#and i cannot bear the thought of showing weakness

[dyaz-stories]

your imprint's on my soul || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

summary: When Hyun-Su's monster shows up at your door, he teases you and implies that Hyun-Su wants more with you than what you've shared before so, when Hyun-Su wakes up, you decide to act on that.

word count: 4.1k

warnings & tags: canon-typical angst, fluff, smut, explicit consent, dry-humping, thigh-riding if you squint, handjob (male receiving), they're both virgins and are both painfully awkward, this is very soft tbh

first one-shot · previous one-shot

This one-shot can be read independently as there is nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts, but I do recommend reading them for context.

A/N: sooo, we've reached the first smutty installment for this series, though this feels so tame and so soft I don't even know if it deserves that name. It's what felt right to me for the development of their relationship and what I think makes sense for their characters! I hope you'll enjoy it!

Hyun-Su always knocks. It doesn’t matter that you’ve told him he didn’t have to anymore, doesn’t matter that you’ve offered to give him a key. He still knocks, a soft rap against your door that you’ve learned to recognize from anywhere you are in the house — it’s probably the first time ever that you are truly thankful for the terrible soundproofing in there. When Hyun-Su isn’t there, you spend your time waiting to hear it again, whether consciously or not.

So when you hear something brutally hitting your door, the sound echoing through your silent house, it doesn’t cross your mind that it could be him.

You stumble through the house to grab your bat, heart beating so fast it’s threatening to fall out of your chest. Whether it’s a monster or a desperate survivor trying to get in, you need to be ready to defend yourself.

You’re slowly approaching the door when whoever — or whatever — is outside hits the door twice more.

“C’mon now, I haven’t got all day.”

You still. You recognize the voice instantly, of course you do, but what you don’t recognize is the tone, or even how loud it is, for that matter.

“Hyun-Su?” you call out quietly.

It’s not the smartest decision, because if it’s not him, it lets whatever’s out there know you’re here, but you can’t see yourself leaving him outside.

“You could say that,” the voice answers, and it’s still obviously Hyun-Su, and it’s still wrong, somehow.

But, after a couple seconds of further hesitation, you decide to open the door anyway. You’ve heard it before, that tone, you think, even if it’s blurry now. Plus, you cannot bear the thought of letting Hyun-Su out there, if it really is him. You tighten your hold on your bat, and carefully open the door.

The second you do, Hyun-Su walks in like he owns the place. It is so unlike him that you get ready to swing, but he spots you and grabs it from your hand easily, using his pull on it to get you closer to him, his other hand coming to your waist to stabilize you with a gentleness that contrasts with the abruptness of his movement. Once he does, he shoots you a grin that makes you knees weak, and, as his blue eyes stare straight into yours, you finally understand what is going on.

“All that for me?” he asks, glancing at the bat.

You don’t bother to answer him. You remember too well the state he was in last time you saw this— well— version of him, and your eyes run over his body, followed by your hands, checking for injuries. But while his sweater is in worst shape than usual, and you find blood that you think is fresh on there, his skin is intact under your fingers.

When you look into his eyes again, you find him staring at you, amused.

“You can keep going,” he teases. Your face starts burning and you take a step back, embarrassed, but he follows right after you, eyes devouring you. “Come on, you know you want to. Why not just give in?”

Your back hits the wall, and he leans closer, like a cat playing with a mouse. The difference is, though your heart is hammering in your chest, you don’t feel that scared. Nervous, sure, but there is no actual threat to his tone, or even to his attitude.

“I’m not— I’m not doing anything Hyun-Su wouldn’t want,” you answer, and you somehow find it in yourself to lift your chin defiantly as you do.

Meeting this version of Hyun-Su’s eyes sends a rush of heat through you once again. Beneath the amusement, there is so much more. Fascination. Adoration, even.

He lets out a brief laugh at your words.

“Please,” he practically purrs, “you can’t think that he doesn’t want this.” You stare at him, and his grin widens. “Maybe you should ask him, then.” He leans closer to you, mouth so close to your ear you can feel his breath tickling your cheek. “Ask him what he thinks about when he’s alone at night.” Your cheeks are on fire. “Ask him what he thinks about when you’re lying in bed next to him.” Your breath catches in your throat. “Ask him what he thinks of doing to you.”

He laughs again, and Lord, you don’t know how your legs haven’t given up underneath you yet.

“Come back to me if he still doesn’t have the guts to do anything,” he whispers in your ear. “For now, I think we’ll take a nap.”

That’s all the warning you get before he collapses into you and you can do nothing but slide down to the floor, holding Hyun-Su’s now unconscious body in your arms. You curse the monstrous part of him under your breath, but you know, deep down, that it’s less about that and more about the fact that he’s leaving you with your whole body practically vibrating with feelings and desires you’ve been having more and more as of late.

Your relationship with Hyun-Su is good. It’s great. It makes you happy, so much happier than you thought would ever be possible after the world ended.

But you’d be lying if you said there hasn’t been a— yearning, a longing for more. Something you haven’t put precise words on, something that is almost fully new to you, because though you had fooled around with the boyfriend you briefly had at the beginning of college, the two of you had never gotten really far. You suspect it’s even more foreign to Hyun-Su.

You do know you have an effect on him, you’re not blind. You know how he can get when he loses himself in you, when he finally lets go of all the weight he carries on his shoulders. You, however, also know how embarrassed he gets when his body reacts to you in ways he can’t fully control. You’re just not sure he’s ready for taking the relationship further and, if you’re being honest, the fear of rejection has kept you from bringing up the subject.

Except that after this conversation, the monster’s words are swirling in your mind, and you can no longer pretend that the desire that makes your pulse quicken isn’t there.

Now’s not the time for that, though. You do your best to carry Hyun-Su to the couch, something you doubt you could have done before the Apocalypse forced you to put on some muscle, cover him with a blanket, just in case, because his sweater is starting to have more holes than fabric, and sit by his side so his head rests on your lap. All that’s left to do now, is to wait for him to wake up.

It’s fine, though.

You’re used to waiting for him.

Hyun-Su opens his eyes, and at first, he just feels warm and good and safe. For once in his life, nothing hurts. Your hand’s in his hair, fingers brushing against his scalp pleasantly every now and then and—

And he doesn’t remember coming to your place or seeing you.

He jumps up, eyes surveying the apartment, which looks the same it always does, then you when he turns around. All he sees there is mild confusion.

“Did you have a bad dream?” you ask.

“Did you see him?” he asks in reply.

You frown for a second, before understanding passes on your face, and Hyun-Su feels the blood draining from his face.

Last time, the monster had been with you for a couple minutes, at most. This time…

He hadn’t thought he would come here. He’d been far away, when the group of humans had gotten attacked. Intervening had been the right thing to do, he’d thought — until he’d started getting shot at. The words they’d hurled at him, he’d all heard before, during a time of his life he wished he could forget. With his attention split between the monsters still trying to get past him on one side, and the arrows and bullets coming from the other side, the monster had managed to take over.

And maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t fought it as hard as he should have.

He had never thought you’d get caught in the crossfire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Are you— Are you—”

Hurt. Angry. Disgusted.

“I’m fine,” you answer him. You don’t hesitate to reach out to gently touch his face, and your smile is so sincere it’s almost blinding. “Nothing happened.”

He leans into your touch, unable to stop himself, and though he still feels the need to protest, it gets easier to believe you each time you reassure him you don’t despise him.

“It didn’t do anything to you?” he asks, voice low and quiet.

You shake your head, but he can’t miss the way you glance away briefly, avoiding his eyes at first.

“He didn’t hurt me,” you tell him, and he can tell it’s true, but—

“What did it do?” There’s urgency in his voice, panic even. He grabs your arms to look into your eyes, the window to the soul, they say, but he cannot read into you, no matter how much he searches.

“Nothing,” you say, but again, he can tell that there’s more to it, and he doesn’t let go, until you cave in. “He just said something.”

“What did he say?” Hyun-Su presses on. Fear is invading his every bone, wrapping its vines around his heart and squeezing it.

“Nothing important,” you insist, but it only makes him more desperate, because if you don’t want to tell him, it must be something bad, must be something deep and dark and twisted, must be something that could make you hate him. When he doesn’t let up, you sigh. “He just said to ask you something.”

Hyun-Su’s mind goes quiet.

“Ask me what?”

His mouth is dry, his lips move painfully.

“Just— He said, I should ask you what you want to— to do to me.”

It’s like a bomb just went off.

Hyun-Su lets go of you. It feels as if his whole face is burning. Shame and embarrassment overtake him, and suddenly he can’t look at you anymore, just wants to run out the door, but his body is refusing to move. He’s stuck in place like a rabbit in headlights.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically, whipping his head in the other direction, since that all he can do.

“So, you, um, you… are thinking about it?” you ask, your voice piercing straight through his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“No, no, I’m, uh—”

You grab his hand, scooting closer to him on the couch, until your knees touch his. And it grounds him. Slowly, reason starts to creep back up from under all the thoughts, and he hears the eagerness in your question.

“J-just so we’re on the same page,” you say, as he slowly turns his head to look at you once more, “you’re thinking about… having sex. With me.”

It’s precious, how you lower your voice to say ‘sex’, and then frown in annoyance at yourself. Hyun-Su still wants to tear his hand from yours, run away before you can tell him how much of a freak, of a monster you think he is. But he can’t.

He thinks he’d rather you rip his heart out, as long as you do it with your bare hands, than to live without your touch ever again.

Slowly, he nods. His face and ears are tingling, and he’s sure he’s bright red by now.

“I shouldn’t,” he mumbles. You’ve given him so much already. So much he hadn’t dared to hope for in years. He shouldn’t ask for even more. He doesn’t deserve more.

But your hands tighten around his. Your mouth opens, closes, your tongue comes out to wet your lips as you hesitate and fidget nervously.

“No, you, uh, you should,” you stutter before catching yourself, closing your eyes like you don’t want to see what’s in front of you before you take a leap of faith. “I mean— I think about it. About you.”

A light buzz starts again in his ears.

“I didn’t know,” you keep mumbling. “I mean, I wasn’t sure that you—” Your gaze goes from his hand to the floor, everywhere so you don’t have to look at him. “That you wanted me. So I’m— It’s, uh, it’s good to know.”

“I want you,” Hyun-Su blurts out without thinking, and of course then you look at him, with wide, pretty eyes, and if he wasn’t blushing before, he sure is now. His face could burst into flames any second. “I hate that I can’t—” His eyes fall on your legs, with the dress you’re wearing riding up on your thighs. “—touch you.” If he wasn’t so scared, if he was braver… “I just…” A whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t,” you say patiently. “I trust you.”

“But I don’t,” he mumbles, looking down at the floor. “You’re so— fragile. If I lost control for a second…”

He sees you hesitate. He expects you to tell him, again, that he wouldn’t lose control, maybe that the monster inside him wouldn’t hurt you. Thing is, you might be right, but it doesn’t matter how unlikely it is. That’s not a risk he can take.

“Okay,” you say instead. “Okay. But what if— what if I was the one touching you?”

He almost wishes you hadn’t said it, with how badly he immediately wants it.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says. His throat is dry. His whole body is aching for you.

“And if I want to?” You tilt your head, all pretty, and oh, how can he deny you anything?

“Please,” he whispers.

Your lips part and your breath seems to stutter, before you lean in and kiss him, and it’s like he’s finally come home. It starts off soft, slow, no different from any kiss the two of you have shared in the past weeks. Your hand comes up to cup his face, thumb stroking his cheek.

Hyun-Su melts. He parts his lips to welcome in your tongue, lets you take the lead and set the pace for the kiss without thinking about it twice.

Then he feels you move. It’s barely there at first, your hand that’s not on his face coming to rest on his shoulder, and all that is known territory. Even if your fingers actually touch his skin there, because of the numerous holes in his clothing, he can handle that.

His eyes snap open again, though, when you move your leg over his so you can come sit in his lap, straddling him. You notice immediately.

“Is that okay? We can stop—”

“No, I—”

He doesn’t want you to stop. He wants more with you, so bad, and though he would never say it out loud, he’s desperate for you to show him that you’re not disgusted in him. Every time you kiss him, every time you touch him, every time you take his hand and lead him in bed with you, he comes closer to truly believing it.

But, ah, with this last conversation, even if it’s not the first time he’s had you in his lap, he feels— heated. He can feel himself growing hard, and he’s still embarrassed at the thought that you can feel him. Despite what he said, his hands are on your waist, holding tight. He doesn’t remember if he chose to do that.

After all, his desire for you aligns with what the monster wants so closely that he’s— scared. He’s so scared of losing control. But you’re looking at him so lovingly, and he wants you so bad… Can he be selfish? Just this once?

“Don’t stop,” he almost begs, and seeing how eagerly you nod in reply is like an explosion of warmth in his chest.

Your lips crash against his again, harder, with more purpose. Your fingers card through his hair, and the feeling of your light pull on them goes straight to his core, more enjoyable than he thinks it should be, though he’s in no position to linger on it, not when the next thing you do is to experimentally roll your hips on top of him.

From your perspective, it’s a clumsy movement, one you’re unsure of. From his, it’s a rush of pure pleasure when you rub against his hard cock, one that makes him openly moan, his mouth falling open enough that he breaks the kiss. The second he realizes what kind of noise came out of him, he raises his hand to cover his mouth, cheeks turning crimson.

He’s not daring to look at you, not at first anyway, until he feels your lips brushing against his fingers, pressing soft kisses against his hand.

“Still good?” you ask.

And he is, but he’s not trusting his voice all that much for now, so he just nods. A smile dances on your lips as you kiss down his jaw.

“Also,” you add, “I’m not— I don’t have much— experience, in all, uh, that. So you should— you should let me know. What feels good. What doesn’t.”

“That felt good,” he admits quietly, and your smile turns into a grin against his skin.

“I could tell.”

What you don’t say is how hot you found both the sound and the thought that you could affect him like that, how badly you want to press your legs together so you can alleviate the ache you’re feeling down there, how you’re worried you actually want him even more than he wants you.

