The boys reactions to accidentally falling asleep with/on them?
Oh, this is such a sweet one! Thank you! (Also I feel like it’s so obvious which characters are my favorites to write for, I’m sorry lol)
Nathan feels your head thump down on his shoulder and looks at you in confusion. You fell asleep? So early? The two of you had been watching TV and sharing some junk food. He shrugs and tries to wake you up, but you’re out. Instead of turning off the TV, though, he clicks the volume lower and puts an arm over you. Once or twice you wake up for just a second when he laughs too loud at something, but otherwise it’s a peaceful rest and you feel secure with his heavy arm around you.
You and Pickles are smoking in his bedroom and having fun, sprawled out on his mattress and giggling together. You’re resting back on his stomach, using him as a pillow, when suddenly you just feel so tired. Pickles is in the middle of rambling on and on about some old band he used to party with, and when you don’t crack up at the end of the anecdote, he peeks down at you and realizes you fell asleep! A nap sounds pretty damn good, actually, so he puts out his joint and decides to doze with you.
Skwisgaar is playing his guitar in the back of the limo as he and the guys and a few friends of the band drive home from a long night out. It’s quiet and dark back there. The excitement is over for the day, and most everyone in the car are nodding off in one way or another. As Skwisgaar continues to softly play he notices your eyes closing and your posture relaxing. Just as you’re about to fall asleep at some weird angle, he pauses his playing to draw your head down onto his shoulder, and that’s where you stay until the limo pulls up at Mordhaus.
Toki wore you out big time today. An amusement park, dinner, dancing and drinking afterwards. Now the two of you are back at the hotel playing video games on the suite’s TV. Toki’s showing no signs of slowing down or getting tired, but you want to sleep so bad. You tell him you’ll sit the next round out and just watch him play, but you make the mistake of putting your head down on his lap. Within minutes you’re fading in an out, missing chunks of the game, but his thigh is just too comfy. Just before you really go under you feel a hand petting your hair like a cat.
Murderface has no idea what to do when you fall asleep on his shoulder. You’d been helping the guys with the new album, offering a fresh pair of ears on a few problem spots, but before too long Pickles and Nathan got into a long conversation and brought the rehearsal to a standstill. Skwisgaar and Toki went off and practiced their parts together, which left you and Murderface on the sofa, and now he’s blushing and silently panicking because your cheek is smooshed against his arm. He tries to raise his arm up, but that only invites you to snuggle in closer and put your head on his chest. He keeps trying to whisper “Guysch? Hey guysch?” as loud as he can in the hopes of getting some help, but to no avail. He’s stuck with you.
You and Charles don’t often pull all-nighters, but sometimes the work demands it, and you don’t mind helping him. But it’s tiring, monotonous work, with papers and folders spread over the table by the couches. Around 1 AM both of you start yawning despite the pot of strong coffee Charles has a klokateer bring up to the office. Finally he concedes...”Perhaps we should, ah, sleep in shifts. By all means, you go first.” You feel a bit guilty about taking a nap and leaving him to work, but you curl up beside him on the couch with a throw pillow. Before too long, though, you stretch out in your sleep and unknowingly drape your legs across his lap. An hour later when you wake up, there’s Charles, going through receipts and spreadsheets, using your shins as a second table.
The latest Klokikon was a bust, and Magnus is beside himself in anger as you help him pack up his stall. All the way back to his apartment he’s complaining, ranting about the band, the fans, anything and everything. And it doesn’t stop. Long into the night he’s still trying to hold your attention with conspiracy theories and rumors and whatever else his mind grasps at in its desperate rage. He sits at the edge of the couch, hunching over his laptop, furiously typing on some forum or another. You don’t know what to do to calm him down besides just listening to him and being there and waiting for him to run out of steam. You run out first, though, resting against his back where you’ve been looking over his shoulder at the computer. In the morning, you wake up on the couch covered in blankets. And there’s Magnus sitting on the coffee table, exhausted, the wind finally blown out of his sails, with a box of apology donuts.
