#i always feel like i don't have enough duvet with a single-sized one

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Highly recommend a double duvet in a single bed, I feel like I'm the small animal in those drawings where they're super comfy in bed. 10/10

[kookicat]

The Scars That You Can't See

"Why don't you sit down?" Sophie asks, after Eliot makes a third or fourth slow lap of the hotel suite they've rented and retreated to for the night. They'll go their own ways in the morning but there's stuff to sort out first. She dismisses the morning plans and returns her attention to their hitter, who quite frankly looks like hell. 

He's wavering on his feet, exhaustion plain on his face which is drawn and pale. He hesitates for a second, then shoots her what he hopes is a disarming grin, though it feels more like a grimace. "Can't." He gives up the pretense, because he's pretty sure she's seeing right through it, which is unnerving. "Tweaked my back. Sitting ain't really an option." 

Or a good idea, he thinks, because once he's down, he's going to be staying that way for a while, until the spasms pass. Being stuck in a chair sounds like hell. Better to be on his feet, keep moving, just in case. Better to stay on his feet, because then he's mobile and ready. Better to stay on his feet, no matter the cost, because then he doesn't have to rely on the team and the still-fragile trust between them. 

"Has it happened before?" she asks, and there's a tone in her voice he's never heard before. "What do you usually do?"

He glances at her again, lounging on the couch in fancy silk PJs, feet clad in soft slippers, every single thing about her totally at odds with his life. He's not sure if it's the concussion or the exhaustion or just that she looks horrified on his behalf, but the words slip out easy. "Yes," he says and makes another slow lap of the room, flicking the big light off as he passes because his head is pounding and the throbbing is making his stomach churn. The lamps cast a muted light that's much easier to bear. "This, usually. Hot bath if I can." He waves a dismissive hand, nearly bites through his lip when the muscles across the bottom of his back cramp from the movement. Realises too late that he hasn't managed to keep the pain off his face, because her hand lands on his shoulder and he finds himself leaning into the touch, eyes drifting closed before he snaps them open again. 

"Come on," Sophie says, and he can't find the energy to argue, not when she's rubbing comforting circles on his shoulder with the flat of her hand. It's nowhere near the pain and yet it helps, somehow. 

The hotel suite has four bedrooms. He'd planned on sacking out on the plush leather couch, but the sight of the king size bed nearly sends him to his knees. He aches all over, broken ribs throbbing even after a double dose of ibuprofen. His bag and kit is somewhere, but he's just too damn tired to hunt for it. He's past the point of the prescription muscle relaxants doing much good anyway, and the heavy duty painkillers he packed are always dicey on an empty stomach. And puking while I feel like this.. He winces at the thought. 

"What do you need?" she asks, and tugs the coverlet off the bed, leaving just the duvet and pillows, soft and white and so fluffy the urge to lay down is almost overwhelming. 

He glances down at his feet, feeling weirdly shy all of a sudden, but her hand lands on his shoulder again and the moment passes. "Heat packs will help." He rubs the back of his neck and her fingers probe the spot where the long muscles run down into his shoulder. "I have drugs, but they don't do much. Just rest, really. Gotta wait for it to pass." 

He knows he should shut whatever this is down, should step away, retreat to the couch, but it feels too good to be touched with gentleness and he can't make his feet move. Can't remember the last time he let someone close enough to touch him, not unless there was sex involved, and that's a whole other thing to whatever this new intimacy between them is. 

She finds the knot and starts a careful massage that sends warmth through him for more than one reason. It's not often he lets himself be touched like this, for comfort, with no expectation of more. The realisation makes him tense, and she tsks, fingers still working on the knot. 

It relaxes, after a few minutes of careful manipulation and he can't stop the shaky breath of relief that eases out of him. 

"You're good at that," he says and rolls his neck, carefully, because the muscles across the bottom of his back are still cramping badly enough that the pain is running down his legs. 