Instead of saying all that — it would make you feel so naked and so vulnerable, and disarm you completely, which doesn’t seem like a good idea for now —, you start trailing your kisses down his neck. There’s one spot there that makes him whimper, more discreetly than before, but you latch onto it all the same, tongue coming out to flick against the skin, pulling on it softly between your teeth. He writhes and whines under you, and when his cock rubs against you just right, you gasp against him.

You’re delighted to see reddish skin when you pull away. He’ll heal, and there will be no trace of it by morning, but there’s something satisfying about it — and the glassy look he gives you, lips swollen and parted, hair a mess on the back of the couch, with that proud mark right above his collarbone… is purely sinful.

Your fingers hook in his hoodie.

“Can I?” you ask.

He’d go to the moon and back for you.

He nods.

You pull it over his head, struggle a little when it gets caught in his hair, then manage to pull him free and kiss him again with a giggle. It’s sweet. You’re still wearing your dress, but it’s the first time he feels your hands directly on his skin all the same, and even if his body’s burning up, your touch sets him ablaze.

You explore his body with hungry eyes and hands, follow the shape of his pectorals, then move down to his abs. You trace the muscles, slowly, and as you move down, closer to his crotch, he can no longer suppress a shiver. You still for a second, and he watches you with wide eyes, waiting for you to keep moving, so badly wanting you to keep going. Finally, your fingers brush against the button of his jeans. Silently, meeting his eyes, you ask for his permission. He swallows, nods again.

He’s nervous, almost painfully so, but he notices that your fingers are shaking as you have to try three times to get it open, and it reassures him, in some ways. It reminds him that, for all the issues he has, this is new for the both of you. There are no expectations to meet, just the two of you discovering, together, what works for you.

Once the button isn’t in the way, you, very carefully, move your hand under his jeans, but over his boxers. The second he feels your hand hesitantly closing over his cock, even through the fabric, he throws his head back, trying his best not to moan again and only half-succeeding.

You watch his reactions closely as you keep touching him, slipping your hand under the boxers after a few seconds. This time he does moan, a high-pitched noise that you take to mean you’re doing something right — even if you have no idea what you’re doing. How tight should your grip be? How fast should you move? Should you be saying something? Should he be saying something?

His cock is rock hard between your fingers, harder than you’d have expected; larger, too. It seems to have been that way for a while, maybe since you’ve started kissing, based on how wet with precum it is. You tighten your grip around it a little, then slide your hand down, slowly, down to the base. He moans again, and you feel him twitch between your fingers.

“Um,” you mumble, “I, uh, I don’t really know— is that— is there anything I should—”

Hyun-Su’s looks up at you, flushed and panting. One of his hands comes to your thigh, and now you’re the one shivering under his touch. You don’t think he even notices though. You’re dripping wet yourself, but for now you just want to make him feel good. If things go well, if he stays open to this sort of things, there’ll be plenty of time to deal with that… later. At the moment, all you want is to show him that pleasure doesn’t have to lead to anything negative.

“J-just, keep going,” he mumbles. “You can, ah, you can go a little faster, if you…”

The rest of his words gets lost in the next moan as you follow his advice, moving your hand up and down his cock, the wetness helping the movement. Despite yourself, you rock your hips against his leg, the pressure of it between your legs feeling so delicious, you can’t deny it to yourself at the moment.

Under you, Hyun-Su is lost in pleasure. Your rhythm is hesitant, you’re not holding him quite as tight as he’d like, but oh, your hand is soft and gentle, and it still feels so much better than his own. The fact that you’re all pressed against him, your breath against his neck, your scent filling him, it’s all much more than what he had imagined — because, yes, in shameful moments, he’d pictured this kind of scenes, but they had never felt as good, pleasure running through his veins and flooding his body.

Any time he indulged in them, though, he came faster than usual, and now, with the real thing, he realizes too late how quickly he is approaching his climax.

“Wait,” he hears himself mumble, “I’ll—”

But he’s already coming, and the strength of the orgasm leaves him breathless as he humps against your hand, trying to make it last longer.

“Oh,” is all you comment, and even through the haze, embarrassment spreads through him as he realizes that there’s cum on your hand and on his stomach. At least he cannot turn any redder now.

“Sorry,”  he mumbles, “sorry, I—”

“No, I— I thought that was pretty hot, actually,” you say, giving him a smile, and thank fuck you’ve taken his hand off him, because he wouldn’t want to have to explain why that’s making him twitch again. “I’ll just— you probably want to get cleaned up.”

“I’m— Yeah, but—” He glances down at your body. He felt you rocking against him earlier, even if he wasn’t exactly in the right mind to say something about it. “Don’t you— Don’t you want to, uh…”

“Ah, I’m fine, I just— I just wanted to make you feel good for now.”

And just as he thought his heart rate might go back to normal at some point, there it is, spiking again.

“We can do that— some other time. If you’d like to.”

There is nothing he wouldn’t give to you.

“I would. I would like that.”

Your smile is a promise for more, your kiss is sweet, and for the first time in forever, Hyun-Su forgets about the monster.

He’s in your arms, and it’s all that matters.

i’ve been trying to figure out what to put here. i already feel like i’m kinda begging for comment on my posts, which i don’t like doing, but i figured i’d try to explain at least once what i’ve been feeling lately — plus i'm starting a new job on Monday and i don't know how much time i'll have to write after that. truth is, the lack of interactions i’ve been getting on here, on these stories, has been kind of depressing to me. i know people are reading them, considering the amount of notes, and it’s hard not to question whether it’s my writing that’s not good enough to make people want to leave a comment, or if it's just how fandom is now and in that case it just might not be for me anymore. i mean, i write for myself first, but i post because i want to share with others, i want to see their reactions, know how my writing makes them feel… and lately it just feels like i’m screaming in the void and nothing else. it’s been hard to stay motivated honestly. so, yeah. you don’t have to leave a comment, especially if you didn’t like it, i get it, i’m not trying to guilt-trip you. i just. feel the need to explain this at least once, in case it changes someone’s mind, and if it doesn't, i'll know i tried. if you've ever commented, reblogged with tags, sent an ask, know that i'm so thankful for you and you truly keep me going.

next one-shot

#sweet home #hyun su #cha hyun su #sweet home x reader #cha hyun su x reader #hyun su x reader #sweet home netflix #sweet home season 2 #sweet home 2 #cha hyunsoo #cha hyunsoo x reader #hyunsoo x reader #sweet home smut #cha hyun su smut #hyun su smut #sweet home imagine #sweet home fanfic #my writing

[nunalastor]

For timeloop au: maybe once Alastor tries every option he enters depression phase. He becomes apathetic to everything because it doesn't matter what he does, he is not in control. Nothing changes no matter what he does. If he kills someone they come back tomorrow. If he dredges up energy to do a kind deed no one repays him for it. So Alastor stays in his room for a few loops just staring at the ceiling. The hotel is busy so no one visits him. It's just a loop after loop of stasis, same sounds, same view. He wonders if this is how the demons who died feel. Did he die? Maybe Adam actually slayed him and this is the after-afterlife he now has to bear with.

Venturing outside his room again is surprisingly hard. His body feels freshly rested every loop, but his mind weights him down, countless repeating days feel like waters of a murky bog, dragging his feet, sapping his strength. Even now however he cannot bear the thought of showing weakness in front of others so he pulls himself together somewhat. Not enough, because Husk takes one look at him and pours him a glass of whiskey, the way he likes it. Charlie asks if he'd like to take a day off (he laughs at this, he took so many "days off"). Niffty offers him a freshly caught rat she had been stalking for weeks. He wants to snap and teach them that a Radio Demon should not be coddled, but he is still so tired and their bloodless faces flit through his mind and he does feel somewhat lighter from their gestures...He dials it up and figures out the exact peppy frequency he had before this all started, tries to act as he always did in a new loop. And then Lucifer asks a question he never asked in all previous loops.

nifty: can i order you a rat in these trying times

BLESSED ASK

#hazbin hotel #radioapple #appleradio #radio apple #apple radio #alastor #lucifer morningstar #nunalastor asks #time loop headcanons

[galacticgraffiti]

I Am Nothing (Like You Thought I Was)

Summary: Astarion changes after his Ascension, and while you hate what he has become, you cannot seem to love him less.

Pairing: Ascendant!Astarion x gn!reader Rating: Explicit (for a few nsfw lines and mature themes) Wordcount: 2.6k Descriptors: Reader is not described in detail, though there is one (1) line implying that they bottom when they have sex. TW: Angst, emotional manipulation, power imbalance, emotionally abusive situation, blood, biting, blood drinking, non-consensual drinking of blood, non-consensual... taking away of bodily autonomy (?)

A/N: Please read the warnings carefully. This is not smut, this is hella angsty and was - at least to me personally - somewhat emotionally taxing. Take care of yourself. If you have any questions, feel free to message me!

Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3

I Am Nothing (Like You Thought I Was)

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

You can’t remember what changed, exactly. It was something in his eyes, perhaps, something about the way he looks at you. The corner of his mouth not forming the half-smile you have gotten so used to, or even the possessive sneers he adopts sometimes.

It has been so long since he looked at you as anything more than his… pet. His pretty little consort, if he is in a good mood.

In the beginning, you didn’t realise that that was what you had become to him: A pet, a companion only because he did not want to be lonely after all these centuries. A trophy he could show off at his dinner parties. His own personal meal, ready whenever and wherever he wants - especially in front of hungry guests who know exactly they could never have you.

Hells, you even enjoyed the thought of it at first: To belong to him entirely - to be his and his alone. Forever.

His fangs have marked you hundreds and thousands of times through the years, and you have borne it willingly. Because you love him.

There is nothing else to say, really. Astarion has just… captured you. He is it for you. You knew it the moment you laid eyes on him, knew it the second he held a dagger to your throat only to apologise and join your mission moments after. You knew it when he bared his back to you, bearing the scars of years of abuse, and of… the Ritual.

Ah, yes. The Ritual.

It changed everything. It changed him. Seven thousand souls, sacrificed - killed - in the name of your love, and all you could think about was that he would finally be free. Sometimes, you think back to that moment, and you try not to feel ashamed that you did not even try to persuade him otherwise.

But you had never seen him as scared as he was the night you faced Cazador. And you had never seen him angrier, either. So when Astarion ripped Cazador from his coffin, when he stabbed and slashed and twisted his sword in the belly of his abuser, you… let him.

He deserved revenge. He deserved to kill him, to be free of him, to never be made to feel small and powerless again.

You liked it. You loved it, even: Loved him, free of torment, bloodied with his eyelids heavy from violence. Because you thought it meant his freedom.

And when Astarion turned to you, face smeared with warm blood, the infernal runes on his back glowing, and his eyes so big and full of bloodlust and fear, you could not say no. When he carved the runes into the back of his tormentor, savouring every scream of agony, you could not say no. You watched, and you loved Astarion all the more for every tear of pain he wrung from Cazador’s wretched body. And you let yourself forget it would not just be Cazador who would die for your love to be free.

The Ritual is by far not the only moment of weakness you have ever afforded yourself throug the years, but it is the one that has changed your life the most.

Seven thousand souls. All for the happiness of your love. All for him, for his freedom and his might, for him to live in the sun and never know hunger again. For him to be able to love you without fear.

Thing is- the Ritual never made him happy. It just made him other.

Astarion looks at you different after the ritual. He looks at you like… he owns you. You don’t realise it in the beginning, not for a long time. His words are sweet as ever, his hands gentle when he touches you. His fangs are sharp but his lips are soft, and he calls you his pretty little thing and his love. He calls you His, and you take it to be an affirmation of love, not one of ownership.

Eventually, though, you start to understand what he really means. It starts to sink in when you deny him, and he talks of still taking what he wants. When you disagree, and he does not hear you out. When your neck is covered in bruises, and you still don’t find it in yourself to deny him. Because even with the blood of seven thousand souls dripping from his hands, even with the way his eyes turn cold when he looks at you, even with the things he asks you to do and the kind words he used to have so many of growing few and far between, you cannot stop loving him.

And so you stay, through the cruelty and the ecstasy, through the nightly soirées and the everchanging guests of the palace, through the dark masses and the bloodlust. The joy of his kisses is enough to keep you chained in place without needing to lock you up.

You remember how he used to be: scared and alone, eager to manipulate if only to save himself, because no one else had ever looked out for him.

You remember what he became as you travelled together: kind and thoughtful, even though he kept pretending like he wasn’t. Sweet and caring, protective and assured. How much he overcame to love you, and surely that must be worth something, mustn't it?

When you look at the man that stands in front of you now, in all his glory, bathed in the light of his Ascension, you decide that he is still worth staying for. Every time.

You sit next to him, you offer your neck to him, your wrist, your thighs and your shoulders, wherever he can reach, though he does not hunger for your blood as he used to. But he likes showing off, and you are his favourite trophy.

You can’t say how long you have lived in Cazador’s palace. Years, maybe.

Astarion takes you to bed every night, to drink from you, to hold you. And that is the thing that keeps you here, with him, even after all this time: He still holds you like he cannot sleep without you, and you are always there when he wakes up from his nightmares, gasping for air, crying out the name of his tormentor, of his long-dead parents and friends. In the darkness of these nights, there is a humanity to him that you cannot find when you look into his eyes in the sunlight that he so craves.

You are not so foolish as to think you could save him. You gave up on that thought long ago, after he made you sit at his feet with your wrists still dripping in blood, just to let it flow down the stairs before his throne and tell the guests of his soirée that they could never have you - that they were not even allowed to lick your blood from the floor - because you were his and his alone.

No, you can’t save him anymore. A small sliver of your soul holds onto the hope that he might… get bored. That he will grow tired of the favours that people ask in exchange for gifts of gold and knowledge, that he will grow tired of sitting in the sun while you read to him. That he will get tired of you. That he will make you leave, because you are not strong enough to do it on your own.

And as Astarion stares at you from across the table, his fangs showing as he curls his upper lip in displeasure, you think that, maybe, you will be so lucky.

