The trip had been Mattheo’s idea. A weekend getaway in a rustic house by the lake, all of us together, no adults, no rules. But what none of us expected was that Draco, sweet Draco, would mess up one of the room reservations.
"Okay, relax. It's only for two nights" he said, raising his hands as he checked the confirmation email.
"Wait, what do you mean ‘one bed’?" I asked, leaning over his shoulder.
"Technical error" he shrugged.
"Perfect" I muttered under my breath, turning to look at Theo, who was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing that smug smile that never seemed to leave his face.
"Relax, I don’t bite... unless asked" he said.
"I’m putting pillows between us" I replied instantly.
The house creaked in the cold forest night. The rest of the group was still downstairs playing cards, but I had come up early. Not because I was tired, it was because being in the same room with all this silent tension building between us was starting to feel... inevitable.
As I finished preparing my clothes and my toothbrush for a shower, Theo entered the room and looked at me with a small smile on his lips.
"What are you doing?" Theo asked.
"I’m showering first" I said, grabbing my pajamas and disappearing into the bathroom. The water was warm and quick. Just enough to make me feel comfortable. I changed and came out with damp hair and an oversized shirt.
Theo was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone. When he looked up, his eyes lingered on me a second too long.
"You can take a shower if you like" I said, dodging his gaze.
"Going to spy on me through the door?" he asked with that low voice of his, always carrying something underneath.
"Please," I scoffed. "As if you're that special."
Still, when he pulled his shirt off and walked into the bathroom, I glanced. Just a little.
Minutes later, he came out with wet hair, a gray t-shirt, and cotton pants. He looked… too good. Too comfortable. Too close.
"I already set up the pillow wall," I said, nodding at the line I’d built down the middle of the bed.
"How formal..." he muttered as he laid down on his side. "Such a proper Gryffindor."
I turned the lights off without responding and faced away from him.
A few hours passed.
The room was silent except for the soft hum of the fan and his slow breathing. At least, that’s what I thought.
Until I felt him. Slowly, his body inched closer. One arm slipped carefully over my waist. His breath mingled with mine, warm and close. The pillow barrier was gone. He didn’t say a word. He was pretending to be asleep. But I knew.
And I didn’t turn around.
I didn’t say anything.
I just stayed still, feeling his presence, his warmth, that quiet closeness behind me.
I smiled to myself in the dark, heart racing, breath caught in my throat, and eyes wide open.
Then I closed them again... and drifted back to sleep.
🛏️ Hands on faces in the dark. Your lamb twists, thrashes, and writhes in the throes of a nightmare amongst blankets and furs, heart clamouring inside their chest, disturbing the hounds at the foot of the bed.
The scraggly mutts circle the bedframe, whining and licking their hand.
Wrap them in your arms. Be their warmth, a pillar at their back. Stroke their eyebrow with the pad of a finger. Shh-shh, it’s alright. An unfamiliar bed, that’s all you have to be afraid of. Direct their hand to the hides draped over their chest. There. Soft, you see?
Tell them they’re safe. They will be unnerved by the tang of bitter herbs on their breath and tongue, but you have a wise voice that demands listening to. You know the touches to unmake fear, delicate and soothing. On their brow, cheekbones, and along their jaw to unknot the tension warring in the divots between the vertebrae of their spine.
Safe?
Draw the furs up to their shoulder. The wound there has been retied with bandages over a poultice. The downy animal hairs touch their upper lip and they sag into the comfort, breath deepening.
You are already thinking of what kind of fragrant oils you will massage into their scalp and scent their hair with.
Wave off the beady-eyed servant at the door who has been alerted by the clamour, watching for your safety.
It isn’t yet morning. Sleep. Fit the heel of your hand to their temple where the thoughts brim inside their skull.
Hours later while they drowse, lift them up under the arms, their head curved to their chest, hair falling over lids and lashes. They stir at the sound of cold water poured from a jug into a basin.
Water.
Of course. Offer them a cup. They gulp frenziedly to make up for blood lost. Lower them to the floorboards and lean their head back. Bundle a folded cloth on their brow to dam the outflow from the pitcher. Wash and comb their hair. Thread your fingers through the damp strands. Part, section, and braid, your movements exact.
