#jerma x reader

you remember when you first stayed the night, having been up too late talking and he offered you his bed. a sweetheart, like always. he mentioned how he's always a little cold but has "cozy" blankets, "would help you survive a boston winter" blankets. you thought he was crazy to sleep in just boxers and while you donned a shirt and a pair of sweats, you found that a few hours into the night you were sweating but he was pleasantly warm with not a sweat bead to be found.

so now, with one arm draped across his abdomen, the other tucked under your pillow, you nuzzled your cheek into his skin gently. you could feel his chest rise and fall in nearly even breaths, choosing to continue staring in the dull light of the room. jeremy was adorable to you all the time, but when he yawned himself awake and stretched like a sleepy cat, it was your favorite.

"i can hear you watching me," he murmurs, wrapping an arm around you to the best of his ability and pulling you a little closer.

"no you can't," you whisper back, tugging the blankets back over your shoulders. "go back to sleep, jer."

"mmmhmm..." and he had drifted off before he could get out another syllable. your chest shook with a tiny laugh and you closed your eyes again. you wondered if the warmth sped up time or slowed it down as you let sleep take you again.

however much time had passed didn't matter, the only thing that did was your body realizing the source of your warmth had vanished. your hand lazily patted around on the bed before you groaned and raised your head, blinking away the sleep. alone, cold, abandoned even.

"come baaaaack," you called into the pillow, knowing it would be muffled but being too tired to want to flip around. your hand patted at the bed like he was a dog waiting for the okay to get back onto the mattress, but you hoped he was just out of reach, coming back into the room after peeing or grabbing a drink or...

As a dad, he’d be top tier. Almost to a fault. Having a loved one being pregnant is stressful to begin with; being the significant other can be the same and even 100 times more. He’d be nervous but excited. Every week to month excited to see what the ultrasound brings to the table.

Everyday mentally worried about how fast time had flown by. Rattled with anticipation, time had become an irrational fear; asking himself everyday if you both were ready or not. Of course you both were. But being new parents, you overanalyze every single thing. Although just as nervous, he’d be such a comfort. He can’t stop checking in on you and the baby throughout each day.

‘If you and the baby are alright, then I’m alright.’

He had to remind himself those exact words so often so, that whenever he began to seem even slightly tense, too quiet or just off; you’d simply say, “we’re alright.”

He sighed with relief every time he heard it. The way your face warmly smiled at him. Your endless reassurance to him, there was simply no fear that could outdo the twinkle in your eyes and the soothing tone of your voice. You’d always say it so firm but confident.

Without pause, he sat down close to you holding your hand in his. He tells you that he knew that you would be the most amazing mother. You were already the most amazing person to him to begin with.

Speechless, you just let the tears flow and rest your head on his shoulder as he pulls you closer to hold you. You can feel the drops of tears fall onto the crown of your head as he sheds his own happy tears with you.

Days that had been long filled with doubt and emotions began to fall in line with the same love those words held.

You’d both be able to finally enjoy the moments of each day that no longer passed with a painful anticipation; but in turn a grateful appreciation of every second. Laughing at your new bizarre cravings in unison. Sharing excitement in the new obscure object that the baby had grown to the equivalent of with each new ultrasound.

And of course being taken care of by him every single day. No matter what it was. Making your favorite comfort food. Being there to hold you while you cried when hormones got the best of you, resting your feet on his lap to ease the swelling. It was so simple and sweet.

He’d spend a lot of his free time in the nursery. He did it all, from assembling the crib to repainting the walls. Arranging all the gifts from your baby shower. Completely dedicated to organizing and detailing it just the way you would have wanted. Truly sparing no effort to make it a special labor of love. Both of you admired the love and care put into every aspect of it all.

One day in particular hit you the hardest. Whilst walking past the nursery you stopped and watched in silence. He sat cross legged on the floor with crafting supplies surrounding him, entirely consumed with focus. It was the simple but sentiment filled moment of seeing him baby-book every single thing that had brought you two together and to that very moment.

He was pulled out of his own focus from the sound of you sniffling. As he turned to see you, he scrambled to cover it in a poor attempt to hide it. Explaining how it was supposed to be a surprise, he finally caved with your endless begging to see it.

You both sat on the floor of the nursery page by page reminiscing over every detail- from the first date you shared, the first copy of the key he gave you to his place. To every anniversary, every holiday. And of course, the most recent pages had been filled with each ultrasound picture and doctor visit. Even all of your newest cravings.

Reaching the last filled out pages, you’re left with only the remaining blank ones. All you can do is smile ear to ear at him.

“I can’t wait to see what we get to put in the rest of all these pages together.” You remark, while he smiles even more. Sharing the same excitement,

"I wish he was real," you sigh, caressing the screen of your monitor as you watch the streamer make bizarre noises that shouldn't be humanly possible. You close your eyes and shake your head as Jerma's character around the map, just looking around for some entity to battle to continue his Elden Ring stream.

You yawn and check the time, humming when you notice the early hours right before dawn hits. Deciding to go to bed soon, you type something in chat, though, when you go to type, the stream freezes, as does your screen. In confusion, you move your mouse around, though the cursor doesn't budge from its space beside the blank chat box. You let out a quiet curse, heart rate increasing as your screen begins to glitch. Then, the screen begins to warp. And not in the cliche 'I'm being sucked into a portal because I downloaded a magical virus after taking a survey', no. This is some 'The Ring' shit.

You stand up and walk to the door, not wanting to die just yet. You grab the handle of your door and, before you've even twisted the knob, a hand juts out of the screen, and then an arm, and the hand begins to search for something to grab onto.

"Did I take something?" You question yourself as you exit your room, panic etched onto your face as a horribly loud 'thud!' resonated through your place of residence. You freeze, blood stilling in your body as you mull over all the life choices you had made that lead you up to this very moment.

The air falls silent for a long while, and you take that as your cue to get the fuck out of dodge. You don't make it far when your door creaks open and a voice rings out.

"Where ya goin'?"

You hurry down the stairs, pleading to your balance that you don't end up slipping from the friction of socks on slippery steps. As you get to the last one, you're grabbed by the collar of your shirt and are turned around to face whatever is in your house with you.

You're thoroughly shocked with what you're greeted with.

"Jerma?" Your face scrunches as you take in the characteristics of the man. His eyes stare into yours, and you can almost see some sort of . . . oh, that's liquid in there. That's weird. But, like, the sick kind of weird.

The streamer responds with not words, but a melody of beatboxing that you're barely able to comprehend due to how little his mouth moves with the noises.

"Is this real?" Your voice is quiet, still taking in every detail of the online being (who's still holding you by your collar). You swear you can see a low poly rat take his place when your vision blurs from strain.

Jerma doesn't respond to you this time, instead turning around and heading to your bedroom to place you on your bed. He settles you under the covers, pulling your blankets over your body and up to your chin, before grabbing your chair and situating himself comfortably.

You take a moment to ground yourself, looking around your room to make sure you can see the clocks clearly, and to see if your PC setup is okay, as well. Luckily, both of your questions are answered when your eyes land on the bottom corner of your monitor, bright and tiny.

3:59 am

You blink, turning your attention back to the cryptid sitting in your swivel chair.

"Um." You're not sure how to start a new conversation, so you better make this short. "Do you know any lullabies?" You idiot, not that short!

Jerma nods and clears his throat, warming up his vocal chords eagerly. And he sings, hushed and speedy.

Your eyelids droop, and your head lolling to the side as the real-time Nightcore enters your ears.

You dream of nothing but that one TikTok account: JermaSpins.

When you wake, you're greeted with the sight of Jerma spinning, just like in your dreams.