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read the thing you wrote abt mickey altieri 🥺🥺 i love that man so much. if i could, i was wondering if i could request something abt him? maybe something where the read has insomnia and he helps them actually sleep <33 only if you want, of course 🫶

Mickey Altieri x Reader: Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby.

Words: 1199

Warnings: mickey is a killer but reader doesn’t know that (however this is not what the fic is about). there are light mentions of anxiety, stress and pills (for headaches), i think there's swearing (bc it's me).

Summary: after a movie night with your boyfriend mickey, you don’t want to go to sleep.

Author's note: thank you so much for requesting, @altierirose!!! mickey will always have my heart, and he’s so fun to write for. i didn’t make this explicitly about insomnia, but reader does have trouble sleeping and that’s what this is about. no hate to dirty dancing, btw!!! (just a bit.) i'm giving you a follow bc there's not much people appreciating our boy... feel free to request whenever !!!! this is my attempt at not using "y/n" anymore.

Criticism is appreciated and request are open (except for the Wednesday fandom)! Hit that anon button and tell me your idea! You can see the character i write for HERE.

Every Friday night was reserved to you and Mickey since you two had started dating, some months after the beginning of your first college year. It had been agreed by the two of you, because you had soon realized that college life was messy, difficult and crowded; and a little bit of bonding time reserved for your relationship sounded like a good idea. Slowly, it escalated from cute little dates in the campus’ cafeteria to coffee shops outside the enclosure, until you two finally retreated to one plan and one plan only — movie night.

Fairly chosen, one week he was the one to choose one of his movies in between his precious collection, worthy of a Film student; and the next one you would choose, sometimes with better or worse criteria, but always having fun. Popcorn, candy and a blanket pulling you close together, his hand either around your shoulders or wrapped around your waist, letting you lean into him. It was a great plan for a Friday night.

This week it was your turn, and you had purposely chosen a movie that would piss off his movie buff extraordinare’s taste; something like Dirty Dancing. Mickey had bitched around for quite a while, not letting you hear the somewhat awful dialogues, but amusing you anyway because even if he could be annoying, Mickey was still funny and charming, in his own way.

The movie ended not too late, to Mickey’s relief, and as soon as the credits rolled in your little TV he jumped out of the bed with the empty bowl of popcorn in his hands, while he roasted the movie like it had personally offended him.

“It just makes no sense.” He said, putting the bowl in the only table you and your roommate had in your shared dorm. Your friend had always been kind and comprehensive enough to allow you to have the dorm whenever Derek, Mickey’s roommate, didn’t want to leave his. Mickey turned to you, still in bed, with a wide grin. “And seriously, Baby? It’s just so unrealistic for someone to spend a whole summer being called Baby by everyone.”

“Mickey, it’s a movie.” You laughed quietly, your head cocking to the side. 

Mickey pointed at you with his index finger. “That’s not an excuse, and you know that.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Whatever.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that sight, and you watched him do so. Mickey looked really handsome when he laughed, as his face filled with joy and beaming happiness — you liked the way he enjoyed himself around you. It was something sweet.

“I’m dead.” Mickey was able to say as soon as he stopped laughing, exhaustion washing over him after a hard week. His body felt sore, you could tell by the way he crawled to your side in bed. His body next to yours, even on top of the sheets and blanket, felt so familiar. A smile was shot your way. “Let’s go to sleep, uh?”

Something inside you crumbled suddenly as soon as you saw him getting inside the bed, without bothering to look if you were doing the same because he thought it was rather obvious. It produced you a feeling close to anxiety, thinking about sleeping while you slid by his side — this week had been hard on both of you, but what had kicked your ass the most wasn’t assignments and classes, like it had happened to him, but sleep. 

A series of all-nighters the last week had thrown you off, and now your sleep schedule was messed up. You had laid in bed every night, eyes closed, waiting for Orpheus to sweep you out of the world and into sleeping, but it hadn’t happened — as much, an hour or two before your alarm went off you would fall slightly asleep, producing you low headaches that you had successfully avoided with a few pills.

“But it’s so early.” You said, and your voice went a little higher like it used to do whenever you lied, catching Mickey’s attention.

His eyes drifted to your alarm clock behind you, head tilted. “You’re not tired?”

“I am.” You sighed, and then you stuttered a bit, before confessing. “But… I haven’t been sleeping well. It’s– It’s silly.”

Mickey’s body language changed instantly. His back straightened, so he could sit up with it against the headboard, body turned to look at you and give you his full attention. His eyes scanned you slightly, making you look away in embarrassment — you were a grown adult, and not wanting to go to sleep without a good reason was childish, you knew. 

“Is this about the murders going on?” Mickey asked quietly, like someone else apart from you could hear him talking about the matter that had been hunting everyone in your circle for the last couple of weeks. Two people had been murdered in the new, based on real events, slasher’s opening night. “Because if it’s that, I can promise you, you have nothing to worry about.”

“No, it’s not that.” You shook your head, to prove your point, then just shrugged. Mickey watched you curiously, carefully. “I think I’m just too stressed. The exams, and all… College life isn’t as good as they paint it and, I don’t know, maybe I can’t take it.”

