#//Sleepy platonic cuddles!

[dxfiedfxte]

Unprompted Asks || Always Accepting

@oraclememehacker asked:

"We should become sleep buddies. I tend to sleep a lot myself as you know."

[{ 🦋 }] - "You know, I never really thought about that type of thing before... hmm."

If there was one other thing from his love for food and everything about the paranormal, spooky, unknown, and macabre, there was also his love of sleeping, especially taking naps. There was nothing better than a nice long, refreshing nap.

As a Paranormal Investigator, you were permanently working the graveyard shift. Some investigations did start earlier than others, but that didn't really matter since Minato and his crew always worked all through the night. The blue-scarfed fool thought about it for a minute, he never really considered having a sleeping buddy, but the more he thought about it, the nicer it seemed to sound. Perhaps it was worth giving it a shot, just to see how the experience would be.

[{ 🦋 }] - "Then it's settled, you and I are now sleeping, buddies! Looking forward to our first nap, Futaba-Chan. A little heads up though...I am a bit of a cuddler in my sleep, especially if someone is next to me."

[smilesheartshugs]

Platonic omega verse:

Puppy Tim, (why hasn’t he presented yet he’s nearly 18!!!) hasn’t gotten sleep in at least a week (no Tim those 15 minutes power naps don’t count as sleep) so an older pack member scruffs him and drags him off to sleep. Cue cuddles and a happy sleepy pup. Being scruffed is once if the few time Tim would allow himself to purr, not that Tim allows himself to be scruffed all that often either.

Pack snuggles 😍😍 that is always so cute!!

Idk I’m on a platonic omegaverse kick (never the non platonic version, that gives me the ick)

I have ideas for most of the bat fam in various designations… maybe I’ll make a post like that some day, then again maybe not

[hpdmguy]

soft cuddles!!

[inkykeiji]

it is raining and dark and dreary and cold and all i want to do is snuggle into a nest of fluffy blankets and cuddle with husk because :((( he looks soooo soft and so warm and i bet you he is the best cuddle buddy to just curl up with and drift dreamily between various states of consciousness. just lulled into a hazy sleep by the feeling of his chest curved around your back, rising and falling rhythmically with his calm, even breaths, the sound of fat raindrops pelting against the windowpanes in heavy swells of wind, the low hum of the television as it murmurs to itself, one of your favourite films flickering on the screen, bathing the room in faded blues and washed out reds ♡

[rosetyler42]

Thought I posted this WIR-Verse ink fam moment already, but since I can't find it for the life of me:

Audrey and Bendy taking a nap break in the Heavenly toys room while Alice watches over them and hums.

@lovelylivelyv @black-ak9 @heartsong1994 @thesecreatoroftrans @howling-nightmare @sammy-lawrence-my-beloved @thedopedemon @thedobermutt @thedemonsurfer @royaledevil

[blaiddraws]

i wanna draw. sleepy cuddles. someone send me some good prompts/references for sleepy cuddles.

(note: can be a description, or a photo reference, or whatever you want. also suggest characters when you do. pokemon only, preferably stuff related to what i currently draw. platonic prompts only*, as well)

edit: officially closed now THANK you everyone who suggested stuff it was fun

[capturedpain]

Just some Being Human cuteness!

Love their friendship❤️

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

TMNT - Respite

Summary: Splinter watches over his sons in a well deserved moment of peace.

If theirs were any other family, any…normal family living in any other reality, would his sons be granted more deserved opportunities to find rest like this?

Splinter had to bite back a wistful sigh at the thought; it wasn’t an unfamiliar one, always creeping up on him whenever he got the chance to observe the four of them so at ease—but in this reality those chances were also so rare, he wouldn’t call it a common pondering either. Before he could ever come to a full conclusion, something would inevitably disturb the fragile peace.

Until then he would savor the moment he had. Tonight’s mission had been a grueling one, every step mired in a multitude of risks Leonardo and Donatello had to account for in their joint effort plans that were weeks in the making. Splinter would have accompanied them if he could be of use but said plans had naturally been designed with a unit of four in mind. He would have been just another variable which their strategists had to accommodate in their delicate process; he would be a bigger help here, prepping Donatello’s medical equipment ahead of time. Just in case.

