Typical Cat Dad Behavior

typical cat dad behavior

Since we have masquarade event ~

How about boys reatcing to y/n walking in looking all gorgous in a  dress ?

+ they ask her to dance at the festival?? ♡♡

for:

Jamil, Duece, Malleus, Azul, Silver

Azul Ashengrotto: 

Azul couldn’t ignore what was right in front of him. The person he had grown into was one with a sharp eye for golden opportunities and seeing you as the most beautiful person in the room that night, he knew he couldn’t resist asking you to dance. You think it’s cute when he tried to hide his real intentions by acting extra shady; if he really had an ulterior motive he wouldn’t look so embarrassed when you called him out, taking pleasure in the way he nervously pushed his glasses back up his face before rescinding his offer. You don’t allow him to as you considered it a contract, just an invisible one, and if he tried to get out of the deal he would not like the consequences.

Deuce Spade: 

Deuce is a mess. He doesn’t know how to articulate the way he feels when he sees you in your dress, heart tight in his chest, muscles spasming as you approach and he nearly kneeled out of respect for someone who was clearly royalty. Seeing your easy smile made him remember you were still you despite the fancy upgrade you’d taken, and it sets him a little more at ease when you speak. He started to stutter again when he wanted to ask you to dance with him, mumbling something about two left feet and not making a good argument for why you should be his dance partner (but you accept anyway).

Jamil Viper: 

Jamil didn’t plan on dancing, he didn’t entirely plan on being here or dealing with this either, but life seemed to drag him around as it pleased.  Seeing you was the only highlight of his night, watching from the shadows with stars in his eyes as he wondered what it might be like to be even considered as your (dance) partner. He’s a little surprised that as much as he tried to hide in the shadows you always sought him out, as if you had a radar just for him. He holds out his hand without uttering a word and you return the comfortable silence, your smile nearly causing him to take after that age old fairy tale of that princess who ran from the ball when the clock struck midnight (except you’d be coming with him, to a place he could admire you in peace).

Malleus Draconia: 

Malleus can’t keep his eyes to himself. He normally thought you had a certain beauty about you but seeing you all dolled up in an elegant dress… It made him want to tap in to his more jealous tendencies, locking you away in a tower for only him to admire. Alas, he can’t imagine your relationship remaining positive should he try to force your hand like that but he knows one other thing he could do to assure others kept their distance. He approached you with an extended hand, taking yours in his own and pressing a kiss to the back of it before wordlessly leading you to the dance floor; you can’t deny Malleus, not after seeing the bright smile on his face as he enjoyed twirling you around in the middle of the masquerade.

Silver: 

Silver’s gaze sends a shiver down your spine, the unreadable expression on his face making you a bit anxious. It was always so hard to fully understand what was happening in his head, and you felt yourself holding your breath as he silently approached you. You’re stunned when he held out his hand and asked you to dance, head tilting to the side as he told you it seemed like you wanted to ask him. You’re embarrassed at being read like an open book but Silver’s small smile sets your heart at ease, a clear sign that he had the same wish as you or he would have never approached you.

The Widow's Keeper

Marrying again after losing your husband in Shibuya was never part of your plan. Then, Higuruma Hiromi came along.

Warnings: Character death, grief, angst, fluff

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A hysterical shriek-- a frantic cry for a man long dead-- rang through the bedroom, enveloped in the dark warmth of night, and broke down into anguished sobs. A soft shout of alarm, and hurried reassurances, sobs muffled, hands stroking, soothing, kisses on foreheads.

Hiromi held you to his chest, his pyjama top damp with your grief, his eyes gritty from sudden wakefulness. You cried away your grief, still so raw, replaying over and over in your dreams-- taunting you with 'what if's and 'if only's. Hiromi's nose nuzzled into your hair, both arms tightly holding you lest you fall apart against him, mumbling his sweet love in humid little breaths to your head.

