#jervis tetch x you

[acapelladitty]

Mad Hatter/Reader - Lessons

Summary - Undertaking another one of Jervis' 'etiquette' lessons proves to be a wicked undertaking indeed. (tw: dom/sub themes, teasing, oral sex, food kink etc)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Delicately picking up the small silver spoon, you bring it to your lips in a pretend sip as you announce your answer with a shaky confidence.

"Soup."

"Excellent, March Hare." Jervis' lilting voice trails out from his unseen spot behind you. "A soup spoon indeed! From tomato to broth to mock turtle. You're doing well."

Flushing with pride at the willing praise, you sigh and rub your thighs together; agitating the egg-shaped vibe which lay nestled between the walls of your sex. Wearing nothing but a white ruffled collar and a pale blue skirt so scandalously short that it may as well have been a belt, the cool air of Jervis' apartment was as familiar as ever as you remain in your place at his large kitchen table.

Speaking of the man himself, his thin hand appeared from your side, pointing expectantly at another piece of polished silverware. This one was a fork, its shape slightly smaller than the one to its side and your muddled brain struggles to remember what the hell it was for - the hesitation making your heart pick up its pace within your chest.

Rolling your ass against the chair, the movement has the unfortunate side-effect of shifting the vibe and its new position draws a keening moan from your lips.

"Jervis, oh my god-"

"Hush, March Hare!" Jervis scolds and you flinch as the tip of the riding crop which you know is sitting in his other hand arcs around to bounce off your right nipple, instantly sparking a heat-laced pain across your chest. "It's rude to speak over someone trying to give a lesson."

Fighting the urge to raise your hands and brush them across your pebbled and aching nipples, you instead focus on picking up the small china teacup which has long since been filled with tea for you to enjoy as you endured your etiquette lesson. However, the cup had barely touched your lips when your unspoken desires were answered as the reappearance of his hands made you flinch - the cool palms quickly gripping your chest in a rough pinch as Jervis' staggered breathing makes itself known just behind your head.

Delighted, you sigh into the cup as you arch your back ever so slightly, giving him easier access to your aching tits as the stimulation makes your cunt clench even more roughly around the vibe.

Finishing the last few drops of tea, you deposit the teacup back onto its assigned plate noisily as your shaking fingers make the fine china clink together. His small digits now kneading your tits almost thoughtfully, Jervis seems to be waiting for something as his mint-laden breath washes past your left ear.

Realising you were missing something, a gasp of delirious pleasure escapes you as his fingers pinch your nipples playfully - pulling at the sensitive buds as he tuts disapprovingly into your neck.

"A finished cup, my sweet rabbit. And no cry for a place change? Clean cup, clean cup. So easily forgotten."

Opening your mouth to say the words, his hand is quick to clamp around your lips and you can taste a subtle and sweet, almost sugary substance on his fingers.

"What a sad tea party." He continues to scold, his free hand teasing down your stomach, tracing every fleshy inch with reverence. "With manners and etiquette thrown to the crocodiles."

His finger drops to the seat, curling back on itself as he splits your slit and you widen your legs to allow him free access. A clear goal in mind, your body starts like it were shocked as the soft pad of his finger rubs a delicate circle around your engorged, neglected clit.

"Jervis."

"Mmm, my rabbit?"

"Don't stop." You breathe out shakily, the tightening band of arousal making your legs tremble slightly as your toes curl towards the floor.

"Please- please don't sto-"

The plea is cut short by his fingers as his free hand presses a thin sliver of cake to your lips - the sugary vanilla taste catching you by surprise as you obediently open your mouth to swallow it.

He enjoyed this.

Feeding and watering you.

The spark which alit in his eyes as he provided for you was as endearing as it was erotic - food play long having since established itself in your games as sweet treats and edibles were shared between you.

Unfortunately, his movements caught you off guard and a small dollop of light blue buttercream slipped free of your bottom lip to drop to the lowest ruffle of your white, embroidered collar.

A theatrical gasp rings in your ear and you whine as his wicked fingers scuttle away from your aching cunt. Any protest dies however as a flash of silver just at the corner of your eye makes you still and you feel the faintest edge of his pocketknife trailing across the sensitive juncture where your collarbone meets the shoulder.

"Messy rabbit." Jervis mutters, slipping the knife up to press against the white ruffled collar which he had gently looped around your neck at the beginning of your lesson. "No point wasting a lovely outfit on such a messy rabbit."

The ruffled collar falls free into a crumpled heap in your lap, but it's swiftly removed as Jervis snatches it up with his fingers and deposits it in the pockets of his slacks.

"Hold out your hand."

More than a little petulantly, you hold your palm out and he's quick to move as he swaps the knife for the riding crop which remains tucked under his armpit. Striking down harshly, the cool leather slices across your palm in a bolt of heat and you wince at the discomfort as he stands to move before you.

"Maybe my lessons are wasted?" Jervis continues, his thin hands pressing down on your exposed thighs as his blue eyes pierced your own. "Trying to turn my March Hare into a proper lady might be one of the six impossible things I have to imagine before breakfast?"

You glance up at him, blinking your eyes coquettishly as you beg forgiveness with only a look.

"Touch me." He continues in a rough demand, accented voice slightly roughened by his clear arousal as he stands fully. The darkened slacks do little to hide how hard he is, the fabric bulging over the jut of his clothed cock, and you run your palm across it gently, enjoying just how aroused he is by his little game with you.

Looping your hands within his belt, you quickly loosen the leather and allow it to hand free. His shortened height makes the task much easier and you smile at the slight inhale he makes when your hands unzip his fly and free his straining cock from its confines. Within your cunt, the vibe pressing against your walls makes it difficult to concentrate as you clench around it desperately, chasing the release which was slowly approaching.

"My Hatter," you purr as you wrap a hand around his length, fingers brushing the blonde curl of pubes which decorate the base, "and my sweet, kindly teacher. Maybe you deserve a reward for helping me out with all these hard lessons."

Stroking along his cock, you groan sharply as the vibe within you rockets up another level and the sudden onslaught of vibration is enough to quickly tip you over the edge that has threatened you for so long. Hand dropping to curl around the edge of the wooden chair, you grind your cunt against the wood as your release forces a guttural moan from your lips - every nerve in your body firing off as your teeth bite down on your lower lip hard enough that you taste copper through the pleasurable aftershocks.

The vibrations don't stop but they do back off slightly, reducing to a pleasant hum which makes you twitch in place as your release pools across your cunt and thighs - making a sordid mess of the chair itself.

"Now, now, March Hare! Distractions aren't appreciated when hard work is required." Jervis taunts but his expression is satisfied and oddly predatory as he watches you suffer through your pleasures.

"Focus."

And with that, he jerked his hips forward with clear intent, targeting his cock upwards towards your mouth. Giving a cheshire grin, you drop your head slightly to make up the space and take him within your mouth; your hand swiftly reappearing to wrap around his velvety length as he demands his payment.

