𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 | 𝚓𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝

𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙤 | 𝟷/𝟷

[photo: from an older stream of his, I can't find the exact title as I got this photo from instagram | wc: 1,150 | note: Today is my birthday (the 6th)! And also marks a week before I move to a new state for college. Exciting times! Writing will continue to be slow but not nonexistent. Getting new requests really helps me find inspiration too, so I'm very grateful that so many of you have not given up with me or been very impatient, it really means a lot to me! Also, this book has an absolutely insane number of readers, so thank you all so much for checking it out and sticking around!! | request: from @_AWildSuicidal_ "what if y/n had a really bad nightmare and Jonathan had to comfort them but he doesn't really understand what to do so he just ends up cuddling with them?" This doesn't follow it exactly, but the general idea is kept! Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy it!]

You shot up in bed, frantic at first but settling as your surroundings became recognizable. It wasn't real, but just to be sure, you placed a hand beneath his nose and felt his smooth and deep breaths on your skin.

Hanging your feet over the edge of the bed, feeling the cold radiate from the floorboards, you held your head in your hands and ran your fingers through your hair.

"Y/N..?" His voice was low and groggy, but you could make out your name easily.

"It's okay, you can go back to sleep, baby," you soothed, struggling to maintain your own composure long enough to convince him.

The movement from behind you signified that he didn't believe you anyways.

Legs wrapped around your waist as you felt his chest press flush against your back. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, "What's wrong?"

You rested your hands on his arms as they slowly snaked around your torso, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles in the fabric of your loose pajama shirt.

"Nothing," you lied.

"Hmpf," he scoffed, kissing your shoulder shortly, "You don't have to tell me, but don't lie to me."

"Fine," you couldn't decide if it was frustrating or reassuring that he could read you so well, "I just—I had a nightmare, that's all."

"A nightmare? About what?" He squeezed you slightly, bringing you even closer to him.

"About you—," before you could manage to explain anything, your voice broke and you bit your lip to distract yourself from crying.

"Hey, hey," he pulled away from you slightly, likely planning to readjust or switch to a position where he could see you more clearly, but in an attempt to hide your tears from him, you pulled his arms back around you and kept him there, "Y/N, babe, it's okay."

You swallowed, "I know it is—God, this is so childish. I'm so stupid—"

"Hey, no you're not! Don't talk about yourself that way, you're not stupid. You're the smartest person I know. You can't control dreams or nightmares—well, maybe some people can, like lucid dreaming or s—that's not the point. You're not childish for having a nightmare, it's probably just your brain processing things in a way you have no control over," he rambled, giving you the time to regain your composure, though only momentarily for when he repeated his previous question, you broke again, "So, uh... what happened in it with me?"

"Y-you," you sniffled and wiped at your eyes, giving him the chance to move from around you to stand in front of you. Your sentences were choppy, but you managed to convey the general story, "You were at a gathering o-or something and we had an argument, over something dumb, and I said that I hated you—which isn't true—a-and I turned to leave, and the next thing I knew people were screaming and someone hurt you. I couldn't do anything to save you and I just don't know what I'd do without you.."

"Y/N—I-I don't know what to say," for one of the first times since you met him, he was speechless. Not quiet—he usually spent his time wordlessly observing or as his friends would call it "scheming"—but speechless.

"It's okay, really, I don't want you to say anything," at first he seemed suspicious of your statement, but grew to accept it when you added, admitting, "I just want you to hold me."

You pulled him from in front of you back onto the bed where he laid flat, staring at the ceiling, his legs still somehow bent passed the end of the bed with his height that you still struggled to grasp, as you tossed yourself to his side and rested your head on his chest.

After a moment, and checking to make sure you had not fallen asleep yet as it was something he was not prepared to wake you up for, he whispered, "Y/N?"

"Yeah, Jonathan?" You tangled your legs with his as his hand wrapped around your shoulder and squeezed it softly.

"I don't want to get sappy, but you need to know that I love you. And I would never leave you. You're my entire world and the only woman I've ever met who uplifts me and teases me," you share the moment with a quiet chuckle as he continued, "The only woman I've ever met that I haven't been afraid to open up to. I'll never let that go. You'll never have to know what you'd do without me."

You sat with his statement, glad that you were awake for him to make it, and turned your head to kiss the hand that relaxed on your shoulder, "Ditto."

"Ditto?" His chest erupted with laughter, the kind that instantly fills you with joy.

"Yeah, ditto," you kept your confidence as he turned on his side to face you.

Kissing your forehead, he added, "if you're feeling better and comfortable with going back to sleep we can just stay here and cuddle until we pass out, but if you want to stay up instead and boot up Mario Kart or grab food, I'm down."

"As tempting as it is, I think I'm okay now," you admit, keeping your head to his chest as you lost track of whose limbs are whose, "And cuddling is more tempting anyways."

"If you say so," he kissed your forehead before resting his chin on the top of your head.

"I love you, Jonathan," you could feel the sleep washing over you with every time his hands moved up and down your back.

"Ditto," his reply brought a smile to your lips, one that you know he could feel against his chest, and was the last thing either of you could remember before succumbing to the late hours of the night.