Imagine you’re traveling with the nightbrothers and need a place to stay for the night but there’s only one bed 👀
The Nightbrothers - One Bed Trope
includes: Maul, Savage, Icarus, Scorn, Feral x jedi gn reader
warnings: it’s a little rough and tough, these babies are like wild cats you guys, you can’t tame them, no rules.
note: I yapped too much again, but its fun thoo :^)
Your vision blurred and everything went quiet as your head slammed against the wall with unforgiving force. You weakly reached for him as your knees gave out beneath you, barely managing to hold onto his robes before collapsing anyway. For a second everything went dark. The next, you were on the floor, unable to move, unable to speak, just staring blankly at his boots in front of you.
“If we’re done here,” Maul says coldly, “I sure would like you to join me. Despite how adorable you look on the floor.”
And with that, he simply walks away and collapses onto the bed.
It’s been a long day. You’ve spent hours arguing with him, trying to get him to snap out of whatever homicidal spiral he’s currently trapped in. The two of you are stranded in the middle of nowhere, and the old inn you found only had one room left. One room. One very small bed.
He’s already irritated that despite the tension and obvious attraction between the two of you, nothing concrete happened yet. And now this, on top of the fight, only one bed and you, you and your stubbornness.
Part of him genuinely cannot understand it.
He wishes you would just forget the horrible things he does somehow. Just trust him already. In his mind, he is treating you well. Putting aside the murder and emotional instability, he believes himself to be quite the gentleman. He’d never touch you inappropriately unless you asked for it? Clearly that should count for something?!
His thoughts start spiraling so badly he begins muttering under his breath, almost arguing with himself again.
Meanwhile, you somehow manage to drag yourself upright. Dizzy, exhausted, you stumble toward the bed, you lower yourself onto the floor beside it, pressing your back against the mattress.
Blood drips slowly from your nose. You wipe it away with your knuckles, sniffling quietly as another drop lands on the floorboards.
“When will you stop behaving like a child…” Maul hisses. “I know you’re bleeding. I can smell it.”
With an irritated sigh, he pushes himself off the bed and sits down beside you on the floor. He reaches for your face and despite you flinching away instinctively, he grabs your jaw anyway, turning your head toward him.
His fingers wiping the remaining blood from beneath your nose before he tilts your head upward, inspecting you carefully.
“You’ll be fine in no time,” he mutters. “You’re a tough little thing.”
He pats lightly at your cheek before leaning back against the side of the bed, pulling you down against his shoulder with him as he settles lower onto the floor, trying to get comfortable.
The two of you end up falling asleep like that against the side of the bed, while the actual bed remains completely unused.xD
Somewhere in the middle of the night, Maul suddenly stirs.
Before you can even properly wake up, one strong arm hooks around your waist and drags you upward with him onto the mattress.
You let out a startled noise immediately, half asleep and confused as he pulls you tightly against his chest beneath the blankets.
“Oh hush,” he mutters tiredly. “You’re freezing.”
You weakly struggle, still disoriented from being woken up so suddenly, but his grip only tightens around you possessively.
“No,” he grumbles against the top of your head before you can protest properly. “We are not sleeping on the floor, I allowed it long enough.”
You squirm again anyway.Not only to get away but because hes holding onto you too tightly now, and he knows it too.
“Stop fighting me,” he says, sounding almost amused this time. And annoyingly enough, the second you stop resisting, he relaxes slightly too.
“Fine” you mumble, “I’ll stay, just let me turn towards you”
Then immediately his hold loosens just enough for you to shift. The second you settle facing him beneath the blankets, something in his expression changes completely. Satisfaction.
His yellow eyes stay fixed on your face like he genuinely cannot believe he managed to get you here.One hand remains around your waist beneath the blanket while the other comes up slowly to your face, gently patting along your cheek and jaw.
“You see?” he murmurs quietly. “This is much better.”
You roll your eyes a little, but neither of you actually move away.
You start talking quietly about nothing important, mostly just tired rambling to fill the silence, but halfway through one of your sentences you realize he isn’t even responding anymore.
He’s just staring at you.