He tastes as familiar as ever, the salt of his pre-cum cutting through the sugariness of the cake he had forced in there earlier and you moan around his cockhead - enjoying the way that the vibrations from your moan make his eyes widened and his mouth go slack.

He's as vocal as ever as his lips spill free a mixture of muffled grunts and sweet whispers - your name mixing with soft praises as you bob your head along his length, matching the movement by twisting your wrist with every stroke.

It doesn't take him long; the eroticism of your 'lessons' and his love of your mouth making him come more quickly than he may have liked and his hands press gently at the sides of your head to keep your lips around the tip of his cock as his release floods your mouth.

Swallowing down what he has to offer, you drink in his whimpering groans with equal enthusiasm as you focus on pleasing him. As gentlemanly as ever, he pulls free of your mouth quickly and you catch your breath as he tucks his wilting cock away in his slacks.

In a flash, he's dropping to his haunches before you and his mouth is on your own - tasting himself as much as you as his tongue demands entry. It's a playful kiss, part thanks and part apology as his thumb rubs gently along the developing welt on your palm from his earlier punishment.

"My Match Hare." He mutters, whispering the words into your mouth.

Matching his energy, your hands slip up his shoulders to tug gently at the blonde hairs which sit at the nape of his neck.

"My Hatter."

[starleska]

barges in/ WHAT ABOUT BTAS JERVIS X READER?

OWO

why, thank you for asking 😉 i've had this persistent concept knocking around my brain wherein Jervis earnestly tries to move past his devotion for Alice...only to tumble straight back down into obsession when he meets You 😳

Jervis Tetch x Reader First Meeting headcanons

🎩 although it pains him to admit it, the years of unrequited love have taken their toll on Jervis. his Alice is long gone—departed from Gotham with her now-husband (filthy brute), with a new name and her hair dyed a mousey brown. as far as he can tell, she's dropped off the map entirely, and it's been nearly a year since he last caught any trace of her. months in yet another cold, lonely stint at Arkham leave his soul more empty than ever before...and he decides, one lovelorn night, that such suffering should not befall a gentleman. although the thought sickens him, Jervis resolves that when he gets out, he is going to make a fresh start...even just for a while.

🎩 when finally he next escapes (his technology being instrumental in a jailbreak largely orchestrated by the other rogues, of course—no need for him to do their dirty work), Jervis makes good on his promise and leaves Gotham for a few cities over. he travels in civilian clothes and fights the urge to wear any sort of hat, fearing that even a simple cap could betray his identity. yet the experiment is a success. within days he has sequestered himself in an unassuming little apartment, and even ventured out to speak with a neighbour or two, none of whom recognise him as The Mad Hatter. it's a queer feeling, not seeing fear reflected in the eyes of those around him...and it gives him a quiet thrill which makes him forget himself, leaving Jervis grinning far too wide.

🎩 still, Jervis is a man with certain compulsions. he's partial to an afternoon walk, and at 3 o'clock exactly makes his way out into his new city, looking for nothing in particular and simply enjoying air without walls. however, he soon comes across a quaint little teashop, its sign scrawled in a delightful Shakespearean font and the windows ringed with English ivy. "How serendipitous," Jervis murmurs to himself. "I shan't pass up an opportunity such as this...after all, you'd only have to whisper a hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling!"

🎩 Jervis orders his usual beverage without incident and takes a seat which gives him an excellent view of the whole teashop. his discerning blue eyes scan the room, but it isn't until he's cleared half the customers that he realises he was searching for a glimpse of Alice's golden hair. Jervis sighs, and takes a long, sad sip of his tea—only to splutter when he spots You in the corner of the room. You are tucked up with your legs crossed, your nose buried in a book. there's a little half-smile on your face, and Jervis watches with interest as you chuckle at something you read. he stares at You and the book, and an icy chill of recognition works its way down his spine.

🎩 before he can stop himself, Jervis abandons his tea and makes his way over to You. for a full minute he looms over You quite unnoticed, so absorbed You are by your book. after quietly clearing his throat does not catch your attention, Jervis opts to take the direct approach. "Excuse me, my dear." You look up, curious. Jervis smiles with all his teeth—too bright, too intense. "I do hope you'll forgive my impudence, interrupting you on a fine day such as this. But may I ask...what are you reading?"

🎩 "Oh!" You say with a giggle. You turn the book towards Jervis, revealing the cover. "I'm reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. It's my favourite story."

[caesariawritesstuff]

Dear Alice

Summary: Jervis Tetch serves you tea, and you love every part of him.

Content Warning: Short & Sweet Fluff

Word Count: 613

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ●

“More tea, Alice?” Jervis asks.

You smile. “Why certainly,” you answer, holding out your cup to him. It’s empty, and you’re eager for your third cup. The taste of cinnamon and citrus lingers on your tongue. Your eyes linger on him just a little too long, the way his hands shake as he steadies the teapot carefully over your cup.

You can’t help but admire him; he looks a little disheveled.  Strands of brown hair fall gently at the sides of his face. There’s a hint of stubble growing across his cheeks and jaw, but you don’t mind. He’s scruffy looking in a sophisticated, Victorian-era way.

When he’s finished pouring your tea, he looks up at you and smiles. You bring your cup to your lips and sip. He sets the teapot down and rubs his hands together in excitement.

“Does this Wonderland please you? I’d hate to see you so blue. It’s been such a lonely year without you here,” he says. His eyes are sad, yet patient, as he awaits your answer.

Your gaze strays to the rest of the room. To the men lining the walls, wearing rabbit masks, guns in their hands. To the shadows creeping in the corners and yet, the lively party set out in front of you. Tiny cakes and treats and sweets of all kinds. Card tea sandwiches and, scones, and jam tarts.

The truth is that you don’t mind living here with him, with Jervis. He may be the embodiment of the Mad Hatter, but you are the everything that ever was and ever will be Alice. Your hair is pulled back with a black headband, and you’re wearing a blue dress in the exact style of the beloved character. But Alice is not fictional, not to you, because you are her and she is you. You’ve known it since you were a child, since the very first time you cracked open the pages of that dusty old book.

“Dear Alice, have I upset you so?” Jervis asks when you haven’t answered in a long while. “Please don’t fret, don’t go, don’t go.” His words are louder now, desperate.

You turn your attention to him and smile. “What was that?” you ask, so lost in thought you didn’t quite understand him.

“Alice, my dear Alice please,” he says again, reaching forward to catch your hand in his, rough fingers against your soft flesh. “I—”

Then, it’s as if what he said catches up to you. Your brain registers what he’d previously said, when you were listening but so taken aback by the Wonderland he’d built for the two of you that you hadn’t quite registered his words.

“Jervis,” you say, placing another hand over his to calm him, and he closes his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Do you mean that, dear Alice? Do you truly mean that? Please tell me your words are not filled with malice,” he says, a light jilt, a deep sorrow resonating in his tone. Too many fake Alice’s he’s lost along the way.

“Yes, my dear Hatter. I really do,” you reply. Because you are the real Alice, the one always meant for him. The moment you met eyes, that tiny spark of realization shooting between the two of you like lightning, there was nothing you could do to stop it. And you’ve never looked back.