You are not.

Astarion’s hand grabs your jaw and tilts your head into the light of the candelabra.

“What’s that?” he asks, and he sounds so disgusted that you nearly start to cry from his words alone. For all the hope you had that he might let you go, you never wanted him to hate you.

“What is what, my love?” The nickname falls easily from your lips, years of habit and a tinge of truth. Your love. For all his mistakes, he is still that.

His finger traces your brow in a surprisingly gentle movement, and your breath catches. But the look in his eye is still one of revulsion and contempt. He pulls at you until you get up to follow him, stumbling through the halls of the manor to stop in front of the big mirror he usually keeps covered. 

The mirror. One of the only things his ascension did not fix: Astarion still can’t see his own reflection. Sometimes, you wonder if he keeps you around just to ask for accounts of his beauty that he will never be able to see.

Dozens of portraits have been made in his honour, the artists killed so they would never surpass their masterpiece: Him. None of the portraits manage to capture his ethereal beauty, the cruel twist around his mouth or the pain that still lingers in his eyes. None of the artists understand him the way he would need to be understood to be painted the way he wants to be seen. The way he wants to see himself. 

You have caught him on bad nights, standing in front of the empty mirror you see before you now, staring into the silver surface with flaming eyes like he could will himself to appear if he only wanted it enough. It has been years since then. Now, he only asks you to describe him to himself, when he is buried deep inside you, when his pale hands glow on your skin in the moonlight, and his fangs are sunk into the bruised flesh of your neck. You excel at it, because after all, one thing is still true: You love him. You understand him in ways nobody else ever could.

The mirror has been covered up for a long time, collecting dust as you assumed its supposed function.

Now, Astarion pulls at the velvet cover, and your mirror image is revealed to you. Astarion’s hand wraps around the nape of your neck as he pushes you closer to the silvery surface.

“What is that?” he asks again, so accusatorily that you shy away from your own reflection. You see nothing out of the ordinary: Your own face, his mirror absence behind you. Maybe your hair is a little messier than you would like, maybe the bruises on your neck more prominent than you would prefer. But you look just like you always do.

Astarion’s finger traces your brow again - and you realise what has him this riled up.

A faint wrinkle, barely visible, stretches across your forehead like a thin, twisted branch. 

You worry too much, as Karlach would have put it. Gods, you haven't seen her in ages. You don't even know if she still lives.

“I-” you set on to explain, though you don’t know what exactly you could say to calm him. When Astarion is in this mood, there is little to do but wait it out. The storm always passes eventually; with sharp fangs slicing your skin or cold hands finding their way beneath your robes to watch you writhe and beg. 

Astarion’s gaze now is colder than it has ever been, and it makes you shiver.

“You are ageing.” He spits the words at you like venom.

“Such is the nature of things, my love.” Your voice is dry with annoyance, but you cannot find it in you to care. What a useless thing for him to lose his mind over.

Astarion’s face glows with the beauty of an anger that is senseless as much as it is boundless. You can barely look at him when he twists you around until you are pressed up against the wall, his body so close to yours you can feel the coldness of his skin. Nothing hurts more than to look at him like this, his red eyes devoid of any affection. He didn't used to look at you like this in the beginning… did he? You can’t remember.

His words are poison, his fingers digging into your throat with every syllable he spits at you.

“No, no no. Not in the nature of me. Not in the nature of my world, the universe I have created.” He is aflame with an anger you have not seen in years. It tugs at your heart. All of a sudden, he looks almost as he did before the Ritual: passionate and full of emotion. It doesn't matter that it’s not affection that sets his eyes aflame. At least it’s not indifference.

Astarion wrinkles his nose in disgust, looking you up and down.

“This… this just won’t do,” he mumbles, tilting his head and eyeing you up and down.

To say your heart leaps in joy would be a lie. It leaps in terror. You know what happens to things Astarion has no use for anymore. They are discarded, and if they used to be alive, they are discarded dead. 

He might make an exception for you, for his consort, his pet, his trophy. But he might not. These days you can never tell.

“I have waited too long,” he whispers, almost like he has forgotten you are even there. His iron grip on your neck loosens, and you twist around, trying to escape his grasp, not to have to look at him anymore. You can’t bear it. You close your eyes and breathe.

When you open your eyes and see how he looks at you, tears fill your eyes at the expression on his face.

There he is.

After all these years of hoping, of waiting and praying to every god, he is standing before you again: Your love, unchanged by the years, eternally beautiful as he already was before his Ascension. His eyes glow red and his fangs are sharp as ever, but his face is delicate and full of fear. You have not seen him like this in… forever.

“I have waited too long,” he says again, sadness dripping heavy from his eyes. “I… We have waited too long.”

His hand runs up your side, caressing your face, and the look in his eyes is so warm that for the first time in years, you don’t feel like you are freezing from the inside out. You bask in his affection.

“What did we wait for?” you whisper as Astarion buries his face in the crook of your neck, his soft lips warm on your chilly skin. He presses against you and you let him, even though the wall is cold and hard behind you, because this is all you have dreamed about for so long. A sign that he is still in there, that he is still capable of loving you the way he used to.

His lips move against the delicate skin of your throat when he answers.

“For you to be ready.”

Your head falls back as his nails rake down your back, and his thigh presses between your legs. Your fingers weave into his silver hair as your breath catches at the warmth in your chest.

“Ready for what?” Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. The familiar sharpness of his fangs sinking into your skin is no surprise.

“To be mine.” Astarion’s words sear holes into your skin, deeper than his fangs ever could. “Forever.”

You let him push his fingers into your mouth without resistance, your lips parting easily as blood red eyes burn into yours. Astarion smiles a smile that is only fangs and cruelty. 

By the time you feel the world flicker, your consciousness fading into darkness, it is already too late.

You are not only His. You have become His Creation. Forever.

Dive into Angstarion - become insane with me.

@purgetrooperfox @ashotofspotchka @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ulchabhangorm @queen--kenobi @samspenandsword @pinkiemme @baba-fett @witchklng @ladykatakuri @certified-anakinfucker @fanfiction-i-llike @voidinfernal @foxferret02 @rosieofcorona @savagemickey03 @perseny @margoisthemoon02 @shiiunn @saucyhedgehog @darlingbravebelle @tonysoffice @pupshr00m @midnightdragonzero @thatweebitch @triangleshapewinner @supercalifragilisticprincess @palpipeen @fuckalrighty @meabravo @silly-gooseastarion @mila-bee @shit-i-say-throughout-the-day @idkwhatsgoingonwithme @aeryntheofficial @jekasha @cometstail @beesherbsandivy @gub @codename-indigo @nogitsune-the @solarrexplosion

#astarion #astarion bg3 #angst #astarion x reader #astarion x you #i cannot stress enough that this is not smut #bg3 #gala writes #angstarion

[lunargrapejuice]

Hiya Luna, I hope you’re doing well 🥰! I saw your requests were open and decided to send one in, I hope thats alright! If I may, may I ask for Sephiroth and the prompt “It’s weird. I never thought I could feel like this, but you showed up. Now, it’s like I don’t wanna go on knowing I might lose the feeling.” please? Ngl I was going to ask for Cloud or Zack because they’re my faves, but I got too nervous 🙈!

Thank you so much and I hope you have a lovely weekend 🥰!

lyra!!! it is more than alright! i am so so happy that you did🥰🩷 and PLEASE LOVELY YOU CAN ABSOLUTELY ASK FOR ZACK OR CLOUD!! - I'D LOVE TO TRY WRITING SOMETHING FOR THEM💕 thank you so much for submitting this one🥺 - i'm down bad bad this also got longer than i planned whoops 🤭

🌙 prompt event

“it’s weird. i never thought i could feel like this, but you showed up. now, it’s like i don’t wanna go on knowing i might lose the feeling.” | sephiroth x reader with no pronouns used

it’s safe to admit to himself that love is very unfamiliar. 

growing up sephiroth was taught that such feelings make you weak, softens the heart that should be hardened and cold and calculating. over time he had learned for himself how not necessarily true that was. maybe it wasn’t love, at least not in the capacity in which he feels it now, but he’s cared for comrades and friends even when others might argue it made him weak. but what’s before him now, and slipping through his fingers each day that passes, is something he has never experienced. 

something he never saw coming and hasn’t known what to do with but also doesn’t know what to do without. 

and he was going without considering you were actively avoiding him and hadn't spoken a word to him in what felt like weeks. even in meetings you were forced to attend together, you always left swiftly and without another glance his way, finding one reason or another to deny him a moment of your time and when he almost caught you alone in the hallway, your eyes meeting for but a moment, you were gone as quickly as he had blinked. 

he has been wrecking his brain on what he had done wrong that would make you avoid him, his mind wandering to the chest aching distance between you every chance it got. he had almost lost to angeal in training two days because of it and nearly again to genesis today before his friend looked knowingly into his eyes and recited loveless; ‘the wandering soul knows no rest’

the words echo in his mind, in genesis’ voice no less, when he spots you in the distance. restlessness doesn’t quite begin to describe what your absence was doing to him. it was an uncomfortableness he had never felt before. one he had to do something about because every day it grows worse and if it stays like this he fears you’ll be torn from him entirely. 

it already feels like you are. he looks as collected as he always does but inside his heart stirs and he knows he cannot let this go any longer. 

you swear you saw him down the hall in your side view. he was impossible to miss for so many reasons but the most prominent of them all being your eyes were always evidently drawn to him, just like your heart had been and you cursed them both when they made you stall in your sprint to run away and avoid him right now.

it’s not as though it’s what you wanted but it is what you felt was best when you could feel yourself not being able to hold back your emotions. he couldn’t know, even though you’re sure it was written all over your face everytime you stole a glance but stolen looks weren’t the same as saying the words i love you and being rejected by someone you couldn’t bear to lose. 

so you started your plan of avoiding him until those feelings disappeared. except the distance had not made them go anywhere, leaving them to simmer uncomfortably in your chest like they might burn you. when you saw his lips fall each time you made an excuse to get out of his vicinity, you felt nauseous for upsetting him. it wouldn’t be forever, you keep telling yourself but you don’t know how true that actually is. you cannot picture a life without these feelings; without the way his smile makes your insides buzz with warm incomparable to the sun, with how safe and cared for you feel in his proximity and how utterly gentle shinras strongest soldier is whenever he touches you.

you turn around to make your escape just in case your peripheral vision is not playing tricks on you but before you can make it two steps, you’re staring at his half hidden chest, hardened leather around soft skin your hand aches to touch. so it’s like that, using his actual speed to not let you get away. perhaps you had made him more upset than you initially thought..

“sephiroth!” you smile up at him and it nearly reaches your eyes if it weren’t for the shake of your voice that accompanies your eagerly beating heart. 

“you’ve been avoiding me.” it’s not a question but a very obvious observation that fills you with guilt, though he hadn’t said it in an accusing tone.

your smile falls and you swallow the lump building in your throat, unable to meet his eyes but you don’t try to deny it. “.. i’m sorry. i just..” you can’t find any words that aren’t just the truth.

taking a step back, to run or just put a little more distance between you and find your strength to push back the emotions, you really aren’t sure for which but within an instant his hands are on your face, cupping your jaw like you’re made of glass but in a steady hold that told you he didn’t want to let go, bringing your gaze up to his. you could pull away if you really wanted, you knew he’d let go without you having to ask but you don’t do anything of the sort.

thin slitted pupils stare back at you, swirling in a sea of blue and green and glowing with mako and your brain screams for you to bite your tongue while your heart urges the words forward but he looks at you like he’s going to say something, staring at you with an expression you can’t decipher nor look away from while he pauses.

he says your name, breaking the silence between you, and you hope he can’t feel the heat of your cheeks and neck with the way your body reacts to the way he says it. then he chuckles a bit breathlessly, like it’s helping him let go of something that was holding him back before. 

“i cannot stand being away from you. it’s weird..” he says, his thumbs brush along your cheeks and you swear the world around you stops, like the goddess is leaving this moment only for the two of you. “i never thought i could feel like this,” he smiles fondly and you feel your eyes soften in time with his, your hearts beating with sync. “like i have something to care for. someone i can be my true self with. but you showed up and now, it’s like i don’t want to go on knowing i might lose the feeling.” 

your heart is somehow tearing and mending itself back together at his words and you finally let yourself touch him in return, feeling the wetness of your tears dripping from your lashes before you realize you’re crying. 

his expression falls to worry as he wipes every tear that falls but all you can do is smile and shake your head, closing the distance between you and letting your worries crash to the ground as you reply to him in earnest.

♡♡♡♡♡

main masterlist

#final fantasy vii #sephiroth #sephiroth x reader #final fantasy vii x reader #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ffvii #ff7 x reader

[stedefxckingbonnet]

Past Lives | Izzy Hands x Reader

Izzy Hands x Gn!Reader

Summary: Quite some time has passed since you joined the crew of The Revenge per being saved, and you've grown particularly close to the one who brought you aboard. One night in particular is breathtaking and you decide you cannot contain your feelings anymore, but you had never learned exactly how to express these sorts of feelings to another person, let alone Izzy Hands. So, you do so in the only way you know how.

Warnings: slight angst/tension, slight avoidant attachment style (w/resolution though), kissing, some strong language

Word count: 2264 (some longer ones coming your way in the near future, though!)

A/N: hi hi lovely people! This is honestly the first x reader I've written since I was probably 14-15, so please bear that in mind! My interpretation of Izzy I feel like, isn't always 100% representative of him in the show itself, but I feel like I tried to capture him at his core while exploring this more sensitive side of him that we are getting in season 2, perhaps more of a what he is on the pathway to being, and therefore already is, if that makes any sense. Just has to be unlocked in levels. Plus, Izzy deserves the world so I just wanted to write something sweet to dip my toe back into this sort of writing. Anyhow, I'd like to get back into the habit of writing these so please, do request! I hope you all enjoy this one, comments are much appreciated xx

The stars illuminated the sky in such a way that it almost looked like a painting—a bit too picturesque, like one of those artworks that only aristocrats could afford to have on the wall of their ornate mansions passed through the centuries, or even built and curated just for them. Nonetheless, it was breathtaking, and the fresh air coursed through your veins and senses so effortlessly and made you feel alive. Nights like these weren't meant to be spent hidden away in your quarters and you knew that. Once you were sure everyone had retired for the night, you quietly crept onto the main deck, ready for your moment of solace that you had been seeking for weeks now.

