#diluc fluff

It takes a second to form thoughts in order to respond. “Yeah. Bring the basket higher?”

He obliges, barely reacting when sunsettias and apples thunk haphazardly onto the wicker and dips lower from the weight. “That everything?”

“It’s anything good enough to eat, yeah.”

Diluc shifts you backwards and down, breathing out a small ‘careful!’ when your foot slips on the bark. But he doesn’t let you go just yet, hand still gripping your waist as you turn to steady yourself with a tight grip on his forearm and rapid blinks as you realize just how closely he’s pinned himself to you. It was a necessity, a safety precaution when the ladders were too hot to carry or stand on—one that feels dangerous and makes you nervously wet your lips as his gaze meets yours. Long-lashed and sparkling with something that looks like amusement, he tilts his head and looks at the goosebumps along your arm.

“You cold?”

“How could I be?” You huff, releasing your hold on him. Diluc just smiles. “We should bring them back. For Adelinde to wash.”

“It can wait a few minutes more.” His voice hushes much lower as his hand dips more to your hips to toy with the waistband of the linen you’d put on for the first time today. “Couldn’t it?”

“That’s rather inappropriate, Young Master—”

Diluc sighs. “I’m not your master,” he reminds, finally dropping the basket to the worn soil and roots to press ever closer. Now free, his hand tips your chin to meet him—clear displeasure that your shyness, or indignance, cast your face away from him. “And we’ve done nothing inappropriate.”

“You’ve done nothing inappropriate. Yet.” You try to keep your tone sharp, even stern, in your reminder, but your voice quivers on the syllables and he’s drawn so close you smell the mix of his cologne and sweat and fruit that he’s been harvesting with you since dawn.

“Allow me to fix that, darling,” he pleads. “Let me kiss you.”

“Is that what you consider inappropriate?” Your lips part expectantly anyways, blinking up at him and hoping the heat rising to warm your cheeks looks like it’s from the sun’s kisses instead.

“No. But it would be wrong of me to ask for more just yet,” Diluc answers. “I wish to court you far better.”

He doesn’t let you process the declaration of intent, closing the gap between the two of you as soon as the sentence ends. He’s warm and rough sensation—chapped lips, leather sliding along your jaw to reach up and cup your cheek, sun-roughened skin when your hands fall to the back of his neck and pull him into you. It’s far more intoxicating than any alcohol the Dawn Winery had ever made, to have him sigh into your mouth and chase you when you try to pull back for air. Even the drag of his nose, with its hooked shape, makes you dizzy and weak in the knees.

“We shouldn’t—” you protest weakly, melting into another press of his lips where you pliantly part and reciprocate every bit of his touch. “Anyone could see us.”

“There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing. They can see.” He sounds wrecked, forehead resting on yours when your eyes finally blink open to study him.

It takes effort to push him gently back. “We need to bring these in.”

Diluc sighs. “On one condition.”

“Hm?”

“Promise I can get a chance to do it right.”

That makes you laugh softly—the sudden nerves and almost boyish shyness to him as he regards the small rejection (though it was one of circumstance more than disinterest). “I’ll allow it.”

Durin: "Blegh... Master Diluc… Why does my tongue feel like it's on fire?"

Diluc: "Because you are not used to alcohol."

Durin: "It was only one sip…"

Diluc: "One sip is enough when it is your first. Here."

Durin: "Lemonade?"

Diluc: "Yes. Drink it slowly. Try to focus on the sweetness of the juice."

Durin: "It's sweet… and mildly tangy. It... It's delicious!"

Diluc: "Good. I'm glad it is to your liking."

Durin: "...Are you mad?"

Diluc: "If that were the case, you'd be out the door by now." Pauses for a few moments. "...Next time, don't let the others pressure you into trying something unfamiliar. There's nothing wrong with going at your own pace."

Durin: "...Thank you, Master Diluc." Looks around. "Do you have any other juices I could try, please?"

Diluc: Gestures to the shelf. "I keep apple, grape, berry, and various other fruit juices in stock. You may try those as well."

Durin: "Hehe… A tavern master with a sweet tooth."

Diluc: "Sweet tooth? ...Heh."

