hydroculus

His hand held yours gently and he held enrapturing eye contact while his plush lips brushed against your knuckles. From the hitch in your breath it was obvious Kaeya had managed to fluster you. With his sadistic nature, it wasn’t a surprise that he knew just how to make you squirm. Starry pupils still epoxied onto you, he gave your hand a light tug; firm enough to shake you out of your trance for you to actually respond to his advances but still soft enough that you should rise from your place of your own volition.

Your body answered immediately, opting to stand with an endeared grin spreading across your lips as you playfully shook your head in what Kaeya had learned tended to be disbelief. He always had an inclination to do slightly out of the ordinary things; never anything outrageous – at least with you – but startling and unforeseen nonetheless. At first you tried to train yourself to expect the unexpected from him but then you realised you enjoyed his unpredictable nature. You revelled in the harmless playfulness he shared with you, the intimacy of his body warmth since to everyone else he was so cold (subconsciously or not), and the clear trust and adoration he had for you to lower his guard enough to break out into honest smiles and sing out songs of genuine laughter.

Kaeya was quick to pull you close, swiftly drawing you into his chest, granting enough room for your arms to loop around his neck while his hands rested on your waist but not going any further while they itched with obstinacy against his inhibitions. The two of you stayed like that, grinning giddily at each other as you swayed concurrently, neither taking the lead nor following but rather the pair of you melting into each other to become one.

After taking your time leisurely traversing the universes he held in his eyes, you finally opened your mouth to speak.

“What about the food?” you asked, earning yourself a sharp blink from the man before you as you clearly woke him from the dream he was having. “Will it not grow cold?”

“Darling,” Kaeya drawled slowly, voice drenched in saccharine exaltation for you. “We dine together so often, but how frequently do we share dances with one another?”

You hummed in thought as you pretended to consider the question he asked. You both knew the answer was close enough to never, however you wanted to give the both of you an excuse to relish each other’s gaze for another moment before replying.

“Not very often.”

“Exactly, so why don’t we enjoy this moment while it’s in our grasp.” Your lover lifted a hand to cup your face as his thumb softly traced your cheekbone before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

he never expected himself to be the type to get so attached.

the two of you have built up a delicate routine, one he would like better if you never left at all, but one he’s fond of nonetheless.

every morning, you leave before the sun has fully risen in the sky. suguru wakes up a little over an hour after you leave, getting ready in silence. it’s in the quiet that he begins to miss your presence the most, when he can’t hear your footsteps or the way you hum a song just under your breath.

but he makes do, because he knows you love your job.

and so, he walks out of your shared bedroom and into the kitchen, rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders. he notices the pale yellow sticky note on the counter first; he always notices it first.

you always leave a little note for him, it’s your way of greeting him in the morning since you’re not physically there to do it. he knows he sees it first because he’s looking for it—a little scrap of you to quell the rising wave inside him that misses you already.

the beginning changes depending on the day, but you always sign off with an “i love you” and a little heart. one day, he’ll get it tattooed onto him and he hopes you’ll like it even half as much as he’ll love it.

he grabs the sticky note and brings it to his office, where he sticks it with the rest he’s been collecting on the inside of the bottom most drawer of his desk. it’s not that he’s embarrassed about it—about you—he just doesn’t want you to think he’s silly. or clingy.

in hindsight, he feels he’s both those things, and he hopes you don’t mind.

then, he works. he works until the sun reaches its highest point in the sky, when he takes a break to eat lunch, and scrolls through his messages, only really looking for one from you. when he’s done, he works some more.

and then it’s 5:30 and you’re home, and he’s seeing you in front of him for the first time that day.

suguru believes that’s when his day truly becomes memorable—when he sees your smiling face and feels the press of your lips, smooth from chapstick, against his cheek.

