile came out of his mouth. He had listened before California and even came to think that maybe if he had a little luck when he was older, he might one day go to know the place. He really wants to know the sea, feel the sand on his feet and hear the waves “…It must be a beautiful place.”

“It is, but Gotham it has its charm, I really love places like New York or Chicago, or Gotham. I never thought I'd live in a place like this before…”

Alex was non-stop talking, she was talking about cities; when she did, Arthur decided to study her: she wore a dress the same color as her shoes, a blue bow in her hair, her bag was brown, she wore a little makeup in her face, and he was a bit mesmerized by her lips as she continued talking.

Arthur immediately stopped those thoughts. He couldn't do that. He couldn't fall in love with the first person who treated him well, besides, people used to disguise their real intentions well. He scolded himself, how could he think of Alex like that? He was the first person to treat him well that day. She couldn't be like the others; she must have a pure soul.

“…And that’s why we moved here. My dad’s job. I’ll miss California, but I wanna know of this city”

“Well, Gotham it's a little dangerous, but nothing you can't handle”

“It's what all my friends from California said” Arthur and Alex walked in one of the corridors at their own step, they hadn't even realized that were already late for class “So, Arthur, you always lived here?"

"Yes, since I was born"

“That sounds great. It must be great, always living in one place, always keeping your friends”

Arthur lowered his gaze some embarrassed; he didn't realize that Alex was meeting him as if he were just a normal boy. He wasn't a normal boy, but he didn't want to tell her about him, he didn't want to tell her that he didn't have any friends. He didn't want her to think he was a freak.

“I guess”

"Well, it's always good to meet more people, it's good that you're the first one I meet from Gotham"

Arthur at this moment was speechless, turned to Alex shyly, who kept a smile on her face, was she really grateful to meet him?

"Do you really think that?"

"Of course! You could show me the school later, I'm afraid to do it on my own and lose myself"

Arthur smiled and felt his red cheeks, how could someone like Alex overflow so much joy? Of course, he was going to help her with all the doubts she had from school.

But suddenly, the shadow attacked him again. He looked around, the bell had already rung and everyone had all already entered class, the two of them were the only ones in the corridor. If nothing bad had happened, it's because no one had seen them together. He didn't even have 15 minutes of meeting Alex and he was afraid the others would mess with her, just because she'd been by his side.

"Yeah, I'll show you the school at lunch"

"Oh! That’s great! Thank you, Arthur! Well, I think I should go to class…” Arthur quickly thought that was his chance, the two of them would go to their respective classes and he would disappear, despite the fact he promised to help her. He thought of hiding from Alex in all that remained of the day, a strange way to protect her. “…I have to go to room E-11"

And Arthur's plans were completely ruined.

"…Oh, that's mine too"

"Really?! That means we are meant to be friends!" Alex almost yelled excitedly, and Arthur could not believe what she said.

“M-meant to be friends? Y-You wanna be my friend?”

“Yeah! Why not?”

Arthur's smile was big.

He couldn't, he couldn't let that go. He couldn't miss the chance to have a friend, a real friend.

Both reached to room E-11, opened the door, realizing that classes had already started.

Alex went in first and Arthur followed her, the gazes on them were almost immediately. Alex walked to the teacher and showed her a card. The teacher looked at the card and went to the classroom.

"Class, we have a new classmate, this is Alexandra Grant, she comes from California. So, I like to inform you miss Grant and you too young Fleck what rule did not follow today: When the ring bells you must be in your classroom before the teacher start the class”.

Arthur was a bit used to that, but felt sorry for Alex, as they were giving her a terrible first impression.

“Welcome to Gotham miss Grant, sit down right now”

“Sorry Ms. Joy” Arthur whispered and Alex did the same, knowing that teacher's last name. Quickly Arthur went to take a seat, and Alex followed behind him, taking a seat next to him.

It was a history class. While Mrs. Joy spoke aloud about the Independence of the country, Arthur turned his gaze to Alex, she looked very nervous and scared by what happened. It wasn't fair, she was new there, she didn't deserve such a treatment.

Speedily, he took a sheet from his notebook and tore it up, into a small piece of sheet, he began to write something. When the teacher turned the blackboard, Arthur passed the note to Alex. She immediately saw it, took the note, and read it.

“I'm sorry I made you late for class, you didn't have to get a scold from the teacher”

Alex smiled and turned to Arthur, giving him her smile. She immediately took out another small sheet and began to write. The teacher was still talking about the Fathers of the Nation when Alex passed the note to Arthur.

“Don't feel bad please, it's not your fault. The teacher doesn't seem to get much love from her husband”

Arthur read the note and felt the need to laugh, put his hand in his mouth. But it wasn't his condition, it was a real laugh. Some classmates turned to Arthur, giving him an unpleasant look. Alex realized that, and Arthur calmed down. If they knew that he wanted to laugh for real.

“No, it doesn't seem like, I hadn't thought of that before”

Alex laughed slightly again. They decided to leave that little game for that moment, they didn't want to be caught by Mrs. Joy.

The History class hour passed very quickly, the bell ringed again, Mrs. Joy left homework and finally left the place. At that moment, the whole classroom turned to the new girl.

“So, what was your name?” Alex, naturally kind, began to answer any doubts they had about her.

“Alexandra, Alexandra Grant, but you can call me Alex”

“Alex, that's a good name, it's very nice"

Alex thanked her for the gesture while other classmates approached her. The whole class wanted to meet the new girl from California. At that moment, Arthur felt displaced by everyone, but that was normal again, he just turned his head to the window.

He couldn't feel jealous, he barely met Alex that morning, of course, the others were going to be interested in her. Some even said something like "Come here, better sit next to me" and honestly, Arthur waited for the moment she would get up and leave him alone.

“No, thank you, I’m fine here”

“Are you sure? But you are next to... Fleck”

Arthur tried not to move, not turn towards others, because he knew he was going to have unfriendly looks on his head. And he didn't want to scare Alex with his laughter.

"I am fine here, thank you again"

"Alex..." At that moment, they began to speak to Alex soundlessly, as if Arthur did not listen to them, of course, he could still hear them "…But he is... Weird, I don't think you want to hang out with him, he is too strange, he's... Well, a freak"

“What? Why you say that?”

“Good morning class!” The math teacher interrupted the conversation, starting a new class. The next hours, Alex was trying to look to Arthur, but he didn't look like the Arthur she'd met in the restroom. She looked at him more self-conscious, uncomfortable and it looked like he didn't want to make eye contact with her. Alex wondered if he had bothered with her, she didn't know why and hoped he wouldn't.

Arthur however, was struggling with himself, it was shown to her that he was not well received at school, actually, they warned him, and in a good way. He was hoping with that, Alex would decide to leave him alone. She didn't deserve the same harassment he received.

But at the same time, Arthur was very hurt a lot to lose a girl who really wanted to be his friend.

The bell rang. It was lunchtime.

Alex took his pen and notebook, but as she turned to Arthur, Arthur had taken his things as quickly as possible, put them in his backpack, and left the classroom.

Alex didn't understand what was going on with Arthur.

...

He wasn't in the cafeteria; she'd probably be there looking for him.

Arthur was in a secret place at school, at least for him, in a place where no one could find him. A place where he used to hide when the idiots of his classmates wanted to vent and have fun with him.

Tears fell from his face. He didn't want to cry anymore. He once listened to his mother when he was 10 and fell by accident and hurt his knee. He couldn't stop crying until his mother scolds him with a "Big Boys Don't Cry."

Arthur didn't understand, he was almost going to become an adult, a man, and he was still crying. The worst thing for him is he thought he was crying about something silly. He was crying because everyone pointed him as a freak in front of Alex, they told her he wasn't normal. And when someone found Arthur wasn't normal, he was rejected.

Abruptly, the laugh came out of his throat, and that's when he hated himself. He couldn't believe how weak he could become. He lasted a short time laughing, he was able to control it, but he was sick of laughing and crying. He has wiped the tears off his face once more, took his backpack, and started looking for a way to get some food. He was out of school, in a little alley, with some garbage.

…

Alex kept looking for Arthur in the school, she thought maybe he'd be in the cafeteria. Besides, she was already hungry.

The cafeteria was full. Alex stopped with the points of his blue shoes, looking for the boy she met that morning. However, there was no sign of him.

“Hey Alex, will you sit with us?”

She heard a group of her classmates talk to her. Alex didn't know if it was a good idea, as they were the same ones who said weird things about Arthur. She approached them with her lunch.

But, the conversation between the three boys and the two girls who invited Alex became a little uncomfortable for her.

“…California, I see, where exactly are you from?"

"From Venice, I-"

"Really?! From L.A.?! How you can leave a paradise and decided to move to the worst place in the world?!"

Alex didn't understand the girls' overreaction.

“Eh? I-It was for my dad’s job, he-”

“Your dad’s job?! He’s working in a movie or something?!”

“No… He works in the press, he’s gonna-”

“In the press? He’s an important journalist?

“Well, he's starting, but-”

Every moment she tried to explain, she was interrupted, it was like they were trying to find something important about her, but she was getting tired of the situation.

To her luck, she observed how far the cafeteria door opened: Arthur was coming in. Alex smiled, finally someone who wasn't a fool.

But, despite Alex's happiness, Arthur looked around, it seemed that no one had noticed him, but suddenly:

"Hey Fleck!"