Durin: "Master Diluc, I also heard about something called Fire Water—"

Diluc: "Finish your lemonade. Let me know if you need anything else, everything's on the house tonight."

Slow days were a rare treat for Diluc. The stoic winery owner and informant was often busying himself with something be it menial or urgent. He needed to do something, anything. He had ask the chef if he could help around, but was brushed off and told to find somewhere else to idle by. He tried with the farmhands but they had already finshed all the chores. He check his desk for anything to do but found he had already done it all.

You, however, found yourself comfortable beneath the window. Napping in the warm spring afternoon light from the sunbed. Diluc took a moment and stared, watching your chest rise and fall, listening to the soft snores from your mouth. Napping away the afternoon like a lazy cat. 

He sat on the floor right next to you, his hand brushing away hair from your face. Fingers threading through, brushing away leaves and flowers that clung to your locks. No doubt from your recent exploration of the nearby woods. Oh, how he adored you. His sweet, precious spouse. 

"Mn..." His admiration was shifted when you stirred and opened your eyes. That bight shining gaze, dioriented with sleep yet it still met his with a sleepy smile. "Hey..." You reached out and held his hand, nuzzling and pressing a kiss on his gloved palm.

"Hey," he echoed, a smile melting his stoic expression away, "Did you sleep well?" His question is met with an affermative hum and another nuzzle. "Still sleepy?" 

Another affirmative hum. 

"Do you want to go to bed?"

"Mhm", you hummed again but made no move to get up. Diluc huffs in amusement and carefully lifted you into a bridal carry. "So lazy," he mumbles and pressed a kiss on your temple as you made yourself comfortable in his arms.

"You're so sweet," You mumble against his shoulder, already drifting back to sleep.

“Has anyone told you they love you Master Diluc?” They asked him as they laid their head on their arms. They were on their fourth glass of wine already; two they were tipsy, three they drank in silence, four they become extra chatty and nosy. Diluc took noticed this pattern ever since they started to become a regular at the tavern.

“Many have, most of them drunk men and women” Diluc replies as he wipes down a glass, “Why do you ask?” his back was turned to them, and he can feel their eyes on him.

“Nothing, just curious is all…” They go silent but their gaze never turns away from him, silently admiring his small waist from where they sat on the bar. “Master Diluc” they call, and he hums in response, “Diluc” they say sounding more lax and Diluc just hums again. “Luluc” they say with affection making Diluc pause what his doing.

“What is it?” He asks in a soft tone, something about them makes him so vulnerable. He allows himself to let his guard down with them around, willing to be more carefree around them than he is with others.

“Luluc” they say again, enjoying how it sounds to call an intimidating man like Diluc such a cute pet name. “Can you turn around for a moment?” they say softly.

Diluc turns around and sees that they’re no longer resting their head on their arms. The look at him with adoration and a bit of playfulness. “Luluc is so pretty,” they say leaning forward and telling him to come closer, when he does, they boop his nose and let out a small giggle at his slight expression of shock “And adorable”.

Diluc lets out a amused huff and pats their head making them giggle again, “That’s enough wine for tonight.” He turns back and grabs them a glass of water, when he give the glass to them they pout but drink the water.

“I thought you liked it when I’m five drinks in” they say once more laying their head on their arms.

“Not tonight” Diluc says while making a drink for another costumer. nearing five drinks in they get flirty, and he doesn’t think he can handle them being flirty with him tonight.

Chapter 2 in ao3

Dainsleif crouches behind one of Wuwang Hill’s towering pines. The mid-autumn wind mixes with the area’s perpetual mist, chilling the ancient captain to the bone.

Several yards away, Diluc hides behind his own cluster of bushes. One hand rests on the hilt of his claymore while the other rests on a tree, providing extra stability.

In between the two men, a trio of abyss mages dance around a fire, chanting in their twisted tongue.

Diluc shifts his weight, drawing his sword and raising his hand to signal his hunting partner.

3. 2. 1. Go.

At Diluc’s signal, Dain raises his hands,  summoning a wave of dark power that tosses all three mages into the air.

Diluc wastes no time rushing forward in a flash of fire, cutting down their targets before they have a chance to raise their shields.

