#general mad hatter x reader

[riddle-me-ri]

a/n: PHEW okay so here's one of two 4k commissions I was working on. And it's for my very amazing friend @mischievous-marchie (tagging the NSFW blog because this is so NSFW lmao) Marchie, thank you so much for supporting my writing and trusting me with your main man Jervis, and all his variations. I hope I did your sweet idea justice and thanks so much again for supporting me by commissioning me. It means the world. And I hope everyone else gets to enjoy it too.

*Also reader is referred to as the March Hare cause Alice is overrated, The Hare was always my favorite and...yeah it's its for March lol

Content Warning: explicit sexual content, masturbation, sex toy, mutual masturbation, unprotected sexual intercourse (gn so no specific genitalia mentioned), caught in the act, and making out.

Word Count: 4.5 k

General Mad Hatter x Reader - Call Out My Name

Your fingers drummed along the hardback cover of a novel you were trying to read. Soon the tapping of your fingers migrated to your foot on the floor. 

You groaned in frustration. 

You grew restless with boredom. 

Even the white noise of some random show that played on TV began to become silencing…just an echo of how lonely and dim it was when he wasn’t around. 

You sighed, finally surrendering and putting the book down on the coffee table. 

Why did Jervis have to be in Arkham?

You knew why, because if one of you was to get caught by Batman… Jervis ensured it was only going to be him every time. Jervis always made sure you had an escape, even if you didn’t know he had one for you.

“Arkham is no place for lovely people, my dear.” He explained once in a moment of lucidity. “I take it as a chance to reconvene my thoughts and even get to visit old friends.” He chuckled before he continued. “So don’t worry about me, dear…Although don’t forget about me either…please.” 

Your heart panged the same way it did the day he told you that. He didn’t have to worry about you ever forgetting him. 

You could never forget about the man you have loved and continue to love feverishly since day one. 

If he only knew, sometimes you wished he would just miraculously figure it out. Then maybe, just maybe, he would be compelled to reveal his feelings…if he had any for you that is.

It felt like he did anyhow, the way he’d protect you from Batman, how he always somehow made time to see you or include you in everything. 

You two have been companions for quite awhile. Jervis has always been charming, kind, and fun. He always made you smile, even on days when you didn’t feel like rolling out of bed. 

You tried your best to always be there for him. 

During his highs and lows, his madness and his lucidity, for everything. In turn, Jervis is always there for you when you need him in any capacity (except when he was locked up, which he always felt guilty for leaving you.)

You two were inseparable.

The Mad Hatter and The March Hare at the Mad Tea Party–only missing a sleepy Dormouse. 

Yes, a strong, loyal relationship was formed, but if only it could transition from platonic to romantic…

Of course, it didn’t help that he is exquisitely handsome in the most unconventional way that was endearing to you. 

Jervis’ wide bright eyes, cute elongated buck teeth, raggedy hair, and his obtuse nose that you desperately wanted to kiss. 

You sighed as you sunk yourself deeper into the couch, no doubt creating a uniquely shaped dent in the cushions from lounging there all day.

You really did miss him. All of this reminiscing probably doesn’t help either. You just couldn’t help it, just forming his image in your mind made you happier. 

Perhaps…this imagining could help in another area and maybe you can salvage the boring day and turn it into a fun night. 

For a moment, you were grateful that Jervis wasn’t around…

The cushions of the couch sunk against your weight as you laid back and made yourself comfortable. 

You took a deep breath as your head nestled into the plush arm rest. You slowly rolled up the long graphic tee you wore, exposing your lower body. 

It had been a minute since you ventured into the realms of self love in the most physical sense, but you were certain the awkwardness of the start would be well worth the pleasure in the aftermath. 

Your breath hitched as your fingers fell into a decent rhythm stimulating your sex. Every nerve ending on every pore of your skin was ignited. 

You decide to finally take it up a notch. 

You reluctantly removed your hand to reach for the toy on the side table behind your head. You snatched up the dark blue bullet vibrator and turned it on to a low setting. 

Your body jerked slightly at the vibrating sensations as you glided the toy over your chest and down your abdomen. The smooth material made you wish it was something else. 

Instead of the cool smooth mechanical texture…it was rough, soft, and warm. 

Instead of your hand controlling a toy, it was someone else’s hand, better yet, Jervis’ gloved fingers. 

Desperately, you wished it was Jervis that stimulated your body. 

It was his warm diligent hands roaming across your skin causing goosebumps to form. His hands that created delicious friction that you craved. 

As the vibrator made its way closer to your sex, the setting was turned up higher and your moans became louder and more drawn out. 

The vibrations added with the continued pace of your other hand on your genitals. You were a withering mess on the couch. 

Your eyes tightly closed, trying like crazy to suspend reality and envision it was Jervis doing this to you. 

Your moans soon turned into pants and cries. “J-Jervis…Jervis!” 

As you were chasing that sweet release, as if your imaginations manifested him…

Jervis Tetch was actually a free man and was making his way to your apartment. 

Jervis was absolutely beaming with excitement. Adrenaline was still pumping in his veins from his narrow escape from Arkham.

The moment he was out, he knew he had to come see you and let you know he was free! The only person that would actually be waiting for him on the other side…

He just couldn’t wait to surprise you. 

Jervis missed you terribly. No one else understood him, appreciated him…genuinely liked him like you do. To say you made his heart race would be an understatement. However, he was extremely cautious and uncertain. 

As much as he wanted to sweep you off your feet, hold you, kiss you…he didn’t want to risk the chance of losing you–as he has lost others. 

Jervis wasn’t sure he could handle losing you in any capacity. 

Hence why he always did his best to protect you when things got dodgy. Despite your stubbornness to stay by his side…something he juxtapositionally adored and lamented about you. 

His gloved knuckles barely racked along your door when he heard–

“J-Jervis! Jervis!” 

Jervis’ heart fell to his stomach. The adrenaline from his escape rose back up out of sheer panic for you. He quickly grabbed the doorknob and was stantly met with resistance from the locked handle. 

Seeing no other option, he began backing away and braced himself with his side as he ran shoulder first into your door–

You were so lost in your motions and the fantasy in your mind that you didn’t register the reality of your doorknob being rattled. 

You were none the wiser to another presence until he made himself known by busting down your door. 

The loud bang of the door hitting your wall woke you up from your pleasurable reverie. 

Quickly, you sat up, hastily lowering your shirt back down and threw a blanket over your lower half for good measure. 

You were petrified and frustrated.

“J-Jervis?” You let out in a small almost mousy voice, as you finally took in who the intruder was. 

Jervis was looking around wildly, expecting some type of altercation to be happening, but quickly came to the realization nothing was awry. 

In fact, you were alone, on your couch…nothing entirely out of place. 

“Um…well..this is quite a predicament.” He chuckled sheepishly, as he lifted his hat to scratch at the side of his head. 

You gulped down a mouthful of air as you tried to regulate your heartbeat. You began silently praying to whoever could hear that he wouldn’t put two and two together of what you were doing. 

“Jervis,” you began, still trying to calm your nerves that were currently in a tailspin at the moment. “I-W-What are you–how…why did you break in?” 

Your mind struggled to think of just one question, but that one seemed the most pressing. Usually, when Jervis came over he always knocked or he somehow let you know ahead of time that he was coming over. 

“I-I heard you screaming my name…” He stretched his arms out exasperatedly. “I-I thought something was happening to you! It sounded all the same” 

Whatever redness coalesced from your earlier activities quickly drained from your face. 

“Ah…well…something was happening but nothing–bad…” You slowly began covering yourself up more with the blanket. Secretly wishing it would make you disappear.

“Yes, that much is obvious…so tell me, my dear. What was all the ruckus?” 

“Um, well…I was..uh…”

“And what is that?” He interjected. Jervis pointed to a small rounded device on the ground that was still buzzing on the floor. 

Jervis walked over towards where the object laid. He almost grabbed it until you grabbed his wrist. 

“It’s nothing! I’ll get it! Oh sh-”

“Hare! Langua-oh…”

In your panicked leap for the toy, Jervis saw your state of dress or more like the lack thereof. 

You couldn’t help but take note of how cute he looked when his face began blushing at the cheeks. 

Even though yours was most likely as red as his is. 

You instantly turned the toy off once it was in your grip. 

As if seeing the vibrator in your hands was the final piece to the puzzle, Jervis was able to slowly put the puzzle of events together. 

You were alone, on your couch, in nothing but a shirt, your skin was tinted red…you screamed his name…but not in danger or pain…

Jervis may be whimsical and mad most of the time, but he wasn’t ignorant. 

You sighed as you saw him come to the conclusion of what happened. Somewhere deep down you were grateful you didn’t have to spell it out. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I apologize-”

You both looked up at each other after apologizing at the same time. 

“I-I didn’t mean to make you panic.” You continued, rubbing your arm. 

“I didn’t mean to…ahem…ruin your fun?” He nervously chuckled as he played with his hat brim. 

“It’s okay.” You reassured him softly. “I appreciate your concern.” 

Jervis nodded. Of course he was concerned, he was always concerned for your safety. 

“Yet…the question remains…why did you cry my name?” 

Jervis had an idea why. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t guilty of the same act, but he just needed you to confirm it. 

You looked away coyishly, biting your lip to keep from just dumping your emotions mixed with your explanations on him. 

Jervis gulped. He really wished you didn’t do that. Although it did complete this exquisite vision of you just now. 

Your hair a ruffled mess, your body gorgeously silhouetted by your shirt that only came to be just about your mid-thigh…all complimented with a cute lip bite. 

You sighed. “I…I was…uh…thinking of you…while I had fun.”

Jervis took a small but sharp intake of breath. You were actually going to say it.

“Really?” 

You nodded before looking away, not being able to look at him. Assuming he wanted a further explanation after a beat of silence, you continued. 

“I-I’ve cared…I mean. I’ve always…” You groaned in frustration. 

After taking another deep breath to reset your thoughts. You tried once more, “yes really…I’ve had feelings for you for a while and I…when you’re in Arkham…I, for a lack of better words…really miss you.”

Jervis hung onto every word like it was the last life line connecting him to the ship out in the middle of the ocean. 

It was happening…it was really truly happening. Someone he loved…actually loved him back!

Jervis slowly walked over closer to where he was right in front of you. He gently curled his index finger around your chin and directed your head down to look at him. 

His eyes stared softly into yours. “I missed you too, my dear.” 

The sincere look he gave you, lidded eyes and a soft smile made your heart swell. 

“I suppose it comes as no surprise that I, too, have had feelings for you arise.” His eyes shifted slightly, still unsure if he reciprocated correctly. 

Your eyes widened, heart thumped against your chest. 

All embarrassment was dissolved into surprise. 

You reached to touch his hand that still propped your chin and your smile widened when you felt his fingers laced together between your own. 

“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying…I’m very surprised but super happy all the same.” You giggled as your hand tightened around his. 

Jervis chuckled warmly as he turned his hand so the back of your hand faced him. He gently pressed his chapped lips against your hand before smiling up at you. 

"My dear, Hare, you know my way, I always mean what I say."

You were ecstatic, your body unable to keep still. To finally have everything laid out in the open. To know the one you've cherished for so long returns the sentiment.  

"You do! You always do! Oh, Jervis!" You quickly slid your hand out from his grip but only to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into an excited embrace. 

Jervis became nervous again. He wanted to return the hug desperately, but he wasn't sure how to keep himself composed when he actually got to feel what little you wore. 

Hesitantly, to not upset you, he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly. You were so soft and warm, he tried to refrain his fingers from tugging away at the flimsy obnoxious cotton that still covered you. 

You slowly brought your head back and looked back down at him. Your eyes coyly darting between his eyes and his lips. You were stuck in limbo once more, should you ask first or just go for it? 

Thankfully, despite Jervis' own dilemma, he was able to catch onto yours. As if silently asking if it's what you want, he slowly brought his face closer to yours. 

You gasped softly, not missing the crucial hint. You closed your eyes, slowly leaned forward, and your lips gently pressed against Jervis’. 

The kiss was so soft, sweet, and even innocent in that hesitant uncertain first kiss kind of way, but it felt so right and it capsulated all your emotions in one simple gesture. 

You’ve dreamt of this moment for so long. Always thought if it were to happen it would be this way or that way. However, now that it happened, every made-up scenario and sensation paled in comparison to the real thing. 

Jervis was the first to slowly pull back. You couldn’t help the tiny snickers you made at the sight of him softly panting for air and his pink dusted cheeks. 

Jervis perked an eyebrow at you curiously. 

You shook your head, not wanting him to think he did something wrong. “Sorry, you’re just…so cute.” Your hands came up from behind his back to frame his face. 

Jervis practically melted at your touch. Your touch heated his face up even more, but he didn’t mind one bit. To be touched so tenderly, and lovingly by the only person he cared about…nothing could possibly come close to the sensation. 

He craved more of your touch and kiss. He yearned for your affection as the Knave of Hearts (allegedly) yearned the tarts. 

Jervis couldn’t even think of a response to your compliment as he swiftly crashed his lips back into yours. 

You were shocked but not displeased as you quickly kissed him back with just as much fervor. 

Jervis’ breath hitched when he felt you slightly poke your tongue along the edge of his protruding tooth and his lips. He didn’t hesitate to grant you entrance to his mouth. 

Your kiss became more heated as your tongues explored each other’s mouths. Jervis began exploring more of your body, slowly building confidence to feed his desire to touch more of your skin and hopefully please you. 

His hands raked and grasped around your waist and hips. As well as up and down your back. 

So close to that same feeling you were trying to mimic earlier in your mind.

Your kiss was broken once more, albeit simultaneously as you both fell onto the couch when your knees bent against the cushion at the sudden impact. Jervis’ own hat fell off his head but safely landed on the coffee table in front of you. 

The cheesy silly predicament caused you to snicker. 

Jervis hummed warmly before he slowly rose himself off of you by his hands that were on both sides of your head. 

“Still enjoying yourself, I see.” He chuckled lowly. 

The deep drop in his voice caused a shiver to go down your spine. 

It was then you took in the truly compromising position you were in…your fantasy from earlier was slowly playing out right before your eyes. 

You’ll be damned if you let it slip away. 

“Yep, much more so now with you actually here.” You smiled sweetly. 

“Whatever you sought in your fantasy.” He began.

Jervis leaned up to kiss your forehead. “I’d be more than happy to make a reality.” 

A kiss on your cheek before looking into your eyes in earnest. “If you’ll let me.”

Any confirmation you think you could say didn’t feel strong enough, so you just leaned in to kiss him once more. 

It was all the confirmation Jervis needed as he leaned into your kiss. It was all the motivation he needed as he brought his body back down to try and get closer to you. 

Your back arched slightly when you felt his hands slowly crawl up your body and under your shirt. 

Jervis slowly retracted his lips from yours. Only a small trail of saliva kept you two connected. 

He grabbed the hem of your shirt before looking up at you, silently asking if he could remove it. 

You nodded so quickly your head almost rolled off. 

The moment you were free from the flimsy cotton shirt, Jervis was quick to appreciate the exposure to your body as he began kneading the skin of your chest and abdomen. 

He tucked his head in between your neck and shoulder as he began leaving hot wet kisses along your jaw and neck.

“J-Jervis…” you sighed breathlessly. 

Jervis’ body tensed at your voice. He brought his head back up to face you. 

He gulped. “P-Please…do that again, just the same…want you to call out my name.” 

You nodded, your hand reaching up to cup the side of his face. “I will, just as long as you don’t stop.” 

To that Jervis grinned a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat to shame. He gave your forehead another peck. “My darling, March Hare, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing…I wouldn’t dare.” 

Jervis briefly sat up and rested on his haunches as he began shucking away his suit jacket.

Already missing his close proximity, you quickly sat up and wrapped your arms around his neck while he tried to unbutton his dress shirt, but quickly gave up in exchange for holding you.

He chuckled at your enthusiasm, still deliriously delighted to have someone love him like this. As you began returning the favor with your own kisses to his neck and chest, he continued to make quick work of his trousers. 

To have Jervis here with you almost as bare as you were, overwhelmed you in the best of ways. 

No longer did you have to ponder what he looked like under his clothes or how he would feel against you. 

He was there in reality. All there and all yours. 

Jervis’ cock was hard and occasionally hit his stomach. He breathed a sigh of relief once it was free from its confines. 

He gasped shortly when you lightly traced your fingers up his dick. You turned your head to look at him to make sure this was okay. 

Jervis nodded before leaning in to kiss you again. A kiss that said “I love you” and “I trust you.” 

You felt the sharp intake of air through Jervis’ nose as you slowly wrapped your hand around his cock and began slowly stroking it. His gloved hands dug into the folds of your body, as if trying to keep himself grounded. 

Soon you felt his hand travel further down your body. Not wanting to leave his precious March Hare out, he began trying to copy the same rhythm you were going at to your own sex. 

This caused you to pull back from his lips, as you began panting into the crook of his neck. 