Because he, Jervis Tetch, is all that matters to you. You are Alice and he is the Mad Hatter. Two beings made for one another, and you would not let your Wonderland and future be anything but frabjous days for all the years to come.

[knoepfl]

“Through the Looking Glass”

Characters:

Jervis Tetch (Mad Hatter) – A deranged and lonely man obsessed with Alice in Wonderland, using mind control to twist others into playing roles in his delusions.

Reader (You) – A new obsession for Jervis. He sees you as his perfect "Alice" and will do anything to keep you by his side.

Trigger Warnings:

Obsession and mental manipulation

Kidnapping and mind control themes

Unreliable perception of reality

Masterlist

Words: 1063

The narrow streets of Gotham were shrouded in a thick mist, moonlight filtering weakly through the haze. You knew it was dangerous to wander alone at night, but something had compelled you to move through the darkness, as if pulled by invisible strings.

And then, you’d found him—or maybe he’d found you.

You woke up in a room draped with tattered silk and moth-eaten velvet, the air heavy with the scent of stale tea and dusty books. A single flickering lamp cast uneven shadows across the mismatched furniture, giving everything a distorted, dreamlike quality.

“Ah, my dear!” a familiar, singsong voice echoed from the doorway. “You’ve finally arrived. The long wait is over—at last, Alice is home.”

You blinked groggily, disoriented, your head pounding as you tried to sit up. Across the room stood a slender man dressed in a patchwork suit, his wide-brimmed top hat tilted at a jaunty angle. His pale face stretched into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“W-Where am I?” you whispered, glancing around.

Jervis Tetch clasped his hands together, a delighted laugh bubbling from his lips. “Where you’re supposed to be, my dear—right here, with me! The Mad Hatter and his Alice, just as it’s meant to be. Isn’t it wonderful?”

You frowned, rubbing your temples, trying to piece together how you ended up here. You remembered… nothing. Just foggy images—his voice, warm and inviting, guiding you through the night. And now you were here, wherever here was.

“Let me go,” you said, heart racing. “I don’t belong here.”

Jervis’s smile faltered for only a second before snapping back into place, though the cheer in his eyes flickered with something far more dangerous. “No, no, no, my dear… you mustn’t say such silly things. Of course you belong here—you’re my Alice. And every Alice needs her Wonderland!”

He stepped closer, movements light and graceful, as though he were gliding through a dream. “The real world is so… dreadful, don’t you think? But here, oh… here, we can play and dance and drink tea forever.”

You tried to stand, but your legs wobbled beneath you. Jervis caught you before you could collapse, his hands strangely gentle. “Careful now,” he cooed, “you’ve had quite the journey. You must rest, my dear. There’s so much to do, so much to see—but first, you must adjust.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. “What did you do to me?”

Jervis tilted his head, as if pondering the question. “I only gave you what you needed. A way out, a way here. You see, the world is cruel, my sweet Alice. It breaks hearts, crushes dreams…” His voice dropped into a hushed whisper. “But not in Wonderland. Not here with me.”

You pulled back from him, your pulse thundering in your ears. “I’m not Alice. I don’t even know who you are!”

The corner of his mouth twitched, his expression twisting into something equal parts disappointment and frustration. “Ah, my dear… You’ve forgotten, haven’t you? But that’s quite all right. Memory can be such a troublesome thing. In time, it will come back.”

He crouched before you, tilting his head like a curious child. “You see, everyone needs a story, my dear. A role to play. And yours… oh, yours is the most important of all. You are Alice, and I—” He gave a grand, sweeping bow. “—am your humble Mad Hatter.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, every instinct screaming at you to run, but your limbs refused to obey. A strange, hazy warmth clouded your mind, as though a part of you were slipping deeper into his web with every passing second.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered, his voice soft and hypnotic. “The more you resist, the more it hurts. Just let go… and fall through the looking glass.”

Jervis took your hand gently, guiding you toward a small, cluttered table set with chipped porcelain cups and mismatched saucers. The teapot in the center let off a trail of steam, filling the room with the scent of chamomile and madness.

“Sit, sit!” he urged, practically vibrating with excitement. “We must have tea—oh, yes! A very merry un-birthday to you!”

You sank into the chair without meaning to, as though your body responded to his commands without your permission.

He poured tea with a flourish, eyes gleaming with manic joy. “Ah, isn’t this perfect? Just as it should be. No more lonely nights. No more searching. We’re together now, and we’ll never be apart.”

You stared into the swirling tea, mind racing as you tried to break free of the strange fog dulling your thoughts. “Please… let me go.”

Jervis paused, teapot still in hand, his expression darkening like a sudden storm. “Let you go?” His voice was soft, almost hurt. Then, slowly, it twisted into a low, bitter laugh. “Oh, Alice… You still don’t understand, do you? You’re already gone.”

He reached out, tracing a finger along the rim of your cup. “There is no escape from Wonderland, my dear. No way out, no way back. This is where you belong. With me.”

His hand drifted to your cheek, caressing it with unsettling tenderness. “We’ll be so happy here. I’ll keep you safe, my sweet Alice. No one will ever hurt you again.”

Tears stung your eyes as you fought against the haze, struggling to remember who you were before this nightmare began. But the memories were slippery, fading like smoke through your fingers.

Jervis’s gaze softened, and for a brief, haunting moment, you saw something vulnerable in his eyes—something desperate and broken, clinging to the only fantasy that gave his fractured mind meaning.

“Don’t cry, my dear,” he whispered, leaning closer. “You’re home now. And I’ll take care of you… always.”

His voice was a lullaby, drawing you deeper into the dream. The room seemed to spin, the edges of reality unraveling like threads pulled from a tapestry.

“You’ll see,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “In time, you’ll forget all about that dreadful world. And then, my dear Alice…” His lips curled into a soft, dreamy smile. “We’ll be together, forever and ever.”

And as the world faded around you, slipping into a haze of tea parties and riddles, you realized—maybe you were already too far gone to wake up.

Because in his Wonderland, the Mad Hatter always got his Alice...

[iepurasdepraf]

I wrote this a bit ago for a thing, but I like it so here you go.

"Get up, get up, get up!" This is the start of your morning. This is the start to not every morning, but most. "Alice, you must get up! We're late! Late late late! Always late! Just like that silly rabbit." He is shaking you now, not harshly, but it's getting there. If you don't get up, he will leave bruises. He won't mean to, but bless his heart he just gets so excited. It's another day with you, together. Alice and the Hatter and whatever magical adventures the day dictates for you. 

"I don't want to take it!" He whines minutes later after you'd been rousted and ousted from the sanctuary of bed. You'd brushed your teeth and he'd brushed your hair because he does it the best, you know? He'd styled it just so. 

"But you must take them." You say trying to keep yourself from sounding irritated because it's 7:30 am on a Sunday. If you sound too harsh you'll hurt his feelings and make him cry. You don't want him to cry. You love this man, you truly do, and he loves you, but today he is in one of his moods and he's not having his medication.