he’s not a fan of the way your eyes droop with exhaustion, or the slight stagger in your footsteps as you make your way to the bathroom, but nothing beats hearing you talk to him with sparkling eyes as you recount your day. so he doesn’t say anything, he lets you work and do as you please because even an idiot would know you wouldn’t be happier anywhere else.

and to him, hearing your content laugh as your eyes crinkle, knowing you’re happy, is most important of all.

he stands in the shower, his warm chest pressed to your bare back as his fingers work some shampoo through your hair. he helps wash it off, sliding his hands down your arms to grasp your hands gently, before bringing them back up and massaging your shoulders.

he likes the way you lean into him, sighing and then turning to face him. the water falls over you, making it hard for you to see him, and you aimlessly press a kiss to his sternum. suguru’s never felt softer than when he’s with you—when he takes care of you.

he opens his eyes, done reminiscing on what he should have been doing, realizing that it’s 6:00 and you’re still not home. he stops pacing, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes, stifling a groan.

you’re the only thing that matters to him. he feels like a child, whining because he isn’t getting what he wants.

even just the thought of you jumpstarts his heart into overdrive, hammering against his ribcage like it's about to burst out his chest.

he keeps your presence alive while you’re gone with pictures of you, cardigans that still smell of your signature perfume. and when you are around, he steals as many glances of your face while you’re not looking, studying the curvature of your lips and the bridge of your nose.

suguru feels almost incapable of having a thought that doesn’t include you in some way.

only you could turn his brain to mush without even knowing it.

then: the door creaks open with the familiar jingle of your keys, the brush of your bag against your clothes as you sigh.

“suguru? i’m home-”

you don’t get to finish. suguru’s at your side in seconds, his strong arms snaking around your waist, seeking purchase. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin.

breathing out a laugh, you try to push him away, “i’m sweaty, at least let me shower.”

“where were you?” he asks, not listening to you as he continues along the line of your jaw. “you know how many times i texted you? you need to change your voicemail.”

“‘m sorry, traffic was-,” you pause when he interrupts by properly kissing you, reveling in the absolute adoration he manages to show you with his lips, his hands, “particularly bad today.”

suguru takes your hands in his, and he sighs, “i don’t think i’m cut out for this.”

fear shoots up your spine with such speed, it knocks the breath out from your lungs. your heart lurches to your throat. it doesn’t take him long to notice your wide eyes and downturned mouth.

in quick, rushed motions, he shakes his hands in front of him, “i don’t mean- not like that. i meant that i don’t think i’m good at waiting here while you’re out.

“i mean- i don’t think i have to say it but i miss you a lot when you leave."

and he grabs your hands again, turning them over, examining them, “i don’t want to bother you. maybe, i should stop working from home.”

you release a shaky breath, come over with relief, squeezing his larger hand in yours, “if that’s what you want, i won’t stop you. but you don’t bother me, suguru.”

he meets your eyes, and if you were anyone else, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight crease between his brows. but you’ve spent more than enough time around him—gazing at him in awe—to know him better than you know yourself.

you continue talking, dragging your hands up his arms and draping them around his neck, “i like when you call me, i like when you text me, and i like when you bring me lunch. i like when you bring me gifts, i like when you wake up extra early just to drive me, and i like when you insist on picking me up too.

“you’re never a bother to me, because i love you.”

he doesn’t say anything, but he smiles, wide enough to narrow his eyes and hides his face into your shoulder.

you let him, of course.

you always let him grab onto you like this, because unbeknownst to him, you’ve seen his sticky note collection. and you’ve noticed the way he tightens his hold around you in the mornings, when you try to leave his grasp and get ready for the day.

you’ve heard the way his chair rolls over the laminate floor in his office as soon as you step inside your shared flat. you’ve picked up on his quiet hum when you kiss his cheek. you’re more than aware of his unwavering gaze as he listens to you ramble about your day. and beneath the steady stream of water, you’ve seen his gentle grin as you kiss his chest.