His thumb slowly brushes beneath your eye while he listens with this weirdly fond look on his face, memorizing every expression you make.
“What?” you mumble self consciously.
But the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth says otherwise.
And every time you shift even slightly farther away while talking, his arm around your waist immediately pulls you right back closer again.
The two of you just stand there silently by the door, staring at the tiny bed shoved into the corner of the dark little room.
Savage’s yellow eyes flick between you and the bed again, visibly nervous already. Even through the dim lighting you can see the faint blush spreading across his face markings.
“How are we gonna fit in there?” he asks finally, in the most genuinely confused tone imaginable.
“We??” you immediately snap your head toward him. “There is no we. I’m taking the bed.”
“Oh…right. Yeah.” He clears his throat awkwardly, ears warming even more. “That’s... that’s what I meant.”
You stare at him. It sooo was the hell not what he meant.
He basically just exposed himself completely. Somewhere in that giant head of his, he already assumed the two of you would naturally be sleeping together. Not even in a smooth way either, he just genuinely didn’t think about it.
In reality, Savage doesn’t fully understand why you wouldn’t sleep together. You travel together. Protect each other. Eat together. Stay close constantly. In his mind, sharing a bed just feels... normal.
But now he realizes you think about these things way more.
“Yeah...” he mutters awkwardly, rubbing the back of one horn. “I’ll just sleep on the floor then.”
The problem is the second he says it, you feel bad for him.
Because the floor is cold ;c And he’s... well..Savage.
You try not to look at him while he quietly starts removing pieces of his armor, pretending not to care. Pretending he didn’t accidentally confess that he wants to sleep next to you.
Finally you sigh dramatically. “You better not crush me.”
Savage freezes mid movement. “What?”
“The bed,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. “We can share it. Just... stay on your side.”
The way his entire expression softens is almost embarrassing. For someone so terrifying, he suddenly looks weirdly shy.
He climbs into bed with extra caution, moving slowly like he’s scared the mattress might break beneath him. The second both of you settle, it becomes immediately obvious the bed is way too small anyway.
His arm is pressed against yours. One of his legs hangs halfway off the mattress. His chest rises and falls heavily right beside you.
And despite being the one taking up most of the space somehow, he still tries making himself smaller for you.
“You comfortable?” he whispers after a while.
You barely manage to mumble a quiet “mhm.”
Less than couple of minutes later, you feel him carefully shift closer in the darkness, just enough for his warmth to fully surround you. He physically couldn’t resist it anymore.
At some point during the night, after both of you finally drift off, Savage rolls over in his sleep.
Or at least that’s what it feels like at first.
One second you’re comfortable, the next there’s an enormous weight pressing down onto you hard enough to force a startled squeal out of your throat.
His massive arm is suddenly across your waist, one heavy leg trapping yours beneath it while his chest presses against you enough to completely pin you into the mattress.
You struggle immediately. “Savage, you’re crushing me!”
His breathing stays slow and heavy against your shoulder like he’s completely asleep.
The second you try shoving against him harder, you feel him shift even closer. Your eyes narrow instantly.
“Oh my god. You’re awake.”
As soon as you say that, you feel the twitch of amusement against your neck.
“You’re warm,” he mumbles sleepily, voice rough and deep.
“You’re doing this on purpose!”
Savage only hums quietly in response before suddenly shifting again, this time fully draping himself over you with zero shame. You burst into helpless laughter immediately as his weight completely traps you beneath him now.
“What?” he mutters innocently, though the grin in his voice is painfully obvious.
You try pushing at his shoulders, but it’s genuinely useless. He barely even moves beneath your hands. If anything, he seems entertained by your struggling now. A quiet rumbling laugh vibrates through his chest as you keep attempting to shove him off.
“You’re very aggressive for someone this tiny,” he murmurs.
You attempt to squirm away again and immediately regret it because his weight presses down on you even harder, locking you even more firmly underneath him.
Meanwhile Savage looks entirely too pleased with himself.
“You done fighting yet?” he asks softly.
And despite saying that, you eventually stop resisting anyway, mostly because you’re exhausted and embarrassingly comfortable pinned beneath all his warmth.