"No, I don't think so." He says, crossing his arms, turning away from you with his nose in the air defiantly. "They make me feel funny. Too much sense, too much! I won't have them." "Not even for me?" You ask with just enough lilt in your voice to make it seem like he might have hurt your feelings. He hadn't, but as much as you didn't want to hurt him, he doesn't want to hurt you and you know that. You're a manipulative little shit when you need to be. For the greater good.

He side-eyes you. His absolutely stunning eyes narrow. Oh, the moths in the pit of your stomach fluter. Is he on to you? He's caught on before and it's caused a tantrum because you were playing dirty. He minds that more sometimes than he does others. Depends on if the day ends in y for as much sense as it makes. Jervis purses his lips, nose crinkling just some. You can practically hear the hex nut bouncing around in the spinning gears of his utterly brilliant mind until he says "Only if you let me pick what we have for breakfast." You can't help, but sigh in relief. He could have anything he wanted. "Of course." You just wanted what was best for him even if he didn't always see it that way.

He wanted a proper English breakfast, which you had to google what that was because he kept changing what was contained the three times he tried to explain it because he got distracted by you existing within a two foot radius of him while talking and started giggling and touching your hands. Which was cute, you admit, but not helpful. "Jervis, we don't have everything we need to-" Oh no. Oh fuck. You'd made a mistake. 

"Then we'll have to make a run to the shops!"

Not the shops. "Jervis..." He stood looking at you wide-eyed for a beat, just long enough to give you hope he was taking into consideration your social phobias and the fact a one hour shopping trip for anyone was at least three hours with him, but no."No breakfast, no medication."  He says after he'd plucked the pill organizer from the counter and shakes it at you with all the cheek and sass he could build up in that tiny frame. You acquiesce, somewhat bitterly, to his demands. You have no power here. 

Well, that’s not true. You and Jervis worked very hard to maintain a balance between the two of you. You are both control freaks and so it required a little give and take mutually to keep both sides of the scale even-keeled. 

Sometimes it was big things, like going to the store even though you’d rather just go back to bed because he had to take his medicine even if it was a little late. Sometimes it was small things, like letting Jervis be the one to be the bearer of the quarter required for getting the cart. It barely mattered and it made him happy. Why would you say no? 

In the store is where he pays you back for that small kindness. You do not like people. He doesn’t either, but not quite in the same way. He just doesn’t like them, they’re normal and likely judging him. On a bad day, actively plotting against him. Suspicious, paranoid. You, however, are afraid of them. So he lets you hold onto the back of his coat while he pushes the cart.

He body blocks with that tiny narrow body of his in the aisles. He even lets you pointlessly hide behind him if people come too close even though you’re several feet taller and they can plainly see you. You’d not be able to tell he only scraped up to 4’10 at his tallest by the way he puffs himself up to take up all the space he can to give you those few more precious inches of security. He’ll even let you hide in the dairy section, in that cleared out corner by the employee only doors, and pet your hands when it all becomes too much for a little while and you start to shake and hyperventilate. There there, love, he’d say, Jervis is here and the work nearly done. 

It’s all worth it to make him take his medicine, you remind yourself. He’s so worth it. 

He brings you a carton of butter pecan icecream because he knows it’s your favorite. 

You make sure he doesn’t get the spicy sausages because he sometimes gets too excited and just grabs things without looking.He gets distracted, he can’t help it. He’ll go for something and come back with something entirely else. His quarry forgotten halfway to it. You watch him go for beans and get drawn to fruit cocktail. You let him involve himself with the new can, read it, bring it to you all excited because there’s more cherries now. That’s lovely. “You forgot your beans.” Gasp. He’d forgotten his beans.

Off he goes to get them. You let him do this over and over because even if this place gets you in a cold sweat this is enrichment for him. He wants to go down every aisle and just look at things, you would rather only go down the ones you know have things you need on. It’s fine. He’s out. He’s with you. There’s more cherries in the can now. He’s happy and that’s all you want. He does eventually get those beans. He always eventually gets whatever it was he set out for. 

There’s a small argument over if back bacon is better than thick cut pork belly. Back bacon is more like a porkchop. It doesn’t get crispy and if you wanted a porkchop you’d just buy a goddamn porkchop. “Ah,” He says holding a ham steak for some reason “But you only need one of these bacon. You need many of those.” The ham steak has been added to the cart. You don’t know why. You don’t think he does either. “But these,” You say, shaking the package of Applegate Uncured Sunday Bacon at him “Taste better.” “That is subjective!” He argues putting his hands on his hips, feeling all that vinegar from the fish and chips in his veins about it. “It’s bland.” “It’s lean!” “It’s a porkchop.” “You love porkchops!” This goes on for twenty minutes. Neither of you win the argument. There are people looking at you.

You leave the store having somehow spent twice the amount you expected to both of you completely forgetting the mushrooms. The ride home is comfortable and quiet. He’s had his excitement for the day. You’ve had yours for the week if not the month. He got bubbles at some point. You don’t remember paying for them. “I’m hungry.” He says while your both carrying in the bags. It’s 10:27am on a Sunday. “What’s for brunch?” “Full english.” You say. He’s very excited about that, oh yes. “I don’t know if we have any beans though, can’t have a full english without beans.” He says looking so worried it hurts a little. You reach into the bag and tahdah. His beans. He gasps! You’re a magician to him for a few giddy seconds. 

Cooking with him is always a delight and this time he’s showing you how to make something. Usually it was the other way around. Jervis was simply more of a baker while you were more of a cook. Nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with that at all. He shows you just how to cook the tomatoes, the potatoes, the sausages to English specification. You know how to cook these things, but he’s so excited to show you that you don’t say anything about it even if this is the twenty third or so time he’s shown you.

He can’t do sunny side up eggs, while he enjoys the taste he can’t endure the texture and you don’t subject him to them. You scramble them just the way he likes with a little splash of milk and he’s hugging your leg because you remembered! It means so much that you always remember things like that. 

He watches you cook the back bacon and nods in approval when you flip it at what was apparently the right time. He has a spot he likes to sit in, he has a plate he likes to eat off of, a fork, a cup. You know and you make sure you don’t use anything else. He makes his own cuppa because his taste in tea is ever changing and what he liked yesterday isn’t what he likes today. 

“Don’t forget,” You say, setting his pill container by his plate while you’re putting up the rest of the groceries. “to take your medicine.” “Oh!” He hurriedly takes them, washing them down with his tea before he even gets in his chair to eat. “Thank you, darling. What would I do without you?” You smile and just shrug. You don’t know and you don’t want to think about it.

He beams at you and for a split second right at the end of his expression there’s a look on his face. Like he knows something. A split second of lucidity? Maybe. Or maybe he’d put on yet another brilliant performance as a mad man who tricks you into getting out of the house with his Machiavellian machinations of very specific breakfasts. You couldn’t tell. Maybe he just didn’t like how you were watching him sit down because he was short and the chair was tall. He’d never tell and it wasn’t something you would ever ask. 