You approached one of the railings, scanning across the deck still to see if anyone had been lurking nearby. The coast was clear, and finally, you found somewhere to lean on as you stared out into the night sky, the wind blowing through even the hairs on your neck, making them stand. On occasion, you'd be sprayed by the sea but it was the most at peace you had felt in weeks.

"Rough night?" you heard someone quietly call from a short distance away. You almost jumped, but you quickly turned around only to see Izzy Hands. Relief washed over you, as did a nervous feeling that had only begun recently. You inhaled sharply as Izzy waltzed over, thanking the stars for not illuminating this spot too much, therefore being no way he saw you craving that much air in your lungs. He leaned beside you on the railing, awaiting your reply.

"Not at all," you admitted. "Quite the opposite. It's so beautiful out tonight."

Izzy only nodded. He joined you in looking out at the landscape presented before him. In all of his years of sailing, it was all he had ever known--the sky and the sea, yet, he had never thought it to be this ravishing before. He never noticed how lovely it could be. Being here with you, he saw it all in a new light. He discreetly glanced over at you once again. He had noticed the way your lips slightly parted when you saw something you liked, and the way your shoulders lowered when you were relaxed. He noticed that you'd twiddle your thumbs when you were truly happy—in fact, you happened to be doing it right now. Izzy allowed his lips to curl into a smile upon realizing this. Finally, he broke the silence.

"I've never seen anything like this," he admitted, almost out of breath whilst he was still looking over at you. You still hadn't noticed.

"Isn't it...divine?" you chuckled. "Beautiful seems too weak a word."

"I feel the opposite. I don't think I've ever described anything as beautiful before."

"Really? Not once?"

Izzy shook his head. "Saving it for something special, I guess."

Silence filled the space between the two of you once again, but for once in your life, it was a comfortable silence. You looked out at the sea, but this time, you could feel Izzy's eyes on you. You attempted to discreetly glance his way, and you couldn't help but smile when you locked eyes. You looked away as you practically felt your cheeks burning and your stomach turning, and you hoped to the sea gods that you weren't falling ill. But these forlorn feelings felt honestly incredible, for once. A wave of confusion crashed over you, and it was growing more and more difficult to ignore.

"You alright?" Izzy inquired with genuine concern. This entire time, his eyes have not left you.

"What? Me?"

Izzy chuckled. "Who else?"

"Fine. Just fine."

"Just fine?"

"Do you believe in past lives?" you suddenly heard yourself ask, and already you were cursing yourself for it.

"Past lives?" Izzy repeated pensively. You nodded, looking over at him intently. It took him a moment to think of a response, and even still, he seemed unsure. "This sure as hell feels like the first time I'm living. Otherwise I probably wouldn't have made a lot of the decisions and mistakes I've made, I suppose."

You felt your heart sink, and it almost felt like there was no way to retrieve it. "I see. Well, goodnight."

Without letting Izzy have another word, you scurried back to your quarters, tears streaming down your cheeks like waterfalls.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You awoke the next morning with a sharp pain in your chest. You winced as you forced yourself out of bed, though as you dressed, the feeling began to dissipate. You almost teared up again upon reminiscing last night. What were you thinking, asking something like that of Israel Hands? Where did that even come from? Why did his answer hurt so terribly? A million thoughts swarmed around in your head like flies, and there wasn't much you could do to swat them away. You felt like holing yourself up in your room but you knew that with Stede as one of the captains, this wasn't much of an option. After hovering your hand above the doorknob for what seemed like ages, you finally twisted it, revealing yourself to the crew. Already, everyone seemed to be intertwined in their usual antics and fuckeries--it would have been fun and refreshing to see if not for the somber mood you were in. Lucius waved you over, and you seriously thought of walking right past him, but he was your dear friend, like a brother to you and you wouldn't have forgiven yourself if you dismissed him. You trudged over to him, and he immediately recognized your gloom.

"Well good morning, mopey," Lucius teased, nudging you in the shoulder.

"Not today, Luci," you mumbled. "Not today."

Lucius' smile dropped, though he raised a brow. "Talk to me. Who do I need to punch?"

"No one. I'm just having a bad day."

"You are such a bad liar."

"I just don't wanna talk about it," you grumbled. Lucius was at a loss for words, but thankfully you knew just what to say. "The sky was lovely last night. If only you'd been awake to sketch it. You're the only one who would have done it any justice."

"Maybe I'll have another chance tonight," Lucius said hopefully.

"Maybe you will," you breathed out as suddenly, none other than Izzy himself appeared onto the deck. You gulped and turned away from him immediately.

"Whoa, whoa. What's going on with you and Iz—“

"—I don't wanna talk about it," you almost seethed. Before you knew it, a finger tapped your shoulder. You swiveled around, fighting the tears in your eyes.

"Got a minute?"

"Not exactly."

"What better do you have to do?" Izzy demanded. Your jaw dropped, and you were waiting for your thoughts to catch up with your mouth but they never did. "That's what I thought. Come on, Y/N."

"Later, okay? Not right now. Tonight," you promised. "That's my best offer."

"I'll hold you to it."

You immediately realized the mistake you had made, and how difficult and miraculous it would be to get through this entire day before possibly knowing what Izzy wanted from you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The shadow of the moon was present once again, and for once, you dreaded the wonders of nighttime. It felt perilous and peculiar now, like a friend you didn't quite recognize anymore. But, a promise was a promise, you'd be damned if you broke one, let alone this one. As frustrated and almost devastated as you were, you'd never allow yourself to break a promise to Izzy. You pulled your favorite capelet over your shoulders and started toward the deck to find Izzy already waiting in your usual spot. You hadn't realized it until now, but this really was your and Izzy's spot. It's where you wiped away his tears when he cried in front of you the first time, it's where he sat with you countless times when you couldn't sleep, it's where the two of you conversed until dawn frequently. Always this spot. It took everything in you to fight off a pang of joy upon experiencing such an epiphany. Izzy didn't notice that you had appeared beside him until you looked over at him finally.

"Are you alright? You seemed a bit...I don't know. Not yourself this morning, and last night."

"I'm fine," you shrugged, knowing Izzy would see right through you like you were a phantom.

"I don't buy that for a second," Izzy rolled his eyes. And with that, silence surrounded you both once again. It frustrated Izzy to no end that he couldn't figure out what was plaguing you. He always felt as if he was able to put a finger on whatever it was that bothered you, he prided himself on knowing you that well. The last thing he wanted was for you to become a stranger after all the two of you had endured together. The thought of losing you filled him with a sorrow he had never felt before.

"I'm sorry about what I asked you last night. About past lives and stuff," you suddenly said. Yet another moment where your mind and mouth weren't synced. You regretted saying this as soon as you began to speak, but you knew that once you did, there would be no stopping, no taking anything back.

"What was that all about, anyway?" Izzy implored. You almost scoffed at his tone but when you met eyes with him, you instantly realized that he genuinely wished to know. His eyes sort of twinkled when he was curious, and this was the first time you noticed such an endearing phenomenon.

"I just," you exhaled, pausing before you spoke again, this time choosing your words carefully. "Why'd you save me that day at Jackie's?"

Izzy was taken aback at such a question. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Not at all, actually," you laughed in annoyance, which was only a coping mechanism for the extreme anxiety you were undergoing in this moment.

"I honestly can't give you an answer you'd want," Izzy admitted. "I just felt...called to. I could tell it would be nice having you around here. I wanted to give you a place you could call home."

"So, wait, you care about me?" you inquired seriously, which only earned a chuckle of disbelief from him.

"Of course I do, dammit!"

"I don't know, Iz, I just...from the moment we met I felt this connection to you and I can't explain it. No matter how hard I could try, I won't be able to. I felt like I was meant to be around you."

"You think I didn't feel that way, too?"

"You did?" you asked, a glint of hope looming in your voice.

"Of course I did. And, I do. I can't explain it either. But I felt as if we were meant to be around each other, in each other's lives. I don't know," he rambled nervously. This was the first time you had seen Izzy like this. It was a side of him you weren't even sure he possessed until now.

"I guess I sort of caked that to the past life shit," you sighed. "And when you said you didn't believe in past lives, I freaked out and took that as you not caring about me and everything we've built just felt like a huge lie."

"Everything we've built," Izzy repeated.

"I'm so sorry," you laughed embarrassedly. "I don't know what I'm talking about."

"No," Izzy cut you off, putting his gloved finger to your lips. You could feel Izzy's breath on your face. "If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't have asked you to come with me. I had only known you for a few moments and I already knew you would be...important to me."

You were absolutely baffled. You opened your mouth to speak, and not a sound escaped it. Izzy took a step closer to you, slowly moving his hand to cup the right side of your face.

"And it helps that you are just...beautiful," he whispered as your foreheads touched. You could've sworn your heart was going a million miles a minute and that you would need some sort of village medic after this. As if it were instinct, your hand made its way into his carefully swept hair, and it felt like silk between your fingers. All of your worries suddenly melted away as you melted into one another, your lips brushing up against one another's. You nodded pleadingly, yes, you wanted this, followed by a nod from Izzy and finally, like puzzle pieces, your lips connected. It felt effortless and so, so right to share such closeness. Two becoming one, two souls merging to create a love bigger than either of you. A love that had been carefully crafted ever since the first day of meeting. A love that the both of you knew would inevitably take hold, because it always did in all the stories you devoured and then later went on to show to Izzy. A love that you had craved since you heard of the concept of it. A love that Izzy never thought he would attain in his lifetime.

You gasped happily for air, yet your foreheads still touched. Izzy gazed at you as if you were the only other person in the world and the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes upon.

"Perhaps I haven't had any past lives," Izzy breathed. "but I will have love for you in all my next."

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #izzy hands #izzy hands x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #second person pov #reader insert #izzy hands my beloved #the revenge #israel hands #ofmd izzy #ofmd izzy hands #fanfic #fanfiction #this is my first x reader in years pls be kind

[autistichalsin]

I wonder if you have thoughts on like.... the other members of his grove? and halsin relating to them? bc apart from rath and maybe two more, they all seem very dicky to me 🤔 and ya, halsin said it's been a burden, and being a kind-hearted dude like him leading a bunch of bastards that think so highly of themselves could definitely contribute to the stress. I guess i don't get it? the one at the steps by the bear is like 'hold on give them a chance' @ the bear when we come in but then in the same breath is like 'no step further or i show you my claws' and seems like has to be talked down from being hostile by third druid; then later when we stop the ritual she's like 'we stopped the chanting but that doesn't give you the right to be disrespectful to this place' and some rando other druid went something along the lines of 'you're overstaying your welcome' - im just thinking how horrible halsin's life must have been surrounded by pricks like that 😔

Short version: yeah, everyone but Rath, Nettie, and Apikusis suck lol

Long version: everyone but Rath, Nettie, and Apikusis suck, BUT you can see several who are having doubts about what they're doing, and many of them come back to themselves once Halsin returns.

There were, I think, multiple things going on here:

By his own admission, Halsin wasn't a very strong leader. He never had leadership skills taught or modeled for him before becoming Archdruid, and further, his promotion was under incredibly traumatic circumstances. The survivor guilt, the admiration he had towards the previous Archdruid, likely left him not wanting to fully engage with the role out of fear of replacing him or at least seeming to do so.

The refugee situation was noted to be causing stress at the Grove as supplies were dwindling (I guess we're supposed to forget Goodberry is a spell ANY Druid can do, lol). This would have not only sown resentment against Halsin and the refugees for putting them in this situation, but crucially, it would have given an outsider enemy for the Grove. Cults (like the Shadow Druids) operate at their strongest when they have a threat, or appearance of one, to unite members and potential members under. "We are the only ones who can keep you safe from these outsiders who may be from hell itself, who are using all your supplies and contributing nothing, who are the reason you're being attacked by goblins every other day." And Halsin, as much as I love him, showed poor judgment in going with the goblins at that precise moment, and with little explanation to the others. It shows where his heart and priorities are- always with the Shadow-Cursed Lands first- but that would not be an endearing things for his stressed Druids.

Kagha not only fell in with this cult, but unfortunately, she had a lot of what Halsin was lacking as a leader- she just chose to use this skills for evil. She was persuasive (something Halsin admits he wasn't so good at), she presented herself as being concerned with the group's welfare in a way Halsin wasn't quite able to do (since his heart was elsewhere), and her zealotry seemed preferable to the other Druids in contrast to Halsin's mixed attention.

This cannot be understated: the Grove was deliberately targeted by Ketheric Thorm. He knew from experience that the Grove posed a significant threat, and he ordered his underlings to make contact with the Shadow Druids and send them to the Emerald Grove, to either persuade them to carry out the Rite of Thorns or at least cause so much division that the social bonds collapsed entirely and the Grove was left too divided to be able to accomplish anything. Ketheric and the Shadow Druids were able to find all of the above weaknesses and exploit them effortlessly.

So then it became a game of scapegoating, which is a favored recruitment technique of cults. "We're here because of the Other, and because our leader was too weak to fix the problem before it got this bad. We need a new leader; a leader who cares only for us and isn't afraid to tell the truth about these immigrants refugees who want to destroy America our Grove by leading gangsters and drug lords goblins right to us! Build the Wall Perform the Rite of Thorns!"

No one is immune to propaganda and everyone is a potential target for cults. It very well could be that all of the Druids, even Kagha, were once genuinely kind people who were manipulated by the cult into believing their kindnesses would get the Grove destroyed; they took on the "it's us or them" mentality.