Fantasizing be damned, this was so much better than anything you could imagine or what that toy could replicate.

Yet, you wanted–needed so much more. After years of pining for Jervis, to finally have him here with you in the most passionate way imaginable. How could you not want everything? Every little bit of him he has to offer?

“Jervis–mmh…Jervis..” You moaned. Trying to form a sentence but got caught off guard by his sped up pace. 

“N-Need you…please…now.” You managed to pant out. 

Jervis gulped, slowing down his movements which you did too. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” You almost whined. “Please…Jervis..”

Another shudder overtook Jervis’ body. His heart beating relentlessly against his ribcage. Jervis knows madness, but has never known a madness as passionate and pleasurable as this. 

Jervis gently leaned his body against yours to slowly have you lay back down on your back with him hovering above you once again. 

He brought one of his hands to his mouth and bit down on the tip of the finger sleeve of the glove, before peeling it off his hand. 

As sad as you were to see the gloves go, seeing the way he bit down on the finger of the glove made you swoon. 

Once his hand was free from the glove, he reached down to your core and gathered what wetness was there before proceeding to slowly push his finger into your entrance. 

Despite the fun you had earlier, you were still fairly tight as you winced at his finger entering you fully. 

Jervis stared at you intently, looking for any signs of discomfort and hopefully he could see signs of pleasure. 

He slowly added another finger as he continued his steady pace inside you. 

You appreciated the effort he went to make sure you wouldn't be uncomfortable. However, you think you were about to scream if you didn't actually have him. 

You gently put your hand on his arm and squeezed. "I'm ready, Jervis…please…I need you." 

Jervis doesn't think he will ever get over hearing you say that and hearing you pleading for him. 

He slowly brought his fingers out and maneuvered himself to where he could line himself up to your hole. 

Jervis leaned over you again with hooded eyelids before kissing you. As he kissed you, he gently pushed himself inside of you. 

You both took a sharp breath between your lips at the intrusion. Jervis began peppering soft kisses all along your face, jaw, and neck. Anything to ease any sort of pain you were feeling. 

You softly muttered to him you were okay and that he could start moving. 

Jervis seemed unsure at the moment, but took it in stride as he slowly pulled himself out and equally as slowly pushed back in. Every time it got easier and more pleasing.

Your moans continued to egg him on, but not nearly as much as when you moaned his name. 

"Jervis…mhh..Jervis!" 

It made him thrust faster, kiss you harder, and squeeze your skin tighter. Soon you began crying out his name similarly to how you sounded earlier when he thought you were in danger. 

He hoped that this was far better than whatever fantasy you had playing in your mind. 

If he had asked you that, you would have reassured that he was far better than what you imagined. 

Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck to keep his lips near yours. Your hands either clung to his hair or the thin dress shirt he still wore. 

Your throat began to burn from your moans and hot pants but you didn't care. It was well worth the deep burning sensation in your gut that continued to get hotter and tighter. 

"Jervis…Jerv-mmm-I-I'm close.." You managed to announce in between your sounds of continuous pleasure. 

Jervis nodded, all words in the English language being lost on him at that moment. He was close too, his ball tightening every time you squeezed around him or cried out his name. 

His focus was solely on you though as he began thrusting faster than before, pulling out just enough to keep the head of his dick in before thrusting back in. 

It knocked the air out of you, but you didn't care. It made your legs tingle and had you see stars. 

Soon the tingles in your legs soon overtook your whole body as your nerves became ignited from the delicious release from the burning tension finally boiling over inside you.

You cried out his name when you arched your hips up from your shaking legs. Your entrance tightened that much more around Jervis' cock causing him to finally come unwound inside you with an audible groan. 

Jervis reluctantly pulled out of you before collapsing on top of your body. His head nestled in your chest as he tried to catch his breath. 

You tried to do the same, completely at a loss for words at the moment. You brought your hand up to comb through his unruly hair, finally living out another fantasy of yours.  

You lowered your head and kissed the top of his head before whispering. "That was amazing, better than any fantasy." 

Jervis chuckled, but deep down he was ecstatic, he just didn't have the energy to entirely act on it. 

It meant so much to know he could please you, because loving you pleased him. 

He lifted his head up briefly to look at you with pure adoration in his eyes. "It was my pleasure, darling." He scooted a little forward so his lips could reach yours.

When you two broke apart your heart swelled up at the soft look he gave you. It almost felt silly to say it, the way he looked at you made it clear he felt it too, but your heart was so full you swore you were about to combust. 

"I love you, Jervis." You said softly as if speaking it too loudly could break the tender moment. 

Jervis' smile widened as his bright eyes softly glazed over and his eyelids got more heavy. "And I love you, my dear Hare." 

You two slowly slipped into a tender slumber. Likely going to wake up sore from the nightly activities and sleeping on the couch, but it wouldn't matter. 

All that mattered now was that you two had each other in a way you both desired for a long time. 

All those wondrous daydreams, desires, and fantasies were finally part of your wonderful reality. 

[cupidkenji]

Doctor, Doctor, please listen!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!reader Cw; Tension (I tried), cursing, the smallest physical description of reader in the last portion (just mentions their stomach going over their pants), reader has scars from previous cases, rivals to lovers?, lmk if i'm missing smth Summary: 3 times you called him doctor, 3 times he wonders why. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but I don't really ever describe their bodies that much cause it's x READER and every body has a different body <3 WC: 3,596 I am literally so obsessed with criminal minds somebody save my soul OBLIVOUS IDIOTS WHO WANT EACH OTHER MY BELOVED. Title from mad hatter by Melanie Martinez don't even @ me for that

1.

“...she will be an important part of making your team function quicker. We fought hard to get her here. I ask that you all treat her with respect and not make me intervene.” 

Strauss finished her introductory spiel with a familiar “mom-glare” towards the team, walking away once she finished her speech. Unfortunately, her departure left you standing alone in front of the most intimidating man you’ve ever seen and four of his team members. You had been practically still until now. You hated the pressure of everyone’s eyes on you, causing a general freeze response to the stress of a new team. Fawn, you thought, the newest addition to the fight or flight categories and also the lovely thing forcing you to practically disassociate in front of your new boss and co-workers. 

“Welcome, Dr. L/N. We’ve heard good things. I’m Aaron Hotchner, I supervise the team.” He was leaning on the table before he stepped forward to shake your hand as he spoke. “This is Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid.” He pointed towards the corresponding people as he spoke of them. “Agent Rossi is away right now, and you’ll meet our T.I. later…she’s been excited.” If you hadn’t been good at your job, you’re sure you would have missed the way his lips turned up slightly at the edges when mentioning the woman. He didn’t seem so scary anymore, more like a father of the team. You’d been expecting a drill sergeant - your last team leader could have given a bull a run for it’s money with how much aggression that guy had. You welcomed the rush of excitement you felt at the discovery, mentally shaking off the stiffness you were carrying. 

“I’m happy to be here, sir. I’ve heard good things about the team, too. Your boss seems to think highly of your capabilities.” You addressed the room as you spoke. Public speaking was a skill you were still trying to master, so you practiced whenever you could. 

Your statement earned a chuckle from the table. Nobody bothered to explain the reason. You figured it was too much history to sum up on the spot. Your eyes wanted to linger on Reid. He seemed so young, and you wondered if he’d been told that his entire career - lord knows you had too. A fellow doctor. You assumed he was a bit of a stickler about the title, as even his boss kept it tacked onto his name when introducing him. You’d originally hoped to find some comfort in the man, on the surface he seemed a lot like you. He was probably too smart for his own good as well. Given the way he was staring at you, though, you felt the realization sink in that the man had no intention of welcoming you. 

“Why exactly do we need another profiler?” His voice held no malice as he spoke in the direction of his boss. There was more curiosity in his voice than anything, however you did pick up on the sense of superiority that sat just beneath the surface of his words. You guessed that’s how he behaved generally - as though he was superior. Still, your head tilted slightly to the side at the question. 

Damn. Tough crowd. 

You saw the intake of breath in Hotchner as he prepared to defend your place here but you spoke before he could start. “While I am a profiler, sir, first and foremost I am a psychiatrist - a doctor. As I’m sure you heard from Strauss, the board is unhappy with your recent efficiency rates and would also like to aid your team in dealing with mental health crises. I’ve spent my entire life studying the effects and conditions of the mentally diseased brain. I’ll be able to tell you the most efficient and effective way of interacting with these individuals, along with more accurately predicting their actions and methodology. I’m an agent, I took the same oath everyone here did but I was brought here for my expertise.” You were on a bit of a tangent, you knew that, but something about the smug feel of the man forced an emergence of competitiveness. He looked at you so indifferent, and you couldn’t help the tiny sparks of anger lighting beneath your skin. You kept a friendly disposition towards the man - you were a professional, after all, not a teenager - but you sensed a rivalry sprouting it’s roots.

The others at the table suppressed their smiles or looked down to hide it. Nobody had ever challenged Spencer like that. They could all feel he was a tad bit territorial. He was the guy people went to when they needed to know something. He was the Doctor of the group. They didn’t think he would take too kindly to another one encroaching his land. They saw the way he was tense, even more so after you responded. It was a riveting sight, though. The lot of them saw Spencer as a younger brother, and him meeting his match was something they were all so excited to see.

“Play nice, pretty boy.” Derek muttered to him, Spencer was slightly slouched in his chair now, not losing sight of you. Derek followed suit, turning his attention towards you. “We’re glad to have you, Doctor. We’ve spoken about an addition like you before, I’m glad to see the higher ups finally listened. I look forward to working with you - excuse me.” He left once his phone rang. 

The others took his exit as an excuse for their own, everyone giving you a warm welcome as they left. You reciprocated happily, telling everyone they could just call you by your first name, never having been one for titles. ‘There’s one difference.’ You thought, even your internal dialogue was bitter. Aside from him, there was a warmth here that you had been desperate to find in your last team. If you had to work passive aggressively with one uptight man in exchange for a team like this - you were going to take that deal. 

He refused to leave it seemed. He just sat looking inquisitively at the table, occasionally extending his stare to look at you before returning. How did you two end up alone in this room?

“Are you gonna have a problem with me, Doctor?” You shifted slightly on your feet. A notoriously nervous sign, one he definitely picked up on.

He stared again. It was his mind that kept him rooted in his seat. You were fucking alluring. He’d never met someone so like himself in his line of work. He was being a dick and he knew it but it seemed to be instinctual - some type of precaution, maybe. He didn’t know why you were being so respectful. Doctor. God, he didn’t know if the title had ever sounded so good being directed at him. His frustration only rose as he thought on the issue more. He wasn’t welcoming, it would be so easy to drop the formality, something he knew you knew would get on his nerves. But you didn’t. It didn’t seem like a question of dignity. You didn’t seem like the type to refuse a little pettiness - he sure wasn’t the type either. A thought stirred, an unsafe one he wanted to squash immediately but one he also couldn’t help but lean into. Did you want a power imbalance?

“No.” He stood abruptly, obviously still focused on the thoughts in his head. “Welcome to the team.” He addressed you one last time and then walked out of the room.

You followed shortly after, ready to make home on your couch and be done with being the newbie for the day. Your stress would follow you home, though, as the last thing you heard before you left the building was “Oh my god they’re perfect for each other.”

2.

The first few weeks were always the hardest. This was something you knew and were prepared for but it did nothing to calm your nerves. You’d been on countless missions having worked this job for a while now, but this was an entirely new dynamic to learn. You were an outsider for the first time in four years and it was scary. This case was shaping up to be a rough one, too. A man was having delusions telling him to kill. An extremely rare manifestation of his Schizophrenia, only elevated by the newly acquired aspect of him being an insomniac. 

Spencer hadn’t ceased being headstrong in cases either. Every time you wanted to help he made it his mission to overcompensate in order to snuff you out. On the contrary, he’d warmed up to you a little. It wasn’t major, he barely held any positive feelings toward you, but barely was better than not at all, so you coped. You two had managed a couple small talk conversations outside the battle of one-upping that you were currently losing. You absolutely hated it, but you liked him. You liked him a lot, actually. You don’t know when in the past few days that anger morphed into fondness but it had shifted hard. The casual dominance he exuded drew you in like a porchlight lures a moth. You doubted the opposite proved true for him, and that stung. You came to enjoy the banter, the competition, even if you were always playing the losing hand. It was the only way to get his undivided attention and the feeling of his eyes on you started to follow you home. 

You thought a lot about how you could get the relationship to pivot into something better. You didn’t want to be the girl he bickered with at work. You didn’t know what it was you wanted but you knew that your current fate sounded horrid. He was an ass, though, and he did not make it easy to admit those feelings. Every time he undermined you, you grew more attached and also more angry at yourself for doing so. It was because he’s so much like you, you thought. You knew from the way he interacted with his team that he wasn’t a cold guy, didn’t hold malice towards people for no reason. He needs time. He needs to know you, and God how badly you wanted to know him. 

You had sustained good relations with everyone the past few weeks you’ve been here. Meeting Garcia and Rossi had been a treat - both of them being delightful company. You’d heard them whispering about you and Spencer when they thought you weren’t around. The whole team seems to think that you’re basically fated to be together. It was unnerving how comforting that thought was to you. You hoped they were right. 

Spencer hoped they were right too. He’d heard the same whispers you had, chastising the team when he got the chance as if he didn’t think about you every moment he could. His eyes seemed to naturally land on you if you were around. He watched you walk around the bureau more and more lately, enjoying the gained confidence in your step as you cemented your place in the team. The sway of your hips or the swing of your arms. You mesmerized him no matter what you did. One time he got so caught up in his thoughts of you that Prentiss had to check he wasn’t having a silent panic attack. He clung to his sense of resentment, tried so hard to remind himself of the feelings he had when he first met you - you were beautiful, of course you were - but you were on claimed land and he was anything but eager for you to make home on it. That had faded fast, seeing how kind you were, scrambling to help and earn respect from everyone. The only reason he kept up the act of  “man who wants you gone” was so that he could keep talking to you. Spencer was a genius but he didn’t know how to handle someone like you. He’d been interested in girls before, hell he’d had girlfriends before but it had never felt like this in such little time. Such intense infatuation was crippling for someone who’s brain worked in patterns - this was new ground for him. 

“Everybody suit up. We have Foster’s location and we need to move quickly. He’s going after the source of his rage and we don’t have time to spare.” Hotch came down the stairs two at a time, spurring the team into action. 

“This man is highly dangerous but also highly deluded. The cases I’ve read similar to this say it’s best to speak gently. He’s sick but he can be reasoned with.” Spencer pulls from his memory as he sets his ‘FBI’ vest into place on his chest. 

“No, not this time. This man is too severe, his mind is too far gone. If these hallucinations of his are strong enough for him to touch them it’ll be extremely easy for him to rearrange or imagine your words differently. You need to be loud, direct, and assertive. Speak as little as possible. The quieter you are, the easier it will be for him to change what you’re saying in his head.” You also spoke while putting your vest on. You didn’t carry a weapon - a personal vow of yours, as you were more than classified to - so there were no holsters to fill. The contradictions between the two doctors of the team made everyone hesitate even though they lacked the time to do so.

Spencer looked at you, slightly out of breath from working so quickly. “You’re questioning my memory?” 

“I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor. I’m questioning your sources. There’s a higher risk level if we do what you’re suggesting. Let me do my job.” You made the final adjustments to your attire as you finished speaking. You returned his eye contact for just a beat too long, letting the others rush out of the building while you stood your ground, the two of you begrudgingly following after them a moment later.

You had been assigned a different car than him for the ride over. ‘Thank God’ was the only thing you could think when you saw him heading to the other SUV. After another confrontation - another public one, at that - you weren’t sure you could handle being pressed leg to leg with him in the backseat. Your words were a looping record in his head as he rode towards Foster. They were about to attempt a hostage negotiation with a man seeing people who weren’t there but all he could think about was that fucking word you refused to drop. 

I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor

You had to be doing this on purpose, he thought. He originally believed this had started because you knew stripping him of his beloved title would cause irritation. Now he suspected you knew how badly he wanted his name in your mouth and this was your way of torturing him. ‘It’s working.’ He thought. God was it working. He agreed with his team, you were perfect for him. You had knowledge to match his, kept him on his toes. One time the start of a ramble slipped through his “I don’t like you” façade and he felt his heart speed up at the genuine interest that roused in your eyes. You wanted to know him and he was an idiot for all the shit he was doing. 

He wasn’t surprised when your strategy worked and Ben Foster was taken into custody. You were the one to talk him down, and if you hadn’t already been accepted to the team, he knew then and there that they needed you. You were flawless. He knew you’d been doing this as long as he had and it showed. He pleaded with himself to stay focused, zeroed in on the weight of the gun in his hand to save face. His mind never left you, though, much like his eyes. This was the expertise you spoke of - no wonder they fought hard to get you here. 