“Oh,” You look up from the sausage you’re eating straight out of the pan “Something wrong?” He looks sheepishly at you “You were right about the bacon.”

[light-purp-insect]

Palladium (Arkham Jervis Tetch x reader)

Notes/warnings: sfw, noncon drugging, noncon nonsexual nudity, reader is called a girl (Jervis is canonically disconnected from sexuality and gender), reader is called Alice, bathing, light blood mention, whump?

Palladium; a silvery white and malleable element used in machinery and computers. Out of the Platinum Group, it has the lowest melting point and is the least dense.

“Such a silly girl, Alice.” The all too familiar and thin voice sang. High off the remaining Succinylcholine you lay limply in the already dirty bath water. Jervis has removed his gloves and coat to take a rag and wash away the dirt and bloody scratches over your body. “All those thorns must've been terrible, why did you want to play in the garden again?”

Of course you hadn't been playing in the garden, instead trying to escape once again. To no avail, nonetheless and to your dismay. His henchmen had grabbed you before you could truly get through the bushes. You couldn't give him a proper answer, just a loopy mumble of nonsense.

Jervis moved his hands to your legs. The soapy rag burned in some deeper cuts, of which made the Hatter tut at every displeased groan from your throat. “Just behave. We're not done yet, dear Alice.” The rag circled over your calves slowly and methodically. Rose scented soapy water didn't feel as comfortable as it would be if he was here.

Next was your hair, his favorite part of you. A thick glob of shampoo is lathered in his hands before he runs them through your hair and to your scalp. It seems he was going at such a snail's pace just to feel it more. You wanted to pull away, to yell at him or slap him, but instead let out a sluggish huff of protest.

“Hush, dear. Relax for me, just go back to that sleepy little space in your head. I do have to apologize, I didn't mean to give you so much.” He pouted. Rinsing his hands in the water momentarily, he continues, “Nitrous Oxide is so hard to get these days, I hope you can forgive me when you come to your senses.” He carefully tilts your chin and begins to rinse your hair.

Finally it was time for the conditioner, then this session would be over. Unlike the shampoo, he only used a small dollop. He had begun to hum to himself. “After this, it's snuggle time. Maybe I should up that dosage, though…”

[sharksnshakes]

Foggy Mirrors - Jervis Tetch

You can never have too much of a good thing.

AN; more jervis tetch fluff becuase i said so

Wordcount; 507

TW; bathing (reader washes jervis's hair), tooth-rotting fluff, levels of intimacy the likes of which jervis has never experienced

You run your fingers through his damp hair, taking care not to scratch or scrape at his scalp. Below you, Jervis shivers; each pass of your hands has him melting into your touch, though it’s clear he’s trying to stay at least a little on guard. He teeters on the edge of comfort and caution, oscillating between the two as you wet his hair. 

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you lean forward slightly, let your hands fall to his shoulders. 

“Jervis?” 

You’re facing him now, watching his side profile. His eyes are closed. Slammed shut, really, tiny wrinkles feathering out from the corners, like he can’t bear to take a look at the world around him. 

“Hey,” you murmur, voice soft. “Is this… okay? I can stop. Just say the word.” 

It takes a moment, but he shakes his head softly. Steam rises around you in the small bathroom, fogging up the mirror, casting a chalky sheen on the small window that runs along the seam of the ceiling. 

“No, my dear,” he says, voice rough. “It’s quite alright.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” His voice is quiet, yes, but not the same quiet as late at night or early in the morning once you’ve both woken up. It’s small. Unsure. 

“Try to relax. I’ll make this quick,” you reply, tracing a small circle into the skin where his shoulder and neck meet. 

Jervis shudders. Water laps at the sides of the tub, spraying warm droplets onto your jeans. 

“No- uh, t-take your time,” he stammers, eyes shut. “Please.” 

“You let me know,” you murmur, tucking a stray piece of damp hair behind his ear. With that, you lean back, reaching for the shampoo bottle and depositing a generous amount in your palms. 

After working it into a sudsy lather, you gently place your hands back on Jervis’ head. He shivers again, this time softly, and you slowly begin to spread the shampoo throughout his hair. 

After a few moments, you notice that his shudders are closer to purrs--a glance at his face tells you his eyes, while shut, are no longer full of tension. His lashes flutter softly, the backs of your nails scraping gently at the base of his neck. When he groans softly, his eyes snap open, a red flush blooming on his cheeks. 

You pretend not to notice. It’s more for his sake than yours, and you wordlessly continue your ministrations.

When you start in on the conditioner, gently spreading it along the ends of his hair, you feel him lean into your hand. There’s a comforting weight to him, a familiar scent of spices and firework smoke, but also a trace of perfumed hair product.

The process doesn’t take long. Once you’re sure the product is rinsed from Jervis’ hair, you give his shoulders a final, comforting squeeze, then move to leave. 

His hand finds your wrist and you turn, blinking at him owlishly. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice soft. 

“I… of course.” You glance at the door, clear your throat. "Anytime."

[batman-dc-imagines]

Incorrect quotes with the J Squad + (Name)

(Name): Yo is Jerome sleeping or dead?

Jon: Hopefully dead, I hated his guts.

Jervis: Yeah, so did I.

Jerome: Okay first of all, fuck you-

——————————————————————

(Name): *Screams*

Jerome: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Jon: Should we do something?

Jervis: No, I want to see who wins

——————————————————————

(Name): Everyone, synchronize your watches.

Jerome: I don’t know how to do that.

Jon: I don’t wear a watch.

Jervis: Time is a construct.

——————————————————————

(Name): Can I be frank with you guys?

Jerome: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Jon: Can I still be Jon?

Jervis: Shh, let Frank speak.

(Name): I hate y’all.

Jervis: You don’t mean that, Frank.

——————————————————————

(Name), about Jerome: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group.

Jon: Are we stealing them?

Jervis: New or used?

(Name): Wonderful responses, both of you.

——————————————————————

(Name): How did none of you hear what I just said?

Jervis: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Jerome: I got distracted about halfway through.

Jon: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

——————————————————————

(Name): Dammit, Jerome!

Jerome: What?! It wasn’t me!

(Name): Sorry, force of habit. Dammit, Jon!

Jon: Not me either.

(Name): Oh...Then who set the house on fire?

Jervis: *whistles*

(Name): JERVIS-

—————————————————————��

*(Name) is cooking*

Jerome: Any chance that’s for me?

(Name): It’s for Jervis. I’m planning on making some bad choices tonight, and I need him on my side.

Jon: I never realized the forethought that went into being a disappointment.

——————————————————————

Jervis: I think (Name) was right.

Jon: I'm surprised they haven't marched in here to say 'I told you so.'

Jerome: They wouldn't do that.

(Name): You're right, Jerome. For once in your life, you're 100% right. I would never say that.

(Name): *turns around, the shirt they're wearing saying 'I told you so' on the back*

——————————————————————

Jerome, banging on the door: Baghead! Open up!

Jon: Well, it all started when I was a kid...