“let’s go,” you mutter with a smile, taking his arm to drag him to the bathroom. “i’m sweaty and i need to wash my hair.”

suguru follows without a single protest, already anticipating hearing about your work before he works the knots out of your tense shoulders.

you bite your bottom lip to hide your smile, pretending you don’t notice the way he seems to hurry you inside.

while he may be hoarding your sticky note greetings, and stealing glances when he thinks you’re not looking, your desk is cluttered with all the little gifts he gives you. and stuck to the wall, where you can always see him, is a candid polaroid of him.

note: i promise im not dead- just hella busy T^T

You felt the involuntary smile spread across your lips as you heard the door close and a familiar ‘Honey, I’m home!’ ring through the house in succession. It was early in the evening, you had already been and gone to work, and evidently your partner was home from his job too. With dinner just about ready, you turned off the stove and prepared to plate the food before bounding out of the kitchen to meet your boyfriend halfway. However, at the sight of him you stopped dead in your tracks, horror contorting your visage. An eyebrow of his rose in confusion, as though in tandem with your reaction.

“Is something wrong?” Childe asked, a weak chuckle in his voice as he attempted to mask his concern.

“’Taglia, look at the state of you!” you exclaimed as your arms flailed around to vaguely gesture in his direction.

Childe’s clothes and skin were marred by large patches of deep brown that were seen more often than not. Meanwhile, with every step he took, his pants and socks left faint tracks of maroon in his wake. You knew enough about what his profession entailed to know exactly what substance it was that had spoiled him and subsequently everything in his vicinity, and you couldn’t help the frown that replaced your grin as you thought about what it was.

“Oh this?” Childe asked as he opened his arms to get a good enough look at himself. “Don't worry, none of it’s mine”, he spoke cheerily, a smug look on his face as he waved you off.  “Now, c’m’ere.”

He approached you with those same arms opened wide but you managed to duck and dodge just before he could get a hold of you. You didn't miss the baffled look on his face as you evaded his embrace, which you never did unless you were upset with him.

“What gives? I said it’s not mine. I’m fine”, he asked, not even bothering to hide his petulant dejection.

“I’m not worried about that”, you sighed in exasperation, a hand slowly dragging itself down your face as you did so.

“Then...?” the man trailed off in anticipation, eyebrow raised in expectance.

“Tartaglia,” you sighed again as you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I love you. You know I do. But, please, for the love of the Seven stop trailing blood around the house. I cleaned the floors yesterday. You know how hard it is to clean blood. If you get that shit on the carpets then I’ll make sure it is your blood next time”, you seethed at Childe with clenched teeth, the harbinger being reduced to a deer in front of headlights as he stared at you with wide eyes after your outburst.

His expression of shock quickly morphed into a feral combination of infatuation, satisfaction and downright arousal at both your tone of voice and your absent-mindedly formed threat. His eyes were still blown wide, however it was now with desire more than anything. You also caught onto the slightly quickened rise and fall of his chest and you just couldn’t bring yourself to roll your eyes, no matter how badly you wanted to. Instead you focused on ignoring the slight warmth you felt slowly rising in your cheeks.

“Is that a promise?” he asked, voice low as the cerulean pools of water within his irises were set ablaze.

Biting back yet another sigh, you slowly approached the man, eyes hooded and head slightly tilted to one side. Childe’s breath hitched as you began to slowly undo and remove his jacket, hands intentionally splaying over his chest and shoulders as you slipped it off.

“Childe?” Your voice was low and quiet but sultry and assertive nonetheless.

“Yes?” he replied breathlessly.

“I want you to take off your clothes”, you spoke right against him, your breath tickling his ear.

“Yeah?” he nodded at every word you said. You wouldn't have been surprised if you caught him panting with his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog.

“And then give them to me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And then get in the shower.”

“Mhm.”

“And while you do that, I'll get these washed. You smell like death.”

“Oh yeah? Wait, what?” he spluttered with a shake of his head, completely caught off guard by the sudden shattering of what he thought was a fantasy manifesting itself before him. That did not go where he expected it to – where he wanted it to.