“You were excellent in there.” It was just the two of you now. Even in the dull, flashing police lights, you were breathtaking. “Good job.” He said. Then he walked away because he was on the brink of kissing you and didn’t feel like breaking about 18 workplace rules while at the scene of a crime. You wouldn’t have been complaining if he did.

3.

Every time something like this happened it was difficult to remind yourself that not carrying a weapon was a choice you made willingly. You were currently sitting in the back of an open ambulance, about to be hoisted onto a stretcher and driven to the ER for stitches. You’ve been with the BAU for almost 3 months now and have miraculously managed to avoid injury in that time. This had been one of the easier cases. No chases or clues to follow, just a sick man who left a fairly obvious paper trail. You were the speaker on almost all cases. You were in charge of de-escalating a situation, making sure the bomb didn’t blow. You’ve never carried a weapon, always preferring to take the wounds of a job over using a gun to back up your words. You were a psychiatrist, you wanted to make people better, not vilify them. It worked, usually. People did tend to trust you more when you were unarmed. This time, though, it got you stabbed.

It wasn’t a bad injury, the blood had already stopped and was mildly dry by the time Spencer was joining you. Just one more scar to your collection. It was to the side of your quad, missing any artery by miles and just serving as a pain source at this point. A little numbing and some stitches and you’d be right as rain is what the doctor in the ambulance had said. 

“What happened?” He spoke softly to you. There wasn’t a rivalry between you two, not really. The banter hadn’t stopped, but it changed. It was playful and actually fun now. The both of you weren’t obsessed with outdoing the other anymore. Some casual boastfulness and a budding friendship is where you were at with him currently. 

“I got stabbed.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

He exhaled like he couldn’t comprehend the stupidity of your answer. You laughed at that. One enjoyable pastime you’d picked up in the past month was trying to bewilder him. The EMT said he needed to check the rest of your body for injury despite your protest of such a procedure. It was typical and you knew that, but you held onto the fear of your own body that middle school gave you. There was a man you liked here, and the thought of him seeing the bit of stomach that hung outside the waistline of your pants scared you more than you thought it would. You forced yourself to be rational in spite of this. It was Spencer, you wanted to be seen by him. 

“Holy shit.”

You chuckled at that. You forgot that maybe a warning was in order for the amount of scars that littered your stomach.

“Probably should have told you about those.” There were dozens. You amassed a countless amount of scars over the course of your job. Stab wounds, bullet grazes, burn marks. Unsubs, as much as you tried to empathize, were often violent at the end of the day and usually lashed out before they could be helped. 

He was staring - well, gazing more like. Not like someone stares at a car accident on the freeway but instead how someone stares at the moon - awe. He was in awe of you. Your strength, your courage, the fact that you went through all these individual events and still chose not to arm yourself. Some of these were in places that could have been fatal, and he thanked whatever entity may be listening that you persevered, begged them to continue that streak. He crashed hard into the desire to touch you, to run his hands over what little of your past he could see. He wondered if you would let him. If you’d fit into his palms the way he thought you would - if that was something you even wanted. The EMT was gone by now, having moved to the passenger seat for the ride to the hospital. 

“Could I - " He hesitated for a moment, this was definitely the wrong question to ask. “Can I touch you?”

Your eyes glazed over slightly. Jesus. You felt your lips part a little.

“You want to?” Genuine surprise. You didn’t think you looked particularly desirable in your current state. He wanted to touch your fucking scars. Who does he think he is?

“Please.” He was looking at you in a way you hadn’t seen before. His eyes were glazed over too. You held his eyes as you nodded. The heat was so stifling that you laughed just a little at the tension.

“Fucking hell, Spence.”

Blood shot to his ears when you said his name. It had been well worth the wait to hear you say it like that - breathy and confused and so fucking pretty that he wondered how he ever lived before you said it. 

“Will you tell me about them?” He was breathy too, but he wouldn’t have you here, not like this. He just needed to feel you. 

“I’ll tell you anything you want, Doc.”

His hands were warm. It wouldn’t be the last time you felt them.

[the-kr8tor]

Thank you for voting for the name Octobie! Now for the themes! I've combed through every single suggestion you gave me and categorised all of them into 12 themes.

So what I'm gonna do is post the 12 (right here) and from that 12 the 5 most top voted will move up for another poll until the top 3 wins! (Reasons/ and where I got the themes from your suggestions are listed below the poll/cut. W/ brief descriptions also)

Note: Theme names aren't finalized but the meanings will still be the same. (They'll have a cooler name once they get picked!)

Wondering why there will only be three themes? Well the third week theme is called wild card where anything goes! So if your chosen theme doesn't win you can always wait for the third week of octobie to come around and you can do whatever you want in that week as long as Hobie's in it!

Fantasy— fairy! Hobie, Dragon tamer! Hobie/Dragon rider! Hobie, Mythical creature, Sailor/Pirate! Hobie x deity! R, Time-looped historian! Hobie, fae, Mermaid. (Literally anything to do with the fantasy genre)

Halloween- Cloak Hobie, Witch R & familiar! Hobie, Witch! R and demon! Hobie, accidental summoning, pumpkin, Demon! Hobie and angel! R, death reaper! Hobie and target! R, vampire! R and human Hobie, serial killer! Hobie and detective! R, zombie! Hobie, pirates, thriller! Hobie, (anything spooky or scary!)

Eras swap/ through the decades- Modern! Hobie x 1970s! r, modern au, 1800s, different au Hobies meet and different au readers meet, aged up meet cute (they meet in their 60s), decades, (time is the main gist of it, whether it's hobie through the years or some decade specific scenario)

Music- guitar, record play, music lessons, backstage, concerts, rival bands/musicians, band practice, battle of the bands, (anything that has to do with music!)

Comfort- stray cats, nicknames, arts and crafts, london tings, hate the am (mornings), flowers, cats, snow, cozy/chilling at home, library, favourite au/trope, cottage core, (anything that wakes the butterflies in your stomach or makes you feel the ooeygoeey feeling fluff!)

Anarchy- ACAB, battle vests, protest, punk. (Anything that Hobie would be proud of doing)

Slice of life/ family life- swing date, the twins, first dance, just cozy things, cozy/chilling at home, morning/nighy routine, handsy, date day/night, meet cute, sick day, childhood friends. (Cozy or family related!)

Crossover- villains and/Vs heroes, magical girl! Hobie, tokyo ghoul au, DC Crossover, Hobie meeting batman, android! Hobie and human r, baldur's gate 3 au, hobie and mutant x-men! R, hobie and deadpool!, deadpool! Hobie, gambit! Hobie, ghost rider! hobie, spy family au, nightcrawler! Hobie (whether it's a video game, anime or a different genre of comic, that goes here!)

Medieval- royalty, royal! R and rebel! Hobie, (anything that makes you sing the game of thrones opening lol)

Villain au- black cat! Hobie, deadpool! Hobie, mystique! Hobie, prowler! Hobie x villain! r (evil! Hobie? Evil! Hobie! Or any au pertaining to villainy!)

Movie mashup- scream killer! Hobie and caller! R, freaky friday/body swap, rom-com, will they/won't they?, swan lake au, mad hatter! Hobie, phantom of the opera au, the greatest showman au, avatar au, (general movie au or theatre au)

Runway ready- patches, runway, hair, piercings, braids, dress up/ fashion show, draw in your style. (Fashun!)

[the-s1lly-corner]

Can we get a part two of Mad Hatter! Male! Reader x TADC cast please? 🥺 Again, choose who you want to write, go wild lol

various tadc characters x male!mad hatter!reader (part 2)

too sleepy so there's only going to be two characters here </3 today is going to be paaaaaacked characters: Pomni, Gangle, princess loolilalu notes: part one , reader is male cws: none

pomni

takes a long while to get used to you, i can definitely see her being put off by you and keeping her distance when she's still new to the circus.. likely warms up to you after kaufmos funeral, as that seems to be the general direction shes going to take judging by the end of episode 2- what i mean to say is that shes going to make more of an effort to get to know you and be more open

tries to keep up with you in conversation but due to her being new shes lost- like really lost- nods along to show that shes listening because shes still trying to

not much of a tea drinker herself, but she will sit down with you if you call her over and she has nothing going on

you can coax a converation out of her by asking her what her favorite treats are

will question you on how you even get the treats in the first place- logically there wouldnt be a kitchen in the circus due to none of you needing to eat to survive... leaves more questions than answers for her

gangle

oh poor thing she can get so lost when talking to you, she tries to keep up but sometimes you're just... well, mad

give her some time and she will warm up to you!

uses your clothing as references for stuff when shes drawing- especially if you tend to wear suits.... suits are hard to draw, sometimes!

accepts anything you give her because she doesnt want to seem rude for rejecting it

oh she will feel a certain way if you get her favorite baked goods the next time you see each other, especially if she only mentioned her interest in passing

make that girl feel heard!

princess loo

she enjoys attending your tea parties, and youre more than happy to invite her out to come join you

she can be a little put off by your nature sometimes, but she knows that you mean well

loves your fashion, maybe ive fallen into the "princess wants to be able to relax and be not royal all the time" trope, but i feel like she would find your style refreshing compared to the dresses she has to wear everyday

tries to gently steer the conversation back on topic if you go on a side tangent

if you tend to get passionate about talking about baking or tea, she listens to every word

definitely gifts you fancy expensive teas and other goods

[mangoisms]

come back to bed, my love, my light is low

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ summary: Tim gets dosed with fear toxin and you are there to pick up the pieces.

━ word count: 3.3k

━ contains: established relationship, emotional hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy

━ a/n: technically takes place as an extension of my other tim fic, i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute), but prior reading is not required! title is from this song

━ you can read this on ao3 as well

Gotham has always had a fairly impressive rogue gallery. 

You have limited knowledge of the other cities and their various rogues but you think Central City and Keystone City, the Gem Cities of the midwest of which the Flash is in charge of, are some who can match up to it. 

But in the end, Gotham’s will always beat them out. 

You have the Joker, indiscriminate in his havoc, truly, truly unpredictable and for no reason other than he simply wants to. You have Two-Face, fates decided upon the coin toss. You have Mr. Freeze, Black Mask, Poison Ivy, Mad Hatter, and so many more. 

The Joker is the worst of them, though. That is the general consensus in the city. 

But for you? 

You have always found Scarecrow particularly unnerving. 

Sure, the Joker has his clown thing going on but…

When you were a kid, during the fall, the town over from your own would host a Halloween festival. You could come down and pick pumpkins straight from the patches, take hay rides, drink apple cider, gorge on candy apples, and roam their corn maze. 

At the shy age of seven, you ended up getting lost in the corn maze. Separated from your parents, from any other parents or remotely responsible figure, you wandered for some time, crying, terrified, thinking, in typical seven-year-old fashion, that you would be lost forever as the sun set, plunging you into darkness. 

You remember accidentally stumbling into a Scarecrow, just a decoration for the maze, but it had seemed so lifelike with its hay-stuffed limbs and mean face scowling down on you. 

That would be your boogeyman for a long while. 

Eventually, the fear faded and you forgot about it. 

Moving to Gotham gave it a little more life. 

But it’s never been an issue. 

Still isn’t. Not technically. 

After all, you think, perched on your couch, anxiously watching the news, it’s not you currently barricaded in the water treatment plant with Scarecrow and a new batch of fear toxin, fighting to make sure he doesn’t release it into Gotham’s waters. 

No, it’s Tim. The others. 

But the fight is over. Cameras showing police officers with gas masks emerging from the warehouse with Scarecrow tucked between them, hands cuffed. His scarecrow mask is creepy as ever, scowl etched permanently in the rough material of the mask. 

“Still no word on whether Scarecrow was able to contaminate Gotham’s water supply but we do see the few workers he had hostage are now being escorted out. Little is known about this new strand of fear toxin but tips to the GCPD say that it is able to be dispersed either as a liquid or a gas. Previously, the toxin was dispersed only as a gas, but it seems Scarecrow has upgraded to another venture of chaos.”

You drum your fingers on your thigh, eyes intent on the flatscreen. Trying to pick them out in the background. But Bruce does his best to keep Batman and the others out of media eye. At least here in Gotham. When it comes to the Justice League and the Titans, they have little choice. They’re officially sanctioned teams by the UN. Batman can’t be an urban legend there. None of them can. 

Pictures here are blurry, though. Nothing more than grainy, shadow figures in the night. No stopping for interviews, no stepping into the light. 

Outside? Well, you’ve seen literal Getty Image photos of Batman at a UN hearing with Wonder Woman and Superman, looking none too pleased about it all. 

You’re not going to find them, is what you’re saying. But you try anyway. Amidst the sea of police cars, blue and red lights flashing in the night, reporters perched several feet away, debriefing their audiences. 

Just another night in Gotham. 

But not for you. 

Your fingers itch to grab your phone. Tim assured you it would be fine as he unlocked the hidden room in your walk-in closet, the room reinforced by multiple layers of lead (Bruce insisted; Tim, annoyed, relented) and only accessible by fingerprint and retinal scans from him and you, as it is the room that holds his Red Robin gear, private servers, and other confidential items. The room you could hide away in if enemies ever managed to breach your stiff security protocols (installed and programmed by Tim this time) and the thick walls and bulletproof, bomb-proof, and heat vision proof windows of the apartment. 

You’re safe as can be. 

You don’t think the same can be said for Tim. 

Even if he told you he would be fine. That Bruce and Damian are constantly mixing antidotes to the new strands of fear toxin and Joker venom that pop up. That Duke and Steph, both of whom have slowed in their vigilante duties like he has, are coming back on for this one. In addition to Cass and Bruce and Damian and Kate and more. The Birds were on standby, too. 

You can’t help but worry anyway. 

Just a feeling. A bad, bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

The phone call you get in the next minute affirms it. 

Caught up just as Scarecrow unleashed the toxin… Had given his own mask to another worker trapped there… Didn’t yet have an antidote… Only received one a few minutes later… in very fragile condition…

Your name jars you from the cold, petrifying fear inside you. 

“Are you alright?”

“Sorry, Alf,” you mumble, standing and shutting off the TV. Your hands shake as you do it. You feel jittery and restless. “I’ll leave now, I don’t know how fast I’ll be able to get to the manor, though, I’m sure traffic is just crazy right now —”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“But —”

“Master Tim has insisted on returning to you. Miss Stephanie agreed and so, it is next to impossible to get them to change their minds.”

“Right,” you say, sitting back down, flexing your fingers, which have gone cold, despite the apartment being well-heated for December in Gotham. A little voice like Tim’s matter-of-factly says, You’re stressed. Blood doesn’t flow as well to the hands and extremities because of it. 

You try to regroup. “Are the others okay, then?”

“They all had their masks, so yes, they’re alright. A few scrapes and bruises but nothing we aren’t used to. Master Tim and Miss Stephanie are on their way now and I imagine you’d like to prepare for his arrival.”

“Right, right, yeah, thanks, Alfred.”

“I should thank you for taking care of him. There is a reason he wants to be with you there rather than with us. It is most likely self-explanatory, but it should still be said.”

Of course. 

After so many years, he is your home. The harbor to your tempest. And it is the same for him. 

“Thank you, Alfred. I appreciate that.”

“Of course.”

You bid your goodbyes and hurry to prepare for their arrival. 

A hot meal sounds in order but you don’t think he’ll be up for it immediately, so you grab a pack of crackers. You ensure you have water, as well as some Sprite. You don’t know if he showered there, he probably didn’t, so you grab a fresh change of clothes for him, leaving it on the counter in the bathroom and grabbing him a new towel, too. 

You go back to the living room to turn the TV back on, changing it to Ice Age, then lighting a candle you like to turn on every now and then, lavender and vanilla scented. Something familiar, something to ease him. You don’t know if it’ll work but you have to try. 

After that, it is simply a waiting game. 

You keep a close eye on your phone, where you get notifications from your security system. 

Fifteen minutes later, you get an alert — not about movement on the balcony, but at the front door, camera feed showing you Tim and Steph’s figures in heavy thick coats — appropriate for the weather and to hide their suits, since their usual masks are gone. You guess he wasn’t in good enough condition to grapple with her. The thought makes your heart clench. Dismissing the message, you hurry over to open the door. 

“Yeah, there you go, sweetie, you’re home now,” she’s murmuring to him, voice softer and gentler than you’ve ever heard. 

She glances up at you as the door opens, shooting you a sad smile, then nudging Tim gently. 

Your throat tightens painfully as you see his face, paler than usual, eyes glassy, gaze far, far away from here.  

“Timmy?”

His eyes shoot to you. 

Then he’s moving, strength and vigor seemingly renewed at the sight of you, and his arms are wrapping around you, tight, like steel, painful, hurting, cutting off your breathing, but you don’t care, don’t say anything, you just hold him back, as tightly as you can. 

The pain is just a reminder that he’s here, with you, once again. Like it should be.

Steph leaves silently, mouthing Thank you. 

You mouth back Be safe. 

She shoots you a thumbs-up, then slips out, door clicking closed behind her. 

Tim is shaking, you realize, body trembling against yours. 

