sterifels-blog

[sterifels-blog]

[sterifels-blog]

captain john price x reader

content warnings ⚠️

•implied drinking

•implied 'doing.. the do' 😦

The bar was a beacon in a world of chaos, carved out of some forgotten decade, where the amber glow of Edison bulbs met cracked leather stools, and the faint crackle of a vintage jukebox warbled through the air. It wasn’t just old—it was timeless, a sanctum of polished mahogany and the lingering scent of whiskey, tobacco, and nostalgia. The kind of place where the walls whispered secrets to those who lingered long enough to hear them.

John Price didn’t belong there, but then again, he didn’t belong anywhere, not really. His place was out there, in the fields of fire and ruin, where men bled and fought and prayed to gods who never listened. Yet, somehow, he found himself here more often than he intended. Not because of the bourbon you poured; though you always had it waiting—neat, with the ice cubes glinting like glassy fragments of a frozen sea. No, it was you. Always you.

You moved behind the counter with a grace that bordered on divine, an effortless choreography of small smiles and fluid movements that left him transfixed. The way you spoke to the other patrons, light and unguarded, made his chest tighten with something he refused to name. His eyes followed you as you laughed at some tired joke from the man two stools down, though his jaw clenched when the stranger’s eyes lingered too long on the curve of your neck.

“Another?” Your voice pulled him from the gnawing grip of his thoughts. You were leaning slightly against the counter now, elbows resting on the worn wood, your gaze like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

He nodded, silent, though his fingers tightened around the empty glass he handed back. Your touch brushed his as you took it, and though fleeting, it felt like a spark leaping into the kindling of his soul.

“Quiet tonight,” you said, breaking the stillness with the kind of ease that only you could. “You’d think a storm was rolling in, the way everyone cleared out early.”

“Could be,” he murmured, his voice low and rough like gravel underfoot. “Or maybe they just know when to leave a good thing alone.”

Your laugh was soft, barely more than a breath, but it lingered, filling the space between you. You started pouring his drink, not even needing to ask how he liked it. Of course, you wouldn’t. You knew him, or at least the parts he allowed you to see. But it wasn’t enough. Not for him.

He watched as the liquid swirled into the crystal glass, his gaze flicking back to your face, the faint glow of the bar lights catching the curve of your cheek. You didn’t belong here either, not really. You belonged in marble halls with laurels in your hair, or in paintings that hung in museums, where the world could marvel at the beauty they could never truly touch.

'Pandora', he thought, the name tasting bitter and sweet in the recesses of his mind. You were his own cursed box, filled with hope and ruin all at once. A thing of beauty he could look at, but never claim. It would have been sacrilege to even try. He wanted to worship you, to press his lips to the altar of your skin, but he knew better. Angels fell for less.

“You alright?” you asked, tilting your head in that way that made you look so utterly human and yet something more.

“Fine, sweetheart.” he lied, his voice softer now. “Just... long day.”

“Another mission?” you guessed, not pushing but gently prying, as if you cared enough to know.

He nodded again, the lines of his face deepening. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

But it was. It always was. He wanted to tell you about the things he’d seen, the horrors that kept him up at night, the way his hands shook sometimes when he thought of the lives he couldn’t save. He wanted to tell you everything, to lay his sins bare before you and ask if there was still some shred of humanity left in him worth saving.

Instead, he said nothing, only watching as you slid the glass across the counter, your fingers lingering for a moment longer than usual.

“You don’t have to stay so late, you know,” he said, his voice gruff but laced with something softer.

“And miss our nightly walk to my car? Never.” You grinned, and the sight of it almost undid him.

He chuckled, low and quiet, shaking his head. “One of these days, you’re gonna figure out I’m not the saint you think I am.”

“Good thing I don’t believe in saints,” you teased, your eyes glinting with mischief.

He didn’t respond, couldn’t, because the weight of your words hit him harder than any bullet ever could. If you didn’t believe in saints, what did that make him? A man of war and ruin, standing in the presence of something too pure for the likes of him.

The night went on, the bar emptying save for the two of you. The low hum of the jukebox filled the silence, spinning some crackling tune that neither of you were paying much attention to. You were wiping down the counter, the rhythm of your hands steady, purposeful, when you stopped suddenly and glanced at him.

“Would you mind if I had a drink?” you asked, voice soft but curious, as though you were half-afraid to disrupt the stillness.

His brow lifted just slightly, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. “Don’t you have to drive?”

“It’s just lemonade,” you replied with a grin. “You know I’m too much of a goody two-shoes for anything stronger when I’ve got my keys in my bag.”

His lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through the rough lines of his face. “Figures.”

You poured yourself a glass, the pale yellow liquid catching the light as you slid onto the stool across from him. For a moment, you sat in comfortable silence, the bar seeming even smaller now, more intimate, as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

“So,” you began, swirling your straw idly. “How’s Simon? Haven’t seen him around in a while.”

Price’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass, though the motion was barely perceptible. “He’s alright. Busy, same as always.”

“Is he coming to pick you up tonight?” you asked, tilting your head, eyes sharp but kind.

He hesitated, his silence betraying the answer before he spoke. “Not tonight.”

Your brow furrowed, and he could see the concern blooming in your expression. “John…”

“I’ll call a cab,” he said, cutting you off gently but firmly. “Don’t worry about me, Darlin'.”

But of course, you did. You always did.

“You know I can’t just leave you here alone,” you said, setting your glass down with a quiet clink. “What if it takes forever for a cab to show up? Or worse, what if you decide to walk home?”

“I can handle myself,” he replied, his voice gruff but not unkind.

“I know you can,” you said quickly, leaning forward just enough for your sincerity to shine through. “But you don’t have to. Not tonight.”

He sighed, the sound low and deep, as though carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “And what do you propose, love? That I crash here for the night?”

“No,” you said simply, standing now, your lemonade forgotten. “You’ll come with me.”

His brows shot up, the surprise clear in his eyes. “To your place?”

“Yes,” you said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve got a couch. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s better than staying here all night or waiting for some overpriced cab.”

Price hesitated, his gaze dropping to the counter, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “I can't do that, Darlin'. Don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not, John. And you will” you said firmly, your tone brooking no argument. “You’ve walked me to my car more times than I can count. Let me return the favor, in a way.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find the catch. But there was none. Just you, standing there with that determined look on your face, as though you’d made up your mind and there was no use in trying to change it.

“Alright,” he said finally, the word gruff but tinged with something softer. Gratitude, maybe. “But only if you’re sure.”

———

And you were sure. Quite, infact. So much so, that the weathered man from your bar, had ended up on your living room couch.

The room was small but warm, filled with the soft hum of a space heater and the faint scent of lavender from a candle you’d lit earlier. The couch creaked slightly under his weight as he sat down, his broad shoulders slumping in a way that made him look impossibly tired. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped loosely as he took in his surroundings.

It was modest but unmistakably yours—eclectic furniture, shelves lined with books and trinkets, a throw blanket draped over the arm of the couch that smelled faintly of vanilla. It was cozy, lived-in, a stark contrast to the harsh sterility of his world.

“You’ve got a nice place,” he said, his voice low, almost gravelly in the quiet.

“Thank you'" you replied, setting a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him. “It’s nothing.. fancy. But it works for me.”

“It suits you,” he added, glancing up at you. The words hung in the air, weighing more than he probably intended, but you only smiled.

“Well, make yourself at home,” you said, stepping back slightly and tucking your arms across your chest- wrapped around the comfortable house-coat you'd changed into almost as soon as he was in the door. “I mean, as much as a six-foot-something military man can on a loveseat.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and it softened his features in a way that made your heart ache just a little. “I’ve slept in worse places. Don’t worry about me.”

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as you watched him lean back, the couch protesting under his solid frame. His head tilted slightly, and for a moment, he just closed his eyes, as if trying to let the quiet seep into his bones.

“Do you want anything?” you asked after a beat, your voice quieter now. “Tea, coffee? Something stronger?”

He shook his head, eyes still closed. “No, love. This is more than enough.”

You lingered in the doorway of the kitchen for a moment, watching him. There was something about seeing him here, in your space, that felt almost surreal. Like he didn’t quite belong, and yet... he did.

“John?”

His eyes opened slowly, piercing blue cutting through the dim light as they met yours. “Yeah?”

“You don’t have to sit out here, you know,” you said hesitantly, biting the inside of your cheek. “The couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable. You can take the bed if you want.”

He shook his head again, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, sweetheart.”

“You wouldn’t be kicking me out,” you argued lightly, stepping closer now. “I’d just—”

“Stop,” he said softly, but firmly, his gaze holding yours. “Darlin'. I’ll be fine. Really.”

There was a weight in his words, an unspoken boundary you could sense but didn’t dare cross. You nodded, though a part of you still itched to argue.

“..Alright,” you relented, stepping back. “But if you change your mind.. you know where it is.”

He nodded once, his eyes following you as you moved to turn off the lights. The room fell into a soft darkness, the only illumination now coming from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside the window, casting over his hunched over frame, making him seem much larger than he truly was. Highlighting his burdens.

“Goodnight, John,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” he replied, his tone equally quiet, as if he were afraid to disturb the fragile calm that had settled between you.

As you retreated to your room, the sound of his steady breathing lingered in your ears, grounding you in a way you couldn’t quite explain. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe— and for the first time in a long time, John slept.

John slept, not on the ground— not laid against some wall, somewhere. Not on your couch. As he got up, breaching the inevitable, his footsteps were near-silent against the floor, hesitation weighing heavy in his chest. Stupid, he thought—stupid not to take the invitation, stupid to keep himself at arm’s length when everything he wanted was just beyond that door.

That night, as he slipped into bed beside you, his presence careful but undeniable, he opened Pandora's box— sweeter than anything he's ever tasted on his tongue.