Against all odds, against all worries haunting Splinter’s steps as he prayed and paced the empty hours away, they had done it. What mattered most, of course, was that every one of his sons came home at all but the fact that they had returned with a success so hard won and no need of the med bay was even better.

Michelangelo had insisted they celebrate; drinks, snacks and blankets were gathered, they piled together on the couch, pressed play on a feel-good movie they all knew by heart—and once the comforting familiarity of the opening theme and credits had quieted the residual adrenaline high, they were asleep within minutes.

Splinter had dearly hoped as much, for his sake as well as theirs. They needed their rest and he needed to be of use now in ways he couldn’t earlier, more familiar, more reassuring. He would do everything he could to make the respite last as long and as comfortably as possible—the first step being the procurement of Michelangelo’s cracked soda bottle and popcorn bowl before it tipped from his loose grasp off of the armrest to spill into the blankets. Even in his sleep, however, he had an uncanny sixth sense when it came to food being snuck away from him; as soon as the bowl was out of his hand and on the coffee table, his suddenly empty fingers twitched searchingly and he hummed, smacking his lips.

Stifling a small huff of amusement, Splinter clasped his hand, thumbing the lines of his palm until the tendons relaxed. How much smaller and softer this hand between his used to be…How long ago it was that the other three tots had decided they had grown enough to tromp along the sewers holding onto each other instead of their father, while Michelangelo had stuck by his side. He didn’t want Papa to feel left out, he had said. No matter how recently the boys had been wiped down, Michelangelo always found a way to get his hand sticky (finger paint, remnants of lunch or whatever strange moss he couldn’t help but poke at on the sewer walls) but the little fingers faithfully swinging Splinter’s as they walked were still a comfort just as intended.

Now even more so, despite the grit of his callouses and the grime of dried sweat from the battle. Splinter gave his hand another lighter stroke and a squeeze, counting his blessings. It wasn’t blood, after all. Not tonight.

Michelangelo hummed and twitched again with a little more force, which unfortunately sent his elbow into Donatello’s side and interrupted faint, shallow breathing with a sharper hitch. Splinter winced at the sound, withdrew a few steps and then froze as Donatello started to shift. Regrettably but unsurprisingly, some part of him had perked up even from the dregs of exhaustion in search of any other disruptions.

Getting his third son to bed and keeping him there had always offered ample practice in the arts of silence and invisibility; rest rarely came easily to an ever-racing mind. It was common for him to be the last one standing to give their father the mission debrief after the others had given in to fatigue. Leonardo did try to hold out, feeling badly for how often and how easily it fell onto Donatello’s shoulders, but his brother had ruefully assured him it was no bother and he would probably still be awake for a few hours yet anyway. Even when curtains fell on his consciousness, his body had on occasion ended up going through the motions without it, sleepwalking back to his desk or current projects.

Tonight, however, he couldn’t unconsciously extricate himself from his surrounding brothers as easily as he could get out of his own bed. With how thoroughly drained he must have been to doze off here in the first place, and Splinter remaining very still to contribute no more blips on his radar, he calmed rather miraculously. With a sluggish sigh and an unintelligible mumble in Michelangelo’s direction, he sank back into the throw pillow that had ended up wedged against Raphael’s plastron. After that close call Splinter dared not do more than painstakingly comb some stray strands of the throw pillow’s tassels out of the way so they wouldn’t tickle Donatello’s face.

With Donatello being such a fitful sleeper, one would have expected Raphael’s snoring to be a considerable disturbance to him. (Perhaps Donatello had trained himself to tune it out as he would the overtaxed drone of his computer fans?) It had certainly taken Splinter’s keen ears a while to acclimate but over the course of that time—and with their work channeling Raphael’s emotions, particularly through breathing exercises—he’d learned to pick up on the different cadences of his breaths in downtime too. The noise was much more discordant and staggered if his day had been particularly stressful; for all that he characteristically wore his emotions on his sleeve or his fists, there were a few times Splinter hadn’t realized just how bad a day it was and how much of it his son had stuffed down until he overheard his lungs rattling with all the internalized tension half past midnight.