Servants move about the room, opening curtains, remaking and smoothing the bed coverings. An arrangement of flowers is placed on the sill. The sunlight that sluices over the oak desk with your curls of parchment and wax seals rouses them a bit, but they are pale, shaking, and you can tell by their unsteadiness, their vision sways.
They drink palmfuls of more water from the bowl on the floor beside both of you. Exhausted by the smallest movements, they stare blankly at the clothes the servants have brought for them to dress in. Braies, hose, a shirt, tunic, and boots.
I can help you dress, if it please you.
A scowl warps their mouth. Like fucking hell you will.
Dress yourself on the other side of the room. Behind your back, hear them struggle into clothes that smell of you. Fawn-legged, their head addled by the dwale, they cannot stand on their own. Where is this place? We were in a cart.
Yes. The rest of the folk from your village have been pressed to serve King and country.
Why have you brought me here?
My estate needs another set of hands. You’re to be its caretaker. Lift them onto the bed again. They fall asleep, or feign it, belly-up like a fish in the sun. Once they’ve had a meal to soak up the dregs of medicine in their stomach, this one’s going to be trouble.
On your way out of the room to see to the day’s affairs, mention as much to the servant who had been watching at the doorway earlier. Don't intercept them, they can wander this floor all they like. Let me know when they try to run downstairs.
Could you do a Tyler She I'd x reader where the reader has a tiny bed (like a day bed) and Tyler sleeps over and they have no choice but to cuddle and in the morning tyler tells the reader that he likes them. Or Tyler takes pictures with the reader while she's asleep and post them on twitter/instagram with captions saying how cute the reader is and how attracted he is to her. Maybe? Its bad but I thought it was cute 😅
Title: It’s Kinda Obvious
Pairing: Tyler Scheid/Reader
Summary: Tyler is sleeping over at the reader’s apartment, whose bed is much, much smaller than he’d thought a bed could ever be. The reader eventually convinces him to share the tiny bed with her. Fluff ensues.
A/N: I thought this was a really cute request! I wish I could have gotten to it sooner. I hope you enjoy this Tyler fluff, though!
Pronouns: she/her
Warning(s): they’re sleeping in the same bed, yo
Word count: 1,275 words
(gif is not mine)
“How do you even sleep in that?”
You splayed out on the tiny—by Tyler Standards™—bed, taking up all available space. “How can you not?” You rested your cheek on the palm of your hand, staring up at him with the most blatantly feigned innocent eyes you could muster. “It’s not that hard, Ty-ster.”
He crossed his arms and gave you a look that you could only describe as beyond skeptical—was there even a word for that? “Well, for a tiny person like you,” he said, “maybe.” He shook his head. “But for a giant like me…” He stretched out his arms as far as they could go for effect. “It’s past impossible.”
“That’s because you haven’t even tried, Ty-guy.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Would you quit it with the nicknames?” You stuck your tongue out at him. “You used over, like, ten nicknames in the span of, like, ten minutes, dude.”
You sat up half-way. “Well, I’ll cut you a deal.”
“’If you lay in this bed and look like a gigantic baby because you’re so tall, I’ll stop using the nicknames you hate so much?’”
You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “That pretty much sums it up,” you said, ”though I probably would have used ‘humungous man child’ instead of ‘gigantic baby.’”
“I think ‘gigantic baby’ is funnier, though.”
You laid back down on your bed, throwing your hands up in the air. “Eh, whatever.” You looked up at him, offering your hand. “Deal or no deal? That is the question.”
The beginnings of a smile pulled at his lips. “You have yourself a deal.”
“Great,” you said. “Just let me—”
“Too late!” he interrupted. “Incoming!”
You barely had a moment to react before Tyler came crashing down over you. Without another second to lose, you rolled out of the bed—hard—taking the pillow along with you.
“Ow, ow…”
Tyler glanced over at you as you recovered. A good portion of his legs hung off the bed and his head leaned against the headboard. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“Well, yeah.” You sat up, cringing in pain. “Duh.” It truly wasn’t as bad as you played it up to be.
He just laughed at you. “Why did you roll off the bed then?”
“I thought you were gonna crush me with—” you stifled a laugh— ”your gargantuan bod.”
