Castlevania Masterlist

adelinde, you havent changed much

Bloop

Bloop(≡^∇^≡)

𝒃𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅— diluc x fem!reader. 2.1k. ao3

yours and diluc's love has captured the hearts of teyvat, thanks to the steambird and the kamera. in my head this takes place in another fic im working on so the reader only has one arm.

You marry in a simple gown of silk. There’s enough heft of the silk, as it spills around your arms and babbles down your body like a brook, spilling onto the floor, to show off its price. Your flowers drip from the bouquet in your hands– They drip, not droop. Cecilias and lilies, nothing more than an extension of your beauty. 

Your ladyship, the official bits of it, are donned with a strong kiss. One where Diluc has his hand on your lower back and the other on the side of your face– the side that isn’t being photographed. 

Three photos come from the wedding: One of you walking down the aisle: cobblestones lining outside the winery. Lined by simple flowers, a small party gathered to witness. Two, of the kiss. Swooped, leg slightly lifted, completely and contently at Diluc’s mercy. Three, of your head tossed back in laughter and Diluc’s warm gaze trained intently on you, a fond expression on his face. 

It’s later that month when Mona presents you with the newspaper. She had, after all, advised you on when the perfect day to get married would be. All for a hefty price, of course. But if luck couldn’t be bought, you could certainly try. The front page, however, is something like a gossip magazine. MARRIED FOR THE STARS. Step into the whimsical wedding of the century. 

And it’s those three photos. You hide your face behind the newspaper. 

“You know, you should be pleased. People pay thousands of mora for a chance to be right there,” Mona titters, crossing her arms. “You could at least act grateful.” 

“Oh, Mona… We didn’t need a cover page. We didn’t even need it to be broadcasted!” You protest, though there’s a girlish fluttering in your chest. 

“It’s not like anyone else of such caliber is getting married,” Mona huffs. “You should be honored!” 

Diluc is beet red when he sees the cover page. He hides himself behind his hands, fingers hiding under his fringe. “This is mortifying,” He bemoans. 

“I say Donna crying,” Kaeya says, with a shit eating grin and he looks over the front page, turning to page three for the full article. “Just absolutely inconsolable.” 

“Poor thing,” You hum, sufficiently less embarrassed since Diluc seemed to be embarrassed plenty for the both of you. “Maybe we should get it framed.” 

“Hang it up in Angel’s Share,” Kaeya agrees. “Right next to the collection of best wine awards. What do you think, Diluc?” 

“I don’t think it needs to be hung up,” Diluc says, muffled by his hands. 

“I’m going to hang it up,” Kaeya says. “I’ll get a fresh copy from Mona, so you can hold onto this one. Has Adelinde seen it yet?” 

“Yes,” Diluc says, still muffled. 

“I think everyone’s seen it,” You chime in, grinning as you reach over to tuck a strand of Diluc’s hair behind his ear. His face is certainly warm. 

It’s to no surprise that the weddings that follow for the next few years are inspired by the nation of love. That there’s thousands of attempts to grab the same photos, but none of them have the same candidness to that first kiss you shared with Diluc as husband and wife. None of the dresses have the same water-like texture, none of the flowers are fresh in the same way. 

It could be said for money. But the wind was a perfect whisper, rippling through your gown and your hair, keeping Diluc’s hair out of his face. Rumor was that the Anemo Archon favored the Ragnvindr’s love so greatly he made a personal appearance. 

When you’re invited to Fontaine– When Diluc is invited to Fontaine for a wine festival, he grumbles about it. About the journey, about how he has to leave home for months on end. Even though you’re coming with him, he still grumbles. He’s fond of his manor, he’s fond of the way that you’ve bled into every aspect of it. Brightening it with light colors and gauzy curtains, fresh-scented candles. 