Those idiots again. Arthur didn't want to be humiliated in front of everyone like in the morning, so he rapidly left the cafeteria, almost running.

"I'm so sorry" Alex suddenly took his lunch, apologizing to the boys and girls, "I have to go, but I'd love to eat with you tomorrow. I'll see you” Alex quickly got up from his seat and ran to the door, even arrived before the boys who intended to annoy Arthur. And they noticed Alex.

"Hey, did you see that girl?"

"Yes, I think she's the new girl"

"Oh... I would love to meet her and... You know..."

And those three guys laughed like idiots

…

Arthur wasn't even trying to look back, just think about running away to safety. He heard footsteps behind him. Fuck, please not here, not here.

"Hey boy!"

A voice alerted him, but seeing who he was, he calmed down.

"Alex..." He stopped not only for her, he realized that only Alex was following him “What are you doing here?”

"I've been looking for you in almost all school, where were you?"

"I… I was just… Nothing important"

Alex again observed Arthur's red nose and his attempt not to be weak in front of her.

"Arthur, are you okay?

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, just... I just wanted to breathe air. That’s all"

"Oh… Okay, well, it's just that when the bell rang, I wanted to talk to you, but you left too fast. You promised me you were going to show me school."

Shit, that promise. He wasn't supposed to promise things like that so fast.

"Hey... Alex, I-I don't think that's was a good idea"

"Why not?" Alex asked something confused, Arthur wasn't ready to take her away from him.

"... I-I don't think it's a good idea to be seen together"

Alex felt his chest sink when he heard that.

"What? Why do you say that?" Arthur didn't know what to tell her, he owed her an explanation, of course, but what could he tell her?

“They told you, I'm a freak. Freaks like me don't do very well in life”

“But I don’t understand, why they… they said you’re a freak? That’s stupid, you’re so kindness and gentleness”

Arthur felt under pressure, why did she start asking him that? Did he have to explain to Alex about his condition? No, he didn't have to, because he was about to show it to her.

“They told you Alex, and I-”

And the laugh started.

Arthur took his hand to his mouth and walked away from Alex, trying to control himself, but that wasn't so easy, he just wanted to stop laughing. He appreciated that they were both alone, but he couldn't help be embarrassed. His face turned red, and his breathing difficult to control.

Alex didn't know what to react to, tried to laugh with him, even she couldn't find the funny thing, and it wasn't until Arthur started looking in his pockets for a little card who he wrote himself.

Alex took the card and started reading it. And she knew why Arthur tried to ignore her the rest of the day, and why he disappeared before she could talk to him. Arthur just wanted to disappear. And in that instant, he felted a hand on his shoulder, and as that hand suddenly wrapped him in a hug.

Arthur hadn't felt a hug in a long time.

#joker fanfiction #joker 2019 fanfic #Arthur Fleck x OC #Arthur Fleck x Female OC #angst #fluff #friendship #Love #romance #drama #hurt/comfort #Alex Day #HarleenFleckWrites

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heffrcns · 4 years

Text

20 Questions Tag

i was tagged by @blake-and-sco (thank you for the tag) :)

Rules: Answer 20 questions, and tag 20 (or how many you want!) bloggers you want to get to know better!

1. Name: rhi (well that’s my nickname)

2. Nickname: ^^

3. Sign: virgo

4. Height: around 5”3 i believe

5. Language: english

6. Nationality: english

7. Favourite season: summer

8. Favourite flower: poppies or orchids

9. Favourite scent: something berry/summer fruits scented

10. Favourite colour: green (esp. forest green)

11. Favourite animal: seals, sea lions, dogs

12. Favourite fictional character: of course scho/blake, and then probably bucky barnes (mcu) and arthur fleck (dc). i have so many though, don’t even get me started

13. Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate: tea, but i like all 3!

14. Average sleep hours: i LOVE sleeping so probably 9ish oop

15. Cats or dogs: dogs

16. Number of blankets you sleep with: my duvet? and occasionally an extra blanket

17. Dream trip: norway (or just all across europe in general)

18. Blog established: about 3 weeks ago?? somewhere around then

19. Followers: 300 and something last time i checked

20. Random fact: my hair is greeny/turquoise (though it’s fading to blue so i gotta re-do it soon lmao)

i’m tagging @alienoresimagines @ecoustsaintmein @strangethings-everywhere @somewhere-at-sea @paratroopcrs @indigosandviolets @4lendow-norris (sorry if you’ve already been tagged!! and anyone that sees this please feel free to do it!)

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elusive---ivory · 5 years

Text

The Woman In Velvet pt 15

Welp, this is it guys. Thank you for reading TWIV. This has been an opportunity to study my writing and get better along the way. I am working on writing more fanfictions in the future (cough cough a Theodore Twombly fanfiction cough cough)

Don't worry. There will be a sequel.

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Taglist:

@moonstruck-witchy @princessgeekface @radio-hoo-ha @gloomyladyy @memory-mortis @lolacolaempath @jaylovesbats @mijachula

Sandy sat in the back of an old Ford Bentley. Her makeup smeared and smudged.

Destiny glared at Sandy through the rear view window.

"I hope your fucking proud of yourself. Your boyfriend just shot someone on national television." Des scolded.

Dee looked over at Sandy, sympathetically. "I'm sorry this happened, Sandy."

"Don't fucking apologize to her. She let this happen. She knew her boyfriend was a sociopath, and wanted to see where this would go. Well, look what fucking happened, Sandy. Take a good long look." Des yelled.

Sandy laughed. Her laughter wasn't usual. It seemed chaotic and demented. Her eyes were glued to the burning city outside.

People were yelling out in the streets, throwing flares, burning cars, and breaking into stores.

"If only, Uncle Charlie was here. He'd have a blast." Sandy smiled, against the glass.

Des pulled the car over. "That's it. Get out of the fucking car."

Sandy and Des both got out of the car while Dee watched through the window.

Des punched Sandy hard in her gut, then pulled her hair, throwing her on the ground. Sandy laughed, coughing up some blood.

"Laugh some more, bitch. I dare you." Des kicked hard with her heels.

Sandy laughed more, slowly getting up on her feet. "You really don't get it."

"What did you fucking say?" Des got closer to Sandy.

Sandy laughed, again. "I said that you don't get it. This is freedom, Des. You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Des yelled.

Sandy pulled Des close. Des tried pushing back, but Sandy held on tighter.

Sandy smiled, pointing Arthur's gun towards Des's stomach.

"Get off me, Sandy." Des pushed back, feeling the gun against her.

Sandy leaned into Des's ear. "I don't expect you to understand. But, just remember one thing. You get what you fucking deserve."

Sandy pulled the trigger, shooting Des in her abdomen.

Des fell to the ground, bleeding.

"Aah, you fucking bitch." Des cried and sobbed in pain.

Sandy tilted her head. Her face was emotionless. As Des was yelling on the ground, Sandy stomped her head. Harder and harder, until Des's face was completely caved in.

Dee cowarded in the car, crying

Sandy opened the car door. "Please don't tell anyone, ok? If the police ask, just say it was the rioters."

Dee nodded her head in fear.

Sandy smiled, kissing Dee on top of her head.

Sandy's heels skipped across the pavement as she walked away from the car.

Arthur sat in the back of a police car. He looked over and the rioters cheering Arthur on, as the police car drove by.

Arthur broke into a big smile, laughing at the chaos around.

"Stop laughing, you freak. This isn't funny. The whole fucking city's on fire because of what you did." The police officer in the front glared at him through the rear view window.

Arthur laughed, again. "I know. Isn't it beautiful?"

A stolen ambulance ran into the police car, causing a major collision.

Sandy witnessed the collision from the distance. She ran towards the scene, pushing any rioter in her way.

Arthur's fragile body laid on inside the police car.

Sandy walked up to the police car. She picked up Arthur's body, with the help of a masked rioter, placing his body on top of the car.

Arthur coughed up blood, hearing the cheers from the rioters, begging him to get up. Arthur looked up seeing Sandy. Arthur smiled, slowly getting up onto his feet. He hovered over everyone in the crowd. To Sandy, he looked like a god.

Sandy smiled, witnessing it all. Arthur held his hand out to Sandy, helping her up onto the car.

Arthur held Sandy close, slow dancing to the sound of cheers and anarchy. Sandy laid her head on Arthur's chest, listening intently to his rapid heartbeat.

Arthur smeared blood around his mouth to paint a smile on his face.

The crowd's cheering grew louder.

Sandy cupped Arthur's face, kissing him passionately, tasting the blood on his mouth. She handed the gun, empty.

Arthur took the gun, looking at it on last time, before throwing it into the crowd.

Arthur and Sandy looked back into the crowd.

Everyone in the crowd cheered them on, announcing their newfound title of The King and Queen of Gotham.

The clock ticked on the wall.

A man laughed, hysterically, sitting across a female doctor in a white bricked room.

"What's so funny?" His doctor asked, impatiently.

"I was just thinking of a joke." The man said, laughing.

She wrote something down. "Maybe you would like to tell it to me, Arthur?"

The man stopped laughing. "You wouldn't get it."

The waiting room was bleak and empty.

A young woman was reading what looked like a very trashy magazine. She wore a red velvet blouse with a small hat. Her eyes skimmed through each page, barely reading it.

"Mrs. Fleck? Arthur Fleck is available for visitation." The lady at the front desk called.