The relief of a difficult job well done today was effective. Though still deep and heavy, the rhythm of his snores was more akin to a purr than a growl as he tightened the arm he’d thrown over Donatello’s shell. He sacrificed his hold on the TV remote in the process but Splinter fortunately snagged it before it could clatter noisily to the floor. He had to be even quicker to pluck the open bag of chips on his knee that threatened to follow; if it crinkled any louder, it surely would have reactivated Michelangelo’s snack sense.

Once that too was safely on the coffee table, he deftly folded strategic areas of the blankets away. Raphael ran the hottest of the turtles and hated feeling stifled by warmth trapped too long under the covers. As if on cue, Splinter’s adjustments allowed him to kick a leg free for air and he got to see a fraction of the semi-permanent furrow in Raphael’s brow soften just before he hid it by hunkering down and shoving his face firmly against Leonardo’s shoulder.

Leonardo listed slightly sideways under the push with a soft snort but otherwise didn’t stir. There was a duality in his posture, as there always was between the stalwart leader and the tired teenager: a guardedness in how he had folded his arms over his chest—though they had gone more lax with each rise and fall as he slipped into deeper sleep—and a vulnerability in his head tipping back against the couch cushions. He had only a polite corner of the blanket in his lap and the nearby water bottle and packet of trail mix were unopened. Splinter had a feeling that was on purpose, saving such rewards for a nebulous “later” as motivation to stay awake through the movie and optimistically even a debrief. A responsible plan, perhaps, but not as necessary and obviously (thankfully) not as successful as their mission.

After his snacks were safely extracted like the others, Leonardo could be tucked more thoroughly into the folds of the blanket that weren’t needed elsewhere. It was a careful, gradual process, especially when easing it up around his shoulders; while not to the same extreme as Donatello, Leonardo also tended to sleep lightly when attuned to specific touches. A headbutt from his brother had done nothing but a hand brushed against his shoulder with even a slight misjudgment of pressure would startle him into thinking someone was about to shake him awake, that he was needed. As such Splinter kept his movements feather-light as he draped a doubled-up corner of the fabric protectively over the gouge in his shell. While discussing future care of the wound, Donatello had explained that the top of the shell was meant to hold heat inside. With the loss of the scute there, Leonardo’s temperature was more likely to fluctuate and dip without warning.

A good thing Raphael had pressed into his shoulder so decisively then, Splinter mused with a smile, to share the warmth he exuded more easily.

The last thing to address was the odd angle at which Leonardo’s head had lolled back. If Splinter let him stay there, he would surely wake up with a radiating cramp in his neck as a sour end to a sweet sleep. With one of the displaced bolster pillows in one hand, he cupped his son’s heavy head in the other, lifting it just enough to slide the support under his neck.

In the brief silence that followed he could have sworn he had pulled it off without incident, only to falter when Leonardo dragged his eyes open just a crack.

“Father?” he murmured—or tried to, near soundless as his slurred voice gained little to no traction in his throat.

He looked so young, blinking blearily up at him without quite focusing. Splinter’s heart ached but it was a warm, tender hurt as he moved his hand from the back of Leonardo’s head to the front, trailing a finger from the top center of his forehead, between his glassy eyes and down the bridge of his beak. When they were very little, he had learned by much trial and error that each of his boys had a touch point that soothed them; it was a relief to see age-old instincts work one more time, each downward stroke luring Leonardo’s eyelids to flicker back down with it.

“Everything’s alright, my son. Go back to sleep.”

He felt more than heard the faint exhale of acknowledgment against his hand before the one that followed evened back out. Only after he had counted three…five…ten more inhales, exhales did Splinter let out a breath of his own that he hadn’t realized he was holding. His mission, just as vital, was a success too. Respite retained. Fragile peace preserved. Now he just had to hope it would last until morning.

In the meantime, he could settle into his nearby armchair with a few unclaimed snacks and watch a feel-good movie without the sound on. He knew every beat by heart already.