The second you relax against him, Savage lets out this deeply satisfied little sigh and nuzzles his face closer into your shoulder.
Doesn’t even acknowledge the whole one bed situation at first.
He just moves slowly through the room like it doesn’t matter. Setting his weapons aside. Taking off pieces of gear one by one. Lighting the fire. Then disappearing into the shower long enough for steam to start curling beneath the door.
Kind of keeps himself busy on purpose.
In reality, he already knows both of you are ending up in that bed one way or another. He’s just giving you the easier version of it. Letting you settle into the idea yourself instead of cornering you with it.
By the time you’ve changed out of your wet clothes and curled up awkwardly near the edge of the mattress, he’s seated across the room near the fire, elbows resting on his knees as he works on fixing his com link.
Then finally, unable to handle the silence anymore, you mumble nervously,
“Go ahead,” he responds immediately, not even letting you finish whatever embarrassed explanation you were about to force out.
So you climb into bed alone while he stays by the fire working in silence. Every now and then he glances toward you without really lifting his head, fingers still moving over the small gadget in his hands.
He just wants you to relax first. Gives you the space to figure out which side of the bed you prefer, lets you get a feeling of the space. (Meanwhile probably also gathering the courage to join you but we will pretend that he’s just too chill about it.)
And eventually exhaustion starts winning. Your eyes grow heavy. The fire crackles softly in the room. Then finally you hear movement. Your eyes flutter open immediately.
Icarus is standing beside the bed now.
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tease you. Doesn’t point out the way you instantly tense beneath his stare. He just lifts the blanket slowly and climbs in beside you.
The mattress dips hard beneath his weight. And your breath catches immediately.
He’s warm. His bare skin practically radiates heat in the cold room, muscles shifting beneath dark markings as he settles onto his side beside you.
And even then, he still keeps distance between you, doesn’t want to overwhelm you.
He simply turns his back toward you afterward, one arm tucked beneath his head, breathing steady within minutes like he’s already half asleep.
In reality he’s suffering. Because now all he can think about is you. Your skin. Your scent. The fact that you’re right there. Close enough to touch. And you keep shifting around trying to get comfortable, every tiny movement just makes him more aware of you instead.
Eventually the mattress shifts suddenly.
Before you can react, Icarus turns toward you and grabs you firmly with one arm, pulling you straight against his chest.
You gasp quietly at the sudden movement.
“There,” he mutters sleepily against the top of your head. “Stop moving.”
“You’ve been wiggling around for the last hour.”
His arm tightens around your waist before you can protest again, holding you completely still against him. One of his hands settles low against your side, fingers flexing once absentmindedly like he’s testing whether you’ll try escaping.
You can practically feel your heartbeat trying to escape your chest now. And the worst part is he acts completely unaffected by it. Like dragging you flush against his body was the most natural thing in the world.
“You’re cold,” he murmurs after a while, voice rough and low.
His hand now spread possessively against your waist. Leg hooked over yours to keep you from moving again. Every time you shift even slightly afterward, his grip just tightens.
Just enough to remind you he’s aware of every movement you make.
The second you notice there’s only one bed, you immediately start talking like your life depends on it.
“No no okay wait, we can just take turns,” you ramble quickly, already pacing around the tiny room. “Like, one of us sleeps first and then we switch later, or maybe we could make some kind of wall in the middle?”
You grab one of the pillows.
“Like this maybe…although actually this bed is way too small for that to work”
Meanwhile Scorn is just standing there listening to you.. Arms crossed over his chest. Trying very hard not to smile. Because this is adorable to him.
The way you’re stumbling over your words, refusing to look directly at him, getting increasingly flustered over the idea of sharing a bed with him specifically. To Scorn, all of this just confirms what he already suspected. You like him.
Maybe you don’t say it out loud yet, but your nervousness gives you away horribly. And he enjoys watching it way too much.
“Mhm,” he hums casually while you continue overexplaining your entire bedtime strategy like it’s a military operation.
Eventually, with a dramatic sigh, you hand him a pillow.
“You take the chair first,” you mumble. “Then we switch later.”
Scorn glances toward the tiny chair shoved in the corner of the room. Then back at you. There is no way his giant ass fits there comfortably, but somehow he still manages not to laugh.