It had been a while since you had dreamed of Nanami Kento, he pondered, rocking you gently from side-to-side. Dead and buried for almost 4 years now, Hiromi had married you and your trauma, your loss, your fallen love. He had taken you as the package you were, a complex parcel, and the mother of the second love of his life.

Little footsteps approached the door; little hands, cautious against the cool wood, pushed it open with a squeak.

"Mummy? Daddy? Is it a bad dream? You woke me up," grumbled your little girl, blonde and brown-eyed, with sharp delicate features. You sat up hurriedly, wiping your eyes and plastering on a damp smile. As you began moving to get out of bed, Hiromi laid a gentle hand on your thigh, kissing you on the temple.

"I'll take it from here," he hushed, and you sniffled, threatening tears again, "go back to sleep. I love you."

Planting a watery kiss to Hiromi's lips, you laid down in bed, burrowing your nose into his pillow, his smell, always feeling your adoration for him with the sting of guilt.

Hiromi scooted to the door, his loud shuffling footsteps pretending to be sneaky as he scooped his daughter up in his arms, nosing at her with deliberate snuffles. She giggled, batting him away, capturing his face in her little hands, slanted eyes narrow and delighted.

"Back to bed, little one. Your teddies can't sleep without you." Hiromi's playful bargaining wasn't needed, his daughter half-asleep in his arms already, while her arms wound around his neck to snuggle her head under his chin. By the time he had tucked her back into bed, she breathed soft snores, her bed still warm from the nest she had made.

Hiromi crouched by your daughter's bed, watching her, committing all of her features to memory; never this small, ever again, he thought, bittersweet as she grew, blooming. He stroked her hair, nursing the stale guilt of feeling he had stolen this life from another man, and feeling so deeply undeserving, so ashamed because of it.

While Hiromi knew his daughter-- your daughter, Kento's daughter-- more than Kento ever would, there felt to be an impenetrable wall to his love, an absence of a blood bond, stolen away from a man who did not want to leave his wife, and had not even known he was to become a father. Hiromi felt responsible, as if he had spirited you both away himself. He did not deserve to hold you through your grief; he did not deserve to be daddy.

Planting a last kiss to his daughter's forehead, a long-fingered hand stroking blond flicks out of her eyes, Hiromi tiptoed to the door. He hesitated for a moment, then tiptoed back. A brown teddy with its familiar, well-fiddled-with and far-too-large-for-teddies yellow leopard-spotted tie, belonged in his daughters' arms, and not on the floor.

Padding back to your bedroom, a thief in the night, the sheets played a gentle susurrus over your bodies as Hiromi tangled his legs through yours, lying on his back so you could tuck across his chest. You slipped a hand under his t-shirt, travelling up to his chest to stroke its patch of downy black hair. Hiromi's fingers tangled through your hair, examining the whorls of your ear, rolling your earlobe in thought.

"I'm so sorry," you hiccuped into Hiromi's chest, and you heaved with sobs when his reassurance began before you had even finished apologising, his arms tightening around you. He cupped your face in his hands, tilting it, look at me, come on darling, please, look at me.

Hiromi held your face, your cheeks squashed and blotchy with tears in his palms. He felt a trickle of disgust with himself run down his throat, as he stole his role as your hero from Kento, "None of that. You know you don't have to apologise for anything--"

"But I love him," you sobbed, voice cracking with devastated guilt, feeling like a filthy liar, a cheater, a bigamist, "I love him so much and I want him back, but I want you, Hiro, I-- I--" Hiromi nodded, still gazing into you, hooded dark eyes like little embers in the night. You felt a surge of appreciative, grateful love as he drank down your proclamations of love for another man, and wanted you anyway.

"If it were the other way round," Hiromi started, slow and deliberate, "if it were me who had died, and Kento loved you after...I would trust him completely to carry the torch for me. To give you two everything that I wouldn't be able to give."