Jervis: No, he meant-

(Name): Let him finish.

——————————————————————

(Name): Have you seen Jerome around here?

Jon: Ugh, yes. He made a horrible mess of the blood fountain.

Jervis: It looks fine to me?

Jon: IT USED TO BE WATER!!!

——————————————————————

Jon: Why are (Name) and Jerome sitting with their backs to each other?

Jervis: They had a fight.

Jon: Then why are they holding hands?

Jervis: They get sad when they fight.

[moxtoons]

I miss hatter crow. Spare a crumb of hatter crow please

I've been wanting to draw these boys for a while 💛

Feels good to go back to some BTAS work.

Reblogs are appreciated please don't Repost

[polarpuppet]

“I need your help, Hatter.” Batman said as he entered the Madman’s room at Arkham. The room was covered in paintings of mushrooms, fake grass, and a relatively nice little place setting with a plastic tea set.

The blonde man sitting at the table tipped his hat. “What do you need help with? Come, come! Sit and join me!” He said happily, gesturing to the empty seat.

“It seems many of your fellow inmates have been brutalised to the point of hospitalisation. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Batman asked, observing the shaky look in the younger man’s eyes before he looked away, messing with an orange stripped cat. “Forgive me, but I haven’t a clue about them.” He mumbled as he took a sip of tea.

Batman looked around before back at him. “Your room seems nice. A lot of privileges went into it.” He said as Hatter pulled the cat close to him. “You’ll take Chessie from my decaying corpse, Jaberwocky!” He yelled, holding her protectively.

Batman knew he wouldn’t get much from him if he was defensive. A bit more of a calmer approach might help. He cleared his throat and smiled. “My dear Hatter, excuse my rudeness.” Batman said, years of listening to Alfred helping his accent shine. Hatter’s guard lowered some as Batman took the other teacup. “May I join you for tea? It smells wonderful!” He said.

Hatter smiled softly, the most calm expression he’s seen on his face in a while. “Yes you may! I’m so glad you remembered your manners!” Hatter lightly scolded him and poured him some tea. The cat walked over and lazily laid down on top of a mushroom cat bed. “Sorry for Chess. She’s still learning her manners, but she’s just a baby.” He said joyfully.

Batman took some sips and looked around the room again. “Hatter. Do you know where your friends are?” He asked. This question got a small reaction from the Madman, who looked scared and shushed him.”Careful, Jabberwocky, lest the Card Guards hear you scheming. They will drag you to the guillotine and then your screams will join the others.” He said.

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “They do what now?” He asked, his teeth grinding some. “Yes. They have taken the Queen of Hearts, The March Hare, and the Duchess.” Hatter said. “They even got the little Dormouse. She looked scared.” He mumbled nervously. “If they knew I told you, Jabberwocky, they would make my head roll too.” Hatter said in mild panic.

Batman smiled, trying to calm the distressed man. “It’s alright, my dear Hatter. Everything will be taken care of. I assure you, everything will be fine.” He said and took another long sip of his tea. Hatter calmed instantly and took a sip of his own. “Quite right. I much rather talk of other things of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings.” He said happily.

“And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings.” Batman replied, remembering the story Alfred used to read him at night. Hatter perked up. “Yes! Exactly right!” He cheered before he held out an Ace of Hearts card. “Return for tea whenever you wish, my dear Jabberwocky. I rather like your company over the Chef. His laughter is rather annoying.” He said simply.

Batman took him up on the offer many times, getting intel as best as he could from the merry man. He returned a week later, finding the blonde on his bed, his hat punched out, Chessie shaved, and most of his things ruined. Hatter looked up from his bed, beaten and bruised that he could barely lift his head. “Please, no more. Forgive me.” He begged, reaching out to him as Batman walked over and knelt by him.

The look on Hatter’s face, the sadness and terror. He knew he had to be gentle with him.”Dear Hatter, what has become of you?” He asked worriedly, Hatter’s expression perking up at the familiar voice and a small smile graced his lips. When did he start to enjoy that smile? “Oh Jabberwocky! It’s you, glorious you!” He said.

“They besmirched my humble abode and my precious Chessie baby!” He said sadly, trying his best to get up and failing. “You’re hurt, my dear Hatter. Let me help you.”Batman said, lifting up Hatter slightly. “No, no. The Card Guards will get you too. This was for a minor offence, but you, my dear Jabberwocky, will be in far bigger trouble if they find you helping me. Both our heads will roll!” He said, grabbing onto Batman’s cape, his eyes wide with pure fear.

“Please, please get my baby out of here.” He said, gesturing to Chessie, who was snuggled up to Hatter’s injured and bloody side. Was that from a stab wound?! “Hatter, I can’t just leave you here. What of Dormouse and the March Hare?” Batman asked, trying to think of a way to get both cat and man out in one piece. “Gone. Their heads have already rolled…”Hatter mumbled, his eyes looking heavy.

Batman’s head snapped up to meet those deranged eyes. “Gone? What do you mean gone?” He inquired. “Gone gone. The Card Guards pruned them like roses. Oh the lovely Rose.” He said as small tears went down his cheeks. “Taken, one by one. Discarded, now singing Golden Afternoon in the depths below.” He mumbled before his head fell limp. “Hatter?“ Batman asked as he shook him gently. “Oh my dear Hatter…”He said mournfully.

[vintagecandy]

4C for your Jervis :))))

She'll be here any minute, and we'll all have a tea party!

[acapelladitty]

Jervis Tetch/Reader – Poetry

Summary: Jervis attempts to teach you a new poem in his own 'special' way.

"How doth the little crocod-"

Snapping off your recital with a sharp gasp, your fingers curl around the edge of the table until the whites of your knuckles appear as you fight the urge to press your knees together and escape the torment you were being subject to.

"Alice!" A slightly muffled yet pointed tone breaks through your concentration and you glance down at the delicate tablecloth which covers both the wooden table and the wicked man hidden below.

"You have failed, silly girl! Again!"

Arousal dropping his higher-pitched tone down a few notches, Jervis sounded positively smug as his hands pressed roughly into your thighs - his hot breath ghosting across your sex as he remained between your legs.

Coughing, you begin again.

"How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail, and pour the wat-Hatter!"

Another cry slips past your lips as his tongue swipes a cruel line along your slit; the very tip of it brushing against your swollen and easily over-stimulated clit and forcing your knees to smack against the table as you jerk in place.

Warm pleasure, tainted by aching desire, shudders down your spine and your hands are quick to pull up the hem of your dress. Exposed and looking far too stern despite the slight gloss of his mouth - a mess of the juices he had been delightfully wringing from you for the last half hour - Jervis' lips were tilted in obvious disapproval.

"Naughty rabbit." He tutted, soft hands massaging your inner thighs with a surprising strength. "Your lessons are going poorly, Alice. A simple poem, simple as chips, and you're sounding positively mad!"

"Jervis," you whine, cunt clenching around nothing as he remains pulled back, "please?"

"How doth-" Jervis prompted, shaking his head.