“You’re okay,” you whisper and his hold tightens painfully again but you push through it. “We’re okay, honey. We’re okay. You’re okay.”

What must he have seen? 

Fear. Jonathan Crane’s greatest motivation — to master fear itself and to push those boundaries by using his fear toxins on others. 

Your greatest fears, convincing you that they have become reality. 

For you? 

Losing your family. Losing your friends. Losing Tim. 

For him?

He has already lost so much. 

Been through so much. 

You can surmise that you must’ve been part of it. Of course. Of course. 

“We’re okay,” you whisper again, squeezing him. 

He buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. You run your fingers through his hair, not caring about how sweaty it is, Gotham clinging to him even now. You hate it. Can’t he get a break? Can’t he be free of it for even a few hours? 

But that’s why you’re here. 

To help. To ease the burden. This monumental burden put on him when he was a mere fourteen-years-old. 

You two stay there for a little while. You feel him toe off his boots at one point, which makes you smile. 

He keeps his face in your neck, despite you knowing the angle must start to bother him. But the contact is what he needs so you’ll give it to him. Whatever he wants. 

“Are you up to eat something?” you ask softly, fingers still running through his damp hair. 

He shakes his head. You guessed as much. 

“How about a shower?”

Quiet for a minute. You feel the rise and fall of his shoulders and the tickle of warm breath against the sensitive skin of your neck. Then he nods. 

It takes longer for him to let go. You don’t rush him. And even then, he doesn’t let you go far, holding onto your hand as you lead him into your shared bedroom and then into the adjoining bathroom. 

Large and ridiculously luxurious, it has a jacuzzi bathtub, a large walk-in shower with a rainfall shower head, two for the body in the wall, then one detachable head, and it’s controlled by a waterproof touchscreen. Definitely a step-up from the bathtub shower you two had at Rose Oaks. 

You turn on the shower, making it hot, then turn to Tim, reaching for the coat. 

Underneath it is his suit. Most likely, he and Steph rode here by motorcycle, then she put them both in coats for the walk up here. It’s a bit of a silly image, especially since his cape is longer than it, and you smile to yourself as you pull off the coat.

“What?” he asks quietly, voice raspy. The first time he’s spoken so far. 

“You’re cute, that’s all,” you murmur, dropping the coat onto the floor, then reaching up to unsnap the cape. 

He doesn’t say anything else. Just looks at you. By this point in your relationship, the intensity of his gaze, taking you in fully, no details missed by keen eyes, does not fluster you. It just warms you. You feel seen in the best of ways. Wanted. Loved. 

You love him, too. So much more than you thought possible. Sometimes it feels like you might burst with it. You hope he knows that. You’ll show him. 

You take care of the rest of his suit. Fingers finding hidden zippers, carefully unlatching his utility belt and setting it aside, slipping off his compression shirt and the rest of it. 

By the time everything has been taken off, the bathroom is muggy with steam. 

You step back but he grabs your wrist, saying your name, blue eyes pleading. 

“Stay. Please.”

“I am,” you soothe. “Just let me get out of this, okay?”

You strip, too, much more quickly. He steps in and you follow him, gently guiding him underneath the stream of hot water. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps, a little bit chilly from the sparse water touching you, but you ignore it. 

Everything seems to fall away. Tim’s eyes slide shut, head tilting back, letting the water run over his face, thick chunks of dark hair sticking to his skin, the water washing away the terrors of the night. You sigh, hand slipping to his cheek, rubbing the skin there gently. 

When he pulls his head away from the stream, you reach up to comb his hair away from his face, fingers stroking over his skin idly, tenderly. He leans forward, arms coming around your waist, pulling you into him. 

You go easily, hands sliding over his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies, dropping his head against your chest this time, right over your heart.

When you think of the reason why, your throat squeezes. 

“We’re okay,” you whisper, fingers tracing odd circles on his back, running through his wet hair, gently detangling the knots that formed during his work tonight. 

“I know,” he whispers. “I just…”

The fear toxin is effective in what it was conceived to do. Even for Tim, as analytical and logic-minded as he is. When you live this kind of life, the threat of loss is a real one. Janet Drake’s death was entirely accidental. Not for any rhyme or reason other than misfortune. Jack Drake’s, however, was intentional. The list goes on and it’s hardly limited to loss by death. There are so many things that can happen. Things that can happen to you. Either because of Tim Drake or because of Red Robin. Or both. 

But you don’t care about that. You never have. The danger is real but what you would lose in that trade-off is not worth it. 

It doesn’t help, you think. Not now. Not when he knows, vividly, how he may lose you, because saying that now is as good as saying you’re okay with dying and he doesn’t need that. 

He just needs assurance that you’re here now. And you’ll give it to him. 

“I love you so much. You know that?”

You feel his breath stutter, arms tightening, chest pressed so closely to yours you can feel the unsteady beat of his heart pounding against you, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips so hard it’ll probably leave bruises. But you don’t care. 

“And I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur. “Not in a million years if I had a choice in it.”

A small sniffle. “That’s not physically possible. Unless you’re secretly Kryptonian.”

Your lips quirk. You reach for his shampoo, squeezing out a dollop, then smoothing it into his hair. He sinks further into you, letting out a small noise of pleasure. 

“Not Kryptonian. Just human. And very dedicated to those I love.” 

A sigh. “I know.”

“Whatever you saw tonight,” you murmur and he tenses sharply but you keep going, keep massaging shampoo into his hair, soapy bubbles spilling over your palm, “it wasn’t real. I’m here. We’re all here. And we aren’t going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s quiet for a long while. Enough for you to rinse out the shampoo and rub in the conditioner. 

You reach for his body wash. Your body wash, really. He hasn’t used his own in a long while. 

His hand wraps around your wrist, though. Stopping you. He pulls back to look at you. 

“Tim?”

His eyes are on your face. Soft. But still a little hard to read. 

He turns you, switching your positions. You jump at the first douse of hot water but don’t fight it, allowing him to push you under the stream. You close your eyes to keep the water out. His hands come up to your face. Stroking your cheeks. Pushing your wet hair out of your face. You lean into his touch. 

“I love you,” he whispers. “More than anything.”

“More than anything,” you echo, leaning into him. He wraps his arms around you. Hugging you. Tightly but not painfully. 

You think you might hear him whisper Thank you but above the sound of the shower, you aren’t sure. 

Slowly, you get him cleaned up. He insists on returning the favor and you let him, even if you already showered earlier. It’s a small thing to ask, after all. 

After, you step out and dry yourselves off. You help him into his clothes and he helps you into yours. Insistent on reciprocation. Wanting to do something for you. But also just wanting to be near you. Touch you. Helping you gives him assurances, you think, of your presence. The thought makes your heart ache. 

His hair is wetter than you’d like it to be, so you grab a towel and lead him out into the room. He sits on the edge of the bed and you stand between his legs, taking the towel to his hair, gently drying it. 

Tim holds onto you all the while. 

You comb through it afterward, gently taking out the tangles. 

He has a distant look in his eyes when you finish, tossing the towel and comb to the side for now, not wanting to be too far from him. 

“What are you thinking?” you prompt gently, sitting next to him, taking his hand in yours. 

“That I think the last person who did that was my mom.”

You pause. “Was it… I’m sorry. I didn’t ask —”

“No,” he says, looking at you. “No, it was… it was nice.” His voice is small. A little embarrassed. A little bashful. Red stains his cheeks and you smile at the sight. 

“I’ll do it anytime you want,” you promise. “In the meantime…”

You leave it hanging, for him to fill. 

He sighs. “Let’s just go to bed?”

“Sure. Can I get you to drink some water first maybe?”

He acquiesces, drinking a glass of water, then sliding into bed. You clear the security system — with him peering over your shoulder, making certain for himself, too — then turn out the lights, curtains automatically drawing over the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Tim keeps you close underneath the covers, settling low, laying his head on your chest like he did in the shower. You press a kiss to his head, running your fingers through his hair, feeling sleep start to tug at your senses. 

By the way he relaxes into the memory foam of the bed, you know it’s not far off from him, either. 

You stay awake to make sure of it. 

Feeling his body go lax, his breathing even out. Hoping, praying, his dreams are peaceful tonight. To whoever will listen. The universe, some higher being, you don’t know, you simply want to give him a break. A break from all of this. 

It’s just a bad day. You know that. A bad day that stands out in a sea of so many good ones. But bad days for him, for you, are something so different from others’. Unforgiving trauma. Potential loss of life. 

But honestly? If changing that meant leaving him… you wouldn’t change a thing. 

God, you hope that as the time goes on, he’ll fully step back. 

Until then, you’ll be there to pick up the pieces. To tend to the aftermath. 

Always. 

reblogs are appreciated!

[finniestoncrane]

Colleagues

General!Scarecrow x General!Mad Hatter x GN!Reader word count: 1k a lil thing for a trade, hattercrow x reader, although poor jervis is just happy to be there lmao 💜 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fluff, some sexual stuff i mean it's me

At the mercy of the two deeply intelligent men, both renowned in their villainy and yet so completely different in nature, you sighed and moaned. Jonathan Crane and Jervis Tetch were convincing in their efforts to get you to agree to their proposition. What you had at first expected to be something experimental in nature, related to either Jervis’ hypnotism or Jonathan’s nightmare inducing toxins, you had come to realise was entirely sexual in nature, apparent from their immediate devouring of your body once you had enthusiastically agreed to participate.

On either side of your neck, you felt Jonathan and Jervis competing for your soft moans. While his softer counterpart kissed tenderly, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he ran his tongue softly along your skin, Crane chose to take a different route to your satisfaction. He bit into your skin, the sharp pain drawing a wincing whine from your lips which he pulled back to smirk at. A deep, gritty chuckle spilled from his throat before he brought his mouth down around you again. The dramatic, vampiric move as he clenched his jaw, open wide, around you, sucking at your skin and pulling the blood to the surface.

With a minute change to his temperament, Jervis tried to match his opponent in the crusade for your affection, or for your orgasm, and began to ferociously nibble at your neck and collar bone. With your sudden increase in subtle moans, the sense of praise, that he was doing something right, made his heart leap. With the burst of adrenaline and confidence, he brought his hand to your stomach, walking his fingers up, running his palm along you behind them, and reached for your chest where he settled flat, feeling your heartbeat.

Standing away from you, smiling cruelly at the way your lips and body tried to follow him, desperate for more of his touch, Jonathan stood away. As he sneered you cursed yourself for allowing him a display of your desire, for offering him the upper hand.

Spurred on by his new sense of dominance, something you had both been fighting for since he had first made contact with your body, he shifted his coat back, exposing a small sheath from which he produced a short but sharp blade. It glinted in the light as he held the handle in a tight grip, pointing the tip into his finger as he turned it back and forth, maintaining eye contact with you as Jervis continued his assault on your neck.

“Fear drives us. It pushes out ability to respond. Accesses a deeper part of our subconscious and tells us things about ourselves that we never really knew. What do you think it might tell you?”

You leaned into the blade, letting the tip of it press into your skin just enough that you noticed Jonathan’s chest shudder in brief panic before he composed himself.

“I think, Crane, that it’s telling me I’m braver than I thought, or at least than you thought. And that what I really crave is the danger. Of you. If you think you can provide me with that.”

With a sly smile he watched as you gripped the back of Jervis’ head, pushing him down to his knees on the floor. Stepping over him and standing directly in front of him with a complete disregard for his colleague’s ability to participate, Jonathan blocked Tetch’s view of your body as he took you completely, but not before you grabbed at the front of his shirt and pulled him down to your level. He winced at the sudden jerk in his back. With his nose pressed to yours he narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows, a stark contrast to the playful and mischievous grin you wore.

“Play nice, Jonathan.”

You mocked him, teasing him as you licked at your lips, tongue so close to touching him, but ever so slightly out of reach.

“Are you ok down there, sweetie?”

Jervis cocked his head out from behind Jonathan and smiled up at you, utter adoration and devotion in his lopsided grin. His soft nature making him a perfectly submissive treat, happy to be there at the service of two bodies that he found deeply tantalising.

“Completely, absolutely, wonderously perfect.”

“Make yourself useful then, Tetch.”

With a forceful shove, Jonathan reached behind his back and pushed Jervis face against his rear, knowing his friend to be all too familiar and willing to service him. He pulled at Jonathan’s trousers, exposing his lower half to the cool air of the room in the abandoned warehouse. With his cock bouncing free, Jonathan grabbed it at the base and lined it up with your entrance, offering you one final look, raised eyebrows, an insidious grin playing on his mouth.

“Are you quite ready then?”

You shot back immediately, not one to back down from any instigation, and wanting Jonathan to know exactly where he stood.

“Are you?”

With a low growl, Jonathan leaned his head back slightly, enraged that he found himself so desperate, so aroused by your refusal to submit completely, or easily, to him. Jervis on the other hand whimpered at the display of strength, the playful but tense back and forth between you both. This alone was enough to have him bucking his hips ferociously into the air, desperate to find friction, something to rut against. He feverishly delved between Jonathan’s cheeks, tongue firm and strong as he pressed it inside of the tight hole.

Jerked forward by the motion, the head of Jonathan’s cock teased against you and he let out a soft whimper at the sensation, both of them at the same time, taking his body over in pleasure. Furious, ecstatic, he groaned Jervis’ name as you whined Jonathan’s, and pushed forward inside of you, immediately howling in pleasure, the chorus of you and Jervis joining in soon after as you all got into the swing of things.

[simpinforfiction]

ALRIGHT! Getting back into a few of Johnny Depp’s characters again so I’m gonna start writing for them and some other characters

Characters I write for:

(Johnny depp characters:)

Edward scissorhands

Willy wonka

Tarrant Hightopp (Mad Hatter)

Security Breach:

Sundrop

Moondrop

Random thing but I also may post a random headcanon or fic about a character from an entirely different fandom that’s not on my writing list at the moment.

It’s not much, but these guys are my only hyperfixation right now.

Rules!

I will not write requested nsfw, I write it, but only when I feel like it and when I choose the plot. So nsfw can’t be requested but it will be seen here.

I can do platonic requests with characters

I WON’T do character X character, this is strictly an x reader blog!

Do not come in here demanding stuff from me or being rude/pestering me about a request, you will be blocked.

Any discrimination against race, lgbtq, or disabilities is NOT TOLERATED HERE.

I can write about dark topics (suicide, self harm, etc.) but I will speak from my own experience, since that’s the only point of view I can speak from.

Will not write anything related to pregnancy/abortions

I’m only doing headcanons! Fics are for if I’m REALLY motivated.

Don’t send me really specific requests! But don’t send stuff like ‘General fluff/angst’ stuff either, I’d like a scenario but not a whole novel plot.

[thegreatwicked]

WIP Title Game

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thanks for the tag @split-spectrum! Lord, my WIPs are not quite out of control BUT there are quite a few of them! I'll divide them up into two categories; fanfiction and original!

Fanfiction:

Armitage (Hux x OC)

In Service to the Night Sisters (Opress Brothers x OCs)

Moonlight Rendezvous (Maul x OC)

Padawan (Obi-Wan x Reader Insert)

50 Shades of Obi-Wan (Obi-Wan x Reader Insert)

Unbreakable Bonds (Obi-Wan x OC)

The Generals Wife (Hux x OC)

Shadows of Deception (Roman Sionis x OC)

Take off the Mask, Baby (Roman Sionis x Reader Insert)

Healing Hands (Jason Todd x OC)

Claiming the Red Hood (Jason Todd x OC)

Bayou and the Burrow (Charlie Weasley x OC)

Read to Me (Matt Murdock x OC)

We Were Cursed (Jefferson/Mad Hatter x OC)

It's No Good (Soldier Boy x OC)

Second Son (Soldier Boy x OC)

Tribute to the Horde (Dothraki OC x OC)

1001 Nights of Mischief (Loki xOC)

Professional Courtesy (DC Captain Cold x OC)

Forgive Me (Malik x OC)

Binding (Malik x OC)

Originals:

Call Me Love

Thanks for the Ride

Eternally Yours

Dive

Not your Fucking Grieving Widow

All works listed above are smut and not meant for anyone under 18. Lord give me strength to get through these WIPs before more appear!

No pressure tags! @hereticpriest @decembermidnight @burnthecheshirewitch @keffirinne @daenerys-skywalker @chaotickimchi @viskarenvisla @maulfvckers

Lets see those WIPs!

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Do you have hcs on which rogues would get tattoos + would like tattoos on a parnter?

"Tattoos" Rogue Party x Reader

We're gonna go short and sweet with this one! I'll go into detail where it's needed, etc etc.

important side note that everyone on the list would be respectful of tattoos that are tied to specific cultural practices such as Tāmoko- no matter what their feelings are about tats in general.

TW: None

Riddler

Wouldn't get a tattoo because A) he feels fairly neutral about body art and B) he'd be struck within intense indecision if he tried to get one.