[sterifels-blog]

bro is so fucking beefed. (i'm talking about the cat 🐈)

[sterifels-blog]

call of duty characters - how they react to you falling asleep against them.

alex "ajax" thompson

•ajax isn’t exactly used to seeing anyone vulnerable, especially when you’re asleep on him– so his initial reaction is a stiffening of his posture as if to check if you’re genuinely okay. you’ve been on high-stress missions for days, and your sudden nap is a sign you’re either exhausted or hiding some deeper fatigue that he won’t push you about right now. he’s the type to make sure you’re safe first before anything else, so while you’re napping on his shoulder or chest, you’ll feel the gentle shift of his arm around you, as if he's trying to make sure you don’t slide off the couch where you fell asleep.

•as a man of few words, he won’t wake you up, but he might mumble something low under his breath like, “guess you needed that.” he’ll continue to monitor the situation—always keeping an ear out for any movements or sounds that could alert him to danger. ajax might not be part of ongoing operations, but when you're around, his protective side kicks in full force, even if it’s a little reluctant.

•he’ll sit still for what feels like forever, and when he’s sure you’re safe and sleeping soundly, his grip on you softens slightly, but he doesn’t budge. if he shifts too much, you might stir, and he’s not about to deal with a 'grumpy' you. so, he’ll lean back in the chair or on the couch, even if his body aches from sitting so stiffly. his focus shifts from mission plans and tactical decisions to making sure your breathing stays steady, watching the rise and fall of your chest with an odd sense of peace.

• if you wake up to find his dark eyes staring down at you, expect a quick “you okay?” but nothing more. he’s not about to dive into emotions, but there’s an unmistakable gentleness in his voice. if you seem embarrassed, he’ll smirk just slightly, a silent acknowledgment of your vulnerability, but that’s all.

• ajax doesn’t get affectionate often, but when you’re lying against him, exhausted, he’ll offer the barest hint of warmth—a protective hand on your back or a quick but reassuring squeeze of your hand. he’s not into grand gestures, but these little acts are how he shows care

alex keller

• keller is a quiet yet reassuring presence, so when you fall asleep on him, he doesn’t rush to wake you. instead, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder or lap, his eyes scanning the surroundings with sharp, trained focus. the world around you might be filled with tension, but keller is one of those guys who finds comfort in the stillness. he won’t fidget or try to get up; he’ll let you sleep, knowing it’s been a long and grueling time for you both.

•if you shift a little or murmur in your sleep, he’ll smile softly to himself, his usual stoic expression softening. “relax. we’re good here,” he’ll say in that calm, unshakable tone. keller doesn’t do overtly sweet things, but you’ll notice him leaning into the moment, staying still even as his body is tense, preparing for whatever mission comes next.

•there’s a soft, almost hesitant warmth to his touch when he adjusts your position to make sure you’re comfortable—he never wants to disturb your sleep, but if he has to move, he’ll do it carefully, his large hand sliding over your back, keeping you steady without waking you. his concern might not be voiced, but it's clear in his movements. he's a man of action, not words (sometimes).

•in the safe house, after long missions, when you doze off unexpectedly, alex might keep a quiet vigil over you. his thoughts may wander, but he never stops checking for your safety, even as you sleep like a rock in his presence. he'll offer you a blanket or a jacket if the air turns cold, a silent acknowledgment.

•when you wake up to find him still there, he might ask, “feel better?” his eyes will meet yours, no judgment or fuss, just simple concern. if you look groggy or confused, he might add, “you needed it. don’t worry.” but there won’t be any teasing or push for explanation— he's pragmatic like that.

captain john price

•you and price have had a long, exhausting few weeks— missions, briefings, and constant tension—but now you’re outside, lounging on a lawn bed by the pool, the sun dipping low in the sky, painting the world in golden hues. it’s a rare moment of peace, and price is content just to have you near him.

•as you relaxed, the heat of the day still lingering in the air, your eyes had started to flutter. the sound of the pool water gently rippling lulled- and before you know it, your head was resting on his chest, the familiar scent of cigars and his cologne comforting in the warmth. price doesn't move, not immediately— he's too content with the stillness, watching you with a soft, almost proud expression.

•after a while, price’s cigar burns down to its last inch, and with the slightest, almost imperceptible grin, he takes his old, worn hat off and gently places it over your eyes, shielding you from the afternoon sun. his rough, calloused hand lingers on your head for a moment longer than necessary, a subtle gesture of affection, though it’s not like him to make a big deal out of these moments.

•price doesn’t move much, not wanting to disturb you, but every so often, his eyes flick to the pool, then back to you, his mind half on the world around him and half on the rare luxury of this moment with you. he'll hum a low, contented tune under his breath, the sound almost drowned out by the distant chirp of birds and the light splashing of water.

•you'll both take a nap together because his old ass can't keep himself awake for that long, either. not when he's finally got you all to himself, away from the chaos of everything. being back in a domestic environment is something he adapts harshly to, after each mission. but this time around, it's a little easier— with reason.

captain john "soap" mactavish

•after a particularly brutal mission, the helicopter ride back to base is nothing short of tense, but when you fall asleep next to him, soap’s hardened exterior softens immediately. he’s not one to openly express care—he’s always been about the mission, always the leader. but when you rest your head against his shoulder, there's a protective warmth that floods his chest, and he can't help but shift to accommodate you. his arm, though bruised and worn from the day's battles, instinctively drapes around you, pulling you a little closer, like he’s got to protect you at all costs—even in the quiet moments.

•soap, despite his rough demeanor, has a massive soft spot for those he considers his own, and you're no exception. he’ll look down at you with a slight smile, his tired eyes scanning the surroundings but making sure you're safe. he might mutter something to himself, something in his thick scottish accent, almost like he’s reassuring himself as much as you: "aye, ye’re alright, hen. get yer rest.."

•if you shift slightly in your sleep or start to stir, john will instinctively reach for your shoulder to steady you. his hand, large and calloused, will gently pat your arm or rub your back without a word, the kind of motion that’s familiar and comforting, like it’s second nature to him. he's been through so many missions, so many battles, but holding you close in this moment makes him feel like he’s got something real, something of his own worth protecting. his voice, usually loud and commanding, lowers to a soft hum. "you’ve earned yer sleep, lass."

•he’ll occasionally glance down at you as the helicopter rattles through the air, his gaze softening each time. he’ll probably mutter something like “i've got ye” under his breath, as if to remind you— and himself —that he's there for you, and nothing will harm you while he’s by your side.

•when you wake up, the helicopter’s interior has grown quieter, the hum of the blades a steady backdrop to your grogginess. soap’s arm is still around you, his presence grounding you as you come to your senses. he won’t make a fuss, but you’ll notice a subtle tenderness in his expression. "hope ye got a good rest,” he’ll say with a gentle grin, his usual cheeky tone a little more softened. "you’ll need it for what comes next."

david "hesh" walker

•hesh is a bit of a softie under his tough exterior, and he’d never admit it, but when you fall asleep on him, it’s like the world stops for him. his first reaction might be a slight chuckle, followed by him adjusting his position so you’re more comfortable, even if that means bending in ways that aren't easy for him. he's the kind of guy who’ll let you nap on him without a second thought, but he’ll occasionally glance down at you with this unreadable look in his eyes.

•he’s got this protective side that isn’t super obvious, but it’s there, and it’s in full force when you’re asleep on him. you’ll catch him softly muttering things like “yeah, we got this,” as though reassuring both of you. he’ll keep his movements minimal so you don’t wake up too soon— he knows the value of a good nap, especially in their line of work.

•if you stir in your sleep, he might smirk a little. “didn’t mean to make you move,” he’ll joke, but there’s a certain softness in his voice. when you wake up, you’ll catch him looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a small grin, almost like he’s trying to hide how much he cares. “you’re good, right?”

•if you seem restless, he’ll toss an arm over your shoulder to keep you close, offering the kind of silent comfort that comes naturally to him. "shh.. relax.. i'm right here, just shut your eyes." he’ll whisper, and you can tell he means it, running his fingers through your hair.

•kisses your forehead as you sleep. it's a silent action, one he knows you won't remember come your waking; but that's entirely the point.

derek "frost" westbrook

•frost is the type of guy who’ll act like he’s bothered, but deep down, he’s probably thrilled that you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep next to him. if you’re in a safe house, curled up on the couch or leaning against him, he’ll give you a look at first; but it’s not disapproving. instead, he’ll just throw his arm around you with a smirk, muttering, “you’re lucky i’m nice.” but there’s no malice in his words—he actually enjoys the company.

•he’ll give you a gentle nudge if you start to lean too much one way or another, trying to avoid you from slipping off or looking uncomfortable. his hand will rest on your head for a while, just making sure that you're alright. he’s not about to make a big deal out of it, but he does care about your well-being.

•if you wake up and look a little embarrassed, frost will throw a playful grin your way. “don’t worry about it. i got you.” his tone is light and teasing, but underneath that, there's a layer of genuine concern. if you get up or look restless, he might toss a blanket over you without saying anything, not because you need it, but because he knows it’s a small way to show that he’s there.

•second note: he loves pulling you against his chest, and tucking your head beneath his chin.

dipaolo

•dipaolo is a natural protector at heart, and when you fall asleep on him, he takes it very seriously. he’ll gently adjust his position so that you’re lying more comfortably, never rushing, never shifting too quickly. he’ll let you rest, even if the mission around him is still ongoing. he’s the type to give a quiet sigh, almost resigned, as though he’s just going to wait for you to finish resting so that he can do his job— or for the job to finish so that way he can hold you on the rest of the way back home.

•there’s a warmth to dipaolo that you don’t see from others. even if his eyes are sharp and always scanning the environment, he’ll subtly make sure you’re comfortable, maybe even offering to rub your back or neck if you seem stiff. "you look like you could use a little rest," he might murmur, though he won't push you to sleep more than you need, even though he thoroughly enjoys having you snagged to his side.