A beat of silence, then two, before Mickey’s brows furrowed together. “That’s bullshit.” It surprised you enough to not let you speak instantly, giving him time to speak first. “I mean, I understand you being stressed, it’s natural. But if you can’t take it, then no one can.”

“That’s not true.”

“But it is!” He insisted, seriousness written all over his face. You had only seen him this serious once or twice before, when he was passionately defending a horror movie from Randy’s criticism, and when he had asked you out for the first time. “I think you’re taking it all too seriously. You stress too much about every single test and—”

“But it is serious, Mickey.” You interrupted softly, wrapping your arms around your knees for comfort. “I can’t slow down.”

“It shouldn’t take your sleep away.” He retorted. His hand reached out for you, comfortably squeezing once. “You’re doing great. I mean that. But you need to chill.”

Nodding slightly, your gaze fell down and away from him, processing his words. The silence settled between you, but Mickey needed to know what you were thinking — not anymore to have the upperhand, but because he was worried, and if there was something pure in him, that was his love for you. 

His hand left yours to barely graze your chin, lifting your head and gaze up. “Is that all of it?” Mickey asked softly. His eyes shone. “Nothing more on your mind?”

“That’s all.” You muttered, nodding slightly. He gave you a smile.

“Wanna go to sleep now?” 

Once again you nodded, and you two slid inside the bed. He switched off the lights and his arm surrounding your waist and pulling you closer didn’t startle you. Mickey didn’t fall asleep until you did, surrendering yourself to the calm circles Mickey rubbed onto your back and his even breathing close to you.

Damian Wayne x Reader: slow mornings.

Words: 596

Reader pronouns: not stated (was coded as black reader since this was written with my oc in mind)

Warnings: None, just fluff. Like, a lot. Also, too short.

Edited?: Not yet, sorry.

Summary: Damian has get out of bed and workout, but you're too bewitching.

Author's note: I wrote this with my DC oc, Blake, on mind. She's black, so I guess you could find this little blurb somewhat black-coded. It accepts every type of reader, really, no skinny or hair or skin or eyes mentions, so there you go!! If you've liked it, know my requests are open w the anon option. I also mainly listened to Farewell, Neverland by TXT while writing this lol. OF COURSE, this is older!damian we're talking about.

Criticism is appreciated and request are open! Hit that anon button and tell me your idea! The list for the characters I write is HERE.

Damian always woke up before you did. His routine was rather strict, but simple if he followed it right, and he had enough discipline to follow through with it everyday. A quick breakfast, a heavy workout, a proper breakfast, a heavier and more physical workout, showering and meditation, then the rest of his day. Considering the amount of responsibilities he had as Wayne Enterprises’ VP, he had to wake up really early to fulfill his routine during work days and still arrive on time to the building. Weekends were easier, because they were slower and lacked obnoxious work meetings, and he almost never missed his workouts. Almost.

When he woke that morning, early enough for the light coming through the window to be still weak, his first impulse was to slide out of the bed — pushing the white sheets off his body. But he had barely moved in order to do that, when he noticed your arm around his torso. It made him smile slightly, lovingly, watching your hair all messy around your face, semi buried in the soft, silk pillow.

Damian had had to go to bed before you had even been able to get out of your company’s meeting. In one of the intense but short lived breaks in between your meeting, you had called him and asked not to wait for you, and out of pure exhaustion Damian had actually listened to you and gone to bed once midnight striked. So, this was the first time he was seeing you since early the morning before that.

At least you hadn’t been tired enough not to take your makeup off out of sleepiness, given now she was barefaced. Your skin shone there where the sun, shyly coming in from the barely pulled together curtains, caressed you; and Damian couldn’t help but follow with his eyes the path of happiness on it. His smile widened as his eyes moved slowly, thumb coming to caress your arm again and again and again and again. Damian knew he should have forced himself to lift from the bed more than five minutes ago, but how could he when you could bewitch him by just existing?

Damian’s fingers drew patterns everywhere he could reach, gently easing up as you awakened as you snuggled closer to him. You hid on the crook of his neck, groaning quietly when Damian tickled you slightly, but a smile blossoming on your face because God, it was hard to be mad with Damian when he was this soft. You looked even more precious now to him, as your eyes fluttered, fighting to keep them close.

“Good morning, beloved.” He whispered to your ear, ticklish enough to make you chuckle cheerfully and writhe involuntarily against his body.

You rolled to the side to face him better, but you didn’t open your eyes just yet. “I thought you had to workout today.”

“Something more important came up.”

With that, your eyes opened, glimmering sweetly — Damian’s breath almost caught on the back of your throat. He wanted to stay like this forever. “Oh, yeah?” You hummed, eyebrows up and slightly teasing. Damian just stared, knowing well you appreciated the way he would include you in his mornings from time to time, putting his discipline aside. “And what is that?”

Damian’s lip corner twisted slightly, prompting that charming grin of his. His hand came to your waist, squeezing with the right amount of strength to make you feel terribly loved and important, and then his grin twisted to a genuine smile. “Why don’t you stay and find out?”