Doesn't care either way about tattoos on a partner, really. The ones he would really marvel at would be geometric or bio-mechanical styles. And if you were to get a green question mark somewhere on your body, he certainly wouldn't complain...

Penguin

Wouldn't get a tattoo because it doesn't suit him, in his mind. If he had anything it would be from his juvvie days when he was more young and impulsive.

He'd vastly appreciate fine-line work or a particularly intricate design. Something else about you that's beautiful. Pulls you in and... he can lay a kiss on it.

Mad Hatter

No. Just. No.

He wouldn't dislike tattoos on a partner, but it's not his ideal. Considering there's a fair chance an s/o began as an Alice or general fantasy... well. No one's perfect, are they? If it was florals or an alice themed tattoo however... it could be a sign. Don't try making sense of his logic, you'll hurt your head.

Scarecrow

Got one when he was young. Stick and poke that the ink drained out of and now it's just a scar of crow wings on his left back shoulder. A buddy did it, Jonathan doesn't even remember the man's name.

He would really like the tattoo(s) in question if it was horror related or something to his interests. Tracing the design with his fingers during intimate moments.

Music Meister

In the nicest way someone can possibly say this, no, he's too much of a weenie. Plus, he thinks about the fact that if he ever performed a specific character on stage, he'd have to constantly cover it up and that annoys him.

Normally doesn't care a lot. If it's a theater or musical based tattoo like lyrics or elements from a poster- He'll be almost drooling over it.

Victor Zsasz

Would get tattoos. Has tattoos that he's marked over with cuts.

Would like tattoos on a partner.

Would get weird about it if you let him.

Killer Croc

Likes them, physically cannot have them. Tried once. Broke three needles before the tattooist gave up. Which... he really can't blame them on that one.

He thinks they're kind of sexy, actually. Bad-ass, you know? Especially if it's in a place that's known to be painful? Woo, sha, he knew you were tough for him.

Harley Quinn

Yes. I don't know if my Harley would have tattoos yet, but she'd be absolutely down for getting them. They'd definitely need to be color, though. She'd probably really like new school with the cute, exaggerated features.

Tell her all about them! Each one has a story, right? It's all fascinating and more she can learn about one of her favorite people.

Poison Ivy

Only if it was something "tasteful" in her mind. Elegant with perfect body placement. That's where she's at mentally. Physically... Her body will reject all ink if it's not strictly vegan and plant-based. Plus there's the fact that her skin has a green hue. It vastly limits her options and she might just give up on the idea.

If she saw a lace design or a realistic plant/flower on a partner... heart eyes, baby. She wouldn't admit to being impressed by it outright, but you'd know from the way her touch would linger there.

Two-Face

Harv would be down, Harvey would say no. He's not against tattoos themselves or anything, but he was incredibly straight-edge most of his life and that's an aspect from his past that remained. Unprofessional.

Thinks it's neat if his s/o has a tat that's either a blend of styles or deals specifically with the theme of duality. No one would ever have guessed that, I know. Otherwise, it's art on your body. Want Harv to put you in a frame for all to see? He smirks.

Black Mask

No, because of the expectations put upon him from a young age. CEO material. Can't have that. The incredible irony is in some way he still thinks of tattoos as something criminals and convicts have.

That doesn't apply to you, though, because you're his and that makes you special and different. He'd put some bank aside if you wanted another, even. Fancy appointment with the artist of your choice and everything.

Mr. Freeze

Deeply appreciative of tattoos given that his deceased wife, Nora, was an anthropologist who sometimes dabbled in the historical and cultural context of body modification and expression. He doesn't have any himself, however. However, he's read and re-read several of the textbooks she left behind on the subject. He can tell you all about it.

It might seem strange to a partner that he's sharing this interest via the lens of Nora. Understand that he loves you deeply and this is him sharing something Important to him with you. His love for Nora was so much. He insists you would have loved her, too.

Ra's al-Ghul

He does not have tattoos nor would he get them. He may have had real tribal tattoos long ago, but the strange effects of the Lazarus pit long wore them out of his skin.

Boring in that he tends to dislike non-traditional, non-cultural tattoos. Vibrant, pop in your face styles? No, thank you. He wouldn't say anything to a partner or even any particular person because that's rude. But you can tell by small side comments he'll make. The truth is, he would eventually get over himself if a partner had them. He loves you as a person, more than anything else.

Bane

Grew up in a prison, tattoos themselves are part of his culture. It was strange to him when he got out and realized there's a lot of people with no tattoos at all. Meanwhile, he had a full sleeve by the time he was 25. Debatable on the quality for some of it. Some of his older tats you can tell they were done in prison. Has some really gorgeous work on his back, though.

He would actually pay for an s/o to get a tattoo. If they wanted it! It's an art form that expresses a piece of themselves along their bodies. It's beautiful.

[archoniluthradanar]

A Halloween Terror Fest with the Volturi masters : a Volturi one-shot

A Halloween Terror Fest with the Volturi masters : a Volturi one-shot

Holidays with the Volturi masters series

Volturi masters x Reader

(remember that in the Summer fun with the Volturi masters series of one-shots, the reader is now mated to Marcus. Also, not all trips with the masters are trouble free)

oooooooooooooooooooo

Aro has called for you to come to the throne room because you're told he has something to ask you. When you get there, you see the three masters, including your mate Marcus, sitting on their thrones. You run up the steps to his side and kiss him, making a facial expression that silently asks him 'What's going on?'. You see him shrug in reply.

"My dear, will you come over here please?" Aro asks of you.

"Yes, Aro. Of course." You walk over to his chair and see he is reading a white card.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asks, holding the card out to you.

You reach out to take the card from Aro. Seeing it is an invitation, you can't help but smile. "This should have come to me, Aro. It's from friends in America. I couldn't very well give them my exact address, so used general delivery. Just call me 'resident'."

"It appears to be an invitation, but to what, my dear?" he asks.

You look down for a moment, trying to figure out how to describe the reason for the invitation. "Aro, there is a holiday in America called Halloween."

Not surprised, the Volturi master explains, "It is celebrated here as well, more in recent decades."

You look askance at Aro. "Do you celebrate Halloween?" you ask, thinking it would be interesting if vampires celebrated the holiday, the day when the lines between the living and the dead blurred. But you believe Aro and the others are not dead.

"Of course not, but it has caught on among humans who look for any excuse for a party. There is generally a festival in the piazza for the children and their families, but why would we attend?"

"Why, indeed." You look down at the Volturi, clarifying. "Aro, this is an adult party with costumes and dancing and food. And a few tricks, I imagine. A friend of mine who has a little money is putting on the party at her modest mansion in California."

"And you would like to go." Aro stares at you, knowing the answer before you can respond.

"Well, yes, since Marcus will soon be changing me, and I'll no longer be able to share my world with you nor will I be able to see my friends."

"Not meant as an insult, I do understand your love for childish doings, dear one."

"Oh, but adults have taken over, and they enjoy their own form of festivities." You give him your version of puppy eyes, and you smile when you see him relent with his typical overdramatic sigh.

"Very well, send a reply to your friends. Tell them we will all be there, along with our mates. Just give the secretary the details and I will see to the jet to get us to America, and a limousine that will await us at the nearest airport..."

"LAX," you pop up. "That's the Los Angeles airport."

"Very well," Aro says.

"And um...you and the wives will need costumes. Couples...costumes."

Aro laughs. "Costumes. It might be fun after all."

"I can show you an online catalogue so you and Caius may choose, with Sulpicia's and Dora's input as well."

The master who sees himself to be in charge waves his hand. "Yes, yes, of course. Now you go with Marcus and make your own choices. Thank you, my dear, for sharing your very human experiences with us." He kisses you on your cheek and sends you off to the secretary in the reception area.

As you leave the room with Marcus at your side, you hear Aro muse aloud to Caius, "What costumes shall we wear?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

In the early morning on the day of the party, you and Marcus meet Aro at the foot of the staircase leading from the tower rooms, and wait for the others to join you.

"Aro, you look fabulous as the Mad Hatter," you tell him while you walk around the vampire leader. "Your face is already suitably pale, and the colour around your eyes is to perfection. The wig is just right, and the costume..."

"Yes, yes, my dear, I look wonderful." He gives you a grin, satisfied, if you are.

"You did watch the videos I saved for you?"

"Of course. I know how to act the part. I will be splendid, you'll see."

Marcus stands behind you, his hands on your waist. You can hear him inhaling your scent, so you lean back against him.

"You look so handsome, my love," you tell him, looking up at him over your shoulder. "We make quite the Roaring Twenties Italian mobster and his moll, don't we."

Unable to help himself, Marcus leans in to kiss your neck, sending goosebumps down your arms. "You are a delightful vision yourself, my heart." After Marcus kisses you, you turn within his embrace and throw your feather boa around him, drawing him even closer.

Just then, Caius comes downstairs with his mate, Athenodora, on his arm.

"Caius, you're going as...vampires? Gothic vampires? Seriously?" you exclaim. You have to admit, the Goth look plays up their natural beauty. Dora looks so different from the woman you know her to be.

"Yes, how do you like it? I thought it would be easier to pretend to be what we are, vampires. We won't have to wear contacts for one thing."

"Well, actually you do look quite attractive." You sigh at the tempting picture Caius makes, but go to his mate, giving her a sisterly hug. "Dora, you look absolutely beautiful, a perfect match for Caius. I see you both found suitable wigs, and the black costumes suit you." Dora is attired in a long black dress, her hair now a burgundy colour. Caius wears a black suit, the jacket long but not quite to his knees. He has donned a black wig as well which you think is perfect.

You peer closer as you admire them, now noticing a strange affectation. "Caius...fangs?"

Pulling them off, he replies, "And here I thought you'd like them. It would have been easier if we had fangs, so we would not have had to glue these on," he groused. "They may last a while since they're made of porcelain, but eventually the venom will make them unwearable." He tucks them into a small box where another pair sits, with a small bottle of dental glue. He then gives Dora a kiss. "Sei una vera bellezza, amore mio."

"Well, you both look perfectly dark and menacing," you say, seeing a cold smile form on Caius' face. At least he's happy with his choice in costume, you think. Has the usually blonde vampire ever been so hot?

You are luckily distracted by Sulpicia descending the stairs. Aro goes to wait at the base of the staircase, holding out his hand for his mate. "You look delightful, my sweet," he says, bending over her extended hand, kissing the top. Then he pulls her close and kisses her naturally red lips.

Sulpicia cups Aro's face with one flawless hand, whispering, "Il mio compagno perfetto."

You wait for the couple to finish greeting each other, then go to her. "Your costume is perfect, Sulpicia. You really look like the Alice of Wonderland of the film, and I adore the stuffed bunny." You smile, rubbing the soft stuffed animal she carries. You give the vampire queen a kiss on each cheek. "Your wig looks marvelous as well, but I love your beautiful brunette hair."

"As do I, dear, but this is just a costume. Doesn't Aro look splendid though." She openly admires her mate, who smiles back at her.

You rarely see Aro and Caius with their mates. It pleases you they actually seem to care about each other. Having no desire to upset either wife over the familiarity their husbands have taken with you, their displays of affection make you feel better.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The flight to Los Angeles is a bit long, but you visit with the wives, play chess with Marcus, and also eat and nap, something the vampires do`n't need to do. On touchdown, a limousine is waiting for you. You look out the window at the passing scenery, missing America. The car reaches the Bel Air area, spotted with mansions that rival the palazzo you now call home.

When you arrive at your friend's house, everyone gets out to be greeted at the double front doors by their hosts.

"Tracy, it's so good to see you," you say with excitement as you hug your friend and her husband, David. You introduce them to your companions, glad it's dark out, but they easily hide behind their costumes.

Once inside, you're shown to a small ballroom where music is playing, courtesy of a DJ. Your friend leads you to the buffet that makes you hungry all over again, but of course, it doesn't appeal to the Volturi. Still, they have already managed to enthrall your friends and their guests with their vampiric allure.

"They are a bit strange, but I like them," she whispers to you.

You laugh, but say, "They're quite influential back home. And I am completely in love with my fiance Marcus."

"Pleased to meet you, Marcus. You must make my friend very happy. I see it on her face. I'm so happy for you both." She gives you another hug, then says, "I had better go greet the new arrivals. Please, enjoy yourselves and as always, my friend, make yourself at home. I have missed you."

You slide an arm around your mate. "She likes you," you say proudly, smiling.

The music infects not only you, but the five Volturi as well. As if free for the first time in a long while, they are enjoying mixing with humans. You hadn't heard one crack or complaint from them, not even Caius. The wives were definitely taking pleasure in being admired by the male humans around them, even dancing with a few they consider worthy. And yet, neither Aro nor Caius appear jealous. You were afraid at first, but everyone is just having fun. You remind yourself to thank them later for their restraint.

The song 'Slept so long' from the film Queen of the Damned comes over the speakers. You didn't think any of the vampires in the room had seen the film. You're surprised the DJ has such a mix of music in his repertoire, but you love it. A slow jazz one song, hard rock the next.

Your feather boa is draped around your neck, your long cigarette holder in your hand. You start to circle Marcus, attempting to show him that you can seduce him with your own form of aliure. You shimmy your hips as you dance, parts of your dress moving with you. You see his eyes darkening and tone back. It would not do to have him take you here on the dance floor.

Later, during a slower dance, Marcus holds you just tightly enough, as you both twirl on the floor. You looked up into his temporarily brown eyes, smiling. Your mate had not left your side all evening, even when you told him he could dance with others.

"Marcus, I noticed the others are dancing and talking with the humans here. Why don't you mingle?"

"I am content to be with you, my heart. There is no other for me." He leaned in to kiss you deeply, making your heart beat faster.

You look across the room to see Caius speaking to a woman while Dora dances with a human male. When you see Caius bare his fake fangs and lean into the woman's neck, you stepped back from Marcus and walked quickly over to the blonde vampire, crying out his name.

"Caius, don't!" By the time you get there, Caius and the woman are staring at you like you're insane.

"Sister, what the hell! I was only teasing with this woman. I wasn't really going to bite her," he hisses.

The woman in Caius' arms laughs nervously. "I had better go find my husband. It was a pleasure to meet you...Dracula." She left quickly, not looking back.

"Dracula, indeed! Sister, you ruined my fun, and almost drew more attention to me than if I had bitten her."

You apologize to him. "I'm sorry, Caius. It just looked like...from over there, it seemed...I'm so sorry. I should trust you more."

Marcus came up behind you, placing his arm around your shoulder. "Is everything all right here?"

"Yes, Marcus, my fault. I guess seeing you all acting so normal around humans, I keep expecting a shoe to fall." You give Caius a kiss on his cheek. "Forgive me?"

"Of course. Just relax. I won't harm any of your friends' guests, I promise." He gives you a smile and wink.

"Thank you, Caius." You hear a loud series of cackles, and turn to see Aro entertaining a small group with his typical humour. He is the Mad Hatter to perfection.

"Marcus, can we get something to drink?" You and your mate head for the bar, where you ask for a glass of wine. Without warning, the lights in the mansion go out. You smile, thinking it's just a prank being played by your hosts.

In the darkened room, Aro and Caius, along with Sulpicia and Dora, flash over to you. "Something is very wrong, my dear. Stay near our mates. Marcus, guard them."

You start to speak, "Aro, what is going on?", but he and Caius are gone, having flashed to the other side of the ballroom, safe with their speed before the humans' eyes become accustomed to the dark.

The party's hostess comes over the loudspeakers and asks everyone to stay in place, that there has probably been a circuit breaker overload due to the amount of power being used. But when you look up at Marcus, he subtly shakes his head. You lean into him, suddenly afraid.

Marcus sniffs the air. "I smell the stench of wolf."

"A werewolf?" you ask, holding onto your mate, your eyes peering blindly into the dark.

Guests are staying close to each other, their voices murmuring in confusion. The doors to the patio fly open when two bodies hurl through them. Caius is in his vampire clothing, now torn but he is minus his cloak, while the werewolf has his hands around the vampire's throat. Aro is close behind, attempting to come between the two battling creatures.

By now, the guests think that this is a show being put on by their hosts, and begin to cheer for one or the other of the combatants. Aro's hat has fallen off his head, hiding his identity. All the group sees is someone in a werewolf costume fighting two men.

"Marcus, is this...real?" you ask, holding onto his arm. The wives are also holding each other's hands, their eyes showing fear for their mates.

"Should we warn our hosts?" You fear Aro and Caius will fail, and the werewolf will look to the guests as victims. Your life with the Volturi has made you aware the world was not what you thought, and the supernatural was real.

"No, it would be best to let them remain in ignorance. Aro and Caius will take care of things." Marcus can see clearly the advantage his brothers have over the single werewolf. The animal is missing an arm, but is still able to inflict damage on his vampire attackers. Growls are heard outside, but you can't tell who is doing the growling.

"Our presence must have drawn it to this place," Marcus says. "Now you see they are real, my love. Caius was nearly destroyed by their kind long ago."