The women's head perked up from the magazine, and gently placed it back on the coffee table. She smiled at the lady.

Her heels clicked through the white hallway as she hummed the tune to 'That's Life' by Frank Sinatra.

The man hummed the same tune to himself whilst laughing. His eyes lit up as he saw the woman take a seat in front of him. She moved the seat so she was closer to him.

Two security guards in the room stared intensely at him.

"Hey, Artie." The woman said, kissing his stubbly cheek.

The man smiled and leaned in close to her ear, nibbling on it slightly. "Sandy." He whispered.

The woman giggled.

The man whispered things only she would understand. The woman laughed at every little joke he whispered to her.

"Alright, you freak. Visitation is over." One of the security guards said.

The woman sighed, giving the man one more kiss, before walking out of the room.

The man had a big grin on his face as she walked out.

The two security guards accompanied her out the door.

"Man, I just don't get. What the hell do you see in that sociopath?" One of the security guards grumbled.

The woman giggled. "He makes me laugh."

She smiled, hearing the alarms ringing throughout the asylum. Doctors were panicking and running around the hospital.

The woman twirled out the asylum. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she danced. She had never felt more free.

"Sandy Fleck!!" The security guards screamed

She smirked, getting in her car. She lit a cigarette, staring at the now dead security guards. She turned on the radio, and drove off.

The End

#joker movie #joker film #joker x reader #joker 2019 #joker arthur fleck #joaquin phoenix joker #arthur fleck x oc #arthur fleck x reader #joker x oc

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small-fortunes · 5 years

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Joker || Fracture

Readers Please Note: Joker: Fracture may contain spoilers for the film. Read at your own discretion.

Joker: Fracture is a presented as an experimental speculative short story that will collaborate art and literature. If you would like to be added to the reader’s tag list, please make use of the Ask feature of this blog.

|| ONE ||

The chill of the September rain had promised nothing more if not the early coming of a frigid Winter haze that threatened downtown Gotham City. The people scattered beneath their black umbrellas, clutching newspapers and hot coffee cups on hurried footfalls, keen to get indoors. Into their offices and shop fronts where they might escape the cutting winds that sliced, unhindered through their layers of clothes. Traffic drove with their headlights on though it was mid-morning and heavily overcast under the sheeting torrent of water that collected in the gutters and soaked the stacked trash bags piled in the alleyways.

This sanitation workers strike was getting ridiculous. It was only a matter of time before private enterprise and public malcontent merged to a compromise. Nineteen-Eighty-One had lagged to become a grueling year across the nation. The people were getting tired of having to burn their own refuse. Clean air in the city was getting harder to find without having to wrinkle your nose at some foul stench whilst walking down the street.

And here they were.

The glorious Eighties.

Progressive freedom, entrepreneurship, education, industry. An endless stockade of possibility and expansion in the "land of the free".

Nineteen-Eighty-One had lagged to become a grueling year.

But none so grueling as it was to forty-one year old Arthur Fleck.

To think.

Everything was going so well. More or less.

Arthur fashioned himself an up and coming comedian who spent countless hours filling a battered notebook with an array of satirical, observational comedy. A number of classic jokes and one-liners that he thought were particularly amusing, were scrawled in a careless, immature left hand. Occasionally punctuated with attention-grabbing images from magazines and newspapers that he found of interest. His index of jokes were far more entertaining than the notebook's conventional purpose. Arthur's state funded and overworked registered physiologist had suggested he use this book as a journal to record his thoughts and feelings. An outlet to assist in ordering his chaotic array of thoughts. From an early age Arthur had been diagnosed with a troubling cascade of mental illnesses. Amongst these clinical diagnoses were agitated depression, anxiety, physiological ticks that manifested themselves in the form of uncontrollable fits of laughter and borderline, low level schizophrenia, amongst other problems.

Arthur had, throughout his life, with the assistance of his equally dissociative and concerningly ill mother, been taken to an array of doctors, specialists and clinicians that had connected him with an ever increasing roster of daily medications designed to tweak his unbalanced cerebral chemicals, allowing him to function in a less encumbered capacity. Currently, Arthur was on nine separate medications whose purpose was varying. Pills to fight depressive episodes, pills to regulate his anxiety. Pills of an anti-psychotic nature, pills to help him sleep. His prescriptions were filled fortnightly and increased or reduced depending on the outcome of his frequent visitations with his psychologist.

There was little joy to be had in Arthur's life, for he lived as the man of a small two bedroom apartment on 42nd Street with his ailing mother, Penny. In her lucidity she had supported his dreams of entertainment, instilling in him the virtues of his existence being a blessing upon the world. That he was to be a ray of joy and happiness unto all. That his father, though very much estranged, would be proud of him, for he was a good boy. Kind-hearted, decent, soft spoken and gentle of nature.

And yet, Penny's deteriorating mental health and inability to function, meant Arthur was left with no choice but to quit his schooling in his mid-teens and take on the role of full-time carer. Cooking, cleaning, shopping and bill-paying were amongst his daily routine, removing him from the education system prematurely. This state of living had its own pitfalls. He'd lost contact with his friends, few if any, ever sought to write or call leaving Arthur regrettably alone.

In spite of this, Arthur pressed on, finding employment where he may. Slightly difficult without a high-school or college certificate within his credentials. Not impossible however. He ran a series of local jobs across town that included working at a car wash, as a factory pick/packer and even at a local supermarket as overnight replenishment staff. These were but a few of the positions he held in his youth for several years. Often working two jobs in tandem with little respite in between. In spite of this, whenever possible, Arthur made it a habit of taking Sunday off duty so that he and his mother might take a stroll down the park to enjoy a cup of coffee and a nice sandwich at a quaint cafe. Permitting that Penny was feeling strong enough to leave the apartment.

His love of spreading laughter and joy had eventually seen him to finding a contractual position with a small business known as Ha Ha's Entertainers. Ha Ha's specialized in loaning performing clowns, magicians, exotic dancers and roving MCs to businesses and events across town for everything, from children's parties, business promotions to charitable events.

His contract at 'Ha Ha's Entertainers' had been a blessing. A means to segue into his dream career of stand-up stage performance. Financial stability, though meager as his pay-cheques were, seemed sufficient to maintain his mother along with her pension. At very least the bills were paid and there was food in the fridge. Their lifestyle was far from luxurious. Their apartment was a heavily dated decaying art deco building constructed in the late fifties for which building management was lax with general maintenance. That damn elevator had been on the fritz for longer than Arthur cared to remember despite how often the residents complained. Even so, it was home. If nothing more.

Now what would he do?

In spite of his sincere pleading, his boss had dismissed him with callous words. Arthur swallowed his regret as he cleaned out his locker. His worldly possessions, magic props, theatre make up and his journal packed into a brown paper bag.

He'd got on relatively well with his colleagues, or so he thought. The boss said he made them uncomfortable.

Now he regretted ever accepting that pistol.

That gentle favor had turned to ash. He found himself wondering if he'd been set up for this fall. Why did he bring the gun on shift? Protection yes, but it wasn't supposed to end like this. His ribs still ached where those cruel teenage thugs had knocked the wind out of him. And raising his right arm to comb his hair in the morning brought a shattering burn across his shoulder blade. He couldn't sleep on that side without whimpering.

Even so those last angry words replayed themselves in his head. He made ready to leave 'Ha Ha's' for the last time. Punching out the tiime clock and vandalizing their stupid exiting sign was hardly enough. He had half a mind of going back and kicking the shit of the boss' car. Letting down the tires. Taking a crowbar to the windscreen. God! His head was pounding. His heart in his throat. He thought he heard his name as he marched down the street. He'd take the 32 bus downtown but stop at the newsagent on the corner first for a pack of smokes.

"Arthur! Hey, Arthur, wait up man, c'mon!" His coat sleeve was tugged on. Aggravated, he ripped his arm away, noting Jimmy's profile. That hawk-like nose and slackened jaw-line of his colleague, well, ex-colleague now.

"What?!" He bit out sharply, coming to a standstill and making the younger man wince and furrow his brows. The smell of greasepaint and cloves coming off Jimmy's sage green button down and corduroy jeans.

"Jesus man, I'm sorry. Getting totaled like that just ain't right. What they sayin' 'bout that gun bein' real though-"

"It was just a prop, for an act." Arthur repeated for the third time that day, cutting Jimmy off cold. He was starting to wish the lie was real. The tremor in his hands was more than the need for another hit of nicotine. The wind wasn't helping.

Jimmy however, nodded, searching Arthur's care worn face for a moment before pressing on.

"Yeah well, listen. I got a buddy across town what works as a roadie for this place called the Regale Theatre Company. It's run by some overseas chick. I don't know if they're hiring any, but if you ask for Bill Tormey at the loading bay, he may know somethin'." Jimmy pressed a newspaper clipping where he'd scrawled the theatre's address and Bill's name in blue ballpoint across a show advert into Arthur's reluctant cold hand, explaining, "He's usually on shift till six on Thursdays through Saturdays. Tell 'em his ol' pal Jimmy sent you. I dunno. Maybe they might got somethin' for you. You never know."

Arthur stared at the clipping and its scrawled letters for a few lengthy heartbeats. His anger dissipating into an anxious ball that constricted in the top of his chest and forced him to swallow. He nodded slowly, muttering a 'thank you' as he folded the clipping in half and pushed it into his breast-coat pocket.