Groaning out your dissatisfaction, you drop the hem once again and return your shaking hands to the table as you prepare for another wicked edging.

"How doth the little crocodile-"

[starleska]

man i love the super-boxy cut of Jervis' coat...such a cool silhouette!! really ought to peer into the choices behind his character design. gentleman that he is, wouldn't it be cosy for him to offer his coat and drape it gently around your shoulders? 🥺💖

[caesariawritesstuff]

CaesariaWrites Masterlist

A complete master list for all of my fics. ● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ●

Riddler

Behave Come to Bed Crush Dogs with Lasers Frenemy Friend Hostage Insult & Affection Jealousy Promise The Easy Ones Random Riddler Headcanons Under the Mistletoe

Scarecrow

Behave Be Quiet What's Mine

Mad Hatter

Dear Alice

Two-Face

Advice

Mr. Freeze

Reunion

Gotham Rogue's Headcanons

Birthdays

[knoepfl]

A Very Merry Unbirthday Christmas

So guys this is Halftime! I've uploaded 12 so far and I must say I am exhausted XD But I hope you enjoy them so far!

12/24

Characters

• Jervis Tetch (The Mad Hatter): A delusional but endearing inmate of Arkham Asylum, deeply consumed by his Wonderland fantasies. Despite his madness and manipulations, Jervis exhibits genuine affection and a strange tenderness toward his "Alice."

• Reader (You/Alice): A mentally fractured inmate who has succumbed entirely to Jervis's hypnotic influence. You live in a shared fantasy world where you are Alice, embracing the delusion with childlike wonder and unwavering devotion to your Mad Hatter.

Trigger Warnings

• Manipulation and mental illness: Jervis’s hypnotic influence has left you unable to distinguish reality from fantasy.

• Institutional setting: The story takes place in Arkham Asylum, with its inherent themes of confinement and loss of freedom.

• Emotional weight: The narrative explores bittersweet moments of connection amidst the characters’ shared delusions.

Masterlist

Words: 754

Jervis Tetch sat in the corner of the rec room, his long fingers meticulously folding scraps of paper into intricate shapes. He adjusted his small, tattered top hat, worn even in confinement, and whispered rhymes under his breath. The sight of him brought a wave of giggles from you—his Alice. You didn’t know your real name anymore, nor did you care. To you, he was the Mad Hatter, and you were his dear, sweet Alice.

---

The sterile white walls of Arkham Asylum were draped with faint attempts at holiday cheer. Tinsel dangled from ceiling corners, and a sad, half-decorated Christmas tree stood in the common room, its blinking lights flickering like a dying hope. The air was thick with the scent of pine-scented cleaner, the faint trace of institutional meals, and the muffled hum of distant murmurs from other inmates.

"Jervis," you said, your voice light and sing-song. "What are you working on this time?"

"Ah, dearest Alice!" he exclaimed, lifting his bright eyes to yours. "Why, a surprise for you! A little token of wonder for our Christmas tea party." He held up a paper rose, as delicately crafted as if it had grown from the pages of an old book.

You clapped your hands, your restraints clinking slightly against the chair. "It’s beautiful! Is it for the table?"

Jervis smiled, his heart twisting. He had hypnotized you so many times, your mind had bent and fractured until the delusion became your truth. Yet, in the rare moments when you looked at him with pure adoration, he could almost forget his guilt.

"It shall be the centerpiece, my dear, to crown our feast." He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I've procured quite the spread. Crumpets! Biscuits! A peppermint or two."

Your face lit up with childish delight. "Oh, Jervis, you’ve outdone yourself!"

The pair of you had pieced together scraps from the staff's forgotten holiday treats. A purloined cookie here, a stolen sugar cube there, all hidden away until today.

The clock struck seven, a meaningless hour in a place like Arkham, but to you and Jervis, it marked the beginning of the celebration.

He had arranged your modest feast on a small, rickety table in your shared corner of the rec room. Crumbs of stolen gingerbread mingled with the carefully folded paper decorations he’d made—a garland of tiny hats, a little snowman made from tissue.

The other inmates paid little attention; most were too lost in their own minds or subdued by medication. But to you, the scene was magical.

"Happy Christmas, my dear Alice," Jervis said, bowing low.

"And a very merry unbirthday to you, Mad Hatter," you replied, curtsying with a flourish of your gown—not a gown at all, but the plain white uniform issued by Arkham. Still, in your mind, you were resplendent in satin and lace.

Jervis chuckled. "Come now, sit! Let us not waste a moment."

You took your place, and Jervis poured imaginary tea into mismatched paper cups. The two of you fell into easy conversation—nonsense rhymes and riddles, tales of Wonderland, and whispered dreams of escape.

"Do you think Wonderland celebrates Christmas?" you asked, nibbling on a crumb of gingerbread.

"Why, of course," Jervis replied, his voice soft with affection. "The Queen of Hearts herself would host a grand ball, with the Tweedles trimming the tree and the Cheshire Cat weaving tinsel from moonbeams."

You laughed, the sound bright and sweet, and Jervis felt his chest tighten. For all his madness, for all the wrong he had done, he knew this moment was pure.

"Jervis," you said suddenly, your tone serious. "Do you think they’ll let us stay together forever?"

His smile faltered. "Oh, my sweet Alice, I would move mountains and rewrite the stars to ensure it. No one shall part us, not here, not ever."

You reached across the table, your fingers brushing his. "I know they won’t. We’ll always have Wonderland."

The distant clang of a guard’s baton against metal broke the spell, but neither of you moved. The world outside the asylum’s walls didn’t matter—not when Wonderland was alive in your hearts.

Later, as the lights dimmed and the other inmates shuffled back to their cells, Jervis escorted you to yours.

"Goodnight, my Alice," he said, adjusting the paper snowflake he’d tucked into your hair earlier.

"Goodnight, Mad Hatter," you replied, smiling sleepily.

As he watched you drift into dreams of tea parties and talking flowers, Jervis whispered to himself:

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a mad delight."

---

[iepurasdepraf]

ᒍEᖇᐯIᔕ TETᑕᕼ: ᒪIGᕼTᔕ OᑌT - ᑭᗩᖇT 2

Music for this part - Part 1

Through the haze of cigarette smoke, your client gave his speech "The elaborate branching structure of the dendritic tree allows a singular neuron to receive inputs from the other neurons through synaptic connections. The cortical pyramidal neuron of figure one point one A and the cortical interneuron of figure one point one C each receive thousands of synaptic inputs, shown in figure g one a, in less than a second, and for the cerebellar Purkinje cell of figure one point one B the number is over one hundred thousand. Figure one point one does not show the full extent of the axons of these neurons-" 

The way he spoke with a little booze in him made it seem like the dingey strip club backroom his own private symposium. If he’d been graced with a little more confidence, he’d have made for a great professor or at least that's your opinion, but it’s not like you’d gone to college. 

You had to blink. Hard. Rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms in desperate search of relief you wondered if he’d breathed in the last thirty minutes. You weren't sure. You weren't even sure if you had either, but your head was spinning either way so you could only imagine he was reeling.