He grumbles less, because you’re so excited to go. You’ve listened to your tailor speak for hours about how beautiful the land of water is, about how the art is so rich and the food richer. You’ve listened to nearly every ballet and every opera on the gramophone. And your tailor has treated you so well, to fashions typical and atypical of the nation. 

(His business had boomed too, after the wedding dress. However, he saved his best work for the Ragnvindrs. He’d be lying if he wasn’t hoping to make another splash in his hometown.) 

Fontaine treats the Ragnvindrs kindly. They have first class tours, with nearly everything included. A villa instead of a hotel room. Nightly escapades to the finest shows Fontaine has to offer. For your first journey to the Opera, you’re buzzing with excitement. 

The gown that’s been made for you in warm blue, with shimmers and hugs your figure. It’s a far cry from the simple dresses you wear back home: modest and breathable. With this one, you wrap a shawl around your shoulders and stand in front of the mirror, doing last minute adjustments. 

Diluc is too filled with energy to sit still for so long, focused on just one thing. He hides it well, and age has slowed him down considerably from when he was nothing but a young firecracker. He’s just gotten better at hiding it. At least, he’ll do it for you. He comes up behind you, resting a hand on your hip. The accents on his suit complement your dress, his hair pulled back in a bow of the same fabric. 

He leans forward to press a kiss to the top of your shoulder, hand sliding to rest securely over your stomach. His other trails down your arm to hold your hand, gently adjusting your engagement ring, which glints in the lamplight. 

“Do everything with this hand,” Diluc says, hunched over so his cheek can rest on your shoulder, facing towards your neck. Here, he has perfect access to the scent of your perfume. 

“I don’t think anyone is mistaking me as single,” You reply. Not when the lovable oaf of your husband is draped over you. Not when he stands so close to you the two of you might as well wear the same concoction of perfume and cologne. 

Diluc hums and straightens up. 

“Well. Let me escort you, my lady,” Diluc says, giving a slight bow. 

You respond with a beaming smile and a small curtsey. 

Diluc captures your lips in a kiss, pulling away with furrowed brows. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask. 

“You’re just too beautiful,” Diluc replies. 

This time, the newspaper comes much faster. You’re on page three, under a fashion column. MONDSTAT’S PRINCE CHARMING AND CINDERELLA. The article speaks of how such patrons of the arts were so much more patrons of each other, madly in love by gaze alone. 

You’re whisked away to the gala: the actual event you’ve come for. The finest gown is for that night: off the shoulder with large sleeves, tailored and glittering, beaded details accentuated by the diamonds around your neck. There’s a frown on Diluc’s face as he gets ready, does up his buttons and does up his tie. 

When prompted on what soured his mood, he simply replies: “I don’t want to socialize.” 

You laugh, tinkling bells through the room. 

“What?” Diluc asks. “They like you so much more than they like me.” 

“Oh, but you’re the one they want to talk to,” You say, coming over to him. You smooth your hand over his lapel. “I think they just like looking at me.” 

“They should talk to you instead,” Diluc replies. “You’re so much more interesting than I am.” 

“And share me with the world?” You tilt your head. 

“Oh, good point.” Diluc slides his hand back around your waist. The dress truly is something to marvel. Such a marriage of Fontaine’s couture and Mondstadt's simplicity. Diluc’s gaze can’t leave your waist, can’t leave your chest. “Good point.” 

The Steambird gets a quip from you that night, a bright eyed, pink haired girl with a camera approaches you and Diluc, begging for a photo. She has many questions, and expresses such to you, but will only ask you for one. And to forgive her because it’s not wine related. (“Good,” Diluc had said, mostly to himself and you, “I’ve spoken enough about wine.” Charlotte had beamed at that.) 

“Everyone’s been calling you Teyvat’s true fairytale,” She says, recording device poised. “Do you have any advice for those of us trying to find our own fairytale?” 

You laugh, and look up at Diluc, placing a hand on his chest. In turn, his hand sits dutifully at your lower back. He looks down at you, a fond expression on his face. 