For the timeframe to work, it either would have had to be happening in secret before Halsin left, or Halsin would have had to be gone for a while; since we know it wasn't TOO terribly long but hadn't JUST happened either, my guess is that Kagha had been spreading Shadow Druid doctrine in secret for some time, and had been planning to usurp Halsin's position even if he hadn't been kidnapped. That just made it easier once it happened. (There is a formal process within the Druids to challenge an Archdruid for their position; I don't know if Halsin even would have fought Kagha that hard if she kept her true intentions a secret. He had faith in her at this point after all, and didn't want the leadership position. That's a terrifying thought.)

So, then, Halsin comes back, and sees evil ideas spreading in all his Druids, starting with Kagha. Depending on the player's actions, he may or may not know it goes deeper than her. He can also see that his reputation has been severely damaged, if not ruined, in his absence; almost none of the Druids have any respect for him anymore. So he makes the wise decision to bring in Francesca, who they have no choice but to respect, and backs away himself. At this point, he intends to return someday when the Druids have been deprogrammed, but of course, later he decides it's not worth it anyway.

So back to: how bad must his life have been surrounded by that? Well, as mentioned, my headcanon is he wasn't surrounded by it very long, if at all. He thought everything was just normal, until he got back from being kidnapped and quickly found it very much wasn't. Whether that's better or worse, though, is up to interpretation. What's worse- seeing those you love fall victim to a cult, or thinking everything is completely fine, and then one day discovering they've been sucked in deep and there's nothing you can do to persuade them anymore since they've come to see you as The Enemy?

In any case, Halsin deserved much better, and I like to think he keeps in touch with Nettie, Rath, and Apikusis after the epilogue, even if he keeps his distance from the Grove itself.

#halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #kagha

[viridianevergarden]

“Elain is weak”

“Elain is plain”

“Elain is boring”

“Elain has no personality”

Really? I’m convinced that people either glaze over the page any time Elain’s name is mentioned or they completely forget out of their own ignorance and convenience.

(This is long so read at your own peril, mainly a lot of receipts from the books for proof)

This is where the internalized misogyny really becomes externalized at this point.

I mean- Elain is the epitome of the common woman at the moment. Of course she’s not some battle hardened warrior. Of course she’s not some head strong fighter that actively goes into the face of danger to save the day as a hero.

She’s a woman who wants a normal life, or at least, the most normal she can have it.

She wants to love and be loved by someone of her choosing. Thats normal.

She enjoys more “feminine” hobbies or activities. Thats normal.

She helps the people of velaris by acts of service. Thats normal.

She wants to help her family any way she can.

She is normal.

Normal is good. Normal is relatable.

I think that some people’s brains have been plagued by the case of “every female main character should be a strong warrior” disease and hate Elain because she doesn’t currently fit into that mold. Thus she’s deemed uninteresting.

They want another Feyre or Nesta copy out of her. They want her to wield a sword and have the power to dominate whole territories and rule a court or two. Yet Elain doesn’t want that.

But even then Elain isn’t weak. She’s not boring. Elain has a voice.

Every rose has its thorns to protect itself.

Here’s a few big examples:

ACoTaR, ch. 40

Context: The queens just left the sisters’ manor after their first negotiation.

And it was Elain—Elain—who sighed and murmured, “I hope they all burn in hell.”

Omg she cussed. Elain showing outward hatred and opening her mouth about it? That’s new.

ACoWaR, ch. 21

Context: About tracking the cauldron, Elain claimed she will find it if Nesta cannot. Nesta protested immediately.

“Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

Elain cut in sharply, “I am not a child to be fought over.”

Elain finally bearing her fangs to Nesta? Nesta flinched at her words.

ACoWaR, ch. 74

Context: during the war, Elain saved Nesta and Cassian’s life from the King.

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

Weak huh? I mean if she was weak, I don’t think she would’ve wielded the blade. Let alone step out of a shadow with it. Yet she had the courage and will to do so. (She will protect what she holds dear even if it means she has to kill for it, even if she doesn’t like spilling blood or causing harm).

ACoFaS, ch. 18

Context: Feyre talking Elain about Lucien, Elain standing her ground on her decision.

Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

“He doesn’t know me.”

Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.”

She has boundaries and she sticks by them. What a surprise. Using her voice.

ACoFaS, ch. 58

Context: Nesta finally came to solstice on her own accord per Cassian’s request. Elain greeted her and pleaded that Nesta does not upset Feyre since it’s her birthday. Nesta cussed Elain out without a thought.

And then Elain burst out laughing. Howling, half-sobbing laughs that sent her bending over at the waist, gasping for breath.

Elain held up a hand, wiping her eyes with the other. “You’ve never said such a thing to me!” She laughed again.

Elain being elated that Nesta had the balls to cuss her out? To be mean to her? Must’ve been a breath of fresh air from the suffocating overprotection. If anything, I’d feel intimidated that she laughed. Confused like Nesta. Elain has never laughed like this before.

ACoSF, ch. 76

Context: Feyre on her death bed during childbirth.

And when Elain began praying to the Fae’s foreign gods, to their Mother, Nesta bowed her head, too.

Elain was desperate enough to pray to The Mother and the Fae gods for help. For comfort. Shows some semblance of development in her journey of acceptance of her new life. (I don’t know why people think she refuses to accept her new life, the NC is her home)

ACoSF, Azriel’s Bonus Chapter

Context: Solstice night, Elain gifts Azriel earplugs with a humorous meaning.

Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days, and then opened the lid.

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. "Nesta wouldn't appreciate the joke.”

Elain has the humor for making sex jokes lol.

• • •

I could continue adding more but I think you get the point now.

I don’t want her to be like Feyre.

I don’t want her to be like Nesta.

Elain has a voice and she has used it time and again.

She has plenty of character and I’m sorry if you don’t like it. She’s shown hatred, assertiveness, compassion, elation, acceptance, and humor throughout the series.

Just because she’s soft spoken and less combative than her sisters doesn’t make her any less than them.

No one can make you like a character except yourself. However, if you’re going to bash a complex character and say there’s no sustenance to her when she’s been shown to have obvious development and presence, then that’s an issue lol.

She’s a very fleshed out character and we haven’t even gotten to her story yet.

Even without military or magical prowess like her sisters, Elain has personality and I find that a lot of people including myself can definitely relate to her.

SJM merely set the stage for Elain.

All she needs to do is begin her Act.

#acotar #elain archeron #pro elriel #pro elain #when will the mischaracterization stop? #Elain is complex and dynamic #I don’t see why people think she’s a flat and unchanging character #a court of thorns and roses

[pathetic-sapphic]

Hi! Will you be able to do the arcane milfs with a fem s/o w attachment issues and just cries and hugs them when they get home after work? 🥺

Arcane milfs with a S/O who has attachment issues

SEVIKA's cold and rough façade completely melts whenever she is around you. You're her only weak spot which gives her motivation to try even more at her job so that she can ensure a better future for you. Unfortunately, this means that she is sometimes gone for days, her work being extremely taxing and unpredictable. She also can't communicate with you during long and dangerous missions, too worried for your safety. She does her best to make it up to you whenever she is home. You two never leave each other's side and love doing domestic chores together, basking in the warm feeling and lightheartedness. Sevika hates seeing you so worried and lonely, always reassuring you that she will come back to you no matter what. She needs you to understand her devotion to the cause and the importance it bears for her. She does it all for you, so that the two of you can one day live in peace instead of being plagued by the constant danger and threats from the enforcers. She holds you tight as you sleep, whispering promises and sharing her dreams of a better future while you peacefully slumber away in her warm embrace.

I know, babygirl, I hate it too. Believe me, I hate knowing that you're always all alone at home and I hate making you worry. But this dark period won't last. Soon, we'll have our freedom and then I'll be home so often that you'll be sick of me. When the time comes, I promise to completely devote myself to you and make you the happiest girl in the world. I want us to have a good future, which means that now we have to sacrifice some things. But I need you to know that I'll never leave you. Whatever happens, I will always find my way back to you, okay? Good, I love you, baby. More than anything.

Oh, you have no idea how much GRAYSON's heart aches whenever she leaves to go to work. She absolutely hates knowing how lonely and scared you must be whenever she is away. She'll gladly write you letters whenever she has time and is overjoyed if you come to visit her at her office. She hides loving notes all over your house so that you remember how much she loves you. Grayson is very in tune with your emotions, so when you get all teary-eyed whenever she comes back home from work, her heart painfully squeezes. She cannot wait for retirement so she can completely devote herself to you but she still has goals she wants to achieve before stepping down. Until then, she will continue to show you how much she appreciates your support despite the stress and loneliness her job causes you. Grayson cherishes you so much and plans to do her best to ensure your happiness and safety before retiring and spending the rest of her life by your side.

Come here, my darling, I've missed you so much today. Oh, don't cry please, I promise I'm alright. I'm sorry I was gone for so long, you must have been lonely. I have the next weekend off, so I thought that you and I could spend some time together, just being lazy and indulging ourselves, how does that sound? Great, I cannot wait to sleep in next to you, I plan on thoroughly relaxing and making up for lost time. I can't wait to spoil you rotten, my love.

As much as CASSANDRA hates leaving you by yourself for long periods of time, such occurrences are to be expected due to her job. However, communication is something very important to her and she does her best to maintain it whenever she is with you. She lets you know that you are her priority and that she misses you just as much whenever she is away. She will send you thoughtful gifts such as flowers or clothes and whisk you away to a romantic date every now and then. Whenever you get emotional after not seeing her for a while, Cassandra will hold you in her lap and reassure you that she will always be there for you. She will tell you how much she loves you and misses you, wiping away your tears and hugging you until you've calmed down. She can be a very gentle and kind woman, especially when it comes to her darling girl.

It's okay, sweetheart, no need to cry. I'm here now, aren't I? That's right, I'm right here and I won't leave anytime soon. It's okay to be sad, I've missed you terribly these past few days. I'll hold you as long as you wish, I have longed to hold you in my arms the whole day. Did you like the chocolates I sent you? I thought you might, they taste almost as sweet as you, my darling. Ah, there's that lovely laugh, how I missed the sound of it. How I missed you, beloved.

AMBESSA finds your attachment to her cute, you're like a little puppy, always begging for her company and attention. And she has no problem giving it to you, indulging you with quality time and frequent trips. However, she is, after all, a warlord. This means that oftentimes you cannot join her on her trips because they can be too dangerous for you. As capable as she is of protecting you, Ambessa feels more at ease when knowing that you're adequately guarded and far away from any dangerous situations she may find herself in. She knows you get worried and anxious over her safety so she makes sure to always have someone notify you of her current state and situation. Always comes back home bearing gifts, ready to completely spoil her sweet girl until there are no doubts left in your pretty little head.

There you are, my darling. Oh! Eager, aren't we? That's quite alright, I missed you too, very much. Did you fare well while I was gone? I hope you didn't stay up at night worrying lest I'll have to make sure you won't be leaving the bed for the next couple of days. Although I doubt I'll let you sleep even then. There's that cute red face that I missed so much. How about we take a nice bath together and you can tell me all about what you've been up to while we're at it. After we bathe and eat, I plan on making up for lost time by thoroughly worshipping you. I brought back some... 'souvenirs' that I believe you'll like and I cannot wait to test them out on you, my sweet pet. Now, let us go, I'm eager to get you out of those pesky clothes so we better hurry along.

#arcane #arcane x reader #sevika x reader #ambessa x reader #grayson x reader #cassandra kiramman x reader

[argisthebulwark]

I Don't Feel It Til It Hurts

summary: Character A haunts Character B. One refuses to let go and the other cannot move on. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Vilkas, Cicero, Miraak, Mercer, Farkas warnings: canon typical mentions of death and injury. depictions of grief/loss.

Poor Brynjolf will never rid himself of the memory. Each night he relives it; the numbness in his body, nerves sizzling with Mercer's spell, the strangled scream when his arm swung. His nights are little more than tossing and turning, running from the nightmares until it's time to rise. Most days he finds himself searching for you - expecting you to walk around the corner and laugh at him for believing such a thing. He still feels you. The hole in his heart aches but he's sure you linger somewhere close, your presence barely out of his reach. He feels you when his pillows are warm and the desk is miraculously straightened, sure that somewhere just out of sight your shadows still shield him when a guard stumbles blindly past his hiding spot.

Vilkas will never relent. He is too stubborn to enjoy the afterlife, choosing instead to keep his watchful eye on his Harbinger. Even in death he is incapable of relaxing. He paces Jorrvaskr's halls, eyes vigilant for any potential threats. While you are busy sorting through requests and orders he stands guard at your door. Rumors eventually reach your ears - new recruits whispering about hearing footsteps late at night or doors shutting behind you. Some swear you're using magicka to keep them on their toes. A breeze brushes against your cheek despite the closed window and for a moment you feel him, all of his effort put into making you aware that he stays for you.

Silly Listener, you weren't supposed to leave Cicero. Even when his dagger dripped with your blood he couldn't believe it - you had to be fooling him! The Listener would never abandon their Keeper. You promised him. You swore that he would never be alone again. You scream until your throat is raw but he cannot hear you. You cannot grip his hand nor can you slam the table hard enough to make him listen. You can do nothing but observe. You hear the whispers behind his back and the jokes he repeats as if you still stand beside him, forced to listen to his tirades about how you've abandoned him. Unable to bear the thought of moving on and leaving him once again you remain, a shadow of your former self praying to someday gain enough strength to show him you never truly left.

Miraak clings to you, souls too intertwined to entertain the thought of leaving. Although you cannot see anything you feel him - each time you Shout there is an echo of him, your powers surging with the same sickly green he'd adopted. He knows the rational choice is to move on, you will join him when you are ready, but parting from you feels too final. Often, you swear you feel him looming just over your shoulder. Even if you cannot see him he is there, that silent judgment a factor in many decisions. He remains on Nirn, a mere shade of the god he'd once been. He dreads and awaits the day you finally fall and join him, sure that Sovngarde will be no fun until you arrive hand in hand.