•if you're asleep on him, he knows where you are, always. simple solution; he won't have to worry.

•he’ll be the first to offer you food or a drink once you wake up, something to help you regain your energy, and he’ll do it without asking, always anticipating your needs. his gestures are simple but filled with care, whether it’s covering you with a blanket or making sure you’re hydrated.

•on the way back, he's ditched the seat belts, keeping you close to him.

elias walker

•elias is no stranger to tough situations, so when you fall asleep unexpectedly, he doesn’t make a fuss about it. he’ll simply let you rest, adjusting his position slightly so that he’s comfortable without disturbing you (he's not sacrificing his back for your sake). his protective instinct runs deep, and you can tell that he’s not just letting you nap for the sake of it— he’s watching over you.

•his usual calm demeanor doesn’t change when you’re near him, but there’s a quiet gentleness in his touch when he adjusts you or shifts his arm around you. elias is a man of few words, but if you wake up groggy or disoriented, he’ll be the one to reassure you. “rested now? we’ll be fine,” he’ll say simply.

•his favorite thing to do when you’re just beginning to wake up is tilt your chin up, and softly rub his thumb alongside your jaw. type of guy to rub the sleep out of your eyes for you, and then cradle your heavy head to his chest.

•elias might even hold you in his arms a little longer than necessary if you're restless, letting you find your peace, all while keeping an eye on the surroundings. his actions are silent but caring, a subtle contrast to his more intense nature.

enzo reyes

•enzo’s got a reputation for being a little rough around the edges, but when you're with him in a hunting blind, you start to see a different side—a side that’s way more soft and attentive than he lets on in other situations. as the two of you crouch in the quiet of the woods, waiting for the perfect shot, he notices you shift and yawn, clearly exhausted from the hours of stillness. you don't even realize when your head starts to droop, and before you know it, you’ve fallen asleep against him, your shoulder resting against his chest

•at first, enzo’s a little surprised, but then he lets out a small, affectionate chuckle, the kind that’s a mix of disbelief and fondness. "guess you couldn’t last much longer, huh?" he doesn’t want to wake you, though, especially not when the air is chilly and you look so peaceful leaning against him. so, he adjusts his position carefully, making sure you’re secure and don’t slip off the bench you’re sitting on.

•the longer you stay asleep, the more relaxed he gets. enzo's usual alertness fades, and instead, he settles into a more comfortable position, keeping one arm around you loosely, almost like it’s second nature for him to keep you close.

•you might shift a little in your sleep, mumbling a bit, but enzo just lets out a low chuckle and adjusts the collar of your jacket so it isn't choking you. his movements are careful and deliberate, trying not to wake you, and there’s a warmth in the way he holds you steady. he murmurs under his breath, “rest up, sweetheart. i've got this."

•enzo doesn’t let go of you immediately, when you wake up. he keeps his hand resting on your arm or back, rubbing it gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a soft, almost absent-minded way. "you good now? you know, i don’t mind you napping here. i’m comfy, too."

erikson

•erikson is a bit of a contradiction—he’s gentle and charming, the kind of guy who makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room without ever needing to say it out loud. the moment you fall asleep next to him, he doesn’t see it as an inconvenience but an opportunity to be close to you. he’ll pull you towards him carefully, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that reflects his true nature. it’s almost like he’s afraid of being too rough, so he keeps his movements soft and considerate, ensuring you’re comfortable.

•you’ll find that erikson doesn’t try to control or possess in the way others might; instead, he settles into the moment with you, as if savoring the peace you bring. he might lean his head back against the armrest or wall, his eyes drifting shut, but always keeping you near, his fingers lightly brushing your skin as if he's memorizing every part of you. his touch is delicate, never forcing you to stay, but always making sure you feel secure and cared for.

•if you stir during your nap, he’s quick to adjust his position, making sure you’re still comfortable, maybe pulling you in closer just a little. his smile, soft and warm, will appear if you meet his gaze when you wake up. "you okay?" he’ll ask, his voice light but full of genuine concern. he’s not just asking because it’s polite; he wants to make sure you’re not just physically okay but that you feel safe and content in his arms.

•even if you’re not technically sleeping—just resting with your head on his shoulder or your hand in his— erikson’s presence is soothing. he doesn’t crowd you, doesn’t pressure you to be anything but comfortable in the moment. he simply enjoys being close to you, letting the calm wash over both of you.

•if you fall asleep completely, he’ll stay quiet, keeping his breathing steady so you can rest. his hand might gently stroke your hair or rest on your side, nothing too intense but enough to reassure you that he’s right there. he doesn’t need to be possessive or overwhelming— he’s secure in the fact that you trust him enough to fall asleep near him.

farah karim

•farah is all about strength and resilience, but when you fall asleep on her, a softer, sisterly side of her emerges. she doesn’t show it outright, but there’s a deep care in the way she handles the situation. if you’re leaning on her during a long night in the safe house, she won’t push you away or disturb you. instead, she adjusts her position carefully, making sure you’re comfortable without waking you up. she might drape an extra scarf or jacket over you if you start to shiver, murmuring quietly to herself about how you "never take care of yourself properly".

•if this happens during downtime on a mission, farah is quick to take on the role of protector. she’ll keep an eye on the surroundings, rifle resting across her knees, while letting you rest on her shoulder. she might sigh softly, shaking her head with a small, affectionate smile, as if you’re her little sibling she has to watch over. “you never know when to stop, do you?” she’ll whisper under her breath, though there’s no real frustration in her voice— just care.

•when you stir or wake up, farah’s expression is calm and reassuring. “you needed that,” she’ll say, her voice steady but warm, like an older sister who always knows what’s best. if you try to apologize, she’ll wave it off, giving you a firm but kind look. “don’t. you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. rest is just as important as the fight.”

•farah might tease you a little if the situation allows for it, but her words are always meant to encourage rather than scold. “don’t let the general catch you like this,” she’ll say with a raised eyebrow, but her smile gives away her affection. if you’re still groggy or upset when you wake, she’ll quietly offer some advice or comfort. “you don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders. i am here. let me help."

•by the time you’re fully awake, farah’s already back to being her composed, no-nonsense self, but the way she looks at you—steady, protective, and full of quiet affection—makes it clear that she’s got your back, no matter what. she treats you like family, always ready to stand by your side and make sure you’re okay, even if she doesn’t say it outright. you mean the world to her. more than you'll know.

frank woods

•woods is the kind of guy who'd act like he’s annoyed if you fell asleep on him, but deep down, he secretly enjoys it. he might grumble under his breath, but when you’re knocked out on him—whether it's in the back of a jeep or leaning against him in the safe house—he’ll stiffen for a moment before letting you settle in. woods doesn't do vulnerability well, so having someone depend on him like this is a rare moment for him, and he’s reluctant to admit it, even to himself.

•his rough exterior doesn’t mask the care he’s quietly showing. he’ll gruffly put his arm around you, making a big show out of it, making sure you stay in place, but it’s not just out of duty. he’s also making sure you’re comfortable, though he won’t ever say it. if you wake up, you might find him looking at you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk. “that comfortable, huh?” he’ll tease, but underneath it is a hint of softness in his voice that he doesn't often display.

•he might? throw a jacket over you or offer a blanket if he sees you shivering, all while muttering under his breath about not letting the mission go to hell (but, he's the type that as soon as you fall asleep, he's cracking his extra handwarmers and slipping them into your gloves, and into your boots). woods is a man of action, so when you fall asleep on him, he makes sure you’re safe and protected—even if he’s still grumbling about how inconvenient it is. “ain’t no one gonna get you while you’re asleep on me,” he’ll mutter, though the sentiment is clear.

•if you wake up in the middle of a tense situation, you’ll see him scanning the area with a sharp focus, his protective instincts on full display, but when he catches your eye, he’ll give you a wink and an assurance: “we’re good.”

•nonchalant, but the most caring of out them all, by far

gary "roach" sanderson

•roach doesn’t say a word when your head drifts onto his shoulder in the back of the humvee. the engine hums softly, the tires crunching over dirt roads, and the faint chatter from the team up front fills the air. he freezes for a split second, caught off guard, but quickly adjusts himself so you’re more comfortable. his body language softens in a way only those close to him would notice—shoulders relaxing, his posture slightly leaning toward you to provide more support.

•he’s not one for grand gestures, but his care is in the details. roach tugs his sweater off and drapes it over you, careful not to jostle you too much. he doesn’t mind the cold seeping through his shirt if it means you’re warm. his hand hovers for a moment, debating whether to brush the stray hair out of your face. instead, he settles for tucking the sweater collar closer around your neck to keep the draft out.

•the others might glance back and chuckle at the sight, but roach ignores them completely, his focus entirely on you. he’s silent, as always, but the way he keeps still—despite the bumps and jolts of the humvee—speaks louder than words. every movement is calculated, making sure you can rest without interruption. he doesn't want you to wake up.

•when you stir a little in your sleep, maybe shifting or mumbling, he tilts his head slightly to check on you. there’s no dramatic display, just a quiet vigilance, his gaze flickering between you and the terrain outside. if the vehicle jerks or lurches too hard, his arm instinctively comes up to steady you, his gloved hand resting lightly against your shoulder to keep you from slipping.

•when you wake up, blinking groggily and maybe a little humiliated by the reality, roach doesn’t make a big deal out of it. he doesn’t say anything, just gives a small nod and a faint, understanding smile. his sweater stays draped over you until you hand it back, and even then, he doesn’t let you apologize. he simply takes it, shrugs it back on, and taps your arm lightly before resuming his quiet watch.

•for roach, actions always speak louder than words. you won’t catch him teasing or making a fuss, but the way he lets you rest on him—how he adjusts to make sure you’re safe and comfortable—shows just how deeply he cares in his quiet, unassuming way.

general shepherd

•shepherd’s got a lot on his plate, so when you unexpectedly fall asleep on him, it’s not something he’s used to. he’s far more accustomed to being the one calling the shots than being in a position where someone is leaning on him for comfort. however, when you do, he takes it with a stoic expression, still sitting straight-backed like a military leader should, but his gaze softens for a moment as he watches over you.