"I spent three months training at a Swiss spa to catch a mob boss who had the best collection of pink diamonds a girl has ever seen." She pats his arm, gently, and grins. "Man had a back like a bear. All thick black hair. It was like massaging a pig." She shudders, dramatically, nose wrinkling. "But it paid off. Twenty minutes of massaging the lout, and I got an invite to his villa. Three days after that, the diamonds and I were back in London." 

He has plenty of war stories of his own, but he can't think of anything that won't horrify her even more. "Sounds like quite the sacrifice," he murmurs, lip quirking when she snorts in a very unladylike way. 

She's studying him, in a quiet way that makes his hackles rise, because usually no good comes from that sort of look. "Why don't you lie down?" 

He thinks about it, runs up against a huge wall of nope inside his head, and can't figure out a way of saying that without it sounding like he doesn't trust her which will take them into an area he has no desire to go. He just doesn't have the energy for it, for a start. 

"Eliot," she says and the exasperation is plain in her voice. "You're no use to anyone like this. You need rest."

He sighs, shrugging before he thinks about it, and his entire back seizes up in a wave that steals his breath and paints his vision with vivid red spots. He knows she's talking to him, but he can't think past the agony, can't focus on anything else but the awful cramping. When it eases, he's sitting on the bed, with Sophie eyeing him with clear alarm. One hand is rubbing slightly frantic circles on his arm, the other resting on his shoulder. "Eliot, tell me what you need!" she says. 

"Heat packs," he croaks and eases himself down, pulling his knees up to take some of the pressure off his back. It helps, even if the movement sends shooting pains through his body.

It’s not the first time he’s thrown his back out, but it’s damn inconvenient when they’re in a hotel, because if he was at home, he’d hole up in the tub and let the hot water work its magic. The damned hotel only has a shower, and he’s feeling sore and shaky enough not to want to risk it, because falling on his ass twice in one day would really push him over the edge.

It takes him a second to realise that she's vanished and he closes his eyes, blowing out a careful breath, trying to get his muscles to relax through sheer force of will. It's about as effective as he expects it to be and he gives up, listening to the sounds in the suite instead. 

There's a couple arguing outside, voices rising and falling in a pattern he knows all too well, but they're too far away for him to understand the words. The coffee pot in the kitchenette hisses. Nate, he thinks, making coffee like it'll actually hide how much he's drinking. Faint typing comes through the wall, oddly comforting, because if he's learned one thing while working with the team, it's that Hardison is meticulous about covering their tracks after a job. He can't hear Parker, but the hotel minibar had been stocked with good chocolate and mini boxes of Lucky Charms, and he figures she's perched somewhere high eating enough sugar to fuel a small country. Girl has the metabolism of a hummingbird, he thinks, and blinks in mild surprise when he realises he's smiling. 

Shuffling footsteps coming back towards his room make him roll his head towards the door, body tensing without his conscious thought until Sophie steps into his view. 

"I couldn't get heat packs," she says, and his heart sinks, "but the hotel sent up a plug in heating pad and I guess it'll work the same." 

His bag lands on the bed next to his head, along with a bottle of apple juice. "Thanks, Sophie," he says, and braces himself to move, holding his breath because he knows it's going to to suck. "I got it." 

"You got it?!" she echoes, voice rising enough to make him wince. "You can hardly stand, Eliot!" 

"I'm layin' down…" he mutters, and realises a second too late that it's exactly the wrong thing to say. 

Oh, shit, he thinks as she glares down at him. "You are now. But left to your own devices, you'd still be doing fucking laps of the hotel room because-" 

Oh shit, he thinks again, because the outburst is suddenly making a whole lot of sense. "Sophie," he says, quietly, and she snaps her mouth closed hard enough that her teeth click together. 

"Let me plug this in," she says, keeping her eyes fixed on the fluffy pad. 

"This ain't your fault," he says and shifts slightly, teeth sinking into the inside of his lip as his back spasms again. "That fight would have happened no matter what you did." 

