TEA PARTY
TEA PARTY; JERVIS TETCH × MALE!READER
Inspired by a small conversation I had :)
CW: Not proofread, feminization, kidnapping, implied stalking and cussing
The ropes around his wrists were tight and rough — the fraying material forcing his wrists against the smooth, cold and vanished wooden arms to the chair he'd been sat in. (name)'s vision was blurred; hearing muffled with a piercing ringing. Though, as everything seemed to settle and come to, he could see the cluttered surroundings of the room; clocks layering the walls, ticking away — the muted colours of what looked to be previously bright and bold decorations. All random nonsensical decor — like packs of cards, old teapots and books.
However, what had grabbed his attention the most were the other people sat around the grand dining table — pristine, white napkins placed in front of every seated “guest”, with an old saucer — the one in front of him was an off-white with a golden ring painted along it. Name cards had been put beside the saucers, opposing the small silver spoons.
His was simple: a single name written on it in neat cursive.
𝓐𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓮
His brows furrowed in confusion, but before he could begin to ask questions, someone had spoken up first.
“What—? Tetch, this again?!” The well-dressed man had bellowed out, teeth gritted in frustration. (name) almost didn't recognise the man not dressed in his usual green and purple suit; instead, his mask was replaced by glasses, his suit was red and black, decorated with hearts with a judge's wig placed over his neat, ginger hair. Much like his own predicament, the Riddler was tied to the chair he sat on, though his looked more throne-like.
Beside him sat a brunette — not one that (name) quite recognised, himself — that seemed to have already have been awake for a while. He was dressed similarly to the infamous riddling criminal — in a red and black suit (too, decorated with hearts), but with an extravagant, white collar and cuffs to the shirt, and a black heart painted onto his lips — though he seemed not as bothered by their predicament. Instead, merely pouting his bottom lip out and staring into the guests and wall in front of him with a blank expression, as if it were a void. It was if the shouting hadn't pulled him out of whatever trance he'd lost himself in. He didn't tug against the ropes tying him to his equally as fancy chair, either.
How often did this happen?!
Besides, what he assumed to be the King and Queen of Hearts, was the last person on the row to (name)'s right. She seemed familiar — her blonde hair, the tips dyed black and red, poorly hidden underneath an obnoxious head-dress — it was large, a paler red and shaped like a flattened heart, with translucent bits of black fabric attached to the peaks. Her dress was similarly obnoxious and coloured, contrasting with her pale face — her head rolled to the side in her state of unconsciousness, cheek pressed into her shoulder. Though, what was most noticeable, was the poorly-made chin, attached to her face with tape — coming down to a point.
However, (name)'s attention was quickly stolen by the sound of a cackle coming from his left. He turned to the sound, immediately freezing as a cold wash of fear filled him. Sat in the middle of the row was none other than the Joker — the clown's hair slicked backwards and kept in place with a headband, with purple cat ears — of the same colour as his usual suit. That was the only thing that had been changed about his appearance. And, much like the man he was sat opposite of, seemed unbothered by being tied to his (less extravagant) seat.
“Oh, but do stay in character, Sire!” He began, poorly stifling the giggles in his animated voice. “What would poor Alice think? Your wife is the one with the temper!” As the Joker develed into a fit of laughter at his own words, the Riddler only seemed to grow more frustrated, but remained silent, merely glaring at the deviant.
His gaze landed on the two men sat either side of the clown prince of crime — Two-Face, dressed in a black and white suit jacket and tie, with a red and blue waistcoat — with a white headband, with rabbit ears and white gloves. “Quiet, clown.” He snarled out — voice deep and with a gravelly rumble.
“Harv is right, we all want to get out of here.” He suddenly interjected, voice softer and more mature. It was like two different people speaking.
“Mngh, what..?” A southern drawl called out, sat the furthest from (name) on the left row. He didn't actually look odd at all — only in what looked to be old, worn clothes. Something almost business casual. He seemed to be a normal guy, someone like (name), hopefully.
“Oh, the catapiller is awake!” The Joker called out, grinning and laughing
“... What?” The older man murmured, voice groggy from the effects of... Whatever had knocked them all out. He began to struggle, soon giving up with a grumble. “Not again, Jervis.” He eventually murmured, tired, long features scrunching together in annoyance.
“Crane, you have a PhD, do something.” The Riddler demanded, voice sour and irked.
“Whadda I meant to do? You're the genius.” The doctor had retorted. Of course, this snarky response from the southern gentleman wasn't recieved well by the redhead.
“You're a psychologist. Get in his head and convince him to let us go, remind him that he's delusional with your useless penny degree.”
“Harley's a doctor too.” Crane calmly drawled, eyebrows raising a little to emphasise his lack of care.
“Oh yes, why don't we ask Harley.” The Riddler began, voice laced and dripping with sarcasm. His head turned, facing to woman at the end of the row, tone feigning politeness, “Dr Quinzel, may we ask you for your expertise, please?” He continued, “Harley? Hm, I wonder why she isn't responding.” His voice began to slip back into the previous atmosphere of passive aggression as he turned back to 'Crane'. “Perhaps it's because she's still out cold from that fucking tea.”