•he’ll take a deep breath, continuing to keep an eye on the situation, his mind constantly working through plans and contingencies. but when it’s just the two of you, and you’re asleep on him in his office, he allows himself to relax, just a little. shepherd won’t disturb you, letting you sleep while he keeps his vigil over the room or the window. he’s not one for outward displays of affection, but you’ll find that his protective instinct runs deep, and he quietly ensures that you’re safe and secure.

•if you wake up and find him still there, he’ll just nod in acknowledgment. “we’re still good,” he’ll say flatly, though there’s an unusual calmness in his voice. shepherd isn’t one for pleasantries, but his subtle care comes through in these moments when you’re least expecting it.

•if you seem stressed or worried when you wake, he might offer a few words of encouragement, his tone more fatherly than commanding: “you're fine. come here." he pats between your shoulderblades, rubbing his hand up and down your spine as he works on some extended paperwork that's overdue.

•still an asshole at heart, though.

gabriel t. rorke

•when you fall asleep on rorke, he doesn’t make a big fuss about it, but you can bet he notices. if you’re on a couch or somewhere relatively quiet, he’s the type to pull you into his lap without a word, letting you settle against him while he leans back and continues whatever he’s doing—usually watching TV or lighting up a cigarette. his arm naturally falls around your waist, holding you in place like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he doesn’t mind the weight of you resting on him; if anything, he seems to like it.

•as you sleep, he’ll occasionally glance down at you, his expression unreadable but with a hint of something softer than his usual tough exterior. he might absentmindedly run his fingers along your arm or brush a hand over your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone who carries so much darkness with him.

•if you start to stir or move in your sleep, he won’t say much, but he’ll adjust you without waking you up—propping your head against his chest or tucking you closer into him. the glow of his cigarette and the low sound of the TV fill the space, but his focus is split between what’s on the screen and making sure you’re still comfortable.

•if you wake up, his reaction depends on the mood. he might smirk down at you and say something teasing, like, “you always this needy?” but the way he holds onto you even after you’ve woken up tells you he doesn’t mind in the slightest. if you apologize for dozing off, he’ll scoff and shake his head, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “don’t sweat it,” he’ll say casually, his voice low and gravelly. “not like i had anywhere else to be.”

•rorke might not be the overly sentimental type, but in moments like this, he’s surprisingly accommodating. he likes having you close, even if he doesn’t always say it outright. the way he keeps you secure in his lap, one hand resting protectively on your hip, shows that beneath the hardened exterior, there’s a part of him that relishes in your trust and closeness.

james ramirez

•ramirez isn’t used to this. he’s always been the guy working alone, the silent operator who keeps his head down and his rifle up. so, when you come along, leaning against him during the quiet moments of a post-watch, trusting him enough to fall asleep on his side, he doesn’t know how to process it at first. gor a split second, he freezes, his brain running through a hundred scenarios, none of which included this.

•but as the seconds tick by, he adjusts—just like he’s always done. ramirez doesn’t move a muscle, his breathing slow and measured, knowing even the smallest shift might wake you. you’re tucked against him, and the chill of the night air doesn’t seem to bother him anymore. without thinking, he lets his body warmth do the work, keeping you steady and warm while the cold tries to creep in. his arms remain loose but ready, just in case anything stirs in the distance, his focus now split between his surroundings and you.

•he doesn’t say a word—he wouldn’t dare break the calm. but his thoughts are racing, wondering why you trusted him of all people to let your guard down like this. it’s foreign to him, but not unwelcome. ramirez adjusts the angle of his shoulder ever so slightly, ensuring your head isn’t at an awkward tilt, his movements precise and deliberate. his gloves are off, resting beside him, and though he’s tempted to place a hand on your shoulder to steady you, he keeps his discipline. for now, his proximity will have to do.

•every sound in the distance feels sharper, his eyes scanning the darkness with even more vigilance than usual. if anyone or anything comes close, they’ll have to go through him first. he feels the slight rise and fall of your breathing against him, a quiet reminder that, for once, someone sees him as more than just a soldier. he refuses to let go of that.

•when you stir slightly in your sleep, he glances down, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. he shifts ever so slightly to keep you comfortable, his voice barely audible when he mutters, “it’s alright... i’ve got you.” he knows you probably can’t hear him, but it feels like the right thing to say.

•by the time you wake, ramirez hasn’t moved an inch (bro is 🗿). he glances at you, his expression unreadable at first, but there’s a flicker of warmth in his eyes. he doesn’t make a big deal out of it—he wouldn’t know how—but there’s a soft, almost hesitant tone when he asks, “sleep okay?” it’s not much, but for someone who’s used to being alone, it’s everything.

john "soap" mactavish

•soap doesn’t just tolerate you falling asleep on him—he absolutely thrives on it. when you drift off, curled into his side, he doesn’t hesitate to make you as comfortable as possible. you’re on the couch in the safe house, wrapped up in a couple of old, mismatched blankets he found, with his arm securely around your shoulders. his other hand holds a steaming mug of coffee, and his fingers idly trace soothing patterns along your arm as you snooze. he looks completely at ease, even as the rest of the team bustles around.

• “look at this one, proper knocked out,” he’ll say to kyle, grinning wide as he leans back, shifting slightly to pull you closer. “must be my charm, eh? can’t resist relaxin’ when ol’ siap’s about.” he’s not shy (at all) about showing how much he loves having you close; in fact, he basks in it. he’s practically beaming, his voice warm with affection as he chats with the grin of a fox who'd just gotten into the henhouse.

•if anyone comments, he’s quick with a cheeky retort. “aye, they know who’s the comfiest bloke in the room. jealous, gaz?” he’ll quip, but there’s no hiding the pride in his tone. he doesn’t care what anyone thinks—if anything, he’s thrilled to show off how comfortable you feel around him. it's like bragging rights, but tenfold.

•if you stir or shift in your sleep, he’s immediately attentive, pulling the blanket tighter around you and leaning down to check on you. “shh, you’re alright,” he murmurs softly, his scottish brogue low and soothing. “go back tae sleep, love. i’ve got ye.”

•when you eventually wake up, soap greets you with the biggest smile, his blue eyes sparkling. “mornin’, sunshine. sleep well?” he teases, but his tone is so full of warmth that it’s impossible to be embarrassed. he’ll ruffle your hair gently and nudge the coffee mug toward you. “-'ere, take a sip. you’ve earned it.”

•soap loves these moments of quiet intimacy, where he gets to dote on you in his own affectionate, unapologetic way.

keegan p. russ

•keegan’s possessiveness is immediate the moment he feels your weight leaning against him. if you start dozing off next to him, he doesn’t just let you fall asleep on his shoulder—he pulls you fully into his arms, shifting you until you’re sitting in his lap, wrapped up in his hold. his arms are firm around you, one hand resting protectively on your waist while the other cradles your head against his chest. it's as if he’s daring the world to come and disturb this rare, intimate moment.

•he doesn’t care where you are—in the safe house, out in the field, or even in a damn helicopter. the second you relax against him, you’re his, and no one else is allowed near you. if anyone so much as glances your way, keegan’s icy stare is enough to send them backing off. “she’s fine,” he’ll mutter curtly, his tone making it clear that no one is to interfere.

•keegan’s movements are calculated to keep you comfortable, and he’s surprisingly gentle despite his rough exterior. he’ll adjust your position slightly, making sure you’re fully supported while still nestled securely in his embrace. his gloved hand will stroke lightly over your back or your hair, a quiet, soothing gesture that feels incredibly intimate coming from him. if you stir or mumble something in your sleep, his voice drops low, barely above a whisper, “shh, i’ve got you.”

•when you’re asleep in his arms, keegan lets his usual guard down, his intense eyes softening as he watches over you. this is one of the few times he allows himself to be vulnerable, holding you close like you’re the most precious thing in his world. and you are—to him, you’re more than his teammate; you’re his to protect, his to care for, his everything.

•if you wake up, his grip doesn’t loosen—if anything, it tightens slightly, as if he’s reluctant to let you go. “stay,” he’ll murmur, his voice low and gravelly, almost pleading. there’s a possessiveness in his tone, but it’s layered with so much love and devotion that it feels more protective than controlling. he won’t let you leave his lap until he’s absolutely sure you’re fully rested and okay.

•keegan might not say much, but his actions speak volumes. the way he holds you, shields you from the world, and refuses to let anyone else near you—all of it screams that you’re his, and he won’t let anything or anyone take you away from him.

kick

•kick is the kind of guy who would instantly notice when you're starting to drift off, and his protective instincts kick in before anything else. the moment you start leaning on him, he moves, pulling you closer until you’re fully in his arms, practically cradled against his chest. there’s a possessive edge to how he holds you—like a lion, keeping its cub safe. he doesn’t care if anyone notices; all that matters is you’re his, and you’re safe in his grasp. bro adores you more than his ego will ever let him say.

•his arms are firm and unyielding, ensuring you’re not going anywhere. if you make the mistake of shifting or trying to move, he’s quick to pull you right back, his hold becoming even tighter. there’s a low, almost inaudible grumble that escapes his throat if anyone dares to look your way, a quiet warning that you belong to him, and anyone else is unwelcome. he's not a man to hesitate instigating.

•if you- or when you start to fall deeper into sleep, kick is the type to softly hum or whisper comforting words in your ear, keeping the atmosphere calm and soothing. he might tell you, “rest, i've got you,” his voice quiet but heavy with affection, the type of words that let you know you’re more than just a teammate—you’re someone he’s fiercely protective of.