[gayboyrocklee]

Are you sound of mind

As much as I ever am blehhhhhhhh blehhhhhhhh

[futuramaaddict]

Bro it’s literally 3am for me right now (I’m nocturnal, okay?!) and school is in 3.5 hours but I just finished this fanart that is basically a sequel to my “the little hobbits always sleep in a pile” drawing!!! (This one only took me 1HR 45MINS though)

This fanart is named “late night butterflies”

SORRY FOR THE INSANELY SMALL TEXT FOR THE DIALOGUE, I’LL PUT WHAT SAM AND PIP SAY BELOW ⬇️

Sam: “Hey, do you think Merry will be coming up here soon?”

Pippin: “No, not anytime soon. He said he’d be busy being a ‘cuddle bug’. You just wanna chat?”

Sam: “Sure. I’d like that.”

DIALOGUE ABOVE ⬆️

Of course, Pippin is smoking his pipe (I would have had Merry do that if he wasn’t passed out and busy being a cuddle bug 😚)!!!

That’s all, folks. Goodnight! 💤

[fitzselfships]

I want to hug my f/os so so bad

[autism-industrial-complex]

Cuddle puddle?

i'm bisexual and tired. rb if you're bisexual and tired.

[callmemossbrain]

brushing your hair, aroace style. holding your hand, aroace style. leaning on you, aroace style. laughing with you, aroace style. cuddling while going to sleep, aroace style. braiding your hair, aroace style. dinner together, aroace style. long hugs, aroace style. inside jokes, aroace style. "babe, love, dear," aroace style. making fun of things together, aroace style. giggling at three am, aroace style. driving to see you, or you see me, aroace style. meeting each other's friends, aroace style. meeting important people in your life, aroace style. dropping off a coffee while at work, aroace style. opening the car door for you, aroace style. comforting hand on knees, shoulders, head, back, aroace style. sleepy drives, aroace style. "I have ibuprofen," aroace style. "don't forget your meds," aroace style.

platonic swag, if you will.

[rosetyler42]

Drew this after coming home from running errands all day.

They eepy.

@lovelylivelyv @black-ak9 @serial-serializednovelreader @hotelt-resurrection @deathfangirl9 @inkiedraws @inkhyaena @inkspottie @inkwelldevil @thedopedemon @thedemonsurfer @thedobermutt @wingingfromthezing @howling-nightmare @kittyball23 @ebevkisk @morsobaby

[crescenthistory]

did i hear you say you were writing another animagus!reader x regulus where they cuddle at hogwarts in each their cat forms? 🥺🥺

you know what they say, don't believe everything you hear... except for that, that's actually true

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, copious amounts of fluff, established relationship, bsf!remus, background wolfstar, reader and reg are kinda goody-two-shoes, platonic physical affection

Note: read more about cat!animagus!reader's shenanigans with reg, wolfstar and james here & here

Sweet Like Honey; Karma is a Cat

What a conundrum.

Remus should take this as an opportunity to be a good friend. You have spent almost two decades showing him exactly how to do that, playing the perfect part of the sister-he-never-had, loving and supporting him through life. For never turning your back on him, Remus is sure he owes you far more than what he can ever repay you, so he should try every single day. He should be a good friend.

But it was just too funny not to.

"At what point is it our duty to wake them up?" Sirius' voice whispered in his ear, shaking with mirth.

"I'm wondering the exact same thing." Remus dragged his words out to avoid making a decision. "How long do you think we can get away with?"

"I mean, they are already 15 minutes late to their Charms lesson, so we're dead men walking for not having said anything so far."

Remus is just able to tear his eyes away from you to glance sideways at Sirius, a too-fond smile already playing over his lips as he sees the exact mischievous look on his boyfriend's face that he expected. The look he fell in love with, not that Remus would be sappy enough to think about that right now. "So what you're saying is..."

"Leave it for a while longer?" Sirius grinned.

"Leave it for a while longer." Remus confirmed, whispering through a laugh, shifting his body further into Sirius' side as he lets his eyes fall back on you.

Well. On what he and Sirius knew to be you and Regulus, but what all other students in the library thought was just two cats sleeping in an armchair.