“And when you’re done, dinner’s ready”, you threw your voice over your shoulder as you turned away from him and strutted into the dining room to set the table.

He watched as you left his sight to enter the other room and he shook his head in disbelief at your antics. He just knew your face was donning a cocky smirk and the thought of it didn't help with the tightness he suddenly felt in his pants.

Contrary to popular belief, Diluc is actually a big fan of games. He’s a joker, and perhaps even a prankster when he wants to be. However, he only really shows that more playful side to you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy those moments. You both enjoyed the challenge that the other gave, over time learning new ways to parry jabs from the other. Since you had recently gained an addition to your arsenal and Diluc was clearly in a gaming mood, you decided to seize the moment and observe the effectiveness of your new attack.

“Diluc~” you whined from opposite the bar.

Your boyfriend was working the night shift at Angel’s Share but your attempt to grace him with your presence seemed to be void. He was toying with you, ignoring your pleas for him and only responding to treat you like any other customer. He would pour you your drink and swiftly move on as though you weren’t there. No matter what you called him, you just couldn't get his attention. You tried all kinds of names; Master Diluc, Sir Ragnvindr, Didi, Lulu, Dilly, pretty much any nickname in the book. You noticed his eye twitch when you referred to him as ‘the inferior brother’ but it wasn’t enough to crack him. Enough was enough. Two can play at this game.

“Still ignoring me, Diluculum?”

As opposed to his rather withdrawn reaction from before, Diluc had completely stopped in his tracks. Although the tavern was still full of life and noise, you felt as though a deafening silence had filled the entire room. Anticipation was beginning to bubble up within you as you waited for any kind of action from the bartender. What you received from him was an agonisingly slow turn to face you. With how he ignored the orders and requests from customers, it was evident that the room had also fallen silent to his ears as well as yours.

“Is there a problem, Dilucul-” you started before being abruptly interrupted by harsh and desperate shushes.

“Where did you hear that name?” Diluc whisper shouted at you, eyes narrowed and ears matching in colour to the crimson strands that surrounded them.

It looked like the new weapon in your arsenal had proven itself to be effective – it had managed to break down the tallest and firmest of iron walls you had faced yet, you were impressed to say the least. It was rare for your taunts to have your partner on the ropes like this, speechless but simultaneously fumbling before you, and you couldn’t say the sight didn’t bring you some sadistic kind of pleasure.

“Wouldn’t you like to know”, you smirked whilst not-so-subtly side-eyeing a certain Cavalry Captain from across the tavern, who seemed to return the sentiment with a cheeky raise of his eyebrows and the swift covering of his mouth with his drink as he turned away from the both of you.

At the sight of your brief exchange, Diluc let out an exasperated sigh that you had only ever heard him release in response to his brother’s antics. He shook his head as he leaned on the counter in front of you, head hanging low. You heard him grumble something about how he never expected Kaeya to stoop so low and you couldn’t help but snicker at his unintentional theatrics. Diluc was seldom ever so dramatic, less so in public.

“I’m not sure why you regard the name with such distaste, I think Diluculum sounds lovely.” Your tone was drenched in the same saccharine innocence as those lashes you batted at him, and it clearly worked like a charm as the man before you whipped his head up so his eyes could meet yours. Diluc was embarrassed at how quickly he raised his head to look at you when he heard your compliment that he cleared his throat whilst his eyes evaded yours.

“Do you... do you mean that?” he muttered, clearly trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

“Of course I do”, you paused before continuing. “But maybe that’s just because I think everything to do with you is lovely”, you grinned widely as you winked and watched the fiery haired man’s cheeks darken in hue.

“Well I suppose I don’t mind when you say it...” Diluc grumbled while he finally returned to tending to his other customers and you watched in endearment with your chin propped up by your hand at his atypical display of petulance. “I’m still going to kill Kaeya for telling you, though.”