When someone flashes to your side, you think it is Aro or Caius, but your vision clears enough to see it's a stranger's face looking at you. "Marcus?"

Your mate is back at your side, gently pushing you behind him. "Who are you and why are you here?" Marcus demands, knowing this man to be one of them.

The nomad explains, "I am the one the werewolf was hunting. I hid in this place after seeing the lights and crowd, and borrowed this costume."

"Did you kill the owner?" you hiss at the stranger through gritted teeth. You hear no reply. "You should be out there fighting the beast, not our coven members!"

You see your friend coming into the ballroom with several flashlights, handing them out. "Marcus, this needs to end. We can come up with some excuse or sneak out in the dark."

"They've taken the creature outside. It will be destroyed, the evidence gotten rid of." Marcus notices the nomad has vanished and tells you. He hears Aro taking care of him, removing the head easily before tearing his limbs off the torso. They can't light a fire so near the mansion, so instead, make sure the body parts are buried far apart.

"In any case, we have got to get out of here too," you say, while watching your friend.

Now that the "entertainment" is apparently over, the crowd breaks up, many heading for the bar.

You hear Aro talking near you. "The car is waiting out front. We should depart now." No one argues, and all six of you head for the front door before your hosts notice you're leaving.

Once you're in the limousine, you assess the damage. Aro has cracks on his face and arms, while Caius is missing a hand.

"Oh my god, Caius, you're hurt!" you exclaim. You see Dora is already helping him, ripping the sleeve of his costume, letting him bathe the end of the dismembered hand with his own venom where he will press it to his arm, Dora ready to wrap it firmly with the torn fabric.

Knowing his life had almost been lost at the hands of one of these creatures, his courage impresses you, since it was Caius who first threw himself at the creature.

Caius sees the way you look at him. "This is my mission. It never ends, not until every last werewolf is destroyed. The fact I eradicated another one gives me great satisfaction, sister."

"And what about the other vampire, the nomad," you ask.

Aro kisses Sulpicia's hand that has been stroking his face. "That one will be no bother to anyone again."

You're proud of your new brothers for having saved your friends' guests. You see them as heroes, even if they aren't particularly fond of humans.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The private jet takes off from the Los Angeles airport, allowing you to feel relief. You're sure Tracy will wonder where you have gone, but once you're home, you will never need to explain anything to her. You will probably never be returning to America again.

You sit on the long sofa, your mate's arm around you. Marcus smiles when he feels you snuggle into him. You watch as Dora pampers Caius, and Sulpicia is sitting next to Aro, their hands joined. You are tired, but everything worked out, you and your family are safe, and you're on your way home.

"I'm sorry for what happened, Aro...Caius."

"Do not worry, my dear," Aro tells you, feeling like a contented victor. "We have not had such excitement in a very long while. It validates our existence."

"Is my life always going to be this exciting?" you ask Marcus, your breathing more relaxed.

"I think not, but if it keeps you occupied, I will see what I can do."

You smile and sigh, nestling against Marcus, your eyes closing.

Marcus sees your smile and kisses your temple, letting you sleep as the jet heads home for Volterra.

A/N : Thanks for costume ideas from @Sparklybuildingsdesign88 -Marcus and his mate as a Roaring 20s gangster and his moll. And @Kimvolturicullen -Caius and Dora as a vampire and his mate, and Aro and Sulpicia as the Mad Hatter and Alice.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

[riddle-me-ri]

A/N: hey hi hello, sooo I still think about Love and Suds at least once a day and I have an itch to keep writing for it. Idk if it'll be like a long fic or anything but more like a collection of various one offs pertaining to a reader who loves Jervis and cause of that in turn tries to save him from going back to his old ways. 

However, you don’t necessarily have to read Love and Suds to read this scenario, but it may help provide context to the nature of reader and Hatter’s relationship. 

Also, also I did not mean to post two Hatter fics in a row, I just really needed to get this dialogue chain out of my brain lmao

Trigger Warnings: slight angst, so hurt/comfort?, arguing, references to Jervis’ crimes, Batman being Batman (I really tried with him and like his weird stern way of showing concern?). That’s about it.

Word Count: 2.4 k (...oops)

“I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it.” - Alice, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

It was pitiful really.

As Jervis was checking himself over in the bathroom mirror…he found himself echoing the mental health checklist they often asked in the asylum. 

“How are you Tetch?” 

Good for once it’d seem. 

“Where are you right now?” 

Gotham, unfortunately. 

“In the past two weeks have you thought of hurting yourself or others?”

No…actually.

“On a scale of 1 to 10…how are you feeling?” 

For once the answer would actually be higher than 5 and he actually means it. He wasn’t being delirious or perpetually thrusting himself in a fantasy to make him happy. 

He actually had something…someone rather that made reality worth being in. 

Jervis scrunched up his nose and furrowed his eyebrows. Debating…dictating. 

Should…should I wear my hat?

It didn’t have any mechanisms or circuitry along the inside, like he initially planned for his newest hat when the rest were confiscated. 

Jervis glanced back in the mirror for another glance. His hair was combed and not greasy, he was able to part it neatly and his bangs didn’t cascade down past his forehead and were less spiky and erratic looking. 

Darting his eyes back to his hat in his gloved hands…he bit his lip. This shouldn’t be as difficult as it was. He knew what the hat stood for, what it-it can represent. As many terrible things it was tied to…the formal headgear gave him confidence. It made him stand taller, walk with his shoulders back. 

It would be nice…to be confident without it…

Inhaling, before he exhaled deeply. 

Would you be proud of him if he didn’t wear it? 

The night was for you after all. 

It had been a couple weeks since you swooped back into his life and pulled him from one of his darkest moments yet. You stayed with him by his side for a week, until…your reality set in and you had to go to work but you were always close by and he got to hear your voice every day. 

As a thank you, Jervis offered to take you out to dinner. While at first you implored the thanks wasn’t necessary, ultimately you couldn’t deny the opportunity to spend time with him. 

He began tracing the rim of his hat in thought. Perhaps he could bring it along and ask for your opinion when he saw you. You were always forthcoming and genuine with him. One of the many things he adored about you. 

Jervis held the hat in his hands, still fiddling with the rim as he took a taxi to your apartment. The taxi driver didn’t seem to fidget or notice a high profile villain was in his backseat…

For all the nerves bundling and firing in his veins from anxiety…he also couldn’t deny the elation he felt at the prospect of finally seeing you again. 

Jervis stood in front of your door, a fresh bouquet nestled in his hand. He rocked his knuckles along your door. 

His blood ran cold when the pressure from the knock caused your door to open slightly. 

Did you forget to lock it? Was it broken? Should he go in? 

You–You knew him better…you knew he wouldn’t break into your apartment for no reason other than to ensure your safety. 

He softly pushed the door open more as he snuck in. 

Should he sneak? 

He called out your name as he crossed the threshold of your door. When he turned on his heel to close the door back, he noticed the broken lock mechanism on your door. He felt himself gritting his teeth. 

No doubt you put in a complaint and they’ve gone ignored…this city couldn’t careless if anything happened to you. He would, he cares, he cares more about you than any wretched being in this shallow city–

“I told you to leave! He’s not doing anything wrong or going to do anything!” 

“You can’t be sure…”

“I am sure. Because I am here now!”

Jervis’ ears perked up at your voice. The other one was too muffled for him to make out. 

Oh, he shouldn’t eavesdrop. That…that was rude. Agh, be polite or be curious…

He at least wanted to know who the other person was. 

Jervis noticed a small streak of the moonlight cascading down the hallway. That was likely your bedroom at the end of the short hallway. Jervis slowly crept down the hallway. He once again softly pushed the door open a little more to have one eye visible to the events unfolding. 

“Jervis Tetch is an extremely deluded individual. He–he is dangerous.”

“Not to me! He hasn’t nor will he ever hurt me! Because I care about him, unlike you and unlike those doctors at Arkham! None of you cared! You just want another punching bag and the doctors want to be able to control the minds’ of their patients. Nothing more!”

Batman? Batman! W-what was he doing here? To discuss him with you? And why did it seem like you two have had this conversation before? 

Batman sighed as he jumped down from the metal railing and properly onto your balcony. You were sitting on the side of your bed looking up at the dark figure.

“I can’t…I can’t ask for you to watch over him. He’s too chaotic and you have your own life to live–” 

You stood up in fury. “Don’t–Don’t! Don’t get chivalrous with me oh, Dark Knight! I know what I’m getting into.”

“Do you? Have you seen his case files? Seen the images of the countless women he-”

“I’m not oblivious to his crimes, Bat. You don’t have to remind me.” You put your hands up to your hips. “I–I know what he’s done. It’s horrible, but it could’ve been prevented…It can be prevented.” You began rocking side to side, contemplating. 

“Tetch was a brilliant man. He could have done amazing things and accomplished great feats. But I’m afraid he’s passed that…and I don’t want you to blame yourself for not being there for him to prevent his crimes–”

“Stop…”

“I don’t want you to blame yourself, and now assign yourself as his guardian…you may know him but so do I-”

“No! No you don’t! If you knew him so well you wouldn’t have constantly called me to findout more about him! You came to me because you knew I knew him better. If you knew him, detective, you would know more than anything he needs help!” You argued. 

Your fists were clenched and held against your chest. Your body shuddered as you fought back tears. Not wanting to show any vulnerability to the Dark Knight. 

“He needs help…actual help, from someone that cares about him. That knows him for more than his criminal history…”

You saw Batman begin to open his mouth but you cut him off. “I know what Jervis did, Batman. I’m not naive. You don’t have to guilt trip me or shame me, it’s not going to work.” 

"If you know what he's done, you know what he's capable of. What happens when your own reality calls for you to…have to leave Gotham, again? You can't always be there for Jervis. I agree he needs help, but help that's much bigger than you…"

"Oh, you mean like you?" You snarled. "Someone who beats him up, throws him around, and locks him up in an asylum that wouldn't do any better! You don't care about him…not like that Catwoman or better yet your precious clown." 

Batman furrowed his brows. "You don't know what you're talking about. You're confused." 

You shake your head defiantly, "Bullshit! You give that clown chances after chances, expecting a change…he's done terrible things too Batman. He's killed men, women, children. Husband's, wives, sons, duaghters…" 

"Enough." Batman snapped. "This isn't about me. It's about you and Tetch. I'm trying to help you."

"You sure have a funny way of helping…" You sniffled, the tears slowly pouring from your eye ducts, no matter how hard you tried to push them down. "I-I-I I know I left when he needed me most…I regret it every day…I-I had no choice.." 

Once Jervis heard your voice crackling from your tears and whimpers, it was like he snapped out of the trance he was in. 

He heard every word. Every single word. Jervis didn't appreciate Batman's input a single bit…even if deep down Jervis knew the Caped Crusader had a point. 

"That's enough!" Jervis intervened. 

You felt his familiar glove hands rest on your shoulders, giving you a comforting squeeze. 

You almost jumped out of your skin at his voice and presence.

"Jervis! Oh my god, where…how…when-when did you–?" 

He squeezed your shoulders again. "It's all right, darling. Don't worry, I understand."

"Let them be, Jervis." Batman took a step closer to you two. 

"Don't take another step, Dark Knight!" Jervis stood in front of you now. "I think you've upset them quite enough! I think it's best you make haste to whatever damp dark cave you call home!" 

Your eyes widened as you saw Jervis began walking towards Batman almost going toe to toe with him. 

"Jervis! Its-its–" 

Batman didn't move as Jervis invaded his personal space. He was studying him, looking for any possible signs of the eccentric deluded man he's come to know. 

There wasn't any. His irises were normal, his blood pressure was…normal even considering his angered state, he wasn't rhyming or chortling…and he didn't have his hat. 

Batman began walking backwards away from Tetch and back on to the balcony. 

"Here's some good advice," he looked over Jervis' shoulder and towards you. "I know you care about him, it's admirable. But you can't do it alone. Best to get out while you can before you're in too deep." 

With that he jumped up on the railing and began gliding through the brisk Gotham night air. 

Jervis growled in annoyance as he slammed the door to your balcony shut. 

"Rude. Positively rude! Breaking and entering! Harassing and interrogating an unsuspecting individual! Why I dare–" 

His enraged ramblings were brought to a halt when he heard your sniffling.

Jervis rushed back towards you. He got down on his knees in front of you. He quickly placed your hands in his and squeezed them as he looked up at you sitting on your bed. Tears flowing like a precious stone fountain. 

"Shh…it's okay. I-I…I apologize for listening in…I just…never knew…" 

You shook your head. "No, no I should apologize. I should've told you, but I didn't want you to think that I was siding with him or anything. What you saw was the norm. He comes storming in and asking questions and telling me what I should and shouldn't do with no regards for my actual thoughts and feelings…" 

You squeezed his hands again. "I…I also want to apologize for leaving Gotham! I didn't want to Jervis! It was the hardest thing I ever had to do!" You cried as more guilt driven tears began glowing. You had no choice, you couldn’t find a job pertaining to your field, nor find a part time job that could afford you a room and board in Gotham. 

He tried to shush you, bringing his hands up to run your shoulders and gently rock you back and forth. "Darling, darling, please it's all right. You're here now! You were there for me when I needed you most!" 

You gulped down a breath. "B-But I couldn't…I didn't-" 

"No one could have, if anything I'm…I'm glad you weren't here for all of that." 

Jervis brought himself up from off his haunches to embrace you. You rested your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

After a moment filled with your soft whimpers. You tightened your grip on him as his hand rubbed your back up and down. 

"I meant what I said…" You croaked in his ear. "I-I do care about you Jervis, I want to help you and be here for you." 

He smiled warmly. "I know you did…I must admit it's very rare to see someone defending me.." he pulled away from the embrace to look at you. 

"But I couldn't imagine a better person to have in my corner." He brought his hand up to cup the side of your face and you happily clasped it with your own hand. 

"I'm not going anywhere…despite Batman's advice…" You muttered in disapproval. 

"I know, and I assure you…it won't be in vain. I'll do whatever it takes."

You smiled softly. You closed your eyes as you leaned your head into his hand. Relieved in the peace that wafted over the hostile air in the room when Batman was there. 

You knew what Jervis was capable of, but you were even more aware of his potential to be a better person. 

You opened your eyes slowly too look into his bright eyes that crinkled from his own smile. 

Then you noticed something was slightly off. "Jervy?" 

Jervis giggled, adoring the nickname. "Yes, my dear?" 

"Where's your hat?" 

His eyes widened. Instinctively his hands reached up to his head only to notice what you said was true. He recalled having it in his hand when he arrived. Had he truly set it down somewhere? In his worrisome state for your safety?

"Oh, um…I brought it with me…where?” 

The both of you looked frantically about the room. 

“Here it is!” You opened the door from your room and saw it…surprisingly on the floor. 

You picked it up gently and softly brushed off some dust from the hardwood floor. “I’m surprised you weren’t wearing it.” 

You handed the hat back to Jervis, but he hesitated. 

“Do-do you think I should? I-I mean wear it that is…” 

Your eyes widened. Something really was stirring in his mind if he doubted putting his hat back on. If anyone knew anything about Jervis it was just how precious his hat was to him. 

You glanced down at the headgear and back to Jervis. He was swaying side to side with his head hung low, he stared at the ground.  

You walked over to him, lifted his chin up by the tips of your fingers, and gently placed the top hat on his head. 

“Here’s some even better advice…Just because you’re changing doesn’t mean your wardrobe has to.” You giggled. “Besides, I absolutely adore your hats…they make you look that much more handsome.” 

Jervis couldn’t contain his giddy smile anymore as he chuckled softly. He did feel better with it on, or perhaps he just felt better overall in your presence. 

Who needs good advice from someone who doesn’t know you? When you have someone that knows so much and cares so much more instead.

[phobia-sweets]

hey there! Is it alright if I request Mad Hatter with an s/o who just clams up when they're anxious? Like refuse to say anything, freeze in place, just ultimately shuts down?

Maybe it could be after jervis gets home late one night, and s/o worrying what happened and thinking he had a run-in with the Batman, or was thrown in Arkham?

It's weird coming back from writing almost only Scarecrow and then trying to write Jervis, they're so different LMAO

Anyhow, i hope you enjoy it! I'm not exactly proud of it but i still tried my best :D

General! Mad hatter x reader

Warnings & Notes: I gave up with rhyming halfway through and it's short lmao (300 words)

The quiet music from the radio did very little to calm you down.

Jervis was supposed to be home hours ago and sure, it could’ve just been him losing track of time but the presence of a certain bat in the city couldn’t help but make you worry. Thinking of all the possible things that could’ve happened, you couldn’t bring yourself to go to sleep just yet. What if he was hurt? In Arkham?

You were alerted by the sudden noise of footsteps outside the apartment. Quickly standing up, you made your way towards the hallway, grabbing a pair of scissors on the way you had left laying around. For self-defense, just in case. You could never be sure when the Bat would come after you. Maybe that time was now? But why would he? You haven’t done anything to break the law, right? Unless he was looking for information… But how would he know? Maybe he’s here to tell you Jervis was in Arkham! Oh god, What if Jervis was badly hurt and-

The door opened, and you couldn’t move.