•when you wake up, he doesn’t let go right away. his grip is still tight, and his eyes soften as he looks down at you, taking in the rare vulnerability you’ve shown him. “you good?” he’ll ask, his voice rough but filled with genuine care. his arms loosen only enough to let you breathe, but if you try to move away, he’s quick to pull you back in.

könig

•könig freezes when you first fall asleep on him, unsure of what to do. the massive austrian, already awkward in social situations, is completely out of his element when you’re nestled up against him. but it doesn’t take long for his protective instincts to kick in. alowly, carefully, könig adjusts you so that you’re more comfortable, pulling you against his chest like a shield around you. his sheer size envelops you, and he lets out a deep, steadying breath as he realizes how much he likes having you this close.

•he’s hyper-aware of his surroundings, keeping an eye on everything with an almost predatory focus. no one else is allowed to come near while you’re in his arms—not a teammate, not even a passing glance from a civilian. if someone approaches, könig shifts slightly, his presence alone enough to send a clear message: stay back. he doesn’t even need to speak; his imposing figure and the protective way he cradles you say it all.

•he’s surprisingly gentle with you, his gloved hand resting lightly on your shoulder or softly brushing over your hair. every movement is deliberate, careful not to wake you. if you murmur or shift in your sleep, könig might quietly murmur something in german, his voice deep and soothing, though you can’t quite make out the words.

•if you wake up and try to move, könig gently tightens his hold on you, his voice low and filled with quiet urgency. “stay a little longer,” he’ll say, almost shyly, though his grip is firm. he’s not ready to let you go, not when you look so peaceful and vulnerable in his arms.

•you’re his anchor, and he doesn’t care if the rest of the world sees it. when you’re asleep on him, könig’s softer side shines through, though it’s buried beneath his usual stoicism and protective nature.

kyle "gaz" garrick

•gaz is caught off guard at first, but he adapts quickly, a soft grin spreading across his face as you drift off against him. whether it’s in the privacy of his quarters, or lounging in the common room, he instinctively shifts to make you more comfortable, leaning back slightly and draping an arm around you. he doesn’t mind being your pillow; in fact, he finds it endearing that you trust him enough to let your guard down like this.

•gaz is naturally calm and easygoing, so he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. he’ll glance around to make sure no one’s about to interrupt, but he doesn’t get territorial. if someone makes a comment, he’ll just flash them a cheeky grin and shrug, his eyes soft as they flick back to you. “what can i say? she’s got good taste,” he’ll joke lightly, but there’s a quiet protectiveness in his tone.

•as you sleep, he’ll absentmindedly rub small circles into your back or run a hand through your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. he doesn’t wake you, knowing how important rest is, especially during missions. if anyone needs him, they can wait; right now, his priority is making sure you’re okay.

•when you wake up, gaz greets you with an easy smile, his brown eyes warm. “good nap?” he teases, his voice light and playful. If you apologize for falling asleep on him, he just chuckles, shaking his head. “don’t worry about it, love. you looked like you needed it.”

logan walker

•logan’s love for you is quiet but deep, and when you fall asleep near him, he can’t help but draw you closer. the second you start dozing off, he gently shifts you into his arms, making sure you’re comfortable with a sense of natural care. he doesn’t let you go, pulling you against him in a way that feels protective yet soft. the moment you’re nestled against him, he starts brushing his fingers through your hair, the gesture almost instinctual, like a reassurance to both of you.

•as you rest against him, logan’s movements are gentle but deliberate, making sure you feel safe in his hold. his fingers glide through your hair, combing through it slowly as if savoring the moment. he could do this for hours without a word, but you’ll feel the way his touch speaks volumes—calming, soothing, and possessive in the most comforting way. he loves feeling you relax in his arms.

•if anyone dares to approach, logan’s sharp eyes are already on them. he doesn’t need to say a word; his silent warning is enough. he brushes your hair again, this time with a little more firmness in the motion, as if reaffirming that you belong to him in this moment.

•when you wake up, his first action is usually to smooth your hair back, a small, soft smile appearing on his face as his fingers trail over the strands. "rest easy?" he’ll ask, his voice low and warm, the hint of affection clear in his tone. he’s always so careful with you, never wanting to wake you too suddenly.

•if you start to pull away, he holds you closer. “hey, what's the rush?” he’ll murmur, his fingers continuing to stroke through your hair as if the simple act grounds him. the possessive side of him is subtle, but it’s there in how he refuses to let go. when you’re asleep in his arms, you’re his, and he’s not letting anyone take that from him.

mace

•mace is tough, no doubt, but he’s a sucker for moments like this. the second you fall asleep on him, his tough exterior melts, and he pulls you closer like he’s shielding you from the world. mace isn’t the type to be soft in front of others, but when it’s just you two, he becomes surprisingly affectionate.

•whether you’re in the middle of a mission or chilling in a safe house, mace holds you with a sort of possessive tenderness, like he can’t bear the thought of anyone else getting too close to you. his grip on you is tight, possessive, but he’s careful, not wanting to hurt you. if you start to stir, he’ll press you back into him, a low grunt escaping his lips as he secures you in place.

•when you wake up, you’ll find him staring down at you, that mix of love and possessiveness in his eyes. “you’ve got to stop falling asleep on me like this,” he’ll say, but there’s no real irritation—only affection, the kind of unspoken care he doesn’t know how to show.

•if you try to move, mace’s arm is already there, gently pulling you back. “i’m not done holding you yet,” he’ll grumble, as if the thought of letting you go for even a second doesn’t sit well with him.

•side note, he loves tracing his fingers over your hands. when you're awake, he'll guide your fingers up to trace against his alligator scars. he loves the lazy swipe of your fingers against him. it's a sort of satisfaction.

marcus burns

•marcus doesn’t waste any time when you start to doze off. the second you lean against him, he’s pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you with the force of someone who’s not willing to share. he doesn’t say much, but there’s an undeniable possessiveness in the way he holds you, his grip firm and reassuring.

•when you’re asleep, he stays perfectly still, making sure you’re comfortable but also staying hyper-aware of everything around him. it’s like he’s simultaneously watching over you and protecting you from the rest of the world. if anyone dares to get too close, his glare alone is enough to send them away, and he’ll mutter something under his breath about how “you’re with him, and that’s that.”

• when wake up, he’ll be there, his arms still wrapped around you. “you good?” he’ll ask, the roughness of his voice softened just enough to let you know he cares. if you try to move closer, he’ll pull you in as close as possible, refusing to let you go easily.

•there’s a quiet, protective energy around marcus, and when you fall asleep on him, it’s his way of showing you that you belong to him in the most unspoken, but very real, way possible.

marcus "lerch" ortega

•marcus is a greedily possessive guy through and through, and when you fall asleep on him, he lets it be known. he’ll pull you into his lap or his arms and hold you close, his large frame making you feel completely shielded from the outside world. his hands rest possessively on your back, one hand occasionally brushing your hair or running across your shoulders in soothing strokes, but it’s clear he’s not letting anyone get too close to you.

•if you start to stir or try to shift away, marcus isn’t having it. he pulls you back to him, his grip tightening as he mutters, “stay put, sweetheart.” he doesn’t say it like an order, but the possessiveness is unmistakable in his tone. you’re his responsibility now, and he’s not letting go.

•when you wake up, you’ll find him watching over you, his face softening when your eyes open. “you’re alright. resting’s good for you,” he’ll murmur, his words laced with a quiet affection he doesn’t always show. he’ll let you sit up, but you’ll see the reluctance in his eyes as you try to leave his embrace.

•if you try to stand, he’ll grab your wrist, tugging you back with a gentle but firm motion. “no, stay right here with me.” his possessiveness might come off strong, but there’s an undeniable love behind it.

•kisses your forehead when you settle back in.

nikolai belinski

•you don't exactly fall asleep against him.

•nikolai is a grouchy, no-nonsense kind of guy, but when you fall asleep in his hangar, he can’t bring himself to scold you for it. the first time he notices you slumped against some nearby crates, he sighs loudly, muttering to himself about how you’ve managed to fall asleep in his domain. still, he doesn’t wake you up. instead, he grumbles under his breath as he carefully scoops you up, holding you tightly against his chest as if you’re the most fragile thing he’s ever handled—even though he’d never admit that out loud.

•he finds a spot among the chaos of the hangar and sits down, pulling you into his lap without a second thought. his arms are firm and unyielding around you, holding you so tightly it’s as if he’s trying to shield you from the cold metal surroundings. as much as he grumbles about it, there’s a protective possessiveness to how he holds you, his chin occasionally brushing the top of your head. “what are you doing falling asleep here?” he mutters softly, though there’s no real bite to his words.

•while you sleep, nikolai refuses to move, sitting there like a solid fortress. he doesn’t bother pretending to be gentle—he’s all rough edges and gruff care, but the way he keeps his arms around you, ensuring you’re warm and safe, says everything. if anyone happens to wander into the hangar and see the two of you, nikolai is quick to bark at them to leave, his glare sharp and unrelenting. “out. now,” he growls, his grip tightening protectively around you.

•when you stir awake, his first instinct isn’t to let go but to hold you even closer, as if to make sure you’re still there. “finally awake, hm? took you long enough,” he says with a smirk, his voice teasing but layered with a gruff affection that he can’t quite hide. he brushes a few stray strands of hair from your face, his touch rough but careful, like he’s still figuring out how to handle you.

•if you try to get up, nikolai won’t let you go right away. his arms tighten around you as he grumbles, “stay put for a bit. you’re not going anywhere yet.” his voice is gruff, but there’s a quiet warmth behind it, the kind that makes you realize just how much he cares. even in his grouchy, no-frills way, nikolai’s possessiveness is clear—when you fall asleep in his hangar, you’re his, and he’s not letting you go

•makes you wait until he's finished working on his helicopter- giving you the small assignment of handing him small tools, just so later, he can easily pull you back into his arms.

nikto

•nikto’s first reaction when you fall asleep on him is a sharp exhale, the kind that conveys his usual grouchy frustration. he glances down at you, frowning slightly as your head rests on his shoulder. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters under his breath, eyes flicking back to the road ahead. he’s on a mission, not a leisurely drive—and here you are, completely oblivious to the world, using him as a pillow.