Tyler shook his head—God, were you obnoxious, but God, did he love you.
——
“No—no.” He crossed his arms. “I am—I am not doing that.”
“Oh, come on,” you whined, wringing your hands, “please? For me?”
He frowned. “I already told you—no.” He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks at the mere thought. He wouldn’t—no, he couldn’t do it.
“It’s not like you haven’t slept to next to one of the guys in a hotel room before! Remember back at Pax when—”
“That—that was different,” he fumbled with his words. “The hotel bed had enough room for both of us. This thing—I wouldn’t even call it a bed, no offense, (Y/N)—isn’t even big enough for me to rest comfortably on it.”
You sighed. “O-kay, okay. That’s fine.” You searched the back of your neck with the palm of your hand. “Um, I can probably find a couple of extra blankets and a pillow so you can sleep on the couch or on the floor or…”
He wasn’t sure if you were pretending to make him feel guilty or not, but—either way—it was working. You had begun your trek to the closet, slumping a little in your gait. He groaned—fine, fine, he would do it.
“Hey, um, wait.” You looked back at him and smiled mischievously at him—or, at least, that’s what he thought he saw. “I can’t believe I’m saying this—but, sure. For your—”
Before he could finish his sentence, you rushed at him, arms open, and swallowed him in a hug. Uh oh, the heat in his cheeks was coming back. “You’re… welcome?”
——
He wasn’t comfortable. No, not at all. He was on his side, back propped up against the concrete apartment wall, and his legs hung way too far off the bed for anyone to be comfortable. Somehow, in the small amount of space he had, he got himself tangled in your blankets and probably wouldn’t be able to get free without assistance—he really felt like a gigantic baby.
The only thing he had going for him was you. You—sometime earlier in the night during one of the few periods where he actually got a moment of shut-eye—managed to squeeze in between his arms to become his little spoon. When Tyler awoke, sensing the unknown warmth on his chest and around his arms, he hit his head against the wall in surprise. After that incident, though, he didn’t dare move in fear of waking you—not even to scratch the itch on his nose that had been killing him for the last twenty minutes.
You shifted in bed, turning toward him and creating soft creaks beneath you from the movement. A pang of fear shot through his heart.
Don’t wake up, don’t wake up, don’t wake up—
You groaned softly and snuggled closer to his chest, eyes shut the entire time. You were still sound asleep—snug as a bug in a rug. He closed his eyes and sighed in relief. His stress unwound itself and floated away—just as his conscious mind did too.
Tyler fell back asleep.
——
The next time he awoke, the pale glow of sunlight broke through the blinds and shone right in his face. He groaned in frustration, forgetting for a moment where—or who—the warmth next to his chest came from, and kicked his feet out in an attempt to untangle his legs from the mess of blankets—to no avail.
He opened his eyes to see you—again. He couldn’t help but smile. So, it wasn’t a dream—a hopeful fantasy. You had turned away from him again in your sleep, assuming the little spoon position once more.
Tyler turned slightly, trying to adjust himself to be more comfortable, and felt something hard touch his butt. Reluctantly, he let go of you with one of his arms and felt for the unknown object touching his butt. It was rather… phone-shaped.
Yes, Tyler had forgotten to plug his phone in and left it in his shorts pocket. Lucky him—his phone was now on thirty percent. But, he also had an idea.
He opened the camera on his phone, leaned over, and took a picture of you fast asleep, making sure not to get himself in the picture. Then, he went to Twitter. It was, Tyler found, a little difficult to type with one hand while your other arm was pinned down, but he managed.
After posting the tweet, he put his phone back down to be lost in the sheets somewhere. He put his arm around you again and closed his eyes to try to go back to sleep. Though, the adrenaline running through his system probably wouldn’t make that an easy task.
Out of nowhere, you giggled, leaning into him. “If you wanted to cuddle with me, you could’ve just asked.”
Huh? His eyes shot open. “What—no, this was your idea,” he said. “I wouldn’t have thought about it unless…”
“Unless?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Unless… you liked me too?”
“Wait.” You turned over in bed to look him in the eye. “Are you saying you like me? That you—Mr. Tyler Scheid—like me?”
“Well, uh, yeah,” he said. “It’s kinda obvious isn’t it?”