You wept again, your face and chest aching, loss heavy in your soul. Hiromi kept you close, tethering you, repeating in a tender mantra; "You can love us both. You can love us both, because we both love you. You can love us both."

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"I...I'm not very good at this sort of thing."

Hiromi's words fell weakly, unanswered by the dead. Nanami Kento's grave was pristine under the hands of his many friends, his lover, his students, those he had saved. He was popular in death as he had been in life; not inundated with true friends, but awash with Bannermen and admirers, those who aspired to be like him, and those who aspired to be liked by him. An admission of guilt writhed in Hiromi's chest, bursting out in one strained cry.

"I can't feel sad that you died," Hiromi spat, disgusted not with Kento, but with himself, "because if you hadn't died, I wouldn't have them, and I'm a real piece of shit--"

"No you're not," a friendly voice drawled to Hiromi's left. Hiromi froze, eyes wide and paralyzed, dread creeping through him that someone had heard his biggest shame--

"-- and Nanami wouldn't have thought so, either. I bet she was the last thing he thought about-- worrying about her, who would look after her. He'd be happy. For her to have a good man. Like you."

Ino Takuma leaned down beside Hiromi, speaking a brief prayer above Kento, a wrapped, spotted blunt blade harnessed onto his back. Placing some fresh flowers down, he stood up again.

Hiromi and Ino were silent together amongst the rustling willows, the smooth dappling sunlight, the whispering babble of the shallow river. Ino rocked on his heels, smiling, hands pocketed. Hiromi hung his head in shame.

"You can...you can feel both, Higuruma. Regret for him dying and leaving her, and...and loving her, I guess. You're not a bad person. I bet she beats herself up for marrying again, right?"

Hiromi swallowed, nodding quickly after a breath's pause. Images flitted across his mind-- you, resplendent in your gown. Your daughter, so solemn on her big day, scattering petals down the aisle. Your earnest kiss, your joyful dancing, your gracious speech. Your wedding night breakdown, holding you in a hot bath in innocent intimacy, folding your lingerie away in favour of a soft nightdress, nothing expected, nothing lost, in life and in death, in sickness and in health.

"You've just...you've just got to be his wingman, y'know?" Ino stated, arms crossed up behind his balaclava'd head, "You and Nanami...you're both her husband. You're both my niece's dad. So big him up a bit for us, huh?"

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"Hey, dad?"

Hiromi leaned round the fridge door, crows feet crinkling around his eyes as he popped a cube of cheese into his mouth, busted.

His daughter smirked at him, fine eyebrows raised under a smooth honey-blonde fringe. As tall as Hiromi, leggy and sarcastic, Hiromi didn't so much tell this young woman off now, as get savagely roasted by her dry wit. Hiromi took it with all of the frustrated joy of a father trying to parent a young woman with unparentably excellent traits.

"Cheese?" Hiromi offered, flicking a cube deftly at his daughter. She caught it, seamlessly, eyes narrowing at him. For all the bravado she was putting on, Hiromi knew she was putting it on. He headed over, pulling her to him with one arm, blonde head against black-grey head.

"Penny for them?"

She sighed, and began: "Did you...meet him?"

Him. Ah.

"I did not," Hiromi admitted, "but I know he was exceptional. Your mother has wonderful taste." He accepted the slap to his arm, well-deserved.

"I can never...I don't think I'll ever be as good as him." Hiromi's heart swelled and ached for his daughter; he felt an odd kinship, one of them in such a powerful shadow, one of them in such enormous shoes. Hiromi nodded, his throat thick.

"You're right," he said, his daughter's lips puckering up in grim acceptance, looking at the floor, "your dad was a hero. He protected the weak when nobody else wanted to. He took on the messy jobs with nothing more than a glass of whiskey and your mum's love behind him. He was funny, kind, patient, empathetic... he was the best of the best. The best sort of man. He's a legend even now."

"So, no, sweetheart, you're never going to be as good as him," Hiromi turned to his daughter, cupping her high-cheeked face in his hands, pressing her to look at him, "you're going to be better. You have all three of us in you, and you carry it so well."