Before the arguement could escalate, a door swung open, a short man running in with a large top hat — it was black with a green band running around it, keeping a card in place — which read “10/6”. It rested on top of his messy, sandy hair and shadowed over his gnomish face. His chubby cheeks were lifted with an anxious, toothy grin that seemed to be permanently plastered onto his face. His wide, blue eyes scanned the room, seeming to light up more with an unreadable glint when they landed on (name).
“Alice is awake!” He murmured to himself, though his hushed voice was loud enough for the entire table to hear. “Yes, yes, in the tea party we shall partake...” The man continued, his fingers fidgeting with the small, silver tray within his grasp of his white gloves. He scrambled over, the green sleeves of his jacket hanging loosely from his wrists. He stopped at (name), eyes glued to him with a sort of awe.
He placed a small cup of tea on his saucer, before looking back to (name). The strange man seemed to linger, before leaning in a little, almost as if to kiss his cheek or smell his hair, instead freezing and recoiling again. “You cut your hair!” He stated, observing the way his short hair framed his face, “Oh, I must know why you've been gone, it isn't fair!” The man practically cried out, his voice high and almost shrill — the faintest of English accents hidden within his rhymes.
The statement on (name)'s short hair didn't seem negative, if anything the Mad Hatter seemed pleased. It was almost as if it were feeding into the delusion. Didn't the Hatter tell Alice to cut her hair in the book?
“That's a guy.” A rough, quiet voice had bluntly interrupted. It came from the brunette sat between the blonde and the Riddler.
This seemed to disturb the short man that'd run in, carrying the tray of tea, cups and small treats. “No, no, no, be quiet — stop being so mean!” He cried, starting to get a little restless, as if this fabricated party seemed to be a fragile construction of his delusion. He shook his head, grumbling a little, “I should not invited such a ruthless queen!”
He hurriedly began to place the teacups in front of the Riddler, murmuring about the King and Queen of Hearts, and beheading people. He'd scurried to the next seat, placing the teacup in front of the King, before pausing at the woman. “Oh, the Duchess is still asleep,” The Hatter murmured, “At least she cannot threap. So rude to Alice, when she visited the Palace...” His soft voice quickly became vemonous, placing the teacup down rather roughly before stomping around to the other side of the table.
His demeanour completely changed when his wide, blue eyes focusing on the man deemed as the 'Catapiller'. “Oh what wisdom do you have today?” Hatter had asked, voice soft and almost audibly stopping himself from rambling. “Just don't lead us astray!” He added, placing the man's cup of tea down.
“Jervis, I would appreciate it if you would untie me, so we could have a calm and rational discussion.” He calmly began, only causing the smaller man to grow more anxious. He let out a nervous chuckle, shaking his head as he moved to stand between the doctor and the Joker.
“No, no, no, there's no need for more of our talks! We're going to be having fun — tea and cake, then Alice and I can leave for some private walks.” He murmured, voice a little shaky as he defied the suggestion. The Hatter gently placed another teacup down, mumbling soft yesses to himself.
“Crane.” The King of Hearts hissed.
“Jervis, please. You're a smart man.” The Catapiller continued to insist.
“No, the little fellow is right don't you see?” The Cheshire Cat began, his painted red smile growing as he spoke, “Is he a little mad? Perhaps, but everyone sat at this table is! Enjoy the tea party he's set up for us, old chum! Enjoy the food, it's free! Enjoy the chaos!” He enthused, letting out a small, wheezy cackle.
The Hatter offered the feline a weary smile, slowly growing some more confidence back. He nodded softly, buck teeth showing in his grin. “Yes, the cat is correct! This party is perfect..” He quickly scampered towards the next guest. Holding his bright expression, he placed another cup of tea before the White Rabbit, before sliding the tray to the middle of the table.
“Jervis, both of us agree that you should let us go.” He began, voice soft and slow, the rabbit spoke calmly and with understanding. “We can't miss this meeting we have with the Mayor—”
The Hatter promptly shook his head, “Oh, no I can't allow that, White Rabbit.”
“Listen here you little shit, I'll rip your head off once we get out of this chair.” The gruffer voice of the rabbit replied.
“Such an angry bunny, such a bad habit.” The Hatter scolded, before looking back to his new Alice.
His wide blue eyes remained fixed in the seated man, his gloved hands seemingly anxiously ghosting over the man's face, though never made contact as if too afraid to touch him, like his poor little Alice would break. “Oh, you're so beautiful...” The Hatter murmured, bringing his hands to his face, as if her were to bite his knuckles in pure excitement of being in (name)'s presence. “You being here is so wonderful..” He almost squealed, his hands finally making contact with his soft skin; the Hatter's gloved palms resting on the man's hand.
“I've been watching you through the looking glass, my angel.. You looked so miserable. Being forced to work away in such an ungrateful place!” He snapped, pausing his ramble to look shamefully at the man's skin beneath his grip, scared that he'd hurt his Alice from his wince. The Hatter's hands softened and loosened once more, gently patting his skin in reassurance. “But in Wonderland, that is not the case.... You will be cherished, my dear. There is nothing to fear.”