There was an elongated square of sunlight cast onto the middle of the seat by one of the beautifully decorated windows of the ancient castle, every cat's dream spot. The green velvet covering the seat of the mahogany chair was already riddled with fur from how long the two of you had been curled up around each other in it, white, grey and black hairs mixing together. Your forms might as well be mixing together too, fluid in a way that defied physics yet looked impossibly comfortable. Remus supposed you had to milk as much pleasure out of being an animagus as possible to make that whole mandrake leaf ordeal worth it. Though you could not answer even if he asked you right now, he was sure you at this very moment thought it was.

Remus' smile widened as he saw your chest rise dramatically as you breathed a sleepy huff, turning your head over slightly and burrowing it further into Regulus' plush neck. Your little cat bodies laid facing each other, arms around each other in a way he thought looked a little too much like a human hug.

It would be the absolute picture of serenity, two young things with no care in the world but each other – had it not been for the large clock ironically hanging right behind you, reminding you that you were not supposed to be here right now.

The four of you – five before James ran off the second he spotted red hair a few shelves back – had spent your two hours of shared free periods to read up together, for once actually doing a considerable amount of studying during it. Sirius was rubbing it in your faces, yours by consequence and Regulus' by design, that you still had one lesson left for the day when you abruptly stood up and demanded that you need a study break. When you then promptly dragged Regulus off into a corner, Sirius got the karma of a lifetime as he grew very concerned about what kind of break you would be engaging in. That was until the two cats lazily strolled back in and made themselves comfortable in the chair they now claimed as theirs.

Knowing you, Remus knew you hadn't intended on falling asleep, but maybe the fact that you did meant you really needed it. Yes, surely, you must have been exhausted and your body demanded a rest, so frankly he is quite an amazing friend for ensuring you listen to your health and your needs.

"Cats shouldn't be allowed to be that cute," Sirius all but grumbled as he looked at the two of them. "I should hate them on principle, but look at them Moony!"

"Quite literally no one is demanding that you hate cats on behalf of Padfoot, Siri."

"Padfoot is!" Sirius gave him a you can't argue with that logic look, but Remus knew he could.

"Ah, yes, my boyfriend the dog," he mused, cocking an eyebrow at Sirius who promptly reached out with his finger and pulled it back down.

"I could so give you a comeback to that, but I respect you too much not to say it in public," Sirius muttered and Remus couldn't fight his laughter.

Something moving in his periphery brought his attention back on you, seeing you shift even more into Regulus which caused him to begin stirring as well. Go back to sleep, go back to sleep, Remus whispered to you in his mind.

As always, you didn't listen to him, and ever so slowly Remus saw you peel one yellow eye open, blinking blearily at the room before turning your head back towards Regulus. The greyest of your four paws came up to gently pet at the black cat's neck, almost as if you were smoothing over the fur you had ruffled in your sleep. It made Remus' heart ache with love for you both, even as his stomach was slowly dropping.

A soft prrt! escaped Regulus before he instantly began purring and tightening his hold on you with his little cat paws, nosing his head against yours. A kind of softness Regulus rarely let himself fall into in public, though this was arguably a grey area.

It almost looked like you were about to be driven back into sleep by the vibrations moving through you from Regulus' chest. Remus noticed Sirius paying attention raptly as well, which was unfortunate.

Because when you shot up out of your seat with a small squeak, jumping as if startled as you looked towards the clock – now a good 30 minutes into your 45 minutes lesson – Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter. It earned him more than a few hushes from those around, but most importantly, it earned him your head snapping around to look at him with eyes that could rival a basilisk’s.

Considering Remus was already on a streak of making disloyal choices towards his loved ones, he didn't fight his instinct to stand up from his seat and back up when you ran and jumped onto the table right in front of Sirius' face with a hiss. You slapped at him with a clawless paw to which Sirius whispered something along the lines of "hey, knock it off, be cool" while trying to hold you at arm's length. You scowled at him as aggressively as any cat could, raising your back slightly before you arguably tut-ed at him and jumped back down.

Remus fought for his life to not laugh.

You turned around and ran over to Regulus who was still lazily stretching and gaining his bearings, not an ounce of care shown towards the near-assault of his brother. Nudging him with your head towards the end of the chair, he got the point and jumped down, already falling into his usual graceful mannerisms.

Together you scurried off back into your corner.