No matter how much you wanted to, You just couldn’t. Voice stuck on the back of your throat, You couldn’t even ask who was there. You should’ve felt better when you saw the welcome sight of Jervis step inside, but the anxiety lingered.

“Rabbit? Sorry I’m late – I lost track of time, please do not give me hate.” He looked worried, seeing you just stand there, not moving or greeting him. He walked up to you, cradling your face as you tried to relax, seeing as he was now here, with you. Not hurt, or in Arkham.

“I was-” You started slowly and quietly, “I was worried. You were out for so long and I got scared the bat had found you, or, or…” You rambled, Holding back tears.

“Dear, oh dear! I am truly sorry for worrying you so – I’ll make you some tea, yes?” He suggested, looking you in the eyes as you nodded. He walked over to the kitchen, but not before kissing you on the cheek. You slowly followed him and sat down, watching as he prepared two cups of tea. "Your favourite." He announced, as he placed the cup in front of you.

[tainoidiot]

Officially now doing Character X Reader requests! Just an fyi, my writing will mainly center around POC/Disabled/Chronically ill!Reader. But I'm willing to do more!

----

RULES

I don't do +18 work.

Please be respectful of the time it takes to get stuff put out. I am only one person!

If I get something wrong, please don't hesitate to tell me. If I need to get called out then I get called out.

I will not do any requests that are borderline/generally abusive. (This includes domestic, sexual, mental abuse, and pedophilia. Yanderes are on thin ice)

IF you want a character not listed, work with me man! Don't be afraid to ask for things.

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MEDIA AND CHARACTERS

BATMAN (Only rogues and general "Bad guys")

Jervis Tetch/ The Mad Hatter (BTAS, Arkhamverse, TNBAS, Gotham)

Edward Nygma/ The Riddler (BTAS, Arkhamverse)

Johnathan Crane/ The Scarecrow (BTAS, Arkhamverse)

Selina Kyle/ Catwoman (BTAS, The Batman, Arkhamverse, Hunted.)

Pamela Isley/ Poison Ivy (BTAS, Arkhamverse, Harley Quinn)

MARVEL (movies only)

Namor/K'uk'ulkan

Shuri

Peggy Carter

King M'Baku

Wanda Maximoff

[gummisharkzz]

Hello and welcome to the official blog for: ∘⊹LUCINE IN CANDYLAND⊹∘

Lucine In candyland is a horror GM (Gacha Movie) and will probably have its own animated version next year.

Now it isn’t just gonna be singular GM and then it’s completely over after that, of course there will be many fun events and lore videos with the characters!!

If you have any questions on our cast, their personal life, or just anything silly feel free to ask<3 let’s head on down to the QNA list, shall we?

(These are just questions that you all probably had while stumbling across this)

“What was the inspo for lucine and candyland?”

Alice in wonderland! I was a very big fan and enjoyed the books/movies. The original name was going to be “Alice in candyland” but that isn’t our MC’s real name!

“What role do these characters take in the story?”

Beth/queen of pink | Queen of hearts.

Cindy the kotton kitty | Cheshire Cat.

Frizzie | Mad hatter

Liliana | the caterpillar.

Miss Reeces and cane | tweedledee twins

<the rest of the characters were created just for fun and aren’t inspired by any actual Alice in wonderland characters!>

“What is this story about?”

It’s about a young girl named lucine who stumbles across candyland after going out to get her grandmother some fruits. However Candyland isn’t as *sweet* as it seems….the queen warns her that she isn’t supposed to be there and must leave as soon as she can, but Lucine is too curious and wants to uncover this lands hidden secrets. finding villages in complete shackles and many terrifying “murderous” disfigured creatures. Most hidden places in candyland are extremely violent and chaotic which is why the queen tries her best to lead Lucine away from the path to those places without her knowing.

“What are the rules to the ask?”

Don’t ask anything too suggestive or Sexual, ESPECIALLY with our minor characters please.

Never ask the queen about her past children. EVER.

Don’t go in the ask saying things about how you ship the characters…. The only exception would be Beth/the queen x Liliana. Or the adult characters in general! It’s okay for them but not our child characters please!!!

I guess that’s it…just don’t be weird and mean💕

Last and final question!

“What do you post and not post?”

We will post:

-Wholesome and SFW scenarios with our characters if requested.

-Lore vids and informational text.

-silly sometimes OOC vids!

-any requested scenario where the reader takes the role as one of the queens *current* children!

Anything that’s just appropriate and safe In general.

We will NOT post:

-NSFW works with mainly our minor characters (but just all of our chars in general.)

-pregnancy scenarios…

-Child reader x adult character

-Child character x adult character

-scenarios that include your fetishes and romanticizing blood/gore.

just weird stuff, keep that away…

That is all, thank you for reading! Oh and, don’t forget that it’s perfectly fine to play along and RP! Mainly as the queens children, if asked there will probably be a post about the rules for them!!💕🍭

[the-s1lly-corner]

The Amazing Digital Masterpost, Volume 4

If there is anything wrong with any of the links, please let me know! You can find the links to the other masterlists in my pinned at the bottom! As of 5/24/2024, this masterlist is complete!

CAST POSTS:

Comforting the reader when they have a nightmare

Head rest

cast + gummigoo on where they like to kiss their partner

Slumber party scenario

MULTI:

Jax and Pomni x ray of sunshine!reader

Jax and Zooble x baker!reader

Caine and Pomni walking in on the reader wearing their clothes

Reader comforting Jax, Caine, Gangle and Kinger after they have a bad dream

Reader taking care of Jax, Ragatha, and Kinger when theyre sick

Caine, Pomni, and Ragatha brushing the readers hair

Kissing Caine, Jax, Kinger, and Ragathas hands

Reader promising Pomni, Ragatha, and Kinger that they wont abstract

Jax and Kinger brushing the readers hair

Caine, Jax, Ragatha, and Kinger x centipede!reader

Pomni, Jax, and Ragatha x bug!reader who makes noises

Caine, Jax, and Ragatha x clown!child!reader who pulls innocent pranks (platonic)

Caine, Ragatha, Jax and Gangle x wolf!reader w/ low self confidence and is shy

Gangle, Ragatha, and Jax x reader who makes plushies that look like them

Kinger and Ragatha x reader who looks like a princess baby doll

Pomni, Jax, and Zooble x reader who has a nokia head!

Caine, Ragatha, and Kinger x plushie!reader

Reader taking Ragatha, Jax, and Kinger's clothing

Kinger, Pomni, Ragatha and Zooble x reader who can change weather based on emotion

Caine, Jax, and Pomni x sweet!shy!child!reader (platonic)

Caine, Jax, and Gangle x reader who can change the weather based on emotion

Gangle and Ragatha making valentine's gifts for the reader

Caine, Jax, and Kinger x reader who can disassemble themselves

Jax kinger and caine making it up to reader after an argument

Caine and gummigoo x reader who loves touch

Kinger caine ragatha x male!mad hatter reader

pomni ragatha jax x reader who makes music

various x reader who needs help waking up

various x reader who has a teacup for a head

CAINE:

Caine x reader who has hanahaki

Caine x reader who can manipulate their voice

Flirting w/ Caine

Caine x reader who can't sleep in silence

Prompts 1 and 8 with caine

Caine x reader who wanders

Caine x reader who primarily hangs out with him

Caine x quiet reader who likes adventure

caine x reader who stims by chewing

caine x very quiet reader

caine x reader who wears a mask for comfort

Caine x reader who sleeps oddly

x sibling reader (platonic)

POMNI:

Pomni x reader who snaps and manages to swear

Reader smothering Pomni in affection to calm her down

Pomni x reader who is made of cake

Pomni x reader fluff

Pomni x fem!reader who's confident and charming

pomni x reader who is shorter than her

talking after the funeral

x reader who is like husk

RAGATHA:

Flirting w/ Ragatha

Patching up ragatha

JAX:

Reader flirting with Jax

Jax x reader but Jax has a love virus

Jax x sweet!reader finally snapping at him

Reader taking a bath w/ Jax

Going to the carnival w/ Jax

Platonic jax x prankster reader

x male reader who is unhinged like him

x sibling reader (platonic)

Jax x marionette reader

jax hurting the readers feelings

KINGER:

ZOOBLE:

GANGLE:

OTHER:

Caine x Pomni general hcs

Gummigoo x reader who draws

Master of Me/Gummigoo x reader fic

gummigoo head over heels for the reader

pomni visiting gummigoos npc wife!reader after episode 2

prompt 17 with gummigoo

gummigoo x reader who is a plush wolf

Permanence and gummigoo

Princess loo x fem reader

princess loo x monster reader

Gummigoo x reader x pomni

[silkscream]

swallow me

pairing: peter parker x reader

synopsis: it’s halloween! you unexpectedly cross paths with the Real spiderman. at least you think it’s really him. why does he sound exactly like the cute boy who sits next to you in class?

warnings: explicit (18+) smut, dom!peter but also sub!peter but also dom!reader, oral sex, fingering, mentions of blood/murder/graphic and general spooky stuff, alcohol and drug usage by the reader. bi!reader for no reason. self-indulgent but you all will just have to deal :/

genres: friends to lovers, college!peter, mutual pining, silly fluff

wc: 5k+

a/n: this came out of my ass in one night i apologize in advance. basically i’m obsessed with the idea of being covered in blood and a halloween-themed mutual pining crush situation. this is the result of that. 

“Do you like my costume?” Peter tries meekly, scratching his head.

“I mean… yes. You’re fucking Spiderman?” you reply in the form of a yell and a whisper.

“Well, with him, it’s actually more of a platonic thing… OW!” He yelps when you hit him on the arm. He’s bewildered at how hard you can punch considering he’s the Avenger, not you.

Peter likes you more than he lets on. He’s been in denial about it all since the semester started; he didn’t want to admit even the smallest infatuation. Ever since MJ, he’d been avoiding intimacy like the plague. Not that he and MJ were on bad terms, but something was consistently off and it always felt like his fault. The breakup took months to get over, though the fact that she and Peter went to different colleges helped.

When he met you, you took his breath away, almost literally, because both of you happened to be idiots with no sense of direction. When you two collided, your hair was all over your face because of how windy it was — Peter remembered the sight like a polaroid picture. Hot coffee splayed onto Peter’s jeans, which were black, thankfully. However, you were still so mortified that it took you a minute to realize how crazy you looked pawing near a stranger’s crotch with napkins. Your hands were cold and accidentally grazed his when you bent down to pick up your papers, and when Peter looked into your eyes, he felt like he was levitating.

Peter, being the gentleman, offered to walk you to your class, which happened to be the same one he was in. This is what started your casual friendship in Cultural Anthropology 211, an elective the both of you were to taking to fulfill a history requirement.

You never did notice his stolen glances or how wide his eyes would get in admiration when you’d rant about imperialism during your group discussions. You thought this kid was freaked out or intimidated by you at first but you realized he might’ve had a thing for you.. Heart eyes out of his mind. You shrugged it off. You didn’t do romance… at least that’s what you tell yourself.

__

The crisp October air nipped at your cheeks, a cold contrast to the warmth of your face that lingered from being in a room full of sweaty bodies. You’d lost your roommate in the crowd long ago, partly because of her ditzy nature and partly because you wouldn’t be able to tell her apart from every other white girl dressed as Mia Wallace. You, on the other hand, were keeping warm in a full suit and clear raincoat, fake blood splattered on your face as Patrick Bateman. The film bros were complimenting you left and right with some chauvinist snark thrown in now and then. You didn’t particularly care. It was almost ritualistic of you to argue with men at parties.

Sliding a bedroom window open, you climb out to view the city in its glory. You sigh out a puff of smoke into the night air, occupying yourself with the fake cobwebs and dead plants on the fire escape to people-watch below. You watch as a Playboy bunny on the street across makes out with a girl dressed as the Mad Hatter. It makes your heart soften in the smallest bit.

“Shit!” a familiar voice shrieks somewhere from the building across from you. You hear a loud thud and pained groans, not to mention the comedic timing of a cat yowling skittishly. “Shh, go back inside, cat!”

“Parker? Is that you?” you hiss, joint in one hand as you lean over the banister of the fire escape. You squint into the darkness of the night and see a figure fumbling with a cat whose eyes are reflecting gold and green tints.

Peter looks up at you and accidentally whispers your name in question. His Spider-eyes dilate in realization.

“Peter? What are you doing over there?” you call after him.

“Sorry ma’am, just your friendly neighborhood Spider-man here!” he cries out in a deeper voice. You aren’t convinced.

“Peter, what the fuck?”

“Shhhhh!!!” He somehow swings to you within the speed of light and suddenly his masked fingers are over your mouth. Spiderman?

“Sorry, miss, didn’t mean to, uh, manhandle you like that,” Peter apologizes when he releases you. He coughs and clears his throat. “There’s… danger around the corner. Gotta keep ya safe!”

“Peter, I know it’s y—” He shushes you again before you can finish. “Are you shushing me because there’s actually someone out to get me or because I keep saying your name?”

Peter sighs and puts his head in his hands in defeat. He knows he can’t keep lying to you, especially when you were able to spot him immediately. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Dude, I have your voice memorized.” You widen your eyes at how creepy you might’ve sounded. You clear your throat casually. “Like, it’s memorable. Duh.”

“Do you like my costume?” Peter tries meekly, scratching his head.

“I mean… yes. You’re fucking Spiderman?” you reply in the form of a yell and a whisper.

“Well, with him, it’s actually more of a platonic thing… OW!” He yelps when you hit him on the arm. He’s bewildered at how hard you can punch considering he’s the Avenger, not you. “Nice right hook, Y/L/N.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Okay, you could’ve been any Spiderman considering it’s fucking Halloween, but really? It’d be way funnier if you were wearing a knockoff suit, man. Also, I don’t get how your identity is still a secret when I could recognize you just from the sound of your voice. It’s like how Superman is Clark Kent without glasses. What the fuck is wrong with everyone?”

“Honestly, I think about that sometimes, too,” Peter shrugs, taking off his mask. “I don’t get how you’re not freaking out.”

You shrug. “Shouldn’t you keep your mask on? You know there’s a party inside, right?”

“Oh, oh, right. Shit.”

“C’mon.” You toss your joint in the pot of a dead aloe plant (how do you kill a succulent?) and take his hand, leading him back through the window. His heart flutters and grows heavily against his chest like the Grinch. Peter’s been to space and has met aliens and other masked freaks, yet he’s still overstimulated in a crowd of dressed-up college students raging to Billie Eilish’s ‘bad guy’ under a dozen strobe lights.

“Didn’t think this was your scene,” he yells into your ear over the music.

“It isn’t,” you yell back. “Not yours either, huh.”

Instinctively, Peter snakes an arm and grips you at the waist after a gaggle of boys dressed in fake armor nearly tramples you over.

“What are you, a dead weatherman?” one of them asks you, lifting a spear-headed arrow.

“American Psycho. What are you, a sentient condom commercial?” you raise an eyebrow at the boy’s “shield”, which was ornate with several different kinds of Trojan condoms taped to it.

“Trojan warrior, baby,” he boasts. He picks off one and puts it in the palm of your hand. “Here’s one for you and Spiderman over here. Or me if you can find me later.”

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes. The stranger turns towards Peter.

“Your costume looks like the real thing, dude! Do those web shooters work?” the boy slurs and grabs Peter’s wrist. The hero is startled by the onslaught of unwanted attention and accidentally shoots a sticky, gossamer web towards the stranger, sticking his hand to his red solo cup. “Whoa, man! That’s fucking awesome!”

“Okaaaay, that’s enough,” you mutter, taking Peter’s hand and dragging him out of the room and towards the exit door. The roar of the crowd is silenced abruptly by the slam of the door closing, leaving you and Peter alone in the flickering yellow light of the stairwell. The hallway looks like an American Horror Story set all on its own.

“God, I’m too dizzy to be in a place like that,” Peter breathes, shaking his head.

“What were you doing before I caught you?”

“Patrolling. I didn’t realize I’d run into you. I’m glad I did, though.”

You could feel the blush creep into your cheeks. Luckily it didn’t show on your face easily, plus there was the fake blood splattered on your cheeks. “You hungry? My apartment is a couple blocks away and I have a shit ton of candy still. And probably some leftover takeout.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds amazing,” Peter beams quickly. He always does this, looks at you with his puppy dog eyes like he would follow you anywhere. Which is true. “I mean, yeah. That’d be cool, I guess.”

“Lovely,” you smile warmly, descending down the stairs.

Peter hesitates for a moment. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You won’t tell anyone… about me, right?”

You blink up at Peter in his full suit. Anywhere else in New York City, he’s Spiderman. You’re insignificant compared to him, an ant in a sea of people that simply watches him in awe. At the moment, he’s Peter, and his heart is full when he looks at you, and you can’t resist the growing crush you have on him. It makes your stomach hurt a little bit.