"Yeah, all the best, pal. Maybe I'll see you 'round." Jimmy said with a nod, slapping his hand across Arthur's bruised back almost parentally. The gesture may have been awkward, but never forced. Jimmy wasn't a bad guy. Arthur shook his hand, exerting an undercurrent of his frustration into that handshake before muttering a final goodbye and turning away.

He was pissed off, cold and hanging for a cigarette.

@arthur-j-fleck | @jokerous | @daily-joker | @joker2019confessions

#joker #joker 2019 #concept writing #arthur fleck #short story #joker fracture

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ewh111 · 4 years

Text

Annual List of Favorite Film Experiences of 2019

Happy New Year! All the best to you for a fabulous 2020 and new decade!

2019 was a busy year of traveling. Work took me back to China (three times), Japan, Korea, and first time visits to the Czech Republic and Australia.

I had the opportunity of a lifetime when I helped lead a group of Harvard-Westlake faculty members on a culture and food themed trip to China with James Beard Award-winning food writer/chef Fuchsia Dunlop. As a big fan of hers, I invited her to join us as our culinary tour guide and she accepted, leading us through three regions of China with distinct cuisines (Chengdu, Hangzhou, and Shanghai). Over ten days, she curated 19 meals with over 300 different courses! For more, go to my first annual food post: https://ewh111.tumblr.com/post/189972112494/2019-food-lists

And now, here are my favorite film experiences of the past year.

Cheers, Ed

The Best and The Favorite of the Year

Parasite

The less you know before viewing this metaphorical, fiercely dark, genre-bending comedy/horror/social satire of haves and have nots where everyone is arguably a parasite, the better. Korean filmmaker Boon Joon-ho creates a memorable, twisty, thought-provoking film experience with exquisite storytelling, stunning visuals, sudden tonal shifts, unexpected turns, and a terrific cast. Just take the journey and enjoy this masterful work that may be the best film of the year. Trailer: https://youtu.be/isOGD_7hNIY

Jojo Rabbit

Appealing to my affinity for the quirky, this one is my favorite film of 2019. Who knew that a story during the waning days of WWII about a 10 year old Hitler Youth, his imaginary friend Adolph Hitler, and his single mom who is hiding a Jewish girl in their attic would be so sweet and funny. While an absurdist witty satire on the surface, it’s really an anti-hate, coming-of-age story as we experience the world through the eyes of 10 year old Jojo as he confronts and reconciles “the other” he’s been taught to hate in the world around him. Delicately balancing whimsy and seriousness, Jojo Rabbit is a beautiful and soulful film thanks to a great cast, including a terrifically endearing Scarlett Johansson (while likely to garner more attention for Marriage Story, this is the more memorable character to me), the audacious Jewish-Polynesian director Taika Waititi as the sophomoric Hitler bestie, Sam Rockwell as an SS officer with a heart, and a wonderful Roman Griffin Davis in the title role. Trailer: https://youtu.be/tL4McUzXfFI

Racing Against Time

1917

Wow. Daring and bold filmmaking in one of the most realistic and visceral war film experiences since the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan. In a role that may be overlooked during awards season, George MacKay is a standout as one of the two soldiers sent on an impossible mission through No Man’s Land to deliver a message to prevent British forces from entering a massive German ambush. Oh, and via pure movie magic, director Sam Mendes and master cinematographer Roger Deakins tell this story in what seems like one continuous shot. I was totally drawn in by the Gallipoli-esque race against time, the real-time pacing of 24, and the immersive POV of a video game. The result is breath-taking as the camera dances around the soldiers, trenches, bunkers, and towns in a beautifully choreographed dance without distracting from the gripping storytelling. Trailer: https://youtu.be/gZjQROMAh_s

Ford v Ferrari

An exhilarating, high octane, crackling thrill ride. The story of two obsessively passionate crazies, ex-racer and car designer Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) and British race car driver Ken Miles (Christian Bale), who join forces with American corporate titan Ford to defeat Ferrari at the 24 hours of Le Mans in 1966. It’s pure adrenaline that non-racing enthusiasts can enjoy because of the well-crafted story and performances. Trailer: https://youtu.be/I3h9Z89U9ZA

Unforgettably Creepy and Disturbing

Joker

Joaquin Phoenix disturbingly and completely transforms himself into the pathologically deranged, downtrodden, and delusional part-time clown/aspiring comic Arthur Fleck in this origin story of Batman’s arch nemesis. Joker is a deeply disturbing character study of how an emotionally fragile individual on the fringes of society gets pushed deeper and deeper into the downward spiral of insanity to the breaking point. Dark, edgy, and unsettling, Joker is not for everyone. But there’s no denying Phoenix’s brilliant, tour de force performance. (Unfortunately, my edginess was heightened in my screening by an audience member who was similarly laughing inappropriately like Phoenix’s character, which had me looking for the closest exit in the event of a disturbance). Trailer: https://youtu.be/zAGVQLHvwOY

In his sophomore directorial effort, Jordan Peele has gone beyond the horror and social commentary of Get Out, and into even deeper, more chilling existential territory. In Us, Peele has created an All-American family terrorized by a creepy scissor-wielding doppelgänger family and spirals into more terrifying and mysterious terrain with a fabulous dual performance by Lupita Nyong'o. Who is Us? Is Us them? I’ll leave the metaphorical debate for later. Trailer: https://youtu.be/hNCmb-4oXJA

**Midsommar deserves notable mention in the creepy category–a slow-burn, dark tale of a young American couple’s vacation in the remote Swedish hinterland at a once-in-lifetime summer festival that goes creepily and morbidly wrong. Trailer: https://youtu.be/1Vnghdsjmd0

Masterworks by Tarantino and Scorsese

Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood

Perhaps Quentin Tarantino’s most mature film, Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood beautifully captures in painstaking detail a specific moment in time: Hollywood, 1969. A passionate homage and love letter to Los Angeles and the Hollywood scene, Tarantino blends a concoction of history and fantasy (a la Inglourious Basterds) in a buddy movie with Leonardo DiCaprio as declining TV hero/star and an endearing scene-stealing Brad Pitt as his stalwart stunt double/best friend whose lives fatefully intersect with Sharon Tate and the Manson family. While at times meandering (it’s less plot and more a series of vignettes), it is also at times spellbinding (an on set encounter between DiCaprio’s character and a fellow 8 year old child actor; Margot Robbie’s Sharon Tate watching herself on screen inside Westwood’s Bruin Theater). As the title implies, this is a quintessential Tarantino fairy tale: funny, yet warm, and, of course, violent. Trailer: https://youtu.be/ELeMaP8EPAA

The Irishman

An epic, career-capping entry into Martin Scorsese’s mob-themed oeuve, The Irishman appropriately brings De Niro, Pacino and Pesci together in this elegaic saga, complete with de-aging technology to tell the story of mob hitman Frank Sheeran (De Niro) through multiple flashbacks. And for those of us old enough to remember, the story helps to answer the unsolved question, what happened to Teamster head Jimmy Hoffa. Trailer: https://youtu.be/RS3aHkkfuEI

Family Dramas

Marriage Story

Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver are top-notch in this raw, yet poignant, and ultimately life-affirming journey through the disintegration of a marriage and the logistical mechanics of the divorce process and custody fight seen from both sides as each struggles to reestablish priorities in their lives and redefine family. Trailer: https://youtu.be/BHi-a1n8t7M

The Farewell

We are told the film is “based on an actual lie” in the film’s opening titles; director Lulu Wang’s heartfelt, deeply personal, and charming film stars Awkwafina as a young woman whose grandmother (in China) has been diagnosed with terminal cancer but the entire family has decided to keep it a secret. Under the guise of a hastily planned family wedding, the family gathers to say goodbye to grandma. Capturing the uneasy tension between Chinese and American culture, questioning where one belongs and the role of family in our lives, Awkwafina shines in her first dramatic role, as does the rest of the supporting cast. Trailer: https://youtu.be/RofpAjqwMa8

Little Women

Director Greta Gerwig follows up Lady Bird with another achievement, giving the classic 19th century Louisa May Alcott period piece a thoroughly modern feel with an effervescent cast and 21st century non-chronological storytelling. Saoirse Ronan leads a fantastic cast. Trailer: https://youtu.be/AST2-4db4ic

Two Funny Smart Girls, Two Religious Guys, and Only One Baby Per Family, Please

Booksmart

More than just a female version of Superbad, Booksmart is an impressive directorial debut for Olivia Wilde with the fantastic duo of Kaitlyn Dever and Beanie Feldstein (HW ‘11) as the “study hard” academic besties on a mission to “play hard” on the last night before graduation. Also memorable is the scene-stealing Billie Lourd (HW ‘10). This very funny and delightful coming-of-age pic stands out in the pantheon of teenage comedies not only for its quirky and smart tone, but for its inclusive and diverse three-dimensional characters, including LGBTQ+ and gender non-conforming teens whose sexuality don’t define who they are. Trailer: https://youtu.be/Uhd3lo_IWJc

The Two Popes

I didn’t expect a film that is essentially an extended conversation between two people would be so intriguing and gripping. The imagined conversation in 2012 involves two very different men, one the sitting pope who finds himself standing increasingly in the way of progress, and the other, his eventual successor looking to retire from an institution he is increasingly frustrated with. But with spot-on casting and terrific performances from Jonathan Pryce as the ABBA-humming future Pope Francis and Anthony Hopkins as the stoic, humorless intellect Pope Benedict XVI, The Two Popes is a joy to watch. Trailer: https://youtu.be/T5OhkFY1PQE

One Child Nation

This one’s a doc. From 1979 to 2015, China instituted the “One Child Policy” as a means of population control to stave off mass starvation. Documentarian Nanfu Wang, herself an exception to the policy and now a first-time mother, explores the enduring ripple effects of the policy that included forced abortions, sterilizations, abandonment of baby girls, and child trafficking. This powerful and devastating documentary looks at the multi-layered trauma–how it was carried out and the heartbreaking human and societal toll it has taken. Trailer: https://youtu.be/gMcJVoLwyD0

**Other documentaries to check out: Cold Case Hammarskjold, Where’s My Roy Cohn, The Biggest Little Farm, Leaving Neverland.