When you came back a mere minute later Remus swore there was no difference in your facial expression. Remus carefully walked around the table – where Sirius was still sitting with a petulant pout – hands up in surrender.

You crossed your arms, leaning your weight onto your right hip as you glared at your oldest friend, clearly expecting him to speak first. Behind you Regulus was strolling over, looking like he was trying really hard to be miffed but falling just short.

“How dare you,” you said – and it was a statement, not a question.

“In my defence,” Remus started, hands still up but so were the corners of his lips. “You two looked adorable.”

“That will surely hold up real well with the professor,” you scoffed.

“We didn’t make you fall asleep, princess,” Sirius grumbled to which you turned to him with a bitch please look Remus is fairly certain you picked up from Sirius.

“Apologies for expecting my friends to have my back. How stupid of me.”

“Very stupid indeed,” Sirius murmured as he took a sip of his coffee, grimacing when he found it to be cold. He nearly spilled some when Regulus gave him a light slap up the back of the head.

Remus figured it was time to pull out the big guns.

He manoeuvred his held up hands to be stretched out towards you instead with a rueful smile as he inched closer and closer. You had a moody expression still, eyeing him with suspicion, but you didn’t move out of the way. He dared make a small cooing sound as he brought you into a hug, coddling you like one would a child after they hurt themselves to keep them from crying.

“‘M super super sorry, lovie,” Remus half-muttered half-laughed into your hair as he rocked you a little bit. Your arms were still crossed against his chest, but you were leaning into him. 

“Don’t believe you, Loopy.” 

Regulus snorted at that and Remus looked up at him over his shoulder and the boys shared a look of humour and shared love for you that warmed his stomach. Though when Sirius nipped at Regulus’ sleeve to get his attention, the faux-miffed expression was plastered right back on the younger boy’s face.

Siblings, Remus thought and chuckled a bit into your hair.

“You laughing at me?” you questioned incredulously. 

“No, I’m laughing at our boys.” His response was quick to rid himself of any further accusations.

You instantly nodded against his shoulder. “Understandable.”

“Hey! Don’t bring me into this, amour.” Regulus' chiding tone was met with you uncrossing your arms at last, reaching a hand out behind you blindly, which he immediately took and squeezed with his own.

You let your other arm curl around Remus’ back. Forgiveness at last.

He pulled back to look down at you with a goofy grin, and was pleased to see you could no longer contain yours either. “You were really cute. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

You gave him a look. “Right, no laughing at our expense whatsoever.”

“Never.”

You gave him a light shove while you snorted, pushing him away from you. “This is what I get for my sacrifice for you?” you said as you shook your head at him not much unlike McGonagall would during detention.

“I would argue you got a pretty sweet deal with that sacrifice, doll, seeing as you can curl up with your equally sacrificial boyfriend and sleep in the library whenever.” Sirius nodded solemnly, while jutting his chin towards Regulus. “This one would never let that happen in any other form.”

“Oh, I’m sure I could’ve convinced him,” you replied, looking at Regulus with an almost salacious smile. As if to prove your point – or just to prove Sirius wrong – he came up to stand closer behind you, arms going around your waist. You leaned your weight back against him with a happy sigh.

“Disgusting,” was all Sirius offered.

You raised an eyebrow at him before turning your head sideways to give Regulus a short, sweet kiss.

“Disgusting,” he groaned once more, pressing the backs of his palms into his eyes.

“Karma,” you and Remus sing-songed at him at the exact same time in the exact same tone. 

Your eyes met in surprise before you both burst out laughing, any pretend fight seeping out of you as you both beamed at each other.

Siblings, Remus found himself thinking once more.

“Well, now that we don’t have a lesson to get to anymore, I suggest we get out of here,” Regulus sighed, squeezing your hips as if to underline his point.

“Where we heading?” Sirius asked as he swung his legs out to get up.

“I don’t know where you’re going,” you started. “But Remus will go hunt down a certain Head Boy and get him to make up some excuse to Professor Flitwick for why Regulus and I did not attend class so that our absence is removed from the records.” You put on your sweetest smile as you turned towards Remus at the last part.

“Regulus, what have you done with her?!” Sirius stage-whispered his accusation at Regulus who only responded with a certain impolite gesture.