•he wants to be annoyed—really, he does—but there’s a part of him that softens in spite of himself. he shifts in his seat, trying to adjust without waking you. It’s not exactly comfortable for him, but he’s not heartless enough to shove you away. his hand flexes on the wheel, the other twitching slightly like he’s debating whether to push you off or pull you closer.

•“you’re lucky I’m not throwing you out of the fucking truck,” he grumbles, but his tone lacks any real malice. there’s a pause as he glances at you again, and with a resigned sigh, he carefully maneuvers one arm to rest across your lap, anchoring you to him in case the ride gets bumpy. it’s a subtle but protective gesture, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

•if the mission goes long and someone radios in, nikto is quick to shut them down. “i'm handling it. don’t bother me,” he snaps, his voice sharp and irritated. he keeps his answers short and clipped, making it clear he doesn’t want anyone interrupting this rare moment.

•when you stir, nikto tenses slightly, his grouchy exterior snapping back into place. “you awake now? good. about time,” he says, his voice gruff, though there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes as he glances your way. he doesn’t say anything about the fact that you were leaning on him, but the way his hand briefly lingers on your arm before returning to the wheel speaks volumes.

•if you apologize or try to explain, he cuts you off. “don’t. just stay awake next time,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite to his words. his hand brushes against your knee for a moment, grounding you both in the present. beneath all the gruffness and irritation, nikto’s protectiveness shines through in small, subtle ways that speak louder than any words he’d dare say.

phillip graves

•graves is the kind of man who can’t help but smirk when you fall asleep on him. he leans back in his chair or against the couch, letting you settle against his chest like you belong there—which, to him, you absolutely do. his arm snakes around you, holding you securely as he tips his hat back slightly, giving anyone nearby a look that screams, don’t even think about interrupting.

•as you sleep, graves doesn’t just sit still—he watches you, his sharp eyes softening as they trace the peaceful expression on your face. he’s got that southern charm in spades, and it comes out even in the way he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and deliberate. “damn, sweetheart ’,” he mutters under his breath, a low chuckle escaping him. “could’ve at least warned me you were gonna knock me out like this.”

•when it’s time to wake you, graves doesn’t bother with something as boring as words. instead, he leans in close, his lips brushing against your forehead first—soft and slow, testing the waters. then, he moves to your temple, your cheek, and finally, your lips, his kisses warm and lingering enough to pull you from your dreams. “rise and shine, darlin'.” he drawls, his voice low and teasing, but there’s a genuine affection beneath it.

•he’s absolutely grinning when your eyes flutter open, looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s seen all day. “mornin’, sunshine,” he teases, his southern drawl thick and playful. “you were out like a light. couldn’t help myself— you’re just too damn cute when you’re sleepin’.” his fingers trail along your jawline as he speaks, his touch lazy but deliberate, like he’s got all the time in the world to focus on you.

•if you try to pull away, which, i would too girl, graves just tightens his hold, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “now, where do you think you’re goin’? you just woke up. stay here a little longer—can’t let you run off after leavin’ me like that.” there’s no real protest in his tone, just that teasing, possessive edge that makes it clear he’s not letting you go until he’s had his fill of holding you.

•he’ll keep teasing you the entire time, but it’s all underpinned by genuine love. and when you finally manage to pull away, you can still feel the ghost of his kisses lingering on your skin, a reminder that graves never does anything halfway—especially not when it comes to you.

rodolfo "rudy" parra

•the moment you start to drift off on him, rudy’s first instinct is to adjust himself so you’re more comfortable. he’s a gentle soul at heart, and his natural charm shines through even in moments like this. he carefully shifts you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely but not possessively. he cradles you like you’re the most precious thing in his world, his touch featherlight but steady.

•rudy isn’t the type to get overly territorial or possessive—he’s too tender for that, knows you can hold your own —but he does make sure that nothing disturbs you. if anyone comes near, he simply gives them a small, polite shake of his head and a reassuring smile, silently asking for peace for the both of you.

•as you sleep, rudy finds himself relaxing too, the soft rhythm of your breathing lulling him into a sense of calm. eventually, he settles back, letting himself rest alongside you. his head tilts slightly to rest against yours, and his hand absentmindedly strokes gentle circles on your back, the motion soothing for both of you.

•rudy hums quietly under his breath, the melody something familiar and comforting. it’s not loud enough to wake you but enough to fill the silence in a way that feels warm and intimate. it’s one of those rare moments where he lets himself enjoy the simple joy of just being with you, no mission, no chaos—just peace.

•when you wake up, rudy is still there, his eyes half-lidded with sleep but full of warmth as he looks at you. “you’re awake,” he says softly, his voice rich with affection. “i guess we both needed that, hm?” his smile is small but genuine, a glimpse of the quiet love he has for you

simon "ghost" riley

•when you fall asleep next to simon, it's a calm, quiet kind of intimacy that doesn’t need any grand gestures. he’s the type to let you rest without making a fuss, keeping his focus on his own tasks. he might be reading a book or going over some intel, but there's a subtle shift in his behavior the moment you fall asleep next to him. he adjusts slightly, making sure you’re comfortable but not doing it in an overly obvious way—he just wants you to be settled, and he’s more than willing to make small changes to ensure that.

•his hand, though, tells a different story. as you sleep, it’ll find its way to your thigh, fingers gently brushing along the fabric of your clothes in a way that’s more soothing than anything else. it’s not possessive, not in the way some others might be, but it's a protective kind of touch—a way for him to silently reassure himself that you're right there, safe in his presence.

•he won’t stop reading or working, but there’s a quiet attentiveness in his gaze whenever he looks up from the pages. his eyes will drift to you now and then, checking that you’re still okay, maybe adjusting the way he’s holding you, or if you shift, making sure you’re still comfortable. he’s not going to wake you up or disturb your rest, but he’ll keep an eye on you, ensuring that no one and nothing gets too close.

•when you wake up, you might notice how his gaze softens a little when you stir, but he’ll stay silent for a moment before offering a subtle smile. “you sleep okay?” he’ll ask in that low, gravelly voice of his, his eyes scanning you for any sign that you’re not alright. his hand won’t leave your thigh right away, not unless you shift or try to get up, and even then, there’s a reluctance to let you go. he’ll ease you out of his embrace gently, not wanting to disturb the peace, but his focus will always linger on you in a way that says you’re safe, you’re his priority, and nothing will disturb this calm while you’re here.

vladimir makarov

•makarov is a man who doesn’t do affection easily—he’s cold, calculating, and distant. however, when you fall asleep near him, especially with your head resting on his shoulder, it’s a rare moment where you see a different side of him. he doesn’t immediately pull away or brush you off; instead, he allows you to settle into the space he’s made for you, though he’s not about to offer more than that. there’s an unspoken message in the way he lets you rest—he’s not a man who is overly touchy, but he trusts you enough to let your head rest on his shoulder.

•his arms 100% stay at his sides, and he won’t pull you in closer, nor will he cuddle you—he’s simply allowing you this brief moment of peace. his posture remains rigid, not exactly relaxed, but it’s as though he’s guarding you in this silent way. the fact that he doesn’t push you away is a significant gesture on his part.

•if you stir or adjust, makarov will remain still, though his gaze might shift to make sure you’re still comfortable. there’s no rush to move you, but also no soft caress or comforting touch. he doesn’t do that. instead, his presence alone is solid and reassuring. you might feel the slight tension in his body, a constant reminder of who he is, but there’s also something oddly protective in the way he lets you stay close.

•when you wake up, his eyes will meet yours—sharp, calculating, but also with an understanding that, in this moment, you were able to let your guard down with him. he might not say much, but there’s a flicker of something in his gaze that tells you he’s content with this quiet moment. “rested?” he might ask, his tone neutral, but the way he says it suggests more than simple curiosity.

velikan

•velikan is a man whose size and strength are intimidating, but when you fall asleep on him, his rough exterior falls away just a bit. he’s not the type to let anyone close easily, but with you, he’s different. when you settle next to him, his massive arms wrap around you without hesitation, drawing you closer to him. his embrace is protective, solid, and there’s a comfort in it that you won’t find with anyone else.

•velikan’s hold is gentle, despite his intimidating presence. he doesn’t crowd you, but he doesn’t let go either. his body is warm, and his heartbeat steady, acting as an anchor for you as you rest. if anyone were to dare approach, his gaze alone would send them away, but he doesn’t need to say anything—his protective nature speaks volumes.

•if you wake up or shift, velikan’s grip will tighten slightly, almost as if to say, don’t go anywhere. he’s not about to let you leave so soon. when you stir, he’ll remain quiet, his eyes watching you with an unreadable expression. he’ll make sure you’re comfortable again before you fully wake up, adjusting you if necessary.

•when you do wake, belikan’s presence remains, unwavering. he’s still holding you, still close, and he doesn’t seem in any hurry to let you go. “sleep well?” he’ll ask in his deep voice, though there’s no rush for you to answer. he simply wants you to know that if you need more time to rest, he’ll give it to you without question.

vance

•vance is a surprisingly relaxed guy when it comes to moments like this. when you fall asleep near him, he doesn’t fight it or pull away—he simply adjusts, pulling you in a little closer, letting you rest without hesitation. he’ll shift his posture so you’re more comfortable, making sure you’re tucked against him in a way that feels natural. his arms, though strong, are surprisingly gentle as he pulls you into his side.

•there’s a tenderness to vance that you just don’t see often. when you stir or adjust, he’s quick to make sure you’re still settled, and if anyone dares to interrupt the moment, vance’s expression is enough to send them walking away. he doesn’t say much, but his quiet presence is more than enough to make you feel safe.