“I don’t think there’s a script to it,” You say, tearing your gaze away from Diluc. “I think it just happens.” 

“You can’t be looking for it,” Diluc adds on, his gaze never leaving you. 

RECIPE FOR A FAIRYTALE

A Mondstadt love story is not unheard of. If anything, it has permeated our childhoods, with so many famous tales coming from the land of romance. Growing up, these tales of princes and princesses, who find true love after a fearsome trial of strength, bravery and wit seem so out of reach, as if they linger as stories painted in constellations. Gorgeous to gaze at, charming to consume, delightful to dream about. 

There must be something in the Mondstadt air, whether it be the scent of windwheel asters or the Anemo Archon’s own blessing, given that Teyvat’s own fairytale hails from the tranquil nation. That Ragnvindrs won the hearts of Teyvat when they got married. Sources at the time revealed photos of the event, two lovers intertwined in their own world, speckled by the sunlight filtering through the translucent clouds in the sky. Their vows promised a lifetime of never-ending love, and their kiss was sealed with a warm brush of wind. 

Their love has not run dry. Tonight, at the Festin de Boire, Diluc Ragnvindr and his lady, Ophelia, continue their tour of Fontaine. Dressed by Fontaine’s own Herbert Agustin, the two are fit for on-stage royalty. Diluc’s suit is finely tailored, a warm, dark brown that highlights his cabernet eyes and acts as logs on a hearth for his flaming mane. Tonight, it’s tamed by a ribbon the same shade as his wife’s gown. A stunning, off the shoulder champagne piece with sleeves that billow out and come together around the wrist, embroidered by pearls. Tonally, it matches the bubbling drinks in their hands. It would be remiss to not discuss the stunning set of diamonds that sprawled across her collarbone in long droplets. 

The banquet attendees are just as smitten with the Ragnvindrs as I am. Witnessing the attentiveness of Diluc and the grace of Ophelia, it’s hard to not raise my own crumbling standards when it comes to a partner. Not once did I see his hand leave her waist, lower back or cheek for longer than a few breaths. 

When I spoke with them for a brief moment, it was like gazing into a snowglobe, where a prince and princess stand, eternally in love. Accentuated by the quartet playing, the two of them struggled to pull their gazes away from each other. Truth be told, the two looked so stunning up close, I struggled to pull my own gaze away. 

I asked our lovers the question on all of our minds, one that circulates my own to no end. Do they have any advice on how we can find our own fairytale? 

Ophelia rested her hand on his broad chest, a smile on her face. Diluc’s hand curved around her waist, resting on the bottom of her bodice before the dress expanded into its fullness. It is easy to imagine them back at their winery, standing in their garden in the same position. The same love painted on their faces, only with crystal flies circling about them instead of servers carrying plates of hor d'oeuvres and glasses of wines. 

“I don’t think there’s a script to it,” Ophelia told me, though her words floated up in the direction of her husband. She further confirmed: “I think it just happens.” 

Diluc, who had told me he was glad for the opportunity to discuss matters other than wine (and, if I must make my own conclusions, was euphoric to discuss his wife), added the big secret: “You can’t be looking for it.” 

To think that such a cherished romance simply fell into their laps is almost astonishing. To see such a fairytale, to learn that it came without slaying any dragons, that it fell like an autumn leaf or a ripe bulle fruit… It is the thing of dreams. And perhaps a reminder that the best things in life come to us when we aren’t looking. 

Ok how about a hashira Male Reader who's like Doomguy from the doom series and can also sense demons his scary strong and filled with rage and his sword is glowing red that it looks like a lightsaber and demons are terrified of him because of brutal he is when killing demons

I would if I knew who doomguy was. I'll do my research then come back to this.