All Out Pure Fun Movie Experiences

Knives Out

An enthusiastic bundle of joy, Knives Out is Rian Johnson’s stellar, intricately crafted, Agatha Christie-like whodunit with a stellar cast who seem to be having as much fun as the audience. Trailer: https://youtu.be/qOg3AoRc4nI

Rocketman

Can’t help but compare this to Bohemian Rhapsody, but Rocketman is the superior and more entertaining musical biopic (using the term loosely). It’s bold, magical, and fantastical, as befits Elton John. Trailer: https://youtu.be/S3vO8E2e6G0

Other notables: The King, Avengers: Endgame, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, Honey Boy, Yesterday, Velvet Buzzsaw.

In the queue: Pain & Glory; Uncut Gems; Bombshell; Richard Jewell, The Last Black Man In San Francisco.

Favorite Binge-worthy TV Shows

Dark, Succession, When They See Us, Chernobyl, Mindhunter, Barry, Veep, Sex Education, Silicon Valley, Stranger Things 3, Don’t F**k with Cats

Special Shout Out to Dark

With elements of the mysterious strangeness of Twin Peaks and Stranger Things (minus the humor and camp) and the intricate intertwined storytelling and compelling characters of The Wire, Dark is the story of four families who live in a tiny German town situated next to a nuclear power plant (add a little of Chernobyl) who are inextricably connected through some strange cosmic phenomenon. Oh, and throw in a big dose of time travel. Dark is incredibly compelling and addictive. It is hands down the most complex and thoughtful (i.e., sophisticated and makes sense) time travel-themed story I’ve seen. Do yourself a favor and resist Googling anything about the show to avoid spoiling the experience. Just watch. There are two seasons worth at Netflix. And one more on the way. Trailer: https://youtu.be/S3vO8E2e6G0

#favoritemovies2019 #favoritefilms2019 #submission

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imagines-oneshots-blog · 7 years

Text

A Lesson in International Etiquette

Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9923021

Pairing: Arthur (Mr.) Ketch x Reader Word count: 7,311 Warnings: Lots of Smut and Cursing, Unprotected Sex, Riding, Vampire Killing, Violence Authors Note: That was my first stab at a Mr. Ketch paiiring, if you liked it please follow the link to AO3 and let me know your thoughts!!

He was following you.

You were sure he thought that he was being stealthy, that he’d underestimated your observational skills, but you could recognize the sleek chrome of that beautiful bike, a Norton Commando by the looks of it, anywhere. Shit, if it had been anyone else you would’ve approached him, tits shamelessly displayed, hips swinging brashly, and asked for a ride in a tone that left little room for dissent. But this was him; a goddamn Brit, and you weren’t exactly positively inclined towards the Commonwealth.

Sure, you’d heard the whole “World Without Monster’s” punchline from his green eyed friend whose name you couldn’t quite recall, but frankly you weren’t buying what they were selling. Perhaps it was some deep rooted sense of national pride, but the thought of American hunters needing help from their long-lost Daddies sat poorly with you. You and your ilk could handle your monsters just fine, thank you very much.

You’d promptly told him to go fuck himself, however in retrospect you’d probably taken a beat too long to reply, and blatant interest had probably sparked a bit too brightly behind your eyes. They did have an insanely impressive arsenal, and those accents….

Mmm, talk about a panty dropper.

Not yours though; your lacey numbers would stay firmly on your admittedly luscious ass, no matter how startlingly pretty that friend of his , Mike or Matt or whatever the fuck his name was, eyes had been or how much your fingers had itched to trace the sleek lines of his gun, a high tech number that occasionally peeked out from behind the tailored, obviously moneyed suit jacket that clung to his broad shoulders. Indeed, everything about the lot of them had reeked of superiority, of status, and that pissed you the fuck off.

Though nothing annoyed you more than the fact that you were currently hunting a vamp nest all by your lonesome and you kept spotting that fucking bike every time you rounded a corner. Did this Brit, this Mr. Ketch, really think that you couldn’t handle one pitiful nest by yourself? Did he think that you’d make a mistake, leave a loose end? No; vamps were easy, its people that were difficult. Especially smirking, smartly dressed, gun toting British men who didn’t know when to back the hell off. Seriously though, did he expect to gank monsters efficiently in the best that Crockett & Jones had to offer?

You sighed, shaking your head as you strode through the small, somewhat shabby downtown that this barely-a-spot-on-the-map had to offer. You’d just finished your afternoon coffee, the perfect people watching cover to scout for cocky vamps that dared to come out into the open of the town square, and were walking back to your car when you caught a flash of something in the side mirror of a powder blue Subaru parked on the curb; a dark, well-tailored suit-like something that had your jaw clenching and your fingers tightening around your car keys. That bastard had the nerve to tail you in public? Creeping after you from town to town was bad enough, now he was stuck to your shoe on your errands too? There was no way in hell that you’d let yourself be followed like one of the monsters you hunted. Enough was enough.

With an extra huff in your step you continued walking down the street, aiming straight for the nearby alley way, your footfalls hurried and assured. You rounded the corner into the darkened path, the high brick walls successfully obscuring you from the view of the street. You pressed your back against the brick, settling in one of the shadows playing in the high walls, the cool clay bricks pressing icily into your back. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you sucked in silent, rage filled breaths. You quietly slipped your large knife from its sheath at your hip, where it was safely covered from public view by flannel or cotton. You counted your heart beats anxiously, wagering that your Brit would round the corner behind you in three, two one…

Sure enough he followed suit, his steps fast, almost jogging as if he sensed you were trying to lose him. One large hand was curled around his gun, the one you’d been dying to check out. Obviously he sensed something awry. He was right.

Before he could react or spot you out of the corner of his eye you darted at him, shifting the knife so that it faced outwards in your grasp and gripping the smooth, slip of his lapel in your other fist. Using your momentum and his surprise to your advantage, you flipped him to the opposite wall, slamming his back none-so-gently against the brick. The sharp huff of his breath was music to your ears as you slid the knife against his skin, the blade’s edge pressing keenly against his pulse; a pulse which strangely didn’t seem to have sped up despite his compromised position.

You fervently tried to push away the rapidly dawning realizations that not only was he was much bigger than you’d remembered, but his eyes, which had at first glance seemed black, were in fact a deep, stormy green so aphotic they were nearly grey. You could see flecks of true emerald ringing his pupil; such a beautiful color for such a hard man. And damn, was he hard; this close you could practically feel the strength surging in his immense body, seated in the coil of his shoulders, the thick set of his neck, the clutch of his expansive hands that were raising in surrender. You did like them big…

No! Don’t lick your lips, you commanded yourself as your set about your task once more. You were pissed off, not turned on, damnit! But then again, wasn’t there such a fine line between the two?

“Why the hell have you been following me?” You grated out, pleased with how steadfastly angry your voice sounded. No hint of the arousal flaring traitorously in your belly.

“So you noticed that, eh?” His accent was even more lilting that you’d remembered, though his friend, Mack, Mark, what the fuck was his name, had done most of the talking during that meeting.

“Yes, I fucking noticed, now answer the damn question before your jugular spray decorates this alley way.”

“Quite the mouth on you,” He muttered under his breath, though the heat, the near admiration in the statement, and in his eyes, had your stomach doing strange flipping motions low in your belly, “As you might’ve noticed my task here in your country is to recruit hunters, and you are a hunter that the British Men of Letters has shown interest in. I was hoping to observe your technique to better gauge whether you would be cooperative or not.” He emphasized his doubt at your cooperation with a downwards glance at the knife you had pressed against his throat, and with something that was almost embarrassment you relaxed the blade an inch, giving him some room. Oddly, he didn’t look like he’d been disturbed by the threat whatsoever.

“Then why didn’t you just approach me instead of making me think you were a stalker on my heels?”

“I wanted to observe your habits. Learn your techniques. I see now that this approach was not the most fortuitous.”

“No, Mr. Ketch,” You said, anger still coiling hotly in your veins, nearly strong enough to stamp out the lust that had begun to fire through you at the clean, musky masculine scent that was all him, “It really wasn’t. Stay out of my way. If I see your face again..” You trailed off, running your knife against his throat in one last warning. You’d found that sometimes non-verbal threats worked best. To your increasing ire he didn’t look frightened. In fact, he looked almost amused, like a cat watching a fish in a bowl.