In a handful of heartbeats the pair of hunters are alone in the clearing.

“Pathetic,” Diluc comments as Dainsleif searches their target’s belongings. “We’ve been after them for three days and they still didn’t put up a fight.”

“It was worth it,” Dain replies, not bothering to remark on the fact that it would take more than a few abyss mages to give them trouble. “Look at this.”

Diluc scans the strip of paper Dain gives him before nodding. “Good. Let’s go home.”

Dainsleif stands, but before he can leave the dying light of the campfire, Diluc catches his hand.

“Di-”

The wine tycoon pulls a heavy woolen scarf and wraps it around Dain’s neck. As he does, his fingers linger around the edges of the older man’s mask and ghosts over his exposed cheek.

“There. So you don’t get a cold. Again.”

“I--Thank you, Diluc. I should be used to the cold by now, but I’m still not fond of it.”

“I know. Shall we?”

Dainsleif gives Diluc a small smile from behind the scarf. “Let’s.”

The return trip is taken at a leisurely pace.

Autumn has fully set in by now,  setting the world alight in shades of brass and gold. Every so often, a stray leaf, carried by a playful wind, will settle in Diluc’s hair.

Dainsleif can’t help but laugh every time his lover pulls an offending leaf out of his ponytail or bangs.

“Why are you laughing?”

The faint annoyance and traces of a pout on his lover's lips only serves to bring a smile to Dainsleif’s face.

“You can’t see yourself, fire-heart. Would you like some help?”

“Please.”

Dainsleif makes quick work of removing the leaves from Diluc’s hair. 

“That should be better,” the blond says, tucking a stray piece of crimson hair behind Diluc’s ear.

“Thank you.”

As the days wear on, Dainsleif becomes increasingly grateful for the scarf and the warmth of Diluc’s hands.

Once away from Wuwang Hill, the sun does much to chase away the air’s bitter bite, but no matter how hard it shines, the winds once claimed by Boreas himself still prove stronger.

By the time the Dawn Winery is in sight, the scarf not only protects his face, but hides a heavily running nose and the sniffles he can’t completely repress.

“Master Diluc. Master Dainsleif. Welcome home.” Adelinde bows to the two men. “Would you like one of the girls to light the fireplace in the parlor?”

Diluc shakes his head, casting a knowing glance at his lover. “No. Dain and I will be going to our room. Can you have something warm brought up? Tea”

“Ah. Of course.”

Once the door to their shared room has closed behind them, Dain finally lets loose the coughs he’s been holding in for the last several days.

“Dainsleif… you should have told me you were getting sick.”

Dain shakes his head and starts to peel himself out of his clothes. “I just want to bathe and sleep.”

“Good idea. Go get started, I’ll be in in a minute.”

When Diluc steps into the bathroom, completely bare save for his underwear, Dainsleif is already submerged in lukewarm water.

Despite the cool temperature, Dain’s eyes are closed and his breathing is even, only broken by the occasional cough or sneeze.

“Are you awake, love?”

Dain groans, opening an eye to look at his lover. “A little.”

Diluc settles himself behind the tub. “Stay awake a little longer so I can wash your hair and back.”

The redhead works soap over Dain’s back and shoulders, taking the time to knead the knots out of the lean muscles.

“Diluc, my flame, if you keep doing that I’m going to fall asleep. You’re entirely too good at this.”

“Kaeya and I did this for each other during training,” Diluc responds, moving his hands from Dainsleif’s back to his hair.

“You gave up a good--” Dain yawns”--a good brother.”

“Perhaps.”

Dain sneezes again and Diluc sighs. “Tip your head back.”

Water cascades over Dainsleif’s hair, sweeping away suds and turning the fine blond strands into a sink curtain. If not for the coughing and the older man’s growing fever, Diluc would have taken the time to comb through the tresses, relaxing Dain even further. But sick is sick and he’s well aware that if he takes much longer he’ll be carrying Dainsleif back to bed.

Diluc helps Dain step out of the tub and dry off, before both of them slip into bed heedless of the idea that one might catch the other’s cold.

When Adelinde checks on them half an hour later, both are asleep curled up so closely she can’t tell where one man begins and the other ends.