#cuddle drabble

Cuddling with Woozi drabble

You had just finished all your tasks for today and sauntered through your apartment in search of your boyfriend. Woozi was watching a movie on the couch when you snuggled up and lied on top of him. Woozi said nothing but kissed you on the forehead and played with your hair as you fell asleep in his arms

Cuddling with Joshua drabble

Cuddling with Hoshi drabble

Cuddling with Jun drabble

(superwonderbat angst for the prompt ‘cuddling in front of the fireplace’)

ao3

Summ: For a creature of the shadows, Bruce is certainly drawn to the light.

Sequel of sorts to Tears Like Secrets

Woodsmoke fills his lungs and tastes like home. Cross-legged, Bruce sits by the fireplace in the den, a blanket draped around his shoulders. He’s not kneeling this time, though his knees still aches from keeping the same position for so long. It’s familiar though, sitting here by the fire, and right now familiar is just what he needs. He thinks of the days he spent in front of this fireplace, the hours spent staring into the flickering light, the seconds spent thinking of touching each amber tendril… no. His childhood winters, spent before the roaring heat, drying his soaked clothes and tear-stained cheeks. Some days it was the only thing that could warm him.

Bruce jerks as the fire pops like a gunshot. The bodies beside him murmur at the disturbance, but don't wake. He'd already been by the fire when they arrived, eyes unwavering from the flames. They had sat beside him, wordless and content to stay by his side, embracing him as much as they could before sleep claimed them. Clark and Diana, at his side, it’s poetic in a way. A tragedy, too.

Bruce sighs, but it does nothing to dislodge the weight in his chest. It’s been a week, maybe longer, since the last time they found him here. The secret, his secret, exposed to the world. Well, to Clark and Diana, but it’s much the same. They’re patient with him, like he’s a wild animal, hurt, who’d rather die than seek help from another. Maybe that’s how they see him, scared, a threat to himself. Maybe he is.

He thought this was fine, that it could just blow over. Clark and Diana knew his vulnerabilities, respected him for them, and Bruce was willing to move on. His feelings would subside, they’d have to, and the trinity could continue without any messy emotions in the way. At least that’s what he hoped. Bruce thought it was fine, and it was, until, of course, they made a proposal. If it were anyone else, if it weren’t Clark and Diana, he would have laughed or punched them in the face. How dare they suggest that they could… no. He can’t even think about it. Bruce never thought that they would ever reciprocate, resigned himself to the fact. And now...

There’s so much that he wants, so much that Clark and Diana would be willing to give him, but he can’t, he can’t, because then he’d want it all. Bruce scoffs at the flickering flames that send shadows skittering across the floor. Drawn to the light, as always, and it will be his downfall.

The light was a weakness, a snitch. It brought him down, exposed him to the world. Secrets stay safe in shadows, but the light, the light always drew out the truth. It takes light to show Clark and Diana’s peaceful smiles and to see what he’s done to them. He made them love him, this wreck of a being. Wasn’t it bad enough that they knew how he felt, that he loved them? Wasn’t it bad enough that they were willing to be civil to him? No, they had to be… them. How dare he make them fall in love with him?

Under the cover of darkness, he’s safe. It blankets him, tucking at the corners around his frame. And he, a watchman, revels in the dark. It fashions him a cape, a cowl, an alias. He’s safe behind a mask, relatively of course, but his identity, his core, his secrets, they are wrapped up in masks and shadows tighter than a noose.

Clark and Diana weren’t exactly big on masks. Two beings of such light and hope and joy, they make Bruce dream of hopeless things like love. And the light, oh the light, could he dare to touch? Never. The notion of purity makes him scoff, but he knows his hands will sully the light, snuff it out between his fingertips. He can’t do it, not to them.

Bruce knows he’s not cut out for this, is adamant about that. He’s a heat sink, a void, a fucking nightmare to deal with. He wakes in the nights, covered in sweat, and it’s not the darkness clutching at his throat, but the sliver of moonlight through a gap in the blinds, edging closer like a garrote, taut and gleaming. It’s not Clark or Diana holding the weapon, he’d have to let them into his bedroom first, but himself and only himself. And he knows it, knows it , but he can’t bring himself to loosen his grip. Night after night, he retreats to the shadows, safe from the light. Safe, but at what cost?

The fire's dying down, just coals glowing, blinking slowly. He can either stoke it, add some more logs and keep the fire going, or let it die with dignity, here and now. He can end this, he can let them go and save them from themselves. They'd be happy together, just the two, with their light and their hope and their love that overflows the very confines of their souls.

Diana nuzzles closer against the thigh she's using as a pillow. Without thought, Bruce’s hand comes down to brush her hair away from her face. He runs the back of his fingers across her cheekbone, his touch feather-light. Clark’s breath is steady against the exposed skin of Bruce’s neck, each gust of warm air a reminder of the trust built between them. He could be so happy with them. Or maybe happy isn’t the right word. He can be, is, happy on the good days. His family is a blessing he can never forget. And with Clark and Diana, he can be another kind of happy, cherished. He sighs, eyes clenched tight. No, he has to let them go.

It’s not the dark that scares him, it's never been the dark. For someone who lives lost in shadow, he doesn't fear the dark.

If there’s one thing that scares him, it’s the light.

Rating: K Summary: Birds preen. Humans - and dogs and cats, but we don't talk about those - cuddle.

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Cuddling is not a thing birds do. Affection is shown through preening and sharing sitting space on a branch or windowsill. Affection is not shown through odd contortions of wing and talon, wrapping around mates and hatchlings. Though the concept of cuddling is easy enough to understand, putting it into practice is much more difficult for a bird turned man.

It’s Aurora who first brings it up, as she sits in Maleficent’s lap, twisting daisies together to make a flower crown. Her innocent question stills Maleficent’s fingers from the simple braid she’s twining Aurora’s hair into, and in the tree Diaval makes a noise she interprets as confused. Aurora is blissfully ignorant of the sudden tension, and goes on to explain the concept of cuddling to both of them. Maleficent isn’t entirely sure how to handle it, but at Diaval’s laugh, she hides a smile and explains the concept of preening to the young queen.

Well, Aurora decides, so long as you’re happy, and with that she wraps her arms soundly around Maleficent’s neck – she returns the hug gladly – and strokes Diaval’s head before heading off to deliver the daisy crown to one of the dryads.

Diaval hops closer to her on the branch, and Maleficent wordlessly twists gold magic about him. The shudder of his shoulders is a familiar one, and he blinks at her in a way that is pure Diaval. She doesn’t even have to ask if he would like to try it; he simply settles down next to her and idly begins to comb his fingers through her feathers.

It takes time, and practice, and a great deal of patience to teach Diaval how to cuddle, but Maleficent finds she doesn’t mind it. In fact, the time is well spent, and quite enjoyable, for she is perfectly comfortable in his presence, whether bird or otherwise, and teaching him how to show other forms of affection is a process she loves more than she’ll ever admit. It’s a process of teaching by example, for the most part, and she once she demonstrates an action, he never forgets. From the art of hand holding, to which there are apparently a multitude of ways to convey affection – the brush of a finger, a hand over another, fingers laced together – to full body cuddles, both of them pressed together, side by side, her wings cupped around his shoulders, his arms around hers, Maleficent teaches her raven how to cuddle.