“I swear on my life, Parker.”

___

It’s entertaining how many compliments Peter gets on his “costume” on the walk home. You feel comfortable with him. You almost feel… warm. Peter doesn’t take your sarcasm too seriously and is able to banter back and forth with you easily. The two of you talk horror movies after you explain your costume, you gush about Delmar’s sandwiches, he tells you about Aunt May and what he used to dress up as for Halloween when he was a kid.

By the time Peter’s in your kitchen, you’re arguing about whether or not he would be able to take the Joker in a fight. Obviously, you had a soft spot for Spiderman, but watching Peter defend himself and make faces at you doubting him was hilarious.

“Okay, subject change. Freddy Kreuger or Mike Myers?”

“Freddy.”

“Okaaaay, but Halloween’s a better movie,” Peter argues.

“Dude, Freddy Kreuger gets you in your dreams. Why is Michael Myers still alive even? I don’t get why there’s a new movie. Like what’s his new tactic? Being homophobic?” You raise an eyebrow. “My mother already tried that and I’m still alive.”

Peter feels bad for laughing so hard. He can’t help but notice how pretty you look when you’re laughing, even when there’s blood on your face. It was strangely… hot. He couldn’t imagine how he must look to you with the bruise under his eye after a round of getting roundhouse-kicked on patrol.

“Oh, so are you…” he trails off awkwardly.

“Yes and no. Experimenting.”

Peter nods, trying not to conspicuously breathe a sigh of relief at the fact that he has a chance with you. It was stupid of him. You were a difficult person to read and you made him nervous beyond repair. Most of the time he drove himself crazy by flipping between his actions, one day getting you an extra coffee before class and then sometimes barely saying two words to you. Now that he’s this close to you in your own home, he feels vulnerable. He hopes you can’t see it all over his face.

“Did you want to watch one of the Halloween movies or something?” you inquire, opening your fridge and pouring something purple into a glass, along with cranberry juice and vodka. You make another and push the glass towards him.

“Um, you can pick a movie. What’s this?” He examines the glass and takes a sip.

“What, you don’t want a kiss?”

Peter’s face heats up at your question. He’s dumbstruck and confused, stumbling to get an answer out of his mouth.

You giggle at his reaction. “It’s a cocktail called Vampire’s Kiss.”

“Oh. Right, right. Not a heavy drinker really. Um, not that you are!” Peter attempts to save himself but his foot evidently ends up in his mouth. He finds that he’s very good at that. He’d be grateful to know that you think it’s very cute, actually. “I mean, I’m a newbie at this drinking stuff. Whoa, this is really good!”

You smile at him and you shed your oversized raincoat. You’re left in just a black suit after you take off your red tie. It makes Peter’s heart skip a beat. You’re just so pretty, he thinks. He feels self-conscious every time he looks at you in fear that he’s staring too intensely or for too long. You have the same exact problem but multiplied tenfold after learning about Peter’s superhero identity.

You always thought Peter was cute, pretty even. You failed to realize that he was built rather well, his biceps and strong thighs making his boyish looks even more attractive with his skin-tight suit. The two of you settle onto your couch, unsure of what an appropriate distance between you is.

The two of you compromise on the first Scream movie and thirty minutes in, you’re thigh to thigh sharing a large mug of Vampire’s Kiss back and forth. In the darkness of your living room, your features glow under the bluish light of the TV, long eyelashes casting shadows on your cheeks. Peter would be entertained just staring at you for the rest of the night counting your lashes and tracing the contour of your nose. He feels pathetic.

Your demeanor is darker than his. He ignores Ghostface’s attacks on the television and instead thinks about how antsy he feels. He wants to touch you so badly but you’re like the moon — bright and beautiful and unattainable. It doesn’t help that you’e in a suit. God, you looked in good in a suit. He thinks it’d be fun to take it off of you.

“Please don’t kill me, mister Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!” you repeat the iconic line as it’s said in the movie. Peter chuckles. “I seriously know this shit by heart. If I really wanted to, I’d recite it completely but I actually want to keep our friendship.”

Friendship. The word echoes in Peter’s head like an intrusive thought.

“I think it’s cute,” he says. Your knees are touching. His eyes are fixed on Neve Campbell as he holds his breath.

“I think you’re cute,” you shrug casually. He looks to you and you smile at him with something curious, testing the waters. He shakes his head but there’s nothing hiding his smile. “Aw, Peter. Such a humble Spiderman.”

You muss up his brown hair in a teasing manner, but really, it’s an excuse to touch him. His locks are just as soft as you expected. His eyes are black in the darkness and they’re huge, watching you carefully. His gaze flickers between your eyes and your mouth — you swear you see it. He seems to be thinking deeply but his eyes are fixed on you and nothing else. Internally, you stop caring. You make the first leap.

Peter’s eyes widen when your lips crash into his and your hands are holding his jaw. His eyes flutter closed as he kisses you back, marveling at how soft your lips are and how you taste like berries. The tension between you is a hot knife cutting through butter, a dancer on a tightrope falling through the air. It takes everything inside Peter not to reach towards your dress shirt to unbutton it. He wants to pull you haphazardly onto his lap and feel your skin but he resists. The kiss is slow and sensual. Your eyebrows furrow in concentration.

You don’t know how many minutes it’s been. It feels like time has stopped but the movie goes on. The sound of screaming from the screen takes you out of the kiss and you pull away. You feel something bubble from your throat. Is it shame? Guilt? Desire?

You choose not to tackle these emotions right now. Your eyes are wide and so are Peter’s, though the panic in your chest has you failing to notice how much wanton desire there is written all over his face. You figure you’ll blame it on the vodka.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I should’ve… asked first. I mean, no, I shouldn’t have. That was stupid. Um, I had a lot to drink and stuff. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Peter’s face falls. You aren’t looking at him — instead, you’re staring at the TV racking your brain if you simply read the room wrong. But he kissed me back.

“It’s okay,” Peter replies quietly and you swallow the lump in your throat. Your touch is still burning into his skin. You look at him with a sad smile.

“I don’t usually do that.”

You don’t. You don’t know what came over you and you didn’t want to allow it to continue because then feelings would probably get involved. And you didn’t have the capacity to indulge it no matter how pretty you thought Peter Parker was.

Awkwardly, the two of you slouch back into the couch and resume watching the film. Peter curses himself for not convincing you how much he wants to kiss you over and over. But maybe it was a boundary issue. He wanted to respect you and believe you when you say it was a mistake, that it was poor judgment on your part to kiss him. He wouldn’t want to coerce you, of course. His heart ached all the same.

Ten minutes of painful silence between you two with Scream for background noise. Peter barely moves, refraining from taking a sip from the mug or eating popcorn from the bowl. He wants to withdraw into himself like a fucking turtle.

For the first time since the kiss, the two of you make eye contact. Your eyes crinkle with laughter when you notice that there’s fake blood smeared on Peter’s face from the kiss. Peter looks puzzled but amused, raising his hand to swipe at his face and laugh along with you.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” you mumble again, followed by a chuckle. Peter grins.

A minute of silence again. You’re biting your lip, trying to concentrate on the movie, but you can’t.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“Remember when you kissed me?”

You peer at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Would you mind doing it again?”

You lean into him but he doesn’t even hesitate for your answer, locking your lips immediately. He’s consumed in you, all of you — the way your hair smells like lavender but your neck smells like amber, the way your nose feels nestled into his neck, the softness of your skin. It may be dark but he swears he has tunnel vision when his eyes flutter open just to look at you and tousled hair and pink mouth. Everything else is a blur.

“So pretty,” he mumbles, mostly to himself.

He wants to drink you in as if he was just kissing the memory of you, but in reality he has you memorized as much as you have memorized him (which was a fucking lot). He can’t wait to see the entirety of you so he can know you like the back of his hand. His senses are overloaded with you, you you, and his desire is going from innocent crush to primal lovesickness. He wishes he could capture you in your current state permanently.

You climb into his lap, straddling him and pawing at his brown locks. You stretch your neck to give him access to pepper you with wet kisses down to your collarbone. Peter pulls off your black blazer and pauses for a second, looking at you with his big, brown eyes. You smile at him as a sign of permission and he unbuttons your white blouse.

“You look really fucking hot all bloody like that,” Peter breathes. “Even though it’s fake. Is that fucked up of me?”

“Who told you it was fake?” you purr into his ear, pulling him close. The feeling of your breath tickling his skin makes him grow hard in his suit. He can’t bear wearing it any longer. You laugh quietly with venom laced in the melody. He licks where your jaw connects to your neck like a kitten.

“Mmm. Cornstarch,” Peter teases.

“You are fucked up, Peter. First date and you’re telling me you have a blood kink?” you taunt, pulling his hair so that his head is tilted up at you. He whines in response.

“I don’t,” he mumbles. “Maybe my kink is just you.”

“That’s just called wanting to fuck someone.”

“Who told you I wanted to fuck?” he raises an eyebrow.

“You kind of just did, literally. Also him,” you sneer, grinding against his length below you which emits a groan from his throat. 

You swear you hear him say “fuck, I need you” under his breath.

He picks you up from your thighs and you wrap your legs around his waist. He fumbles with you in his arms, blindly ending up in your bedroom. You’re together like a big blob full of mouths and limbs and giggles. You’re attached to his mouth even when you collapse onto your bed.

“Strip for me, Spiderman,” you whisper at him. Peter obliges and hovers his hand to the center of his chest, leaving him in his briefs. You stop for a second to admire his body, seeing him in a new light in your dim bedroom and lustful state. He doesn’t look like the nerdy boy who stumbles over his words to you in class anymore. He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you.

He takes a second to examine your room. His eyes zero in on a Led Zeppelin t-shirt on the floor by your dresser. 

“Huh. Thought you didn’t like Led Zeppelin,” he teases.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes.

“You made fun of me for being basic,” he fake-pouts.

“It’s an ex’s,” you reply to him curtly, cutting him off with a kiss. He moans at the feeling of you palming him through his underwear and it makes you want to take him into your mouth immediately. You can feel his blushing heat with your hand caressing his face, dried blood giving him something of a heart-shaped mark adorning his cheekbones.

He’s attached to your neck and you revel in the fact that he’s a bit of a biter. The white blouse has been torn away now, which leaves you in a black-laced bra matching your trousers. It gives you an effortless, off-duty model look in Peter’s eyes. He’s ready to lick the dark red lipstick off of you and smear it around your face to make you look as fucked-out as you do in his dreams.

You straddle him and stare back at him unabashedly, lowering your head to lick a stripe from his navel to his chest. Peter’s under your spell as he watches you take off his briefs, immediately dipping your head to take him into your mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses. His mouth hangs open. You like the way he looks with red lips. You love this version of him so much, actually, the one that’s so smitten to you that he’s hypnotized, desperate for your touch. He’s pushing your head down on his cock and his moans are fucking ungodly.

Peter thinks he might cry.

You play with him in your mouth with pride and valor, squeezing his thighs with your hands and looking up at him with a honeyed gaze. The idea of coming in your mouth is extremely appealing, but Peter’s dying to feel you and make you feel even better than him right now. He hits the back of your throat and he thinks he might lose it right then and there. Another kiss to the shaft and a slow lick to the tip comes agonizingly slowly, making him whimper.

“Oh, puppy,” your voice is low. It’s so fucking sexy, Peter thinks. Feels like a knife to the throat, like a polished threat dancing around something pure and untouched. “You wanna cum?”

Peter shakes his head furiously. “Yes, but — FUCK! I-I w-want you to cum first. Please?”

“Yeah?” you bat your lashes at him innocently, despite taking him whole so that his legs are vibrating with pleasure. He’s teetering on the edge and you’re taking advantage of it.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” he begs, pulling your hair so that his cock releases from your lips with a pop.

He’s been drunk on you ever since he saw you on the fire escape and now he’s desperate to taste your cunt. You’re hovering over him now, reciprocating his sweet kisses until he flips you over and settles to the edge of the bed. He pulls your legs forcefully towards him, making you gasp. Unbuttoning your trousers, he slips them down your legs so he can reach your pussy and finally feel your soft thighs on both sides of his face.

His hot, jagged breaths fan over your core for a second before he dives into you completely. You taste just as sweet as your mouth. You grasp at his scalp automatically as if you’re off balance.

“Fuck, Peter, that feels… oh my god,” you moan in a hushed tone, pulling his hair more. He’s whining into you even though he’s taking control now. The obedient puppy. 

Your wetness makes it obscenely easy for Peter to slip two fingers into you, then a third as he sucks on your clit. There’s enough tension in your stomach for the imaginary rubber band in your head to pull to the point of breakage. You’re almost there, swallowing your cries into muffled moans and whimpers. He’s obsessed with how you’re falling apart for him. For Peter, who up until about forty five minutes ago, assumed that you were certainly too cool to like him back. The profanities tumbling out of your pretty little mouth say otherwise.

You’re starry-eyed when you come, eyes screwed shut so that the phosphenes inside your lids bounce around like colorful spotlights. You’re nearly screaming Peter’s name during your orgasm and he continues to finger you, reaching his other arm to cover your mouth with his large hand. Unfortunately, this turns you on even more and makes you want to yell from the rooftops.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK, no more,” you seethe, attempting to take Peter’s hands in yours so that he’s on top of you. “Need you to fuck me now.”

He blushes as his lips meet yours again. You are wet beyond repair, too distracted with Peter’s mouth to be able to see your surroundings. Reaching for your bedside table, you accidentally knock off a few books before attempting to reach for a condom in your drawer, all while still kissing the boy. You panic for a second as you blindly grasp for something you can’t find.

Trojan boy, you remember. It’s comical, really, that some stranger provided you with aid. Your body folds so that your arms reach for your trousers on the floor. You take the condom out of your pocket and laugh breathily.

Once you’re back on the bed, Peter pins you down and groans into your mouth. He grinds himself on your body, desperate for friction, stuck on you like a moth to a flame. Taking the condom from you, he rolls it onto his length and doesn’t hesitate to rub himself to your folds.

You whine in protest impatiently. He smiles, vexing you with smugness. He bites your neck to mark him yours and palms your breast despite your frustrations, though you can’t help but melt at the wetness of his mouth. He unclasps your bra and takes a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue to it agonizingly. You feel like you’re going to explode like a broken circuit if he touches you anywhere else without being inside you.

“Peter,” you whimper. He loves hearing you say his name.

“Yes?”

You glare at him.

“What is it, Y/N?” You’re about ready to tackle him onto the ground just to pin him down and ride him. You want to wipe the teasing smile off his face.

“If you don’t fuck me within the next thirty seconds, I’m going to cut your dick off and use it as a dildo instead.”

“Morbid!” he pouts.

You pull his head down forcefully and kiss him with hunger, arching your body forward and taking his cock into your hand. You guide him into you and the both of you sigh dreamily once he’s fully in you.

Your teeth sinks into his shoulder once his thrusts get a bit faster. It’s impossible for either of you to stay composed at all. At the moment, Peter can’t think about anything at all that isn’t you. He’d be forgetting his own name if it wasn’t for you to remind him with your moans. At one point, his heart skips a beat and nearly falls out of his chest when he hears you. He’s terribly in love with every sound that comes out of your mouth and infatuated with every inch of your skin. He’d let you swallow him whole.

“You feel so good, Peter,” you whisper into his ear. “Harder. Harder.”

“You want me to be rough?” he breathes, brown curls sticking to his forehead.

You nod, babbling please like a stuttering babydoll.

He groans as he thrusts harder into you, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders as his fingers nearly bruise your thighs from gripping so hard. His other hand is around your neck squeezing ever so slightly — the boy’s afraid of actually hurting you. He wants to handle you like delicate glass.

“Fuck, Y/N, I-I think I’m close.”

“Me too,” you hum, eyes half-lidded peering at the beautiful boy. He’s so pretty like this, reddish cheeks matching his raw mouth. You shake under him as your orgasm hits you like lightning. If this was a movie, maybe your body would be glowing.

Peter comes right after you with a groan, thrusts getting slower and sloppier as his wheezed breath crescendos into whimpers. You want to bottle the sound of his orgasm. If you weren’t so blissed out from your own orgasm, you might’ve found shame in that thought.

He’s laughing breathily, voice shaking into your collarbone, and so are you. A lovers’ dopamine high permeates the two of you. He pulls out of you to dispose of the condom quickly and seconds later sprawls his nude body onto your bed, breathing heavily. You look at him with the brightest smile and he returns it.

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?” he asks, gazing at your ceiling.

“Is this Peter asking me or Spiderman?” you lift yourself with an elbow, getting closer to him.

“Whichever… one you’d say yes to…?” Peter’s brow furrows as he frowns.

“That really depends.”

“Well, you kind of just got fucked by both of us, then.”

“Fine,” you sigh, pecking him on the cheek. “And you can make me the drinks next time."