•if you wake up, vance won’t pull away right away; he’ll just let you stretch out, and he’ll give you a casual smile. “how you feeling?” he’ll ask with a warm chuckle, his voice light and reassuring. there’s no pressure to get up, and if you just want to rest a little longer, he won’t complain.

•kisses your cheek, brushing your hair out of your face.

[sterifels-blog]

god, i love men.

[sterifels-blog]

sigma sigma boy sigma boy sigma boy.. 😞

he thinks hes so skibidi bruhhh🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️

[sterifels-blog]

I absolutely ADORE your writing and your page!! You're just so HASHSHFRARAHRUEA <3

HI GORGEOUSS, THANK YOUUUUU 😭❤️❤️ i appreciate this so much. you are so sweet 🥰😊

[sterifels-blog]

[sterifels-blog]

oh, to post graves' stubbled jawline, chiseled like a god straight outta granite quarries. my fingers twitch at his gustful pixels, feral for that war-torn, bureaucratic hound of a man. i'd hit send on that face alone- goddammit, just let me worship him in JPEG form

[sterifels-blog]

The moment you decide you are worthy. The universe starts to agree.

[sterifels-blog]

creepypasta characters – how they’d react to you being upset over a small inconvenience 🤏

BEN drowned

•mocking sarcasm: “oh no, did the big scary printer jam again? total apocalypse. truly.” what became clear in his death, was he did, in fact, take his childish personality with him. he is no better than jeff when it comes down to teasing you for your dismays.

•playful teaser. he glitches around the room, mimicking your upset tone in a distorted voice, just to annoy you. it's spiteful, a little ignorant, but it's something you've come to grow used to. some things were just inevitable with BEN, and his torment was one of those things.

•offers digital comfort. BEN hacks a random game to create a hidden message for you, like “cheer up, loser.” if you don't reciprocate any sort of reaction back- you best believe he will be petty enough to rig a match for you. not so you can win, no. so you lose. just to agitate you again.

•awkward, awkward softness: if you’re seriously upset, he stammers, “hey, uh, don’t cry. i… don’t know how to deal with that.” very likely, he panics and goes to grab someone like jack or jane.

•weird with distractions. he'll float around, humming the zelda theme song until you laugh or throw something at him. if it works, it works. either way, you're too focused on smiling, or trying to hit him.

•over-the-top suggestion: “want me to corrupt their computer files? that’ll show them.”

•king of small gestures. leaves a pixelated heart drawn in a game you’re playing, then pretends it wasn’t him.

bloody painter:

•he observes quietly. sits in eerie silence, studying your emotions like he’s painting a mental portrait.

•when he is finished staring (although, admittedly, he does quite like the sight of you), he will offer some deadpan advice:

•“if it doesn’t matter in five years, it’s not worth ruining your eyeliner over.”

•if verbal reassurance doesn't do it for you, willingly, he'll engage in a paint-based gesture for his angel. he draws something comforting or silly (alternatively, absolutely crude) on a scrap of paper and hands it to you without a word, hoping it makes some difference.

•dark humor (where it is, and isn't appropriate.) “want me to take care of whoever pissed you off?” half-joking. maybe. if you say no, there is some genuine disappointment left lingering in his eyes. a missed opportunity to stock-up.

•unexpected comfort. gently touches your face and says some cheesy bullshit like, “the colors of sadness suit you, but i’d rather see you smile". he knows he's succeeded in making you feel something other than upset, when you are pressing your palm against his face and pushing him away with a groan of annoyance.

•will go extreme measures to make you a distracting gift. offers to paint you something. it’s his way of saying sorry.

•serious effort: if you’re really upset, he’ll spend hours creating something meaningful to cheer you up. although you'd clearly specified you didn't want him to maul the poor man who'd taken the last pint of your favorite ice cream flavor; the red coating of the little house he'd made you (in respect to the small abode you will "most definitely have" together), spoke otherwise to him listening.

•it's fucking disgusting, but don't discard it. it's the.. 'sweetest' way he shows that he cares.

clockwork:

•chaotic comfort. immediately threatens to stab whatever inconvenienced you. “who do i need to ‘fix’ for this?”

•pactical help (or a lack thereof): she does actually try to solve the problem for you, but gets frustrated if it’s not instant.

•(unhelpful) teasing: “aww, does my little clock need winding? let’s fix your mood.”

•joking aggression: “you’re upset? try getting stabbed in the eye and tell me how you feel". she soon after realizes this probably wasn't the best way to get through to you, and instead resorts to gently carding her fingers through your hair, sitting in an awkward silence after.

•when the silence gets to be too much, the most rational conclusion she could come up with was a random distraction. tosses something shiny or makes a loud noise to snap you out of it, almost, most definitely getting a sick kick of amusement when you jump in a startle.

•clumsy affection: roughly pulls you into a hug afterwards and says, “you’ll be fine. i’ve seen you handle worse.”

•this is shortly after followed by a soft admission. “i don’t like seeing you like this. it’s weird.” no sympathy on her face, just her nose being scrunched up in discomfort. but you can tell she means her words.. more for her sake.

eyeless jack

•jack is a quiet observer. he always has been, and will be. he notices you’re upset but waits for you to bring it up, not wanting to push you down a further slope than you were already on.

•when you finally begin to talk to him, for the most part, he simply listens. but if he notices it's getting to be too much, he'll offer some gentle reassurance: his voice is calm, almost nonchalant as he says, “it’s okay. you can talk to me.” he means it.

•words aren't easy for him. he's used to being silent, tucked away to the confines of his laboratory. it's why he chooses a more physical approach. cooking comfort. jack makes you a meal without being asked—though you might not want to know the ingredients. just eat it, and thank him.

•when he does speak, he offers the most practical advice out of the bunch: “you’ll survive. you’re stronger than whatever this is.”

•he's cold, but caring: “if it’s not life-threatening, it’s not worth worrying about. but... i get it.”

•soft-spoken comfort: stays close by, quietly grounding you with his presence. he'll offer you a spot in his laboratory for the time being, leaving you to watch as he hustles and bustles about. he isn't a fan of people in his space- in the slightest. but for you, he doesn't mind the company, so long as it helps. he won't directly admit it, but seeing you upset does something to his heart.

•it unfortunately, wouldn't be jack without some out of pocket, and highly untimed dark humor. he's working on his current 'patient', his scalpel against the lining of their abdomen when he would pause, as though an idea surfaced.

•“would harvesting an organ cheer you up? no? worth a shot.”

hoodie

•takes a more casual approach compared to the others. nudges your shoulder and says some nonchalant shit like; “what’s got you so down?”

•followed by some super-chill reassurance: “it’s not the end of the world. i’ve seen worse.”

•says it in a tone that makes him sound like he genuinely doesn't give a fuck, and is instead saying it in prayer god gives him a second chance for being 'kind'. he does, genuinely care however. he wouldn't have asked if he didn't.

•when he realizes it's something 'trivial' (in his mind), he'll give you some lighthearted distraction. hoodie offers to hang out or go on a random drive to take your mind off it. if you accept to hang out, you're both watching some rag-tag channel that your old, boxy ass television could pull up. it's absolutely shit. if you accept the drive, the radio is on, playing some old song that helps you clear your mind. the two of you definitely get going.

•if it's not the radio you're focused on, it's his singing. it's either god awful, and it makes you want to die more than whatever inconvenienced you at first, or he should have been a choir boy.

•snack attack: you two pull into a gas station along the way to fill up the old piece of rust. he goes in, comes back out with a pack of cigarettes and some chips in hand. he'll carelessly throw the bag of chips at you and say, “here. don’t say i never do anything for you.”

•soft teasing: “you’re cute when you’re mad, but let’s not make it a habit.”

•followed by some subtle care: puts his hoodie around your shoulders if you look especially down, or you're out late on your drive and it's getting cold.

jason the toymaker

•100% makes a toy bribe: instantly offers to make you a custom toy to cheer you up. “what’s your favorite color again?” it's cheesy, but it does have it's odd way of working it's magic.

•jason can get into quite an overprotective mode, often getting himself frustrated when he cant disect the root of your problem. “what caused this? tell me so I can fix it." .. "am i going to kill them..? what does it matter?"

•the answer is yes. yes, he is.

•soft-spoken comfort: “don’t worry. i’ll always take care of you.” he has a way of reassuring you even when you have your doubts, almost with an expertise that surprises you. if you were ever questioning his genuinity, he's answered for you.

•possessive guilt-tripper. “i don’t like seeing my favorite person like this. smile for me, will you?” he's sweet, in the worst of ways. jason knew all he had to do was flash you that charming smile of his, and you'd bend to his will. it was both a curse and a blessing.

•makes up some distracting hobby. he invites you to join him on a whim in making something to calm your nerves. (he definitely ends up taking over your craft.)

•encourages gentle insistence much like bloody painter. “you’re allowed to be upset, but not for long. it doesn’t suit you.”

•creepy but.. comforting? reassurance: “nothing bad can happen to you while i’m here. i'll make sure of it.” you aren't allowed out of his sights for a while.

jeff the killer

•mockery overload. “aww, you’re upset? should I call the waaah-mbulance?” he's a fucking asshole and he knows it, but his emotional boundaries hold no shame. if you knew any better, you would think he didn't care if he made you feel better or worse.

•teasing to comfort: purposefully annoys you until you either laugh or yell at him. he is 100%, more than likely aiming for the latter, getting a sick sense of satisfaction from knowing you're wound up now because of him. “see? you’re not upset anymore!”

•he's a twat with territorial anger: if it’s someone else’s fault, he’s immediately ready to fight, thinking of the most irrational ways to kill someone for your sake (though there is already nothing rational about him). “who do i need to carve a smile into?”

•though a selfish sod, he does have some genuinely surprising softness when it comes to you. if you’re genuinely upset, he awkwardly wraps his arm around your shoulder and says, “it’s fine. just... chill, okay?” he's rubbing your back until his hand is numb, or you become agitated.