You are everywhere. Mercer feels you everywhere he goes; lurking in each shadow or waiting just around the next corner. Paranoia eats at his mind with each day that passes without your arrival - you'd forced his hand. You'd cornered him. It wasn't his fault that you stuck your nose where it didn't belong, you'd left him with no choice. Guilt and his feelings for you swirl together into a sickening mess in his gut that leaves him weak. You'd always made him weak. Of course you cannot strike - not yet, at least. You are not strong enough to do anything more than watch as the man you'd once shared flirtatious banter with diminishes, terrified of the day you become strong enough to make your presence clear.

Your poor heart aches at the mere thought of leaving Farkas. He still makes space for you; your side of the bed unmade and open, a seat at his side empty as if you will simply fall into it. You trail along after him, unable to reach out and unwilling to move on. His voice is soft when he murmurs your name before descending into a cave of bandits as if he prays to you for safety. Other think that he's gone mad when he mentions feeling you but this does little to deter him. Farkas knows that you linger at his side, that you are always somewhere near. Rationally he should urge you to move on but the thought of parting is too painful. Farkas allows you to stay, to take up the space he leaves just for you, knowing he would do the same if he'd fallen before you.

#skyrim #writing #skyrim fanfic #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #Brynjolf #Vilkas #Cicero #Miraak #Mercer Frey #Farkas

[brittscafe]

don’t know if you write this but, can you write some hc about fem!reader and a captain ( Kenpachi, Gin, Kensei and Shunsui, add if you want someone!) being divorced? Like them getting married because of mutual agreement or it is good for both parties when they were younger, been together to a bit before the storyline of bleach stars and divorce, reader starts working with royal guard (not being a part with them, just doing some important stuff there) and after the last war she started living at Seireitei agian so they of course see each other again, and perhaps they low key miss each other, it’s totally coll if you don’t want to! have a lovely day! 🧡

Yessss of course!! <3 I made these so damn fluffy 😭

Kenpachi:

He hasn't really thought about in years because he's kept himself busy with his squad and all.

At nights when he's lonely and trying to go to sleep is when he thinks about you.

When he hears news about you returning back to the Seireitei, he visits you at night.

One night he cannot handle missing you any longer, so he shows up on your doorstep.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've missed your pretty face."

You invite him inside for tea, knowing that he doesn't drink any.

You two engage in a very long, deep conversation that involves talk of you two possibly getting back together.

I imagine that before Kenny decides its time for him to leave, he wraps you up in a huge bear hug where his head is resting on your shoulder.

He loves the way he feels so comfortable in your embrace.

Honestly, the night probably ends with Kenny not leaving and you two ending up in bed together...

Whether you decide to stayed divorced or not is up to you...

Gin:

Says he doesn't think about you nor cares for you anymore when it's quite the opposite.

You're on his mind every second of the day.

He has trouble going to sleep without you.

Wastes in time in visiting you when he hears about your return back.

Of course, you want to take things slow so it takes off with you two meeting at places in public.

You slowly start getting more comfortable around Gin and invite him over to your home sometimes.

Is literally attached to your hip, he's kind of like a dog.

Will sleep on your couch if you let him.

Sometimes, you can hear him mumbling in his sleep about how much he's missed you.

It kind of breaks your heart because you've missed him too.

One night you allow Gin to sleep in your bed with you.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him and resting his head on your chest.

Your fingers glide through his silver hair and he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

I could see you two potentially getting back together or Gin might just end up breaking your heart by betraying the Soul Society...

Kensei:

Probably the only one to keep his cool manner after all these years.

Won't admit to missing you because then he feels weak.

Since you two didn't get married out of love, Kensei felt like the divorce was easy and he thought he wouldn't bother him.

boy did his heart skip a beat when he heard you were working for the royal guard.

He does everything in his power to ignore you/ not see you.

One day, you both happen to be walking on the same path and bump into each other.

Kensei's awkward, cutting the convo short and running off with his heart pounding against his chest.

You have to take things very slow, running into each other and the convos start to get longer and they flow smoother.

You end up arranging to meet a bar and discuss things.

You both admit that you still have lingering feelings once you have alcohol in your system to ease the nerves.

You both agree to take things slow and the night ends with Kensei grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on it as a promise to try.

Shunsui:

Hides his pain and suffering behind all his laughing and corny jokes.

Goes to the bar most often and often comes back to the barracks drunk.

Sometimes Jushiro has to take care of him and he'll cry in his lap/arms.

Buries himself in his work to forget about how much he misses spending everyday with you.

Once you come back to the Seireitei, Shunsui likes to avoid you because he's afraid of his feelings.

You probably have to go and corner him in his office.

He offers you sake and pours himself a big glass of it.

You can see that he's nervous, but he's keeping his cool.

You talk about how things were in the past, chatting and laughing as Shunsui's face grows more red.

Before the night is over, Shunsui kisses you and reignites every single feeling you've ever had for him.

Let's be honest, the two of you probably have a heated make out session with your hands exploring each other's bodies.

But then you pull away, saying how you don't want to rush things and you need to take your time.

Shunsui agrees, so you decide to start seeing each other again.

You two go out on dates, but they somehow always end up with you two making out.

It's not a bad thing, but then you two decide to set boundaries and your relationship flourishes.

#gin ichimaru #shunsui kyoraku #kenpachi zaraki #kensei muguruma #bleach #bleachanime #bleach imagines #bleach headcanons #bleach x reader #bleach x you #bleach anime #bleach x y/n #bleach x female reader #bleachichigo #kenpachi #kenpachi x reader #bleach gin #bleach shunsui #shunsui x reader #shunsui bleach #kensei x reader #bleach kensei #fluff #bleach fluff

[celiciaa]

GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN EVENT STORY....

CHAPTER THREE.

Make me feel alive.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

trigger warnings: suggestive

MINORS DNI.

On the day of Lord Gilbert's birthday, there was a strange tension in the castle.

(Your birthday is truly a taboo.)

(No one says a word or shows any sign of preparing a celebration.)

While whipping cream in a bowl, I can't help but think about it.

(I always thought it was natural to celebrate birthdays.)

(Except for Lord Gilbert.)

━━FLASHBACK━━

Gilbert: Do you want to celebrate by risking your life? // Would you like to celebrate with the cost of your life?

Emma: ….

Gilbert: Even if it’s you, I still feel uncomfortable…. **

━━FLASHBACK ENDS━━

(I meant those words…)

(If I'm wrong, I'll be in big trouble.)

My heart is pounding so fast that I feel as if it will come out at any moment.

My hands were shaking uncontrollably while holding the bowl.

(…No, I have to be confident.)

(After all, I'm Lord Gilbert's fiancée, aren't I? There’s no time to be weak.)

I took a deep breath to shake off my anxiety and nervousness, as I began to move my hand again.

Emma: …I wonder if he will like it.

???: Yes, it’s very delicious.

Emma: !?

When I turned around, I saw Lord Gilbert stuffing his face with a piece of sponge cake that had already been baked.

(Eh? No way! How long have you been there!?)

Gilbert: Come on, don't just stand there and work with your hands. Otherwise I'm going to eat every last one of them, okay?

(The cake will be gone before it's finished!)

When I hurriedly took the sponge cake away from Lord Gilbert, his handsome face twisted into a displeased look.

Gilbert: Is that what you’re going to do?

Emma: If the sponge runs out, I can't make a cake.

Gilbert: It was delicious just the way you make it look like.

Emma: It's not good even if it's delicious!

Gilbert: Eehh—….I prefer quantity to quality.

Emma: I'll be baking a lot of cookies later, so please forgive me for this.

Emma: When it comes to cakes, I really want to focus on quality. // I really want to emphasize the quality of the cake.

Emma: ….I have to make the birthday cake special.

Gilbert: Hmmm...you're a brave little rabbit.

Lord Gilbert brings a chair nearby and sits down.

That red eye of his looking at me intensely, as if they were searching for something.

Emma: ….This is just my speculation….

Emma: Lord Gilbert—— Gil, I don't think you want to celebrate your birthday.

(…It was you, Lord Gilbert, who told me when your birthday was.)

Emma: You hate lies.

Emma: Because it was supposed to be a special and important day, you couldn't allow yourself to be defiled by corruption and deception.

Emma: …..That's what I thought.

(Lord Gilbert used to have a kind mother and an older brother…)

(The two of them must have congratulated him when he was young.)

(It was a warm and tender birthday...and now that day will never come again.)

(All that remained around him were aristocrats representing corruption and deceit.)

(…I guess this type of celebration was completely different.)

Gilbert: Hehe…as expected of the little rabbit, who loves me so much.

Lord Gilbert rested his chin on his palm and smiled refreshingly.

So, I was right.

Gilbert: Are you really going to congratulate me?

Emma: Of course.

Gilbert: I've killed many people so far, and I might kill many more in the future.

Gilbert: I’ve sent someone to the execution stand after I celebrated my birthday before, and I'll do it again if anyone like that shows up in the future, you know?

Emma: …..

It was as if my resolve was being tested.

(Birthday celebrations was supposed to be "Thank you for being born.")

(And it's also a day to hope that "you will continue to live.")

To celebrate the birthday of a great villain who shook the entire continent.

It cannot be done with half-hearted preparation, and someone who gave the blessing may end up bearing some sort of guilt.

Emma: ….I see.

(You may be a bad person who will never be forgiven...but I still want you to be rewarded.)

(That feeling has never changed and never will.)

(I think your sense of humanity is just numb, but you actually have the most beautiful heart in the world.)

Emma: Even if you have made the whole world your enemy, I will congratulate you.

Emma: I'm already a bad woman, so it's too late for that.

Emma: Please don't underestimate my love for you.

(Even though it's your birthday, it's hard to even celebrate it genuinely.)

(That is Lord Gilbert’s position, and it is also the price you pay for taking control of the evil empire.)

(…I've never celebrated a birthday with such determination.)

Gilbert: ….Hehe, sorry. I was bullying you too much.

(Huh…)

Lord Gilbert stood up from his chair and reached for my eyes.

I hadn't noticed that his fingertips were scoping my tears.

(…I hate it. I didn't mean it like this.)

(However, I wonder how many years...how many decades you’ve been denying your birthday so that your memories won't be tarnished….)

I forcefully wiped my blurred vision and looked into his red eye.

Lord Gilbert was smiling as usual, but…

I was surprised to find a wavering feeling there that made my heart hurt.

(No, it’s not. These tears are not for me.)

(…The one who really wants to cry should be Lord Gilbert.)

(Every time you celebrate your birthday, I wonder what you’ve been thinking about until now.)

(At first, you must have felt lonely, but then you forgot about it and didn't feel anything anymore…)

(But now, you, Lord Gilbert, reminded me of my loneliness. Maybe that's why you told me it was your birthday.)

With an urgent feeling, I reached out to touch his cold cheek and kissed him lightly.

Gilbert: What?

Emma: …I can't give you a cake right now, so here's an alternative gift for you.

Gilbert: That's a poor gift.

Emma: How about this?

I gave up on making the cake for the time being, so I placed the bowl on the table and wrapped my arms around Lord Gilbert's neck.

I kissed him deeper than before, and he bit me hard on the lip.

(Ouch…)

Fortunately, there was no blood seeping out, but he rubbed the throbbing area with his tongue.

As a result, I was robbed of the control I should have had.

His cold fingers pried my lips open, making sure my tongue is pulled out so he can bite it.

When I lost my strength, I leaned on the table behind me,

Then Lord Gilbert lifted the hem of my black dress he made for me and forced his fingers between my legs inside.

Emma: Gil…it hurts….

Gilbert: Yeah, on purpose.

Emma: Why….

Gilbert: Because you don't like pain, do you, little rabbit?

(….When you say that….)

The pain quickly turned into another sensation as his fingers plunged deep into the pit of my stomach.

It is like a sign of affection that Lord Gilbert has engraved on my body night after night.

(So I can't hate it….)

Gilbert: See, you looked like you were feeling good.

Gilbert: By the way, we’re in the kitchen. Are you going to stop me?

The wet squelching sounds and my moans became more visible the moment he added two more fingers.

Just as my mind was about to go blank, he stopped and my gasp spilled out involuntarily.

Emma: ….Just…for today….

Emma: No matter what Gil wants…if he wants to do it here, I’d take it all….

Gilbert: Because it's my birthday?

I nodded, then I brought his head close to my chest, hugging him.

Emma: I do not…lie.

Emma: So...you can try it until you feel safe, Gil.

Emma: My celebration is from the bottom of my heart…my sincerest congratulations…

Emma: I will keep telling Gil, no matter how much it hurts, until he believes in me.

Gilbert: …..

Gilbert: Oh, no. I guess I've been found out.

(…. I knew it. Lord Gilbert always has a reason for his threats.)

Emma: Gil is probably a lot easier to understand than I think.

Gilbert: I think those words can only be said because you are facing me head-on.

Gilbert: …It's really a pity that a troublesome man likes you so much.

Lord Gilbert looks up with a soft laugh and bites my neck.

(It may be difficult to wipe away all the doubts that have built up over the decades——)

(But it’s enough to let you know that you won't be lonely on your birthday anymore.)

━━

While taking all the pain and pleasure that Lord Gilbert was giving me, he somehow managed to finish the cake…

After the private celebration, we lay on each other, skin-to-skin as a matter of course.

Thanks to him, my body was exhausted during the daytime, however, Lord Gilbert embraced me with all his might.

All that was left was the sound of our heartbeats.

Gilbert: Hehe…your heart is still beating, isn't it?

Emma: I can…hear your heartbeat too, Gil.

He cradled me in his arms, and the sound of our heartbeat was heard from our chests.

(It’s the proof that Lord Gilbert is alive and well.)

(…I want to feel this whenever I celebrate your birthday.)

When I placed my hand on his back, Lord Gilbert scrunched his eyebrows slightly.

(Ah…there’s a scratch on his skin…)

Emma: …I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.

Gilbert: I don’t mind. I like being hurt by you too.

Gilbert: You could have left bite marks as well as scratches.

Lord Gilbert’s fingertips brushed my arm gently. There should be clear bite marks there.