Initially, you'd managed to understand what he was talking about. His figures were hand drawn, but clear and well labeled, but during the course of the presentation that had slowly waned and been overtaken by a sea of information that just kept rising. It all started bleeding together in your head and your eyes had begun burning from squinting at his cracked phone screen where he was showing you the arithmetic and diagrams. 

You’d gotten at best a D or C in math, you couldn’t remember anymore, but you’d passed. That said, you certainly weren’t built for this. This was a whole other level. The formulas looked like something from a scifi movie you’d see written on what was essentially a high tech whiteboard right before an alien burst out of someone’s spleen. 

“The electrical signal of relevance to the nervous system is the difference in electrical potential between the interior of a neuron and the surrounding extracellular medium-” Not wanting to be rude since he was paying for your time, you raised your hand and were quickly called upon by your impromptu teacher with nothing, but delighted glee on his face that you were even listening “Yes!?” "Whereabouts in this presentation are we?" "We're just about through the first half." "The first half?" Dear God in Heaven.

His nose scrunched up a little exposing his buckteeth even more, he must have caught on that he was frying your brain in its pan. You couldn’t tell if it was a smile or a grimace. Maybe he found it funny? "How many parts are there?" You asked, trying your hardest to sound amused and not worn out. "Five! Well, five and a, ah... sort of post note." You laughed a little restlessly and sat up on the sofa. Legs long having gone numb from being in one position for so long.

He held up his flashcards, smudged as they were from his sweaty hands. "I felt like I needed at least eight parts to fully explain, but I ran out of cards." "Why not buy more cards?" His hand lowered as he thought about it "I- Well, I suppose I... didn't want to admit my poor foreplanning to myself?" You press your fingers to your eyes for some relief. It didn’t help and that didn't make sense, but nothing had since he stopped stuttering. Sure, the words were coming out now, but that didn’t mean they made sense even with his extensive explanation. If anything it was making it worse.

Your hands fell to your lap as you asked “Who are you giving this presentation to, Jervis?” He turned red when you said his first name. You could tell it was that by the way his eyes fluttered and how he wriggled. It was like every now and then he remembered you were a pretty lady giving him the time of day and it staggered him a little. 

“The-The board. Well, I- let me explain.” He sat on the edge of the small platform of a stage you’d made him stand on when he started this whole thing to try to make it feel more like he was presenting. His feet couldn’t even reach the ground. “I don’t do things like this, you see. I’m a lab rat through and through. I haven’t given a-any kind of presentation since I defended my thesis for my doctorate.”

There was something wrong with you. That was actually impressive and you nearly asked what his thesis was about, but you also wanted to go home before five. “I work for Wayne Enterprises and normally I’m kept down in the basements- they keep all the non-theoretical work in the basements for security reasons... I shouldn’t have told you that.” 

He laughed his security breach of an anxiety spike off in a concerningly manic way again and all you could think to do was nod in response, nearly used to it at this point. That or you were so worn down you were just accepting it for the sake of what was left of your mental bandwidth. “Recently, I don’t know why for certain, but they’re- Oh, how did Dr. Kates put it? Doing an internal audit of ongoing research to access security, costs, and productivity. I assume they suspect someone is misusing grant money.”

“Is someone?” You ask, now a little invested in his workplace drama. “Heavens no!” He dismisses the very idea with a flick of his wrist. An oddly elegant gesture for someone so tense, but that was probably the liquor in him. “They barely give us enough to keep the power on in the labs. If someone was doing that the flickering lights would have surely let us know long before accounting noticed.” Jervis rolls his eyes grumbling, “Useless things they are. Still haven’t approved of my new slides.” He was getting distracted so you lean forward with your elbows on your thighs to get his attention. “Why would them thinking someone’s stealing money have you doing a presentation to the board?”

He blinks like a toad, eyes unable to settle on just one part of you until he registers you are looking still at him and you know that so he looks elsewhere instead, fumbling with his cards to try to get his train of thoughts back on the rails. He didn’t succeed right away. “I…They-well, they- um…Hm.” Jervis clears his throat “T-to-to prove I am making progress or rather have been. To-ah, establish a timeline of my-my work.” 

Your head tilts slightly to the side “Would they be able to tell?” “What?” Your simple question seems to knock him out of his self conscious stupor. “Well, you’ve written a really detailed presentation, but are the people you’re going to be presenting it to going to be able to understand what you’re showing them? Are they scientists too? It sounds more like it’s going to be to a committee.”

“They… are not scientists.” You saw the cold realization washed over him. They’d have no idea what he was talking about and the way he looked at you nearly made you feel guilty. All that work and they’d never understand it. Christ, that was brutal. It made you feel bad for not getting it either. He was clearly onto something he desperately wanted to share, but it was like he couldn't simplify his ideas enough to explain what they were to anyone with a room temperature IQ.

You bounced your leg trying to think up a solution even though you still weren’t entirely sure why you gave a shit. You should just get up and go home. Tell him it’s late and you have to get some sleep. But no, you sat there puzzling trying to help this total stranger. You stood up, unable to sit anymore. The digging drive to pace while you thought winning out as it usually did so back and forth in front of the despondent scientist you went. 

“Ok, we can figure this out.” You assured, sounding more confident then you actually were. “You’re smart. I’m…well, I’m smart too. Just… not as smart.” You laughed, but he looked like a kicked puppy. Maybe you were the only smart one right now. You told yourself that was fine while you gnawed on your thumb nail. Chipping the black fingernail polish off with your front teeth. You were so tired. 

Your eyes hurt, your back hurt, your legs hurt, and you smelled like a sweaty ashtray full of cheap beer. You weren’t getting anywhere with this tonight. “When are you giving your presentation?” “Next week. Friday of next week.” It was only Sunday, well, Monday now. You had time. “I’ll tell you what,” You turned to him with a clap of your hands that made him jump to attention.

“We’ll keep working on it. Instead of trying to explain where you are, let’s try to show what it took to get here. We’ll figure this out, but not tonight. I have to work today, but after that I’m free until Wednesday. Meet me here after work and I'll give you your money’s worth.” You winked at him “I owe you for what you paid me for, don’t worry. You still have,” after checking the yellow stained clock on the wall over his head you confirmed “Two hours and forty five minutes.”

Jervis stood up, only coming up to the very bottom of your ribs “You promise?!” What a pathetically endearing man. “Promise.” You presented your pinky finger and he gasped like you’d surprised him with a diamond ring, but he puffed himself up and raised his own pinky to interlock with yours all the same. “Pinky promise.” “I-I- Hehehe-”

He wriggled like a worm on a hook. Turning red as the perfect shade of lipstick making the pale dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks stand out. “I’ve never- ah… No one’s ever pinky promised me anything,” He cleared his throat then tilted his chin up and stood as tall as he could with his feet flat on the floor to shake on it properly “Jolly good.”

You couldn’t help, but snort. With a shake of your hands the pact was made.

Banner art: DRCL - Midnight Children by Sakamoto Shinichi