You adored cuddling with Diluc. Maybe adored wasn’t even enough of a word — it was a need, a comfort, a habit that wrapped around you just as tightly as his arms did.

He ran so warm. Always had. Whether it was from his Vision or simply the heat that clung to him like an ember refusing to fade, you never quite knew. But it didn’t matter — because to you, he was warmth itself.

You were small compared to him, easily gathered into his arms like you were meant to fit there. And when the nights grew cold — as they often did at the Dawn Winery — you’d find yourself burrowed against his chest, tucked beneath that thick red coat of his that smelled faintly of smoke and oak barrels.

Sometimes you’d curl up by the fireplace, his coat draped over you like a blanket while he worked at his desk nearby. You’d wait, quietly, until he noticed you peeking out at him. It never took long. He’d sigh — soft, fond, helpless — and come over to join you, the floor creaking beneath his boots.

When he sat beside you, the heat that radiated off him was instant. You’d scoot closer until you were pressed fully against him, your cold hands slipping under his shirt just to feel that warmth. He’d flinch, grumble under his breath — but never pull away.

“Cold again?” he’d murmur, voice low, and you’d hum a sleepy “mmh,” already dozing off against his shoulder.

And then, inevitably, you’d feel it — his chin resting gently atop your head, his breath slowing to match yours.

In those quiet moments, the world outside didn’t exist. There was only the fire, his steady heartbeat, and the faint rumble of his voice when he finally whispered, “…You really do find the smallest excuses to stay close, don’t you?”

But you could hear the smile behind it. And when you peeked up to see it for yourself — that soft, rare expression he only ever showed you — you knew exactly why his warmth felt like home.