Hiromi's daughter let out a dry sob, refusing to let tears fall. She sniffled, pulling close to Hiromi, letting herself be held. Rubbing her nose and pulling her hair behind one ear, she reached behind her onto a chair, revealing a black, rectangular handled case.

"Uncle Ino gave me something, today," she started, unclipping the case, "he said it was dad's. I thought I...I want to use it. Like he did."

Hiromi gazed fondly down at the blade of legends, white wrapping yellowed at the edges with age, but still just as deadly. He smiled, and your daughter relaxed into his wordless reassurance.

"Yes. Absolutely. It's the only...you're the only one who could do this old thing justice, now," Hiromi pressed, eager to hold Kento and his child together across the impenetrable veil of death, "but I have to warn you."

His daughter glanced to Hiromi, anxious. He took a deep breath, and continued;

"Your mother will cry when she sees this."

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A few tears slipped out while I wrote this.

It's heartbreaking, being a fictional character in a fictional world. They're either loved and cared for until they're abandoned by their player, or they're mistreated and misplaced by that player. There's no control, no option for them.

They could fall in love. They could do everything to please their player, but in the end, their player will always leave them behind. They'll end up as some toy to tinker with, a little plaything until their player gets bored and slowly but surely begins to leave them behind.

You did that to them— you did it to him. Maybe you used him so much that you got too bored, or perhaps you just found someone else to play with; you did reach friendship level 10 with him. During your friendship level journey, you've played and listened to all of the voice lines he provided, even repeating your favorites. He sought after the joy of hearing your praise, comment, and remarks in response to his voice lines. He's seen so much of you over the course of the journey, and, in return, he showed himself to you.

But then you left him.

It started off with you visiting strange domains and obtaining its artifacts. Judging by the collection, you definitely weren't trying to rebuild him. Those artifacts and materials were clearly meant for somebody else.

He'd often watch you switch teams to build that mystery person, maybe to test them out; to use them; to play with them. Yet, you'd always come back to him afterward, and because of that, he was fine, satisfied. As long as you'd keep coming back.

But, at some point, you simply didn't return.

He was fighting the monsters of a smoky blue leyline, and he, having won the battles, gave you those same purple and maroon papers that you needed for this mystery person. You were happy. You looked really relieved to finally get these, and through the mask of an idle animation, he smiled, proud of himself for making you smile. You thanked him, and then you switched the character and team, and you were out of view once more.

He sighed, tired from fighting all these battles and random enemies, but he was glad that you'd probably be able to finish leveling this mystery character up. Now you can keep playing with and using him, right? This way, you'll be done with this other person, and you'll come back to him, right?

Wrong.

One whole day passed. You were online, but he couldn't see you.

Another day passed. Where'd you go? Are you still testing out that new person?

Five days drag by. Some of those days you didn't go on for, but for the most part, you were there, just not for him. What happened? Why weren't you coming back?

One full week had finally passed.

You were nowhere to be seen.

Waiting in the team lineup screen began to get lonely. You took two of the supports with you, and so he couldn't talk to him. One other person remained. Another support, but more off-field. Often, he would glance at them to see how they were doing. Even they looked as miserable as he did, but eventually, they found their way back to you through another team composition.

You took everyone with you except for him.

Where did you go?

He tumbled, falling down on the ground. It's been nearly a full month. You haven't even looked at him once. He could see through the slightly translucent walls and backgrounds, and he saw other team lineups waiting. He saw one team in use, as it had an open fourth wall and it was emptied, meaning that the characters left that team screen to join back into the world of teyvat.

He began to reminisce about his first awakening when you got him, you were smiling really hard. You were so excited when he woke up in that wishing star, striking a pose. He doesn't know how long he'd been unconscious around that time, but you woke him up, and you gave him more purpose, more life. He could see you and everything behind you. He could see that there was more than just teyvat through this strange wall you lived past. He was curious, yet he was happier just being yours to have in your little party with different people, some of which he had never seen before.