“Alright,” he says smoothly.
At first, he lets you have it your way.
Lets you curl up in the bed while he sits in the chair across the room, one leg stretched out while he quietly watches the fire crackle low in the darkness. Every now and then his eyes drift toward you.
Watching you slowly relax. Watching you fall asleep. And once he’s sure you’re fully out, he finally stands.
The floor creaks softly beneath his weight as he crosses the room. You shift a little in your sleep when the mattress dips behind you, but you don’t wake.
Then slowly, carefully, he slides one arm around your waist and pulls you back against his chest. Instinctively. Like he’s wanted to do it all night.
Your body melts against him immediately from exhaustion, warm beneath the blankets, and Scorn has to close his eyes for a second just to stay normal about it.
The feeling of having your back pressed against him nearly kills him instantly.
His face lowers into the crook of your neck, breathing slow and controlled despite how tense his whole body suddenly feels. One of his large hands spreads against your stomach while he holds you close, fingers lightly grazing the fabric of your shirt.
You stir slightly. His grip tightens immediately.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs softly against your neck.
The problem is he’s the one who’s absolutely not sleeping. Not with you tucked against him like this. Not when every tiny movement you make presses more of your body against his.
Scorn physically freezes.
And when you unconsciously relax further back against him afterward, he lets out the quietest, most tortured sigh imaginable into your skin. Trying so hard to stay calm.
Trying even harder not to think about how perfectly you fit there.
The second he realizes there’s only one bed, Feral immediately blurts out,
Almost suspiciously fast. Because in reality, he absolutely does not want the floor. He wants to be in the bed with you so badly it’s painful, he just refuses to admit it.
So instead he kind of tries to charm you into suggesting it instead.
You lay in bed while he settles onto the floor beside you, leaning back against the mattress with his arms crossed behind his head casually. At first he talks about random things, mostly nonsense honestly, but little by little he starts inching closer.
His head ends up resting against the edge of the bed near your thigh while he looks up at you with those huge yellow eyes trying to appear innocent. Which would maybe work better if he wasn’t smiling like that.
“You’re staring,” you mumble eventually.
You roll your eyes immediately while he grins to himself.
Every now and then his hand comes up to poke your arm lazily, or lightly tap against your knee while joking around. Once, while laughing at something you said, he reaches up and briefly grabs your wrist dramatically before letting go again like he just needed an excuse to touch you.
Hes just so obvious. And eventually you sigh,
“You really don’t have to sleep on the floor, you know.”
Feral immediately looks up at you.
“We can just share the bed.”
The excitement that flashes across his face is almost embarrassing. Like its genuinely impossible for him to hide how happy he is. But then he catches himself and tries acting normal again, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“You literally look like you’ve been waiting for me to say that all night.”
And the second you scoot over to make room, he’s climbing into the bed beside you almost suspiciously fast for someone pretending not to care.
Still, once he’s there, he suddenly becomes careful. He keeps close to the edge. Doesn’t spread out much. Moves slowly like he’s trying not to scare you off now that he actually got what he wanted.
But despite that, he keeps making these tiny little movements on purpose. His arm brushes yours. Then his knee lightly bumps against your thigh. Then while shifting beneath the blanket his fingers drag softly along your forearm for half a second too long.
Seeing what you’ll allow.
“You smell nice,” he murmurs quietly after a while, laying on his side facing you. His eyes stay fixed on your face the entire time when he says it too.
You can feel yourself getting warm under the attention.
“So do you,” you mumble back before thinking.
Feral visibly lights up at that. “You think so?”
There’s something so ridiculously eager about the way he asks it that you can’t help laughing softly. And apparently that’s his favorite sound in the world because he immediately scoots a tiny bit closer again.
Now your faces are way too close.
The blanket shifts softly between you as his hand slowly finds yours beneath it, his fingers curl loosely with yours.
“There,” he whispers smugly. “Now this feels right.”
And after that he spends the rest of the night finding increasingly ridiculous excuses to touch you. He acts playful about the whole thing, but it’s painfully obvious he’s absolutely obsessed with being close to you.