Pissed off and just reckless enough not to give a damn, you nicked his flesh, right below his adam’s apple, and delighted in the spark of real anger that flared behind his eyes in response.

“Don’t fuck with me.” You whispered to him, your face so close to his you could feel the heat of his mouth, the mouth that was no longer smirking. Good, served him right.

Turning on your heel, satisfied that you’d left him properly spanked, you practically pranced away, feeling almost high from that tense, charged interaction. It had been awhile since you’d gone toe to toe with what you deemed a worthy adversary, and you came away from it feeling more alive than ever. As you strode you swore you heard him mutter, “What if that is exactly what intend to do, love?” but you decided to graciously, democratically, ignore that comment and the heat it left sizzling through your veins.

However you couldn’t ignore the way that your body tingled as you felt his eyes, those dark, dark eyes, boring into you from behind, all the way until you were out of sight. You hurriedly climbed in your car and turned your stereo, which was currently spewing Bad Company, all the way to the max. You were amped up, full of something that urged your muscles to clench, your heart to race. You knew there was only one way to dispel this adrenaline, this hot coil of emotion, and push thoughts of that snarky, smart ass Brit out of your head.

Watch out vamps, it’s hunting season.

__________________________________________________________________

You reveled in the hefty swing of your machete, in the powerful bite of its sharp edge. Heads rolled beneath the flick of your wrist, eyes deadened and fangs retracted. You heard hisses from all around you but by your count you had finished off six of the ten. That meant four left.

Your careful steps barely echoed in the halls of the long abandoned warehouse you were currently traversing, the ground zero for this nest. Figured though, vamps liked dark, secluded places and you couldn’t get more hermetic, or dingy, than this. Many of the glass windows were long broken, letting in the howling wind in long, moaning gusts. This place was fucking creepy, but then again so were these monsters.

Suddenly one jumped out at you, stupidly revealing its hiding place and sealing its fate. Within a matter of seconds it was a pile of flesh and bones on the floor, the last mark it felt on this earth a puddle of cooling vamp blood.

Seven down three to go. You flicked a willful strand of hair that had managed to escape your high ponytail from your eyes, wiping the sweat beading down your forehead on one arm, eager to get this over with. The sooner these monsters were dead the sooner your ass would be getting trashed at the nearest bar, and quite possibly getting lucky. It’d been awhile since you’d had any action to write home about and you would need somewhere to direct all this post hunt adrenaline. Hot, nameless, wild sex was your most favorite way to do just that.

Your fingers curled anticipatorily around the hilt of your blade, itching, anxious. “Come on, bastards,” You muttered under your breath, “Come and get me.”

As if on cue all three remaining vamps came forward, their ghastly teeth bared and their short, wicked claws out. They circled like vultures, eyeing your neck, the juncture of your arms, your wrist, all the places where your pulse pounded the strongest, all the places they could attack. Fat lot of good it’d do them, you’d taken the precaution of injecting a healthy dose of dead man’s blood in your veins. One bite and theses suckers would drop like rocks, writhing on the floor, just begging to be decapitated.

You smirked at the nearest one and beckoned it with a crook of your finger and a tilt of your head. And suddenly they were on you, hissing and clawing and biting, trying their damndest to take you down. Your swung mightily, measuredly, and delighted in the delicious sounds of heads rolling. When the red cleared from your vision you glanced down at your prizes, smirking slightly. Wait…

Two heads? Hadn’t there been three vamps. Oh shit, you thought as you heard movement behind you, a slight shuffling of feet that told you it was preparing to pounce. You braced, grasping your machete and whirling, only to see claws swiping at you, raised and glinting in the low light. Running on pure instinct you leapt back, but they grazed your middle, slashing the skin below the wire of your bra, and you could tell in an instant that your quick motions had rendered the cuts barely skin deep, though they still smarted like hell.

Cursing, you prepared to swing your machete, only to see the pallid gleam of a blade flashing suddenly behind the vamps head, the wicked knife they belonged to coming to rest at its throat. The creature stilled instantly, eyes wild, fangs bared, claws dripping with your blood.

“There, there my boy,” Mr. Ketch’s smooth, accented voice rang in the quiet of the warehouse, lilting over the howl of the wind and the creaking of old chains, “is that any way to treat a lady?”

Through your shock at seeing him here despite your adamant warnings to kindly fuck off you could acknowledge the healthy modicum of gratitude filling your chest at his presence, the much needed break allowing you to slump against a nearby crate and clutch your bleeding wound. Though it wasn’t deep, the upper layers of skin tended to bleed heavily, making it look much worse than it actually was. Some antiseptic, most likely in the form of the whiskey sitting on the dresser in your motel room, and some bandages and you’d be good as new. With your wound assessed, you turned your attention back to Mr. Ketch and the vampire he had at the end of his blade. He was staring at the creature with mild disinterest, as if this were as tedious as picking up milk from the grocery store. In a way you assumed for him it was, especially if these damned Brits were as prolific as they claimed.

“Look at me,” He said, his voice almost bored as he taunted the vamp, “Look who brings your death.” The vamps eyes flicked to the ancient looking cross tattooed on the back Ketch’s hand and it snarled before stilling once more.

You’d heard rumors that this Mr. Ketch was a psychopath, that he was slightly unhinged, but you couldn’t quite picture it, couldn’t quite see it in your mind’s eye until now, as his dark, forest green eyes glinted with malicious, calculating rage and his lips curled into a cold sneer just before he slid his machete through the vamps neck, the cut as unhampered as a hot knife through butter. The creatures head tumbled to the ground, followed momentarily by its lifeless body, the weighted, fleshy whomps the only sounds that rang in the dank warehouse.

After watching the vamp fall Ketch’s gaze fell on you, those dark eyes intense and stormy as they drank you in. You swore you could almost see lust glinting sharply in his gaze as he swept that rapt stare up and down your form, the heat that answered within your body from his petting gaze staggering you with its strength. You wondered briefly what you looked like, hair thrown in a haphazard ponytail atop your head, loose strands sticking to your neck, skin gleaming with a fresh sheen of sweat, chest heaving as you licked your lips. Would he find you captivating this way, fresh from a hunt, with vamps blood splattered on your skin and blood lust in your eyes? The answering gleam in his dark gaze told you yes, he found you utterly captivating like this.

Post hunt adrenaline, you chided yourself, fiercely adamant that this, whatever it was, was nothing more than that simple explaination. Two hunters high on the good fight.

Then why did you feel the need see what else he could do with those long fingers, those smirking lips, that refined tongue. Why did you want to know how many vamps he’d killed and watch his chest huff with exertion as he took on a werewolf. Why did he suddenly look traitorously delicious to you now?

“Were you trying to kill it or make out with it?” You grated in a pain roughened voice as you began to stand uneasily, eager to dispel the carnal thoughts running through your head and the heavy tension filing the dank space, “I couldn’t tell for a second there. I don’t usually give a fuck unless it puts my ass on the line.” You said gesturing to your bleeding middle.

To your immense relief a smile curved his lips, lips that suddenly looked leagues more inviting, and he sheathed his blade in a previously unseen holster hanging from his belt, striding over to aid your rise. The fingers he wrapped around the uninjured portion of your waist were dry and warm, and that simple touch sent tingles skittering down your spine. Inwardly cursing your reactions to him, you looped your arm around the shoulder he had lowered in offering, trying hard to ignore the thick coil of muscle that roiled beneath your fingers, and leaned into him as he helped you rise.

“I’ll take that as an American thank you,” He said, a smile coloring his voice as he began to lead you to his car, “You’re quite welcome. Though I was impressed by the talent you showed here tonight. You had the situation quite in hand. Well, up until the end that is.”

Despite your annoyance at his somewhat backhanded compliment you found yourself laughing lightly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m just surprised your ascot didn’t get in the way.”

“Actually this is a windsor knot t-” He began but you cut him off with a sharp squeeze to the shoulder and an exasperated exhale.

“I know the difference between an ascot and a tie, dickwad! Jesus Christ…” This time he chuckled, the way the sound hummed in his chest doing interesting things to the knot coiling in your lower belly.

You passed the quick journey to your humble lodgings, a room at the Motel Six at the edge of town, in pleasant conversation about weapons, a conversation you’d started when you’d asked where his “fancy vampire vaporizer” was. He was hasty and eager to fill you in on the details, and proper name, of that weapon and the countless others he had in his arsenal. You assumed this was a standard part of the sales pitch, and even though you resented it you couldn’t stem your curiosity about him and his resources.

“Do you have the necessary medical supplies to tend to your wound?” He asked once you’d stopped in front of your section of the Motel.

“Whiskey, check. Bandages, check. I’m all good.” You said, just barely suppressing a groan as you shifted to get out of the vehicle.

“You aren’t serious.” He said, his tone incredulous.

“Quite,” You replied, mocking his accent teasingly as you shifted in the plush leather seat. When he didn’t reply, you realized he was staring agape in obvious horror, and not for the first time today you felt something akin to embarrassment creep up your neck due to him and his impossibly high British standards. At your sudden silence and lack of ability to meet his eyes he seemed to decide upon his next course of action.

“Alright, I’m coming in to tend to you. Let me grab my medical kit.”