"How do you do it?" she asks, fingers toying with the controls so she doesn't have to look at him. "Head into jobs knowing that you're going to come out hurt?" 

"I don't think about it, much," he says, honestly. "Just do what I gotta do and let the chips fall how they will." 

There's a nasty little dark corner of his brain where he locks all the bad shit away. Locks the fear of a devastating injury in there too, because to do what he does, he can't think about it. Can't go into every fight with a swarm of what ifs buzzing around his head like angry wasps. 

"Now, you wanna pass that heating pack somewhere useful?" 

"Only if you take your drugs first," she says, and some of the tension has left her face. 

Taking the pills means moving and he's tolerably comfortable as long as he stays still, at least for the moment. But the pain will be worth it, if taking them eases the misplaced guilt Sophie is carrying. And admit it, you've never been able to say no to any of them…it's just like Damien Moreau all over again. 

It could be, because Nate is the flip side of the coin to his old boss, but it isn't, and the way Sophie is looking at him right now is the difference. "Fine," he says and eases over onto his side, holding back the grunt of pain by sheer bloody minded stubbornness. The change in position reignites every irritated nerve and damaged muscle, and he feels the blood drain out of his face. His stomach rolls and he grits his teeth, breathing slowly. Because I'm pretty sure if I puke I'm going to pass out and she's freaked out enough, he thinks. 

Warmth settles over his lower back in a soothing blanket and he manages to unclench his fingers from the sheets. 

"Better?" Sophie asks, and cranks the heat to max. 

"Oh yeah," he breathes, then hesitates, the wall of nope in his brain showing up again. "Can you-" he starts, then stops, because he's still not used to being able to ask for help. "Can you stick a pillow between my knees?" he gets out in a rush, and instantly wishes that he could take the words back. 

She grabs one, push and fat and fluffy, from the bed and wedges it between his knees. It helps, takes some of the strain off his lower back and the spasm eases a little. 

He pulls the pill case from his bag, fumbling because between the heat and the relief if just lying down, the exhaustion is hitting hard, suddenly. 

"Which ones?" She takes the case, looking at him expectly. 

"Two pink, one yellow." Two Diclofenac, which he knows he's going to regret taking on an empty stomach and a muscle relaxant. He swallows the pills with a gulp of apple juice, knows they're going to hit quick because the last thing he ate was a questionably fresh bagel at the breakfast buffet. 

"I really am sorry for what I did," Sophie says. "If you need anything else, I'll be on the sofa," she adds, softly, and heads towards the door. 

"Soph," he calls and she stops, turning to look at him. 

He gestures behind him, carefully, to the wide expanse of unused bed. "There's plenty of space, and I don't snore." 

It's an olive branch and a new step on their path and he offers it carefully, because he's not sure how much trust they've rebuilt and how much they still have to go. But they have to start somewhere, if the team is going to keep functioning, and this is all he can offer right now. 

She closes the door and walks back, clicking the big lamp off as she passes so the room falls into twilight. 

"I do," she mummers, and eases down on the bed so she doesn't jostle him. 

"You do?" he asks, slowly, voice heavy with sleep. 

"Snore," she says, and clicks the light out. 

[finniestoncrane]

Hey, loving your stuff, especially your take on capullo!Riddler, hes such a lovable sleaze-bag♥️🥰 Wanted to ask if you have any headcanons on whats it like to sleep in the same bed with the riddlers? Also maybe how they like to be woken up👀😏?

