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word count: 1,940
warnings: smut
description: Reader wakes J in the middle of the night.
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You woke suddenly in the night with a racing heart, the slight feeling of panic deep-set in your chest. For a few seconds you didn't know where you were. Blurred and fractured memories lingered in the back of your mind. You frowned in the dark, shadows casting harshly across your gentle features. You soon recognized the outlines of your own furniture and belongings and comfort returned to you.
You sighed as your eyes wandered the pitch black room; snippets of memories came flooding back to remind you of why you'd woken in the first place. You yawned, groaning loudly as you stretched and felt your joints pop and click with fading exhaustion.
You turned over onto your back and massaged your soft, pudgy tummy. You'd gone to sleep with an empty stomach and perhaps it had led to your nightmares but now the last thing you wanted was food.
You got off the bed and walked to the window. Gotham city was still asleep and the moon hung high over your head in the night sky. The ambient light drowned out the starlight you knew would be there. Sometimes city life wasn't worth it to you. You longed for someplace far away from here. Someplace where you could see the stars.
You'd been waking more frequently as of late. You feared this might only be the beginning and that boded even more worrisome. J was aware of your nightmares and their comings and goings. He made you promise to wake him when they plagued you, but tonight you couldn't. You didn't need to and watching him sleep only solidified that. The only thing you needed him to do was rest. You smiled as you turned to see him still sound asleep on the firm mattress. His chest rose and fell with each slow breath he took.
On your way back to bed, you checked the clock: 3:34am. It was too early to wake up for good and so you laid down beside J just to watch him for a few seconds. He was truly beautiful when he was sleeping, his face so relaxed. So soft. Nothing of his usual dark, malevolent nature present in his slumber. Beauty was not a word in which people often associated him with. But you always did.
He had kicked off the covers and it tangled around his legs and feet. He hated to be too hot while he slept. He couldn't stand it. But for you it was always too cold in your room and so you piled on as many blankets as you could possibly fit on your bed and J just had to live with it.
You shuffled closer and started kissing his neck, very soft, very quiet. He groaned a little and turned his head, clearly acknowledging the slight disturbance even in his sleep. J was a light sleeper. He knew he was being touched. Even in his subconscious he could detect a change. You could rarely give him any sort of physical affection without him waking instantaneously. Just as soon as his mental alertness had a chance to catch up, he would wake.