Probably won't take long

Edited: 5-22-22

Fandoms I write for + masterlist:

Genshin

Atla/lok

Castlevania

Demon slayer

Saiki k

Black butler

Ohshc

Arcane

Mlb

jjba

Blue Exorcist

Blue period

Tbhk

Obey me

lego monkie kid

Mob psycho

If you are gonna do a request look at this

hello I hope you are well I am new to this and I wanted to know if you could do huskman and syntax scenarios (soft and then smut) where the reader is very serious and playful but shy in bed

I'm sorry I don't do smut but you can request something else if you want.

https://reticent-writer.tumblr.com/post/677657960797945856/what-i-write

can I request a Uzui tsuguko reader seeing Uzui like a love/hate brotherly figure? And how Uzui would deal with the 25 years age limit after they take their place as a hashira and awake a mark??

sorry my english sucks 🤡

Sorry posts are taking so long a family member is very sick. I was so close to crying while writing this.

Demon slayer masterlist

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"Hey, your forms wrong... again. " Tengen commented as he sat on the engawa eating sweet potatoes that Rengoku brought over for you.

key words: For You.

"Show me then instead of being an asshole and watching. Your supposed to be teaching me aren't you?" You sassed back, dropping your sword to take a break. Looking over to him you take notice of what he's eating.

"HEY THOSE ARE MINE." You took off in a sprint to get to him.

Tengen ran into the house with you hot on his tail.

Makio stopped the both of you and scolded you like children and when she was done she made you both face the wall and sitting in the corner.

This happened often before tengen retired and you took his place.

The first mission you went on you encountered and lower moon and gained your mark. (let's say muzan didn't kill them after Rui died)

Tengen was devastated, he practically forced you to retire

So we're Hina, Suma and Makio

You were 20

They made sure your last 5 years were the best of your life

When you turned 24 Suma cried a lot, Makio fussed less and Hina... Was Hina

Tengen talked to you for as long as he could everyday

The wanted you to know that you were loved up until you final moments

The day on your 25th birthday you woke up to the 4 of them surrounding you, each with smiles on their faces.

"Happy birthday" they said in unison.

'Ok not creepy at all' you thought to yourself as you try and sit up but your body felt heavier than usual. Must be the effects of the mark.

Makio and Suma are closest to you and held you up.

"Thank you. So what's on today's agenda?"

"Nothing much seems like your not up to it anyway." Tengen could hear the way your bones ached as you moved.

The day moved by quickly, too quickly for Tengens liking.

You ate, you laughed, you cried and now it was time to go to sleep.

Walking to your room you knew you were walking to your death bed. It felt weird but with the Uzui family behind you it felt comforting.

They tuck you in to bed and just as you were about to say goodnight Suma jumped on you.

"I-i don't want you to go to sleep Y/n. Stay awake please." She pleaded into your chest.

Makio was second. She couldn't even say anything, she was crying to hard.

Hina and Tengen tried to stand firm but broke at the sight of you crying and hugging them as well.

They couldn't bare to say goodbye that night and instead got their futons to sleep in the same room.

Tengen heard your heart stop.

Alt End

The say if your 25th birthday Tengen noticed you weren't up for breakfast and went to check on you.

*knock knock*

"Y/n.... You up?" He opened the door to see you peacefully sleeping on your side with 4 notes in your hand close to your face, each dressed to the members of the house.

Tengen slowly walked to your bedside and placed a hand on your head. You were cold.

"Y/n" Tengen called in disbelief. "I thought we had 1 more day" He said barely above a whisper.

He stood there until his wife's called for him.