Riddlers Waking Up

Riddler Headcanons good god i love that sleazy little misogynist, ready to set back feminism for that red-headed angel 💚 this was such a fun request anon and now i am sleepy and aroused so good modd i guess request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: sex work, suggestive language, daddy!kink

young justice

god he is an absolute sweetheart to sleep with. he'll let you bring stuffies in, he'll make sure you have enough duvet, he'll fluff your pillows for you before you get in, and he'll make sure you are comfortable with the way he's hugging you. definitely likes being big spoon because it makes him feel like the protector he likes waking up to you stroking his hair or his face, just watching him peacefully sleeping, or waking up with his face buried into your head or neck, inhaling the smell of your shampoo

gotham

another one who makes it his mission to have it feel like you're sleeping in a five star hotel. clean sheets, pyjamas folded on your pillow, he's one mint short of being able to apply for a star rating system. he's long and lanky and wraps himself around you in your sleep, holding you round the waist, close to him he likes to wake up first, just so he can prepare your cute breakfast of heart shaped toast with a question shaped fried egg in the middle (intricate, wonder how many times he failed before this perfect looking one) and tea. always with the tea

twojar

he has a bachelor bed. not a gross bachelor bed, like he has a bed frame and sheets and more than two pillows. but it's very sterile and gray and the sheets don't have softener on them. it's nice to sleep in the same bed as him though because he likes sleeping naked (kaching) and loves having your head and hand resting on his chest (kaching) while he strokes your arm or hair or side if he could wake up to you stroking his chest, tracing his scar, running your hands through his hair, he would be set for the rest of the day. he keeps mouthwash in the bedside cabinet so that he can start the day off right with a very passionate kiss

telltale

he needs his space. if he didn't think it would upset you, he would like to suggest you have two single beds like a couple on a 60s tv sitcom. but he'll tolerate sharing a bed as long as it is at least king-size and he doesn't feel you in the night. he will always without failure give you a kiss before you fall asleep though if he wakes up and his back doesn't hurt, that's all he could ever wish and hope for. and it's nice you're still there too. but not having to pound painkillers with his coffee, sorry at his age that's more desirable than morning sex

dano

he will fall asleep facing away from you but you will wake up with him wrapped around you. he's just a bit shy, he doesn't want to bother you, get in your space during your sleep, because sleep is so important! but he can't help himself, his body just gravitates towards you, desperate to hold you very close and protect you in the morning, he likes you to turn the alarm off before it wakes him up so that you can gently bring him into the day with a kiss on the forehead, brushing his fluffy hair, and passing him his glasses so the first thing he can see without blurry vision is you

unburied

he has to be the little spoon and he'll freak out and make sure you do not sleep unless he gets to be snuggled and warmed. he's a total pain in the ass. he will pull the duvet off you, sleep in the middle of the bed, keep you awake if you are sleepier than him. the worst. but he makes up for it by being so soft and cute and huggable he likes to be wakened up with you around him, kissing the back of his neck, definitely hinting to him that there's potential for it to be a very good start to the day

arkham

god he is a sweetheart to sleep with. he's a night time shower guy, so when he gets into bed he's soft, warm and clean (which isn't as nice a smell as his usual musk, but whatever). his hair is soft, his face is free of smudges, and you can really get a good look at how handsome he is. so many kisses will get peppered all over you, and he won't go to sleep until he's made sure you've already nodded off. whatever calms you down most, riddles, hair stroking, tickling your arm, he'll dedicate hours to it if need be if you could wake him up with some worship of his body that would be nice. kissing his arms, his chest, his face, his legs, his side, just a nice reminder that you're very interested in him for something other than his intelligence, because he's stupidly self-conscious about that

capullo

no sheets for you. no space for you. you can one pillow but he needs three. he's too hot so don't touch him, but he will fall asleep with his hands on your chest or your ass. he snores too, and don't even think about waking him up to get him to stop because he really needs his rest, he's too important to not function on a solid 9 hours. also here's a question: will you let him fall asleep while he cock warms inside of you? because that would really help him relax and don't you want to make him happy? ok so if he's dreaming, he'd love to wake up to you sucking him off. is that really too much to ask? or like, hey if you're really keen to please, just start riding him. he wakes up hard most mornings anyway so you can just hop right on. if he wakes up first, you can also bet you'll wake up to him pressing his erection against you. irritating, i love him