“No, really, that’s completely unnecessary, I swear-“ He cut you off with the curt slam of his door, leaving you to sigh heavily, his footsteps sure and decided as he retrieved a black briefcase from the trunk and came around to your side. He opened the passenger’s side door, and you peered up at him, stubbornness coloring your features. He extended a hand to help you stand but in your rebelliousness you hung onto the door frame for support instead. You swear you saw him smirk as you passed him on unsteady feet, but you pushed aside the pleasure blooming in your chest at that, focusing instead on digging your room key out of your jeans pocket.

You felt the heat of his body, warm and immense, as he stood behind you at the door. You took a moment longer than was necessary to unlock the door, happy to bask in his heat for just a few extra seconds. That post hunt adrenaline was singing through your veins, heightening everything from the lamplight filtering in the thin curtains hanging on the windows to the way the cut of Ketch’s jaw had you biting back a sigh. Judging by the gleam in his dark eyes he’d caught it, and his smirk widened in response.

“Alright let’s get this over with,” You huffed, turning away from him so that he wouldn’t see the blush deepening on your cheeks. You flicked on a few lights as you strode about, casting a warm glow around the room. Standing close to the lamp on the nightstand, facing away from the small table that Ketch was currently setting up his medical station on, you drew up your shirt to assess the vamp’s damage. There were three light marks raking from one side of your middle to the other, and though they had bled profusely you were sure that with time and care they’d heal without a mark. For that you were thankful; your body already sported a myriad of scars, and you weren’t keen on adding another one to the mix just yet.

“Ready when you are.” He said from behind you, nearly making you start from your thoughts of old wounds from monster fights long past. You cleared your throat and crossed to the mini fridge, drawing out two cold beers and striding to the table. As you moved to the chair closest to his you caught sight of him, and for just a moment your breath caught harshly in your throat.

He’d stripped off his jacket and tie, leaving him in just that crisp dress shirt, unbuttoned for good, tempting measure, sleeves rolled up on his thickly muscled arms, and his loose slacks as he lounged in that chair with all the grace of a panther; predatory, beautiful. The shed clothes had revealed glimpses of more tattoos; what looked like a wing peeking out from his left forearm, and what could be its twin on the right; an unidentifiable crest peeking out from the buttons on his dress shirt. Suddenly you were filled with the thrumming urge to sit in his lap and trace those intricate designs with your fingers, and then your tongue, exploring the other secrets hidden beneath his uptight getup. Those wicked tats, combined with the undeniable badassness of his kill and the cocktail of self-preserving chemicals rushing through your veins had you clearing your throat loudly to stem the low moan of want that threatened to slip from your lips as you twisted the cap of your beer off and took a hearty swig.

“Ready,” You announced after draining half of the bottle, shifting uneasily when he leaned forward to grasp the hem of your blood soaked t shirt.

“May I?” He asked quietly, his voice low and almost throaty, his fingers hesitating near the clasp of your jeans, skirting the low hem of your shirt. You nodded twice, your hands clasping your beer, bringing it up to your lips once more as those slender fingers probed at your wound, tracing lightly over dried blood. His touch was tinged with perfunctory purpose, but there was something else flashing behind his eyes…appreciation maybe, or more accurately admiration.

And suddenly those slender fingers were gone, preparing a swab of peroxide to swipe the blood away and cleanse the scratches, which only smarted lightly at the touch of the cleansing chemicals. You drained your beer, plunking it down on the table as you swallowed, grimacing slightly at the sour taste.

“What do you usually do after a hunt?” You asked, desperate for a reprieve from the pain, and more importantly from the heated carnal thoughts rushing through your mind.

“Well, I’ll help a bit with cleanup and disposal, and then I’ll write up a formal report for the Organization. I might celebrate by cleaning my weapons.”

You waited for him to elaborate, to add on something, anything, but he didn’t. “Really,” You prompted, glancing at his handsome, concentrated features that were affixed to your midriff, “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He affirmed, his tone distant as he wiped away caked blood, “Why, what do you do?”

You grinned, sighing as you remembered countless nights of celebratory debauchery, some of which included the Winchesters. “Well,” you began, cracking open that second beer, settling your sock feet into the empty space in his chair, wedged beside his right hip, steadfastly ignoring the questioning looks he threw your way, “Us American hunters celebrate with libations. Preferably of the whiskey variety. The more the merrier.”

“So you get snookered?” Ketch asked in an amused tone as he began to tape bandages onto your healing flesh. You noticed the bandages had some sort of rune work ingrained in the ply of the cotton; some kind of accelerated healing spell work maybe?

“Well, in a word, yeah.” You scowled at the judgement in his tone, “What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, nothing.” He paused, the ensuing silence heavily laden with unspoken meaning. You continued staring until finally he looked up briefly from his work to question, “But there are no reports, no one to formally address?”

“Hell no,” You scoffed, gulping heavily from your beer before you replied, “Damn, you British are so uptight! Do you ever let loose? Have fun?”

Ketch glanced up, seeming to consider carefully before he replied, “Well I do on occasion enjoy a nice glass of Lagavulin and a good cigar.”

You paused in disbelief before you replied, “Oh no that’s so boring it’s almost sad. We’ll have to celebrate properly then. Get good and smashed after a hunt together sometime, American style. Though, preferably when I’m not sporting a vampy love tat.”

Ketch finished taping your wound and sat back in his chair surveying his work, you, appraisingly, “It’s a deal, then.”

“Good.” You replied, grinning as you rose and slipped the blood stained shirt over your head, your back to him as you dug in your duffel, your fingers closing quickly around a black tank top. Once that was on you snagged another two beers from the fridge and plopped back down into your chair, cracking them both open and pushing one towards him, “Until then, let’s celebrate a bit more mildly.”

For a moment you were worried that Ketch might not accept, but finally his long, slender fingers closed around the sweating bottle and he smiled warmly at you before you raised yours in offering.

“Thank you.” You said, catching his gaze as you clinked your bottles together. He held your eyes for a moment and then canted his head in a graceful nod. Damn, sometimes he was just so sophisticated, regal even. You drank fast and hard, wanting the alcohol to embolden you, to lift some of the crushing tension off of your shoulders, alleviate the warmth of attraction crackling in the air between you.

“You know our British hunters don’t usually suffer from raging alcoholism,” Ketch began, surveying the label on the bottle he cradled in one large hand, “But I’ll be damned if a stiff drink after a kill isn’t satisfying.”

“Right!” You crooned, leaning forwards in your seat, choosing to ignore the jab in the former part of his sentence for the complement in the latter, “I’m telling you, a night at the bar after a good, successful hunt is a damn good way to let off some steam. It’s a close second to…” You trailed off suddenly, biting your lip hard to stem the flow of words that had threatened to tumble from your mouth. It’s a close second to riding your way to ecstasy on the lap of a stranger. Work off that adrenaline properly.

Fuck, just thinking that while sitting this close to Ketch had your body thrumming, wanton lust sitting low in your belly, making your cheeks flush and your throat tighten. Suddenly your mind was filled with thoughts of riding him, of slipping into that chair, working the buttons of that dress shirt loose, running your tongue down his chest. Mmm…

You took another hearty swig to cover the groan that stumbled from your throat, but you couldn’t stop your eyes from darting to the thick lines of his neck, or from running down his chest straight to the seat of his lap, your gaze practically stripping him where he sat.

“It’s a close second to what,” He prompted, that hungry, predatory, gleam in his dark eyes once more, his gaze glinting wickedly as he leaned forwards, bracing those beefy forearms on his spread knees, “Because I can think of a few, more naughty ways to ‘let off some steam’, as you say.”

Oh fuck, he did not just say that. Jesus, that deep accented voice crooning those wicked words almost had you whimpering like a fool, but damn you didn’t want him to stop. You could play ball too…

“Oh yeah,” You hummed in response, leaning forwards, matching his stance as you licked your lips, “Like what?”

“Like my tongue running up your naked thighs, teasing your sensitive flesh, nipping your exposed skin,” Jesus, the man had a way with words, “Like my mouth at your ear while I slip inside you slowly, achingly. I guarantee you that would do the trick.”

That damn smirk of his was driving you crazy, taunting you, pushing you. Alright old sport, game fucking on…

Before you could stop yourself you were up, crossing to him in a few measured steps, bracing an arm on either side of his chair and leaning in to press your mouth hotly against his. He responded instantly, those huge hands wrapping low around your slim back, cupping the curve of your ass as your lips tangled, your tongue tracing the outline of his full bottom lip as your groaned softly, wantonly against his lips. “Stop talking,” You murmured against his mouth, threading your fingers in his thick hair, pulling him closer, “Another American lesson; put up or shut up.”

“Yes ma’am,” He murmured against your lips, causing wicked shivers to erupt on your skin, sending sharp tingles racing down your spine. You wanted to hear his moans as you rode him, hear his posh curses as you slipped wetly along his shaft, bouncing wildly in his lap. You needed that, and you needed it now.

You worked the clasp of your suddenly stifling jeans with impatient fingers, huffing against his seeking lips in annoyance, only to feel it come undone beneath the onslaught of your digits a moment later. His hands were on your waist then, pushing the denim down the sleek lines of your legs, helping as you stepped out of them. As soon as they were discarded on the floor those long fingers were tracing the intricate tattoo that graced your hip; vivid, lifelike roses scattered from your hip bone to the top of your thigh. The piece had cost a small fortune and taken multiple trips to the chair, but you were proud of it, and evidently so was Ketch.