“And why would James do that?” Remus drawls, certain that his entertainment was written all over his face.

“Oh, I’m sure he owes you for something, you figure it out.” You spoke as you tried to put your bag over your shoulder to leave, but Remus and Regulus both reached for it at the same time. They gave each other a look, trying to decide who will take the literal burden, before they both turned to Sirius and dropped the bag in his lap. He rolled his eyes at the both of them, but pulled the strap over his free shoulder nonetheless. 

“You are quite the minx, aren’t you?” Remus asked, going for chiding and landing somewhere along the lines of compliance.

“Learned from the best, Rem!” you cheered brightly, pressing quick smacking kisses on both his and Sirius’ cheek.

Before they could muster up a response or a reaction, you had already hauled Regulus down the halls of the library towards the exit with half-heartedly hushed giggles. The raven-haired boy looked over his shoulder right before you turned the corner with a barely-contained smile, inhibitions straw thin in your presence.

Remus understood him well.

He turned to Sirius with a pleased smile to find him already admiring his reactions from where he stood beside him.

“I get why they’re cats,” Remus mused as he interlaced their fingers, following the general direction you ran off to, ready to hunt down James and possibly claw up some furniture. 

“Because they’re adorable but also massive menaces?”

Remus breathed out contently. “Yeah.”

[whos-the-seme]

Shen Yuan is actually a cuddle bug. Had a ton of Luo Binghe body pillows back home not just for the merch reasons but because he needs something in his bed to squeeze when he's sleeping.

Since he started having weekly planning (boozing and bitching) sessions with Shang Qinghua, he sometimes accidentally sleeps over. After he's finished his paperwork and started on some of Qinghua's, sometimes the wine gets to him and he's just so sleepy. Or, sometimes, Shang Qinghua will let the other read some of the short stories he had written early on in his transmigration when fighting to not lose his mind. Shen Yuan would critique them, before harassing him to publish them anonymously.

("Oh, so you are capable of writing more than papapa trash."

"Aw, you like it?" "...it's good." 🙄)

But by the time he finished them, it would be so late, and it didn't make much sense to leave when a bed was right there. And Shang Qinghua had custom ordered goose feather pillows and blankets, which was so unlike his porcelain pillows, and Shang Qinghua himself is right there. Therefore. The man himself becomes his new object of comfort when asleep.

At first, Shang Qinghua used to just wave it off. Then he started to playfully complain and tease about how clingy Shen Yuan was in his sleep, and Shen Yuan would grumble and turn bright red and turn his back on him... only for them to wake up with Shen Yuan basically curled around the other like an octopus in the morning. And then it just became normal because, of course, they really only had each other, so like why not? It brought them both comfort and two people could totally cuddle platonically.

Before long, more than half the week, Shen Yuan was spending the night over, and some rare times, Shang Qinghua goes to the bamboo house. Shang Qinghua learns when to give up his piles of paperwork when his friend starts getting tired and to get more fucking rest himself. Otherwise, Shen Yuan will just walk in, curl up on his lap with his head resting on Shang Qinghua's shoulder, and fall asleep there.

("Really? I ordered those extra stuffed pillows for you, you know. Go to bed, I'll be done in a minute."

"Ugh, shut up, sleeping isn't the same when you're out here ordering new fighting posts for Bai Zhan Peak for the 5th time this month. I'll just wait here for you to finish."

"In my lap...? That's kinda gay--" 😏

"Qinghua."

"Shutting up and finishing the work." )

Those of An Ding Peak, being the peak that was basically the backbone of the entire sect and kept it running through sweat, blood, and some other bodily fluids, knew how to keep secrets from other peaks. You don't become a disciple there without knowing how to keep your mouth shut when outsiders are around. But between each other, whispers abound.

"I don't think Shen-shibo has left in two days," one disciple murmurs to another when they see Shen Qingqiu flouncing around yet again, ordering one of the disciples to bring some two small meals to their Shifu's rooms for a late dinner.

"Do you think they're... you know?" Another asks quietly after delivering some new contracts to their Shifu. The door to his bedroom had been slightly ajar, and through the cracks, green leaf-pattern outer robes were on the ground.