But now they're gone, and so were you. He doubts that they're ever coming back, and he doubts that you'll ever come back to him.

Wait.

The fourth wall in front of him shatters.

Is that you?

He immediately stood up, ready to greet you with that same pose he would always strike in the team lineup. And the moment you opened that wall, all of the other supports came back instantly, like they never left in the first place. He wasn't alone anymore.

His eyes lit up. You selected his character and were going through his character details. You're finally paying more attention to him! Are you finally gonna use him again? He puts his hands together as you check his artifacts.

There's a moment of hesitation in you. He barely opens his eyes to look at your apologetic face. You whisper an apology, and— to his horror— strip him of his artifacts one by one.

His flower is gone. His feather was taken. His sands timer, his goblet, and his circlet were stripped of his very being. Then you switched to his weapon. It was his very own weapon that you spent so much time on, and you took even that from him. He looked up to the upper-left corner of the room. Even if the text was backward, he could see that this new weapon was nothing but some random 1-star weapon from some measly chest you opened. You looked at him one more time, and you left his character details.

He felt betrayed. You weren't going to use him anymore. You re-entered the team lineup screen and selected him. He watched you scroll through your list of characters, and within a zap, he was transported to a black screen, a void, a room full of nothing but himself.

You had just completely replaced him.

You left the team lineup, and his eyes were forced shut. Your once beloved main was now back into his deep, endless, meaningless slumber.

.

“Creator! Creator!!”

A large group of people were yelling, waking him and a few others up. It was every single character that you owned and obtained throughout your journey. Some he recognized from the get-go, and others he'd never seen before in all of his life. Everyone you had obtained were shouting for you.

“Wh— wha? What's the matter?”

A short girl with brown hair and amber eyes came up to him in a panic.

“Thank Barbatos, you're up! The player is about to delete the game! We might be erased!”

He froze. You were deleting the game? He put his hand over his mouth. You were really leaving him now, weren't you?

Would you ever come back?

“Please!” The amber-eyed girl cried, “Help us!”

He wobbled backward. He couldn't take this.

“The player loves you! Maybe you can reverse this!”

“They don't.” He mumbled.

“Wh— what?”

“They don't— don't love me anymore.”

He stumbled, falling over at the realization. At that moment, everyone was screamimg. The calmest people he knew were panicking, stressing over this. He looked up. Your mouse hovered over the digital recycling bin.

“It was really nice playing this game, but I think...” Everyone heard you speak. “...I need to start a new chapter of my lif—”

And you let go of the mouse. You let go of them. Everyone felt a wave of air blow them out of the black screen, and they were transported to their designated places in the character list. Nobody but the traveler remained in any team lineup. You removed everything.

He looked around. Black and grey smoke began to overtake the elemental colors of each designated character screen. Everyone banged on the walls until the void took them, and they became forever motionless. They were mannequins now, thoughtless ragdolls standing still. He banged on the glass, using his 1-star weapon to try and break out, but it was useless.

Eventually, he became just like everyone else. A thoughtless, motionless, abandoned toy that you had played with until you left.

—

(any) genshin men x reader ｜ comment for p.2 comfort

@gertrude-hatake Omg, I felt that last part. I have a bunch of quotes from fanfics in my notes app QwQ

Wishing that you’ll find yours soon!! <33

Hello y’all!!!

God, it’s been a while since I posted & it feels like a crime lololol 💀

Anyways, I need some help finding this one Kakashi fic on tumblr. Basically, reader & Kakashi are in a relationship & she secretly writes erotic novels. The novels get to the same level of popularity as the Icha Icha series except it was catered to a more female audience. Eventually, Kakashi finds that she was the author of it & that’s basically it.

If anyone is able to locate this gem, I would appreciate it greatly!!! Tysm!!! <333