“Do you approve?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow, loving the admiration banked in his eyes. You knew he could tell that it had been a painful, grueling process to get the artwork on your body, but somehow you sensed that this only made him admire you more.

“Quite,” He answered with a breathtaking smile before those lips were on yours once more and his fingers were wrapping around your bared thighs, hauling you into his lap, pushing your hips methodically against the rigid, throbbing steel of his hard cock.

You gasped against his mouth when you felt just how big he was; hot and hard against the slick lace of your panties, a fitting match to the rest of his bulky frame, and your belly quivered with molten want. You’d wanted a proper lay, and you now realized you were about to get it. You wanted it rough and dirty and right fucking now.

You broke away from his lips for just a moment to trail your hot mouth down his neck, nipping and sucking your way to the hollow of his throat, your fingers slipping to the buttons of his dress shirt, popping them open as your tongue slipped along his warm, firm skin. He tasted like spice and leather and something else, something all masculine strength that had your sex clenching wetly.

He was so big that you barely had to shift to reach his chest, but his hands slotted into your hair to help aid your ministrations nonetheless. You groaned when those deft fingers of his tore out the hair tie securing your locks atop your head, and you growled low in your throat when he replaced the band with the tight ring of his fist, that grasp so stunningly erotic, you found yourself clenching your thighs tightly around his hips.

You realized then that what turned this monolith of a man on was power; exchanging it, playing with it, possessing it, losing it. He was a junkie that traded in control, in domination. And he’d just met his match.

You raised your mouth from his chest to capture his lips once more, and with conscious motions you began to rock your weeping sex against the steel bar of his throbbing cock, knowing it would drive him crazy. Sure enough a low, need driven moan ripped from his throat, and you smiled against his lips, knowing you had just secured your place of power in this transaction.

You reached for the clasp of his belt, loving the gentle metal tinkle that the parts made as you tore it out of the way. You hastily undid the clasp of his pants, drawing the throbbing length of him out into your waiting palm.

“What do you want,” You murmured against his mouth, nipping none so gently at his full bottom lip as you crooned, “Tell me.”

He growled and bucked his hips up, sliding the thick, throbbing length of his cock further into your tight grasp, “I think that’s quite evident, darling.” You couldn’t stop the giggles that erupted from your lips at that, loving the way his proper accent clashed deliciously with the naked need in his voice.

“I want to hear you say it,” You whispered wickedly, your tongue flicking out against the delicate shell of his ear, “Tell me you want to fuck me.”

“The mouth on you, you naughty minx,” He groaned, palming your ass hard with both of his large hands, “I want to fuck you raw, make you feel me for days.” He growled against your exposed neck, his teeth biting, his tongue curling against your skin. You gasped, bucking your hips automatically, arousal driving your fervent actions.

Not wanting to wait anymore, you drew aside the soaked material of your panties and lined up the crown of his cock with your sex, slipping the head along your soaked entrance. You weren’t sure you could fit all of his generous length, but you were sure as hell gonna enjoy trying.

“More,” He grated, using his hands on your ass to lower you onto his throbbing shaft, inch by blessed inch. You gasped, writhing against him, panting hotly against his neck.

“Fuck,” You groaned low as he bottomed out, the fit so tight you could perceive him throbbing inside of you. Your ragged breaths rattled from your heaving chest, your skin slicked with a fresh layer of perspiration, your loose hair tumbling about your shoulders. His mouth was kissing patterns up your neck, along the line of your jaw, his fingers flexing eagerly against the flesh of your ass.

“Move on me love,” He commanded, a devil at your ear, words hot against your skin. You were helpless to do anything but obey, craving the slick slide of him, huge and throbbing, inside of you, wanting his groans against your skin.

You snapped your hips up, moving up the length of his cock, before lowering yourself down, slowly and deliciously. You repeated your motions countless times, the friction sparking from your bodies sweetening the slide of him inside you. After the long, sweet, slow fucks of your pussy on him, Ketch decided to take matters into his own hands, gripping your hips tightly and slamming you down quicker, more forcefully onto his waiting cock.

“Ketch!” You cried out, holding onto his wide shoulders as he repeated this teeth-chattering motion, vigorously bucking his own hips up to meet yours as he worked your pliant body over him. Suddenly the dirtiness, the wicked neediness of your fucking struck you full force, causing your pussy to clench in a wet rush around his cock, and your nails to bit deeper into his shoulders.

You felt him smile against your neck as he began to piston his hips in earnest, the speed and intensity of his thrusts delighting you. His hips bumped your clit with each bruising thrust, spearing pleasure straight to your core. You let your head fall back, your hair brushing your ass, as you effectively became putty in his arms, giving your body over to his wants, to his needs.

Your belly clenched powerfully, hotly, warning you of your impending orgasm, just as Ketch captured the hard bud of your nipple in his molten mouth, biting and sucking as you slipped along his length. You cursed and moaned as he moved to the other one, his teeth sinfully rough against your flushed skin. When his mouth released you his gaze remained rapt on your bouncing breasts, his long fingers tightening almost painfully against your hips.

Pain, pleasure, friction, wetness; all sensations blurred together, capped by the deliciously naughty sound of your skin slapping, your bodies meeting, and suddenly, without warning you were cumming, dirty, filthy words slipping from your lips as you came undone in his arms, your sex clenching powerfully around his cock.

Ketch snarled at your neck, his momentous control snapping as you felt his follow suit, cumming suddenly inside you, spurned no doubt by the force and immediacy of your own orgasm, rope after rope of hot, powerful release jetting inside you, leaving you a dripping, mewling mess in his lap.

Then the after shudders; your breaths panting against his damp neck, your thighs loosening around his hips, his fingers sweeping the hair off your neck, slipping down the notches of your spine. For a few moments you imagined you felt a kind of peace here in his arms. After all, this was the best fuck you’d had in ages, endorphins were bound to get released right along-side your thundering orgasm. But then you shook yourself hard and began to ease him out of you, fixing your panties as you rose on shaky legs to grab your long discarded jeans. This was just like any other one night stand; it didn’t matter that he stared into your eyes as he eased inside you or called you ‘love’ while he palmed your ass. You would treat this just like any other booty call, despite what you felt blooming in your chest.

“I must say, that was quite different from the British way.” Ketch sighed, his tone satisfied but his eyes rapt on your body even though he’d just had you, his gaze following the long motions of your limbs as you drew your jeans arduously up your legs.

“Oh yeah?” You asked absently, shimmying your hips to draw your jeans over your curves, a smile flitting uncontrollably at your lips as you realized that he’d been right; you’d feel him for days.

“If I had a way of contacting you I could arrange to show you how we do it in the Commonwealth.”

Your fingers paused at the clasp of your jeans, your eyes flying up to meet his, which at the moment seemed more green than black, filled with more warmth than cold. Wait a minute, was he…

“Are you asking for my number?” You choked out, incredulous. After a moment that smirk morphed into a smile, and you swear your heart fucking skipped a beat.

“Well, yes I believe I am.” Ketch said, his long legs stretched out before him, his arms resting relaxed in his lap. Did you just fuck this man right into domestication?

“Another American lesson;” You said sweetly as you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before looking him in the eye, “you can’t always get what you want.”

__________________________________________________________________

By the time you’d pranced away, out of the cradle of his thighs, leaving him with a slightly slacked jaw and an appreciative gleam in his eyes, and indulged in a much needed hot shower, you’d returned to an empty motel room and a deeply satisfied body.

Alone, exhausted, and utterly spent in all the right ways, you climbed into the starchy sheets, leaving worries of how exactly you’d retrieve your car and why this confusing, attractive man would want a round two with you for tomorrow, when your body wasn’t buzzing and your head wasn’t whirling with memories of tattooed skin and accents whispering naughty words in your ear.

The next morning, after finishing off the dregs of the beers still on the table and scrounging for any leftovers that were in the mini fridge, you dressed and began to prepare for the 3 some odd mile long trek to your car. Every so often you’d glance that the chair, that chair, that sat innocently at the table, as if it hadn’t just been the catalyst for your cataclysmic night, and bite your lip, remembered heat flushing low in your body.

You were so distracted when you left the motel room, pulling the door shut behind you, that you nearly walked past your car, parked nonchalantly in the space right in front of your door. You stared at it warily, scanning your surroundings for anything amiss, but except for a few rowdy teens blowing up bottle rockets in the far corner of the parking lot the area was totally dead.

You slipped your keys out of your pocket, and as you unlocked the front door you noticed a bottle with an attacked note to it. Upon closer inspection you identified it as Lagavulin.

Ketch.

Of course he’d hot-wired your car. Asshole.

Despite your annoyance at the violation of your baby, you couldn’t stem the warmth that bloomed in your chest at the care this gesture showed. You gazed fondly at the whiskey, truly the only acceptable gift, and read the note, which looked like it’d come from an expensive, official stationary. Of fucking course.

If you ever want a lesson in British customs of copulation, I’d be more than happy to oblige. Until next time.

- K

Attached at the bottom of the note was what could be nothing other than the British Man of Letters phone number. Smiling like an idiot, you took your gifts inside with you, pouring a hearty glass and sipping happily. Maybe it had been a one night stand, but perhaps you hadn’t mistaken that heat in his eyes, that intensity in his voice as he’d murmured wicked words to you, that possessive grasp of his hands at your neck, your waist, your thighs.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d give him a call. Right after you finished your whiskey.

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