(Not just my arms. I feel like I've been bitten all over today.)

Emma: It's hard to tell how much is too much or too little love Gil.

Gilbert: Then, let's learn it sometime soon. How about by next year's birthday?

Emma: I hope…you will let me celebrate again next year.

Gilbert: Who knows? It's up to you whether it’ll be your last or your first.

Gilbert: If you love me a lot, I might change my mind...okay?

Emma: ….

Gilbert: It’s just...my celebration this year wasn't unpleasant.

Gilbert: ….Thank you.

Emma: …..

(Aah...I’m gonna tear up.)

(If I'm not careful, I'll start crying again.)

Lord Gilbert laughed and gently stroked my hair.

Since his eyepatch was removed, his facial expressions were easier to understand than usual.

Emma: So…next time, how about we celebrate with Mr. Roderich and Mr. Walter?

Emma: I'm sure both of them really want to congratulate you, Lord Gilbert.

Gilbert: That’s not allowed.

(That’s too bad…)

Gilbert: I don't need other people's congratulations. As long as I have yours, that's all that matters.

Gilbert: Because you're the only one I love.

(I am the only person in the world allowed to celebrate Lord Gilbert's birthday——)

(In that case, I’ll celebrate with all my feelings.)

(I hope that the sound of Lord Gilbert's heart continues to beat next year and the year after that.)

(Even though you are a big villain and many people hate you, I want you to live forever and ever.)

Emma: Gil…I forgot to mention the most important thing.

Gilbert: Hm?

Emma: Happy birthday.

Emma: I'll give you lots of love…so please let me celebrate with you again next year.

Gilbert: Hehe, I understand. I'll let you celebrate as long as you are.

Gilbert: Keep loving the beast with your pure heart, just as you are…got it?

 ▸       [  previous ]

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #ikemen series #cybird #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert

[briebysabs]

Noda from twitter said that Johann is the Judas of VnC and sent me down a spiral. Because one of Jesus’ missions was to convert sinners and spread the good news. You can interpret that as Vanitas’ whole healing curse-bearers thing. Assume then that Vanitas is Jesus. Bear with me pls. We can also assume Johann spider reveal will be the first turning point before everything goes to shit. Tipping the chain of events that’ll lead to Vanitas dying. What I mean by this is Judas betrays the squad. What’s funny is that Monsieur Spider is working with Ruthven and the extremist chasseurs aka the Church. Now, Judas betrayed Jesus mainly for greed. And it’s possible Johann, if spider, is being paid by Ruthven.

Btw when Judas goes to betray Jesus it’s described as “Satan entered him”. This could like the times we’ve seen Johann’s mask slip and he shows his crueler side. But it’s also a large belief that Judas was trying to scam the chief priests and get back at the Roman government. Judas very much believed in the coming of a mighty Messiah to free them from the Romans but Jesus was being too weak. He thought Jesus needed a little push in the right direction. So he betrayed him, expecting Jesus to perform a miracle and disappear like he always does. That didn’t happen and Jesus got condemned to death. Some ppl think that’s why he returned the 30 pieces of silver. This isn’t explicitly stated in the bible but simply popular theories people have.

Because this wasn’t the plan. Johann could be doing all this to get back at a society who’ve shunned dhams, his family. Initially I said Dante is Jesus but that’s saying he’s betraying Dante. Which I don’t think that’s the case but Dante will get wrapped up into it. So I guess you could still make an argument. He could kiss Dante as an apology , I could see him blowing a kiss at Vanitas to be a bitch. He’s made it very clear he isn’t a fan of him. But now it’s...what comes next?

Because Judas commits sui@ide. I don’t think it’s beyond Mochijun to write smth like that. If Dante or Richie or both die because of his involvement in all this, it’s not impossible. In PH, Alice did technically off herself to protect Oz and Alyss. And we did come back from hiatus to a flashback of Astolfo attempting so I cannot say it’s beyond her. Finally the traitors’ names begin with a J. Imma leave it at that.

#anime #the case study of vanitas #les memoires de vanitas #vanitas no carte #jun mochizuki #manga #vnc #vnc manga #tumblr #twitter #johann #dhams #Dante #vnc chapter 62 #spoilers #Judas #bible #Jesus #betrayal #pandora hearts #Alice

[ruiniel]

Re your or if bounds explicit post- what about alucard having to drink reader's blood out of necessity and discovering his bite has an aphrodisiac effect? So he goes from starving-near-feral to having to sate other needs 🥴

Love your work, and hope you're having a wonderful day! 💙

Another classic... Since it's the winter solstice, tried to add your prompt into something thematic. Two parts.

The closest warmth

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Rating: M/🔞

Count: 2.3k

Tags & Warnings: aftermath of violence, injury, developing relationship, mutual pining, a pinch of winter solstice magic, unresolved emotional tension, He's just So, Second Person POV, hurt/comfort, blood kink, angst, denial, vampirism, eventual smut, a lot of smut, in part II that's all it is really

Also on AO3

I.

His face is gaunt and his eyes are restless as he looks at you standing in the doorway.  

He’s never been much of a liar, you think, the crumbling facade he tries to keep in place as obvious proof.  

“Please leave.”

You’re still there, a hand on your chest, covering the hot spiral of life within. 

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’m… well aware of that,” Adrian mutters, fumbling with medical supplies, scattering them in the process.

It is useless, since the bounty hunter's blade was coated in an alchemical blend that hinders his fast-healing abilities. You stare at the trickled trail of blood following in his wake, your breath trembling in your lungs. 

He’s long shrugged off his coat, and his gloves lie somewhere on the desk. There is a blooming pattern of blood on his white shirt, right below his ribs. You approach even as he falls into a chair, a needle between his teeth as he undoes his garment, concentrating on cleaning the gash; biting down a hiss.

“Let me,” you say, and when he’d usually scoff and decline, his lashes now tremble as he raises his face to look at you, his hand pressed over the compress to the wound. “Please?”

You kneel beside him without waiting for a reply, “You’ll mend,” you slowly peel away the soaked cloth, rising and finding a bowl to throw it in.

“I… know, I…” your eyes meet as you urge him to change position, and great is your surprise when, for once, Adrian complies with your ask. His face is ashen, and sweat beads on his forehead where silver-gold strands kiss the skin. 

The surgical area provides more items, and swiftly you go and return, bearing other vials and bottles.

He’s taught you some of this, mostly to help yourself—you now wonder at the irony, but commend his foresight. “You needn’t… I can—” Adrian tries, interrupted by a gasp as you apply more pressure to staunch the bleeding. 

“I know you can.” Where is this implausible calm coming from? It seems the lessons haven’t been useless. “But this is faster, isn’t it?” He hasn’t wasted his time on you and a part of you is proud enough to think about it, but not petty enough to bring it up now.

You stare back at him and catch the exhaustion in his eyes, taking root in his composure: he’s turned to sit on the table at your behest, leaning back on his arms. You both escaped with your lives, and the gratitude you feel is only surpassed by the heaviness in your chest because the truth is: it hurts to see his pain. 

But he’s a brave one, the scar crossing his torso a reminder you cannot unsee. The smell of raw flesh and his panting breaths washing over you is more distracting than you’d thought. 

It’s a silent sign of trust, you know, him being here, allowing you to touch him, allowing you to help. Great strides have been made before, despite the wall he still keeps between himself and anyone else with a heart. 

When it’s over and you unwind, the signs of depletion show themselves—he knows it too. His eyes say more than he’s capable of conveying. I’m sorry I’m weak. I’m sorry I needed you. 

And then you’re helping him to his chamber, slowly crawling by the walls in silence, his form stooped and movement sluggish, lacking the speed or elegance you’re used to. 

When he falls into bed, his eyes close, features smoothed by relief. 

Wiping your forehead with your sleeve, you can’t help but feel the same. You sit on the opposite edge of the bed for a moment to catch your breath, to let the reality of this settle. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a gentle shadow on the walls. Silence hangs in the air, broken only by the faint hum of the wind. The scent of disinfectant lingers, as does the sight of his raw flesh. “I’ll come by to check on you.”

There comes no answer, and when you look his way, Adrian has already fallen unconscious. 

A shivering ray spills light over your eyes. Groggily, senses return, as does the need to stretch and move. You find yourself in a strange place. It’s not until your eyes meet Adrian’s, that you remember where you last were—and still are. You’ve fallen asleep right across from him, in his bed, something that any other time might have caused a rush of heat and an urgent need to disappear. 

Your unlikely patient looks at you, a lost expression on his face.

“I slept where I lay, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” And he leaves it at that.

“How are you feeling?”

He shakes his head, and you slide off the bed, going around it. “Fever,” you say as you check. He’s burning, and that sends a spiral of worry down your gut. 

You leave quietly, only to reappear with water, kitchen scraps, and willow bark extract discovered in the laboratory. You’re slightly out of breath, but Adrian makes it easy—he’s silent throughout, barely a groan of pain as you check on the wound, met with visible signs of infection.

“Damn this,” the words escape as your self-assurance crumbles, but you attempt to clean the area as well as you can. 

A hand is placed over yours. “Leave it.”

It rankles how he disregards not only himself but you as well. As if he’s the only one who cares if he lives or dies.

“Truly?” you ask, and the rush of everything comes through the one word, but you don’t look at him as you finish your task. “Do you remember anything at all to help?”

Adrian looks at the ceiling with glassy eyes. “No.”

You rise, desperate to prove him wrong. Your gaze is drawn to the outside, where blankets of snow engulf the world, falling and falling. There is something. There must be.

“Adrian. Adrian, look!” You all but trip in your rush to his side, thrusting a manuscript in his line of sight. “I told you there’s something. Here.”

Still fevered, he throws one apathetic glance at the page, then averts his gaze with a sigh.

There’s a strange irregularity within, as though your heart has failed its rhythm. “You knew.” The manuscript lands on the bed. “You knew, and you said nothing?! Adrian, this will mend you.” You kneel by the side of the bed. 

“No,” he murmurs. “I’ve never done that before.”

Impotent ire. “That’s not a reason to disregard a good chance.”

He looks your way then, with a wretchedness that bares him to you, spirit and fears and all.

“Nothing will happen. It’s… think of it as a medical procedure.”

Adrian shakes his head, brow knitting in pain. “Enough… No.”

Your fists are shaking on the sheets. “Do you want to die that badly?”

Silence. 

“Do you really… not care about anything?” If your voice is frantic, bordering on hysterical, you’re past caring.

Adrian swallows, tired eyes staring at the ceiling. “I don’t… want to harm you.”

Gently, you cup his cheek; he leans into the touch, and desperate affection makes your eyes sting. “I’m not afraid.”

His dry lips part as you slowly rise, but no words come out, nothing to prevent you from crawling up onto the cold bed. “I want you to heal, so you can be your own insufferable self again, all right?” 

Adrian minds not the barb, but frissons wrack his body all the stronger. 

Desperate, you undo the fastenings at your neck, baring skin with methodical care and shaking fingers even as his gaze flies to the soft fluttering beneath. Now you know what would help, but knowing something is not the same as having the courage to offer it. 

The closest warmth to take, to regain balance…

He watches your collected demeanor with a clenched jaw, lying there as helpless as you’ve never seen him. “Adrian.”

He presses his eyes closed, but you feel the weak slide of his fingers between your shoulder-blades when you prop a palm by his head. “You’re shaking,” he says.

“No more than you.” You steal a glance outside, to the hypnotic dance of falling snow, feeling cold fingers gliding to cup your head—but then. “No, I’m… I’m sorry. This is not fair, you’re vulnerable and… I shouldn’t be doing this, I didn’t mean to force this on you…” you slowly take to righting yourself, a ray of reason hissing in your heart like a hot iron bar.

“... Wait …” 

The word, spoken so weakly, has a power on its own—your eyes fly open, meeting his. His skin is ashen, the amber of his eyes dulled, a visible shade, a wraith in the lengthening twilight. “Adrian…” you murmur, tirade ceasing, body mellowing on the thought you don’t voice: I can’t lose you now, in this way. 

And even as the thought dies, your body follows the slow heed of his touch, lower: your clothes feel like shackles over skin even as his grip turns rigid, as your breath washes over his cheek when your face is pressed to the sheets.

“Thank you,” he says, a wisp spoken as his cold nose presses to your skin. 

An arm is wound around your waist, his other hand in your hair; your heart beats against him—now you hear it, slow as dripping honey but it’s there. 

Your eyes press shut against all thoughts of turning away, though this is the very last trial you thought you’d ever be in: of cold fangs grazing skin and your defenses. 

Pain. You might have wailed, or perhaps not, but shadows creep upon the walls as the awful sensation shoots through your being, akin to a burning cut; you are still against him, paralyzed. The ache subsides as swiftly as it burst, and you find yourself listening: to the nervous, imperceptible tautness of muscles beneath, cording around you. A soft groan pressed into your neck, the subtle bob of his throat with each swallow.

The world raging outside is shut away, your perception narrowed to the coil of heat at your center, brimming like a freshly kindled fire. His arm winds around you tighter, the fingers at the nape of your neck trace up and down, feeling every nook in your spine before gliding up again.

Your voice has long left you though your mouth opens to—speak, but all it yields are incoherent sounds, and a wildness ripens inside as you feel the strength returning to his limbs, now winding around you, holding you impossibly tight. It feels… good; exquisite. You murmur or moan, you’ve stopped caring, dropped all inhibitions like old garments no longer suited. You’d want more, or was that him? Your mind melds with something indefinable, as weaved as your bodies have become. You realize this late as a delirious warm lick traces your skin, slowly lapping with a tenderness that quickens your breaths, now that you’ve come to hear them again.

Reality seeps into your mindless wandering, sensations and all, and you perceive what is: at some point, he’s dragged you atop him; his arm is painfully tight across your form, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your rear. You find it difficult to breathe, rising and falling with his chest, so overwhelmingly afire you could fall apart here and now; something hardens against your abdomen, and the slightest of movements elicits a gasp. 