It's a bad a for rain.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

autumn tends to be dawn winery’s busiest season.

because the harvest season heralds weinlesefest, which brings people from all over to mondstadt to celebrate, well, wine. so, it goes without saying that dawn winery not only has their own booth set up, but also supplies bars all over the city, hosts more wine tours and tastings, and works hard to accommodate the rise in exports to all over teyvat.

and if dawn winery is busy, that means diluc is busy. he’s got less free time, frequently going over budgets with elzer, meeting with potential vendors, and overseeing the winery’s increased day to day activity.

but weinlesefest is special, and while most of the ragnvindr’s family traditions died with his father, this one was much too precious to let go. especially now that diluc had a family of his own.

your two children hold wicker baskets as they walk through the orchard, each clutching one of their father’s hands. they love this little tradition as much as he does, listening intently as he lectures them in the art of picking the finest grapes.

he teaches them the textures to feel for, the scents. it’s a little much for a three and four year old to understand, but they get the point when he gives them ideal grapes to munch on.

tonight, they’ll even get to crush what they’ve harvested themselves. though most of the winery’s products are crushed in a press, the age-old maceration method of grape-treading is part of the fun and messy ragnvindr tradition.

there’s a soft smile gracing his face as he follows them around the orchard, lifting your little daughter in his arms to help her reach the grapes at the top of the vine. it’s a sight that pulls the words right out of your mouth and instead resonates deep within your chest.

you’re content to watch from your spot on the picnic blanket, humming as you unpack the lunch adelinde had prepared.

“do you think we picked enough grapes for aunt jean?” you hear him ask, to which they both nod fervently.

“well, you definitely didn’t pick enough for uncle kaeya.”

your daughter’s little face lights up as said uncle strolls into the vineyard, eyeing the rows of unpicked grapes like a cat that got the canary. “uncle kaeya!”

diluc rolls his eyes as his kids run toward the cavalry captain, but the smile on his face is fond as his brother (who is, much to his chagrin, his children’s favourite at the moment) kneels down to wrap them up in his arms. your husband makes his way back to your side, groaning as he sits beside you on the blanket.

“of all the people,” he muses, shaking his head slightly, watching as kaeya leads your children in harvesting more than the required bunches of grapes, giggling together as they do so. “the grandmaster of the knights, the chief alchemist, literally anyone else. even that bard.”

“he’s the cavalry captain,” you remind him, leaning into his side. “and he’s decent enough at watching the kids.”

he replies with a noncommittal hum, wrapping an arms around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. “we should have him babysit more often then. say…tomorrow night?”

“it has been a while since we’ve gone out,” you agree. a night out is just what the two of you need after how busy the both of you have been preparing for the festival.

“i know. i’ll make us a reservation and you…you can put on that black dress i like.”

you shake your head, face suddenly hot with embarrassment when you remember what’d happened the last time you’d worn the dress. “oh no. the black dress is retired, diluc.”

“since when?”

“since i had two children!”

“then i bet it’ll fit even better now because of—” he gestures vaguely at your chest.

you’re about to offer him a witty retort when you see kaeya appears before the both of you, your daughter clutching his hand and rubbing at her eyes. “looks like someone’s feeling the effect of missing her nap.”

you move to take her, but diluc beats you to it. “i’ve got her.”

of course, your little girl relaxes at the sight of her father, holding her arms out to him. diluc hoists her up, pressing his lips to her forehead and murmuring something only she can hear, her little face scrunching with laughter as he nudges her nose with his. “come on, let’s go get your brother so we can crush some grapes.”

“it’s like they get cuter everyday,” kaeya sighs, joining you in watching your little family in the vineyard. “you guys did good.”

“we ‘did good?’” you chuckle, sending him a strange look.

“yeah,” he shrugs. “it’s good to have proof that my straight-laced brother’s had sex more than once in his life.”

you roll your eyes, but are unable to hold back a smile. "what about you?"

“oh, i’ve had way more se—”

“i meant kids, kaeya.”

he hangs his head between his legs, shoulders trembling as he laughs. "ah, my lifestyle isn't exactly conducive to kids right now," he tells you.

then, after a moment, "someday, though. definitely someday."

you watch as diluc shifts his daughter into one arm, scooping your son up with the other. you’re graced with one of his rare, soft smiles when they both cuddle into him, clinging to his neck.

"hey, kaeya?" you ask. "do you feel like babysitting tomorrow?"