•clumsy reassurance: “you’ve got me, so who cares about dumb stuff like that?”

•even throughout the comforting, his offer of violence still stands. “say the word, and i’ll make it disappear. permanently.”

•jeff is the absolute fucking worst for guilt deflection. if he caused the inconvenience, he’ll deny responsibility, but quietly try to make it better. he sees admitting to his faults as a weakness, but a few hours later, when he‐ again‐, sees your mood hasn't improved— he's begrudgingly coming over and taking your hand to apologize. his words are lazy sounding, but they are true. it pisses him off that he has to go such lengths to make you feel better, but in the end, it's you. so he'll cope.

jane the killer

•she is a direct comfort sort of woman: “what’s wrong? talk to me.”

•when she notices its an re-occuring issue bothering you more than usual, she'll go into problem-solving mode. jane listens carefully and offers solutions, even if you just want to vent. she loves listening to you talk, even if it's under more unfortunate circumstances.

•has a protective streak much like her male counterpart: “if it’s someone else’s fault, i’ll handle it.” and she means it

•queen of tough love. it's her kingdom. “you’re stronger than this. don’t let it get to you.” she's seen too many people react irrationally because of minor inconveniences (jeff), and she would hate to see you deliberately get into trouble because of something as 'simple' as frustration.

•silent presence: if words won’t help, she stays with you until you feel better. if your room is a mess, she'll clean your clothes off the floor, fold, and carry your laundry to the washer while you relax on your bed. she won't let you leave until she's positive you're at least feeling a little better about your situation, and even then, she's by your side for most the day.

•though she can be just as stubborn as anyone else, jane does make a soft admission: “i hate seeing you so upset. tell me how to help.”

•makes some gentle distraction (unlike clockwork): she suggests watching a movie or doing something fun together to lift your spirits. she will likely end up doing your makeup, the two of you on the floor together until your spirits start to rise.

laughing Jack (i hate this motherfucker)

•over-the-top antics because he's just like that, unfortunately. he's a piece of shit, but tries to make you laugh with ridiculous jokes or obnoxious pranks. a for effort, i guess. he's giving it his best shot.

•much like jeff, being a complete dick, there is that aspect of mock concern: “oh no! we must alert the circus of your sorrow!” sarcastic cunt.

•there is some aspect of unexpected sweetness with him, i would think (hope). if you’re genuinely upset, he tones it down and says, “hey, I don’t like seeing you like this.”

•he's crouching down onto his knees as you sit on the edge of your bed, his large, ugly ass hands cupping your face the best he can without shanking you with his gross, long fingers. his thumbs 'gently' rub your cheeks as he let's you breathe your frustration out.

•clownish ass distractions: pulls out a random toy or silly object to cheer you up. from out of fuck-all nowhere, he pulls a doll out from behind its back. it's even more hideous than him, which is difficult. it's stuffing is gruesomely ripped out, instead, packed full with grotesque looking candies. he'll awkwardly discard it on the floor when he sees it's only made your mood worse. what an idiot.

•chaotic energy: “let’s go do something fun! or dangerous! or both!”

•you don't feel like doing anything

•gentle honesty: “i'm not good at this comforting stuff, but I’m here for you.”, even though you already knew that. though the semblance is appreciated.

kagekao

•you're still a victim of playful mockery. "you look adorable when you’re mad. like a tiny storm cloud". he's mocking you while you want to punch him into a smear.

•teasing distractions. he pokes at your cheeks or steals something of yours to make you chase him. he genuinely does not care that you feel murderous tendencies towards him at the moment. it's his life mission to torment you eternally.

•jovial comfort: “don’t worry, i’ll take care of everything. or, at least, pretend I did.”

•surprise gifts. when he knows he's pushed you too far, he will opt to leave you a random (sometimes unsettling) trinket to cheer you up. he knows he's the source of your agitation, so he tries his 'best' to make up for it.

•more lighthearted annoyance. “you know i can’t take you seriously when you’re pouting like that, right?”

•unexpected wisdom from someone who is such a cunt to deal with. “life’s too short to stress over these things. laugh it off.”

•silently lurks nearby until you calm down, offering his silent presence as comfort.

masky

•masky will often show a reluctant concern, not outright admitting he's worried about your fluctuating attitude, but instead inviting you to chat. “what’s wrong now?” his tone is gruff, but he genuinely cares.

•practical help: masky fixes the problem (if possible) without saying much about it; especially when it comes down to it being an issue with anything containing an engine. if you're frustrated by an issue you're having with your vehicle, calmly, he'll tell you to give him the keys, and if he's feeling nice enough, he'll invite you out to hold the flashlight for him. just make sure you keep it steady.

•vaguely annoyed, but supportive: “seriously? you’re upset over that? fine, let’s deal with it.” he's the type to teach you about fixing your own issues, so you'll know how to deal with it next time.

•protective side: “if you need help with this, come to me. you don't need to be going to.. random guys to fix your car."

•he's definitely jealous at the thought of you going to anyone else for help but him.

•silent comfort if it's anything else that physically, he cant fix. he sits near you, not saying a word but making it clear he’s there for you.

•backhanded affection: “you’re too stubborn to let this keep you down, right?” he knows you'll take it as he's doubting you; and that you'll smarten up quick.

•masky gives you grudging hugs. awkwardly, he pulls you into a hug if you’re really upset— often on the porch as he's having a smoke. you'll be sitting on the steps, tucked up to his side. if he feels nice enough- his jacket will end up slung over your shoulders.

slenderman

•i'm going to be flat with you, he does not care.

•but if he did, he would be calm and composed. it doesn’t affect him, so he has no reason to reacf but to calm you down. “you’re letting this get to you? that’s beneath you.” he sounds unamused.

•stoic support. slenderman offers silent reassurance with his unyielding presence. sometimes he's there, sometimes he isn't. but, you always have that lingering feeling of him being close by. it's both comforting and frightening.

•intimidation tactic: “shall i remove the source of your distress?” he’s deadly serious, for the most part.

•he's slightly patronizing. he doesn't really grasp a sense of confliction about this like you do. he doesn't really get why you're making such a fuss over something so blatant. “this is not worth your energy. focus on what truly matters.”

•both helps and frustrates you more. sometimes it's pointless to explain to him.

•..somewhat gentle understanding. if you’re truly distressed, he places a hand on your shoulder and will tell you to excuse yourself from any activities later in the day.

•eerie distraction: creates a serene yet unnerving environment to take your mind off things. the effort is.. there.

•cryptic advice: “all things are temporary. even this feeling.”

ticci toby

•dry sarcasm “wow, the world’s ending because of this. guess we should all panic.” his tone is teasing but not mean-spirited. he just doesn't understand that it's truly bothering you to that extent, until you breakdown to him.

•gentle understanding: “yeah, okay, I get it. sometimes the little stuff just… builds up.” he leans back and listens without pushing you. he knows you're already overwhelmed, and makes it a point to give you some space while still being there.

•subtle comfort. he offers you his jacket or quietly sits beside you, muttering, “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. i'm not going anywhere.” like masky, he keeps you close to his side, whether sitting on a log or walking down the path. he'll encourage you to hold onto his arm.

•toby has a protective streak: “tell me who or what caused this. i’ll take care of it.” his voice is calm, but there’s an edge that means he’s serious. he doesn't like the idea of anyone pushing you around— only he can play around with you like that.

•gounding presence: if you’re spiraling, he places a hand on your shoulder or holds your hand. “breathe, okay? just focus on me for a minute.” too many times he's had to do this by himself. he understands the complications of losing yourself— and if you don't have to go through it alone, he won't allow you to.

•dull humor to lighten the mood. "if it makes you feel better, i've probably done something way stupider than whatever you’re upset about.”

•quiet reassurance: “you’ll get through this. you always do. it’s not as big as it feels right now, i promise.” he speaks softly but firmly, making sure you know he’s in your corner. he always is and will be. he's a bit more gentle than the rest.

[sterifels-blog]

hey, you! 👋

welcome to the masterlist for my upcoming "how'd they react if..." series!

featuring fandoms such as:

•creepypasta

•marble hornets

•red dead redemption

•top gun

•house md

•slashers

•call of duty (MW and ghosts)

there are certain fandoms i won't associate certain prompts to, either because they do not fit with the characters well enough, or simply because i just don't have the time available 👍

it's important to disclaim that when referencing to certain characters, i am not in anyway shape or form referencing to their actors. all characters will be clearly separated from their VA's, as i am not comfortable with, and find it extremely odd to write scenarios about real-life individuals. these drables will not apply to:

• fallout (not enough to work with)

•top gear / grand tour

•f1 / nascar

•moto GP

these fandoms revolve around the individuality of the people starred in them as a whole, and therefore, will not be featured. ❤️

requests are open, and happy reading! 📚

[sterifels-blog]

hey all! i'm steri 👋

🎓 i’m currently hustling on my master’s in criminology, which means i spend 90% of my time dissecting human behavior and the other 10% wondering why people are so fucking weird. when i’m not knee-deep in academic papers, i’m usually diving headfirst into my many (probably too many,) fandoms. here’s a quick rundown of the chaos.

fandoms & hyperfixations (because what else is new?):

• creepypasta

• marble hornets

• slashers

• call of duty (MW & ghosts)

• house md

• top gear / grand tour

• top gun

• f1 / nascar

• moto GP

• fallout

• red dead redemption

other, not so important things about me:

• i make headcannons + masterlists for fictional characters like they’re real people.

• i have an unhealthy obsession with garfield + redbull

• i act super nonchalant, but if there was a song to describe me as a person, it would be 'don't stop the party', — pitbull & TJR

anyway, welcome to my corner of the internet ❤️. i am super friendly and would absolutely love to talk with anyone and everyone at any given point! do not be afraid to shoot a shot. you won't miss 😊

that's it. that's the post.