("I'm not sleeping in these, okay! You should have written in pajamas while you were busy adding in chocolate, and whatever else doesn't exist in Ancient China, to PIDW!" 😒

"Oh my god, just sleep in your inner robes, then! Better yet, borrow some of my clothes. But you're sure as fuck not sleeping naked on my silk sheets, bro!")

The disciples on Qing Jing Peak certainly notice when the bamboo hut isn't occupied for the night. At first, they just thought that their Shizun was extra silent in his house now, but once, Ming Fan had to go to Shizun for a small issue late in the evening, and he wasn't there. Nor was he there the next night, or the next. They're not sure where he is, or what he's doing, but he's always there in the morning, so they don't worry too much.

On the fourth night, Shizun was home, but Shang-shishu was also there. And... stayed there. The lights went out, and the disciples who were sent out to spy came back and reported that Shang-shishu had never left.

("He... is Shang-shishu still in there?"

"I think so. M-maybe he stayed in the extra bedroom?"

"..." 👀

"..." 👀)

The disciples eye each other and simultaneously agree to never let those outside the peak know about this. When crossing paths with A Ding disciples, there are discreet looks and nods of understanding, and they pass each other by with not a word.

(Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua?)

----

One bright and sunny morning, Liu Qingge slams his way into Shang Qinghua's office. He is followed by Mu Qingfang, and Yue Qingyuan, all needing to speak with Shang Qingqua to figure out Shen Qingqiu's whereabouts. He wasn't in his bamboo hut this morning, nor was he anywhere else that he typically frequented.

Mu Qingfang because it was time for his bimonthly check-up to ensure that his treatments with Liu Qingge were progressing as they should. Yue Qingyuan due to peak matters (though, technically, he could do it on his own, but if he got to see Xiao Jiu--). Liu Qingge because the beast that he had dropped on his doorstep yesterday afternoon had yet to be removed, which was odd. And also, he had ordered new fighting posts a week ago, and usually they would have been delivered by now, which was also odd.

Wei Qingwei and Qi Qingqi also follow along because they could smell drama. And also they were a tiny bit worried about their shixiong. Whenever he disappeared for too long, it was likely that he had gotten kidnapped or poisoned. Again.

Shang Qinghua scrambles out of his bed chambers with hastily thrown-on outer robes, blurry-eyed, screaming "Whoosit!?" He barely has time to open his mouth before he is instantly bombarded with several requests, most of them pertaining to the apparent missing peak lord. Liu Qingge also asks about his fighting posts, which Shang Qinghua pretends not to hear.

"We've not seen him in a few days," Mu Qingfang says to him over the noise, with an apologetic smile for waking up his overworked shixiong. "I know you two are somewhat friends, so if you see him soon, please tell him he really needs to come to Qian Cao for his next physical."

"Wait, who's missing? Ah, please don't touch that." The last part is directed at Qi Qingqi, who is combing through his shelves. "Shen Qingqiu is apparently missing, according to this bunch," Qi Qingqi says, smirking at him. She pokes the figurine he told her not to touch. Oh well, she'll realize why he told her not to touch it soon enough.

"Shen Qingqiu? What do you mean, he's--" Shang Qinghua instantly closes his mouth, hoping that no one heard that. "I-I mean, yeah, I'll let you guys know if he stops by! No problem, will absolutely send him your way--" "What was that?" Liu Qingge narrows his eyes at him. "You were about to say something. You know where he is. Tell me."

Shang Qinghua begins to sweat immediately. "Whaaat? No, you must have heard wrong. Seriously, I'll let you guys know if I catch him. Now, if you guys can be on your way--" He starts trying to herd people out.

Unbeknownst to him, his bedroom door cracks open and a figure, eyes barely open, shuffles out and heads towards him. Wei Qingwei, idling in the office, is the first to notice the person wearing another set of An Ding Blue outer robes over soft Qing Jing Green inner ones. His jaw drops.

"Qinghua?" A soft, sleepy voice murmurs in his ear, arms circling around his waist and a head laying on his shoulder from behind. "It's too early, come back to bed." A small yawn.

Shang Qinghua can feel himself freeze with a nervous smile on his face.

Shit.