“...Adrian?” You try moving your hips, while a remote part of you thinks it not a good idea in the slightest—but you haven’t a care in the world to show for it. You try again; there’s no answer but a delicious, hot twitch against your abdomen, and a sigh. “Are you…”

He nods against you, his fingers slackening in your hair as you move your head, and dizziness takes hold. The room is spinning, so you focus on him. You ask him, wordlessly, was it enough, did it work? 

The soft stains on his lips should make you uneasy—perhaps? But all you want, all you desperately want is to kiss them off, to taste the bright red. 

And Adrian stares at you with bright copper irises, with drunkenness you've never seen on his features since you've known him. You can’t place it, but it speaks of something you also feel: more. 

Your hand reaches, slowly, to feel along his ribs, gingerly following the bandaged area as you hold his gaze: there’s nothing but hot skin where a grievous wound had been moments ago, and the purest relief has you crashing all over again, the blood leaping in your veins. You let yourself fall slack against him, hands catching in his hair, forehead pressed to his collarbone. “I was so worried… damn it, you’re so stubborn, so-so stubborn…”

It’s the realization of what you’ve done and what you’re doing now that hits like a bucket of ice-cold water. Somewhere between hunger and mortification, you’re trapped in a pitiful balancing act, and you rise so suddenly that your head spins anew. 

“Careful,” Adrian speaks, appearing to regain himself, slower than you to awaken from his trance. His touch weaves off you like silk as you suddenly rise, untangling yourself from him and falling to the side.

You stare, feeling the loss: he looks so alive, visibly better in health, golden in the weak candlelight as he watches you with that same vulnerability from before—and saying nothing.

Outside, night has fallen early, and offhandedly you remember it’s supposed to be one of the longer ones. A blizzard has begun to wail, rising harshly in your ears. Everything reaches deeper, sounds seem to burrow higher and lower than before, and colors vibrate like tiny heartbeats. “I’ll… I have to go. I’m glad, glad-you’re-better.” 

Adrian calls your name once but does not attempt to stop you even as you struggle out of bed, nearly falling over while setting yourself free from the sheets and rushing off on wobbling legs. You make it to the door, towards a pathetic escape.

Something aches and feels as out of place as you do. Leaning against the frigid walls you smother it or try, but the fire burns low in your abdomen, trailing behind you like blood loss as you walk away. 

TBC

#alucard x reader #adrian tepes x reader #alucard castlevania x reader #castlevania x reader #x reader #adrian tepes x you #alucard smut #alucard x you #castlevania imagine #castlevania x you #sort of gave me some of what I wanted #ruiniel:fanfiction

[ushiwhacka]

WISH I COULD | love sick! gojo satoru + gn! reader | 1,995 words | fluff | mutual pining, hurt/comfort, very idiots in love trope-y

*:･ﾟ✧ summary: set around the time of the hidden inventory arc. gojo comforts reader after they've been injured on a mission, kisses it better. but he's a bit pathetically in love about it all. *:･ﾟ✧ warnings: mentions of canon - typical violence, minor injury

The damp air of the bathroom clings to your skin uncomfortably, making it hard to breathe. You lean on the sink, trying to steady your tired limbs. The buzzing noise from the LED and your laboured breathing becoming increasingly louder with each passing moment as the quiet feeling of unease spreads through your body. You take a swipe at the foggy mirror, trying to ground yourself and ward off the onslaught of panic that was sure to follow. Two bright red cuts - one between your eyebrows and one just below your right eye - mark your skin. They are quite shallow. Probably won’t leave a scar. But they sting just enough to make moving your face uncomfortable. And they will make for an annoying reminder of a night you’d rather forget for at least a few days. 

Your hairs stand up at the change in temperature upon leaving the steamy bathroom. But the feeling is almost refreshing. You stretch your body down on the bed, clinging to your towel. Really, you just hope you are tired enough to drift off. Usually, the familiarity of your dimly lit room would provide a sense of comfort and safety. Tonight you find the silence more disturbing than anything, your eyes drifting to dark corners and the high windows. But every time you try to close them, you see the same flashing images. Its disfigured face. Sharp claws swinging too close to your neck, almost making contact. You’re not even sure if the memory is real anymore, and not just amplified and made worse by your distressed brain. But it feels real enough.

So you lift yourself off the bed, rummaging through your piles of clothes for something comfortable and clean to put on. Despite your general uneasiness you walk through the halls a bit slower than you normally would, your arms folded across your chest, gripping the loose t-shirt. Just outside, the trees are swaying in the wind, branches colliding with the windows periodically, making your skin crawl a little bit more each time. You don’t really have a destination in mind. It is late. In fact, you aren’t really sure exactly how late it is, but there is always a chance someone else might be roaming about. Maybe in the kitchen. Or by the vending machines. 

You stop in front of a familiar door. It’s almost automatic, muscle memory. Your eyes trained on the door, you consider your options. He’s not exactly the most tactful of people, but you cannot stand the thought of spending another moment alone with your thoughts. You knock gently, praying he’s fast asleep but almost immediately the door cracks open.

“Uh, hey” Gojo was clearly caught off guard. Worn out sweater hanging off his broad shoulders, he looks cozy and you feel a stab of guilt for disturbing him. “What are you doing here anyway?” He chirps. You don’t want him to know about your near-failure of a mission. You just cannot bear his smug reaction and his smart-mouthed comments. 

“Don’t tell me that semi-first grade gave you trouble?” Satoru has always had a talent for sniffing out weaknesses and he wasn’t one to hesitate or show restraint in his delivery. “I’m almost disappointed, you know.”

“Is it that hard for you to show some basic human empathy every now and then?” That was harsh. But you were disappointed in yourself, too. It shouldn’t have been such a challenging mission, but you hesitated, you pulled back. You felt that paralysing sort of fear that was almost foreign at this point, that you know cannot allow yourself to feel out there all alone.

His body shouldn’t be drowned by such a rush of guilt for simply stating the truth, yet it is. He finds no anger in your eyes. The usual curious glint replaced with dull exhaustion. Then he feels worse. He scrambles to find the right words but they simply won’t come. After all, he has never been good at this, so why would you expect anything else? But when he sees you, you, trying to steady your trembling limbs, pulling at the wide sleeves of your shirt to find some sense of protection, he wishes he was better. He wishes he knew what to say and what to do. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Gojo doesn’t ask about your injuries. He watches you intently, noticing every small movement of your face and every twitch of a muscle. You don’t notice how his eyes soften, how his face is tense with worry. 

“I just need some company, if that’s ok?” Need. It’s silly and maybe a bit selfish of him to be analysing your choice in words given the situation. But he can’t help the way his heart swells at the thought. You need his company. Need him. It’s not that he doesn’t usually feel needed. People need him every day. He’d argue they need him a bit too much sometimes. Well, what they need are his abilities, his strength, so they have no other choice. But you chose to come to him. The realisation makes him light-headed. His mind racing as he tries to regain his composure. 

Suddenly he is too aware of the silence hanging heavy between the two of you. He doesn't trust himself to speak, so he just opens the door wider, stepping out of the way. 

You brush past him, heading straight for his unmade bed. The room is doused in the mellow blue light radiating from the TV. Satoru kneels down to rummage through his disorganised drawer. There’s a familiar bright smile on his face as he turns to you, holding a few different DVDs. “I’ll be nice and let you choose the movie”. 

“I don’t mind. Just pick your favourite.”

He narrows his eyes and squeezes his cheeks between long, slender fingers. Arms wrapped around your knees, you follow his movements. You watch as he fumbles with the case, mumbling about the dwarves and the elves, and grey and white wizards. Sparkling, wide blue eyes hold your gaze, are you listening? It’s amusing, the exaggerated hand movements, the animated facial expressions. His overwhelming presence lulls you away from the fear and uncertainty that had so completely overtaken your every sense. 

Satoru doesn’t mean to ramble so much. But he’s so nervous and he cannot stop himself from explaining the plot of the film in great detail, making silly jokes that he knows won’t make you laugh. Suguru would tell him to shut up. Shoko would also tell him to shut up, but in a harsher, meaner way. But they’re not here to do that, and that’s exactly his problem. It’s not that the two of you don’t ever spend time alone, you do. You train together, eat lunch together, even go on longer missions together. Never like this though. You have never been so alone that he has to keep looking at you, can’t look away to still his dizzying thoughts or the blood rushing to his ears. It has never been so quiet that he could hear your rhythmic, shallow breaths, periodically interrupted by a huff in response to his nonsense. It’s so much more than he is equipped to deal with. “And then she takes off her helmet and sa-”

Of course he catches the pillow flying towards his face and snuggles it to his broad chest. He looks at you with pouty lips and wounded eyes. “Why do you always have to spoil every movie we watch?”

“Why do you always have to be mean?” He slumps his shoulders as he walks towards you.

The bed dips beneath his weight as he settles on it with outstretched legs and arms tucked beneath his head. You try to follow his lead but you’re too fidgety, suddenly overly aware of the heat radiating off his body. The way his chest rises and falls with each breath. The way his pretty eyelashes flutter. You realise then you have moved to your side, openly staring at him. You make no effort to stop yourself as the overdue exhaustion finally takes over. Your body feeling heavier with every passing moment, sinking deeper into the mattress. 

The movie is just background noise to Satoru’s struggle for self control. He tries so hard not to look, to focus on anything but the way your body curls at his side but he just cannot. So he turns to look at your face. You’re so beautiful. He always thinks you’re so beautiful. When you look at him with stern eyes, arms folded over your chest, challenging him. When your mouth is pressed in a tight line at something that annoyed you. When you laugh with your nose scrunched up, trying to hold back cute little snorts. And he always wants so desperately to be closer to you. 

Before his common sense can catch up with his body, he extends his hand, gently tracing the claw mark between your eyebrows. “Does it hurt?” Your watery eyes, heavy with exhaustion flutter open at the contact. “Just a little”. He hums in response as his hand moves to cup your face, his thumb inspecting the cut on your temple. The clean, soapy scent of his skin drowns your senses. He is so very close. And his hands are so tender, so reverent on your face. Blood rushes to your cheeks in embarrassment, and you hope he doesn’t feel your skin burning at his touch. 

Wet lips part just slightly as he meets your gaze. His chest tightens and aches with these feelings that he cannot even begin to understand. All he knows is that, in that moment, you are the whole world. The rest of it fades to black, it’s insignificant. You are gravity.

“Can I kiss it better?” He really should be embarrassed about how absolutely pathetic he is being. But he cannot find it in himself to snap out of it. He needs to be closer to you. Closer than this. He needs to show you what he could never say. Not only because he would be too much of a coward to, but because he doesn’t know if the words he needs to say exist. 

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. But it is him that feels so raw and vulnerable, waiting for you pull away. To crash against you and not into you. 

You nod. It’s small and reluctant but it’s there. You feel as though you might never move again as he inches closer to you. His lips hover over your forehead and you can feel his warm breath on your face. Strands of his hair tickle your skin as his thumb draws circles on your cheekbone. He hesitates. 

He is crumbling at the sight of you. Eyes wide in anticipation, you feel so warm, so welcoming. And he tries to memorise every little detail. The way your soft skin feels underneath his hands, the smell of you slightly damp hair. The way your eyebrows knot just a tiny bit. The colour of your eyes. The way your eyelashes curl and move. He wants to remember it all. Just in case he never gets another chance to. 

Then he kisses your injured face. His lips so soft and warm. It’s such a careful, caring kiss but so incredibly intimate. Your whole body trembles at the sensation.  He kisses your temple too. And somehow he’s even closer. You can feel him with every particle of your being. You want to pull him into you, melt your body with his. You want him to consume you whole. But that’s not something you could ever say. So you smile into the crook of his neck, and you hope he knows that he makes everything better. 

Not another word is said between the two of you as you let yourself succumb to overwhelming fatigue. Satoru doesn’t sleep for a single moment that night. 

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

@nathalunalune @utahimeow

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff

[knyleggo]

to comfort a demon s/o (Giyu, Muichiro, Inosuke)

to be honest, i couldnt really pick so i decided to spin a wheel and it landed on these 3 LOL HAHAHA ENJOY its been a while since i began writing again so its probably rusty :"P (lemme know if its not up to ur standard and i will rewrite it again!!! @sanjishoe

tw: mentions of suicide

giyu

he immediately rushes to your location, determined to help you and prevent any harm from coming to you

listens attentively to your concerns and validates your emotions

expresses genuine care and concern for you

LOTS of soft hugs and kisses, refusing to let you out of his hold

reminds you of your worth and value and how he would not be able to live without you

shares his own struggles and vulnerabilities, showing you that it's okay to feel overwhelmed and that you're not weak for experiencing these emotions

promises to be always there for you, to listen and support you, no matter what you're going through

emphasizes that your life is valuable and that there is hope for a brighter future, and he encourages you to keep fighting

stays by your side, offering his unwavering support and compassion, until you feel more stable and safe

follows up with you regularly and continues to provide support, ensuring that you're taking steps towards healing and recovery

Giyu Tomioka, the Water Hashira, stared at the letter in his hand, his heart heavy with concern. It was from you, his beloved girlfriend and a demon, expressing your deep sorrow and despair. You had been struggling with your inner demons, feeling overwhelmed by the darkness within you, and were contemplating taking your own life. Without wasting a moment, Giyu set out to find you, determined to offer you comfort and support.

When he arrived at the secluded spot where you were, he saw you sitting by the edge of a cliff, tears streaming down your face. He approached you cautiously, mindful of your fragile state, and sat down beside you, offering you his presence without saying a word.

"I... I didn't expect you to come," you said in a barely audible voice, surprised to see your boyfriend standing right beside you.

"I'm always here for you, no matter what," Giyu replied softly, his eyes filled with concern as he reached out and gently placed his hand on yours.

You looked into his eyes and saw a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. It was as if his presence alone was a beacon of light, offering you a lifeline in your darkest moment.

"But I hurt you."

Your voice cracked as you let out all your pent-up feelings at the moment. The amount of hopelessness you had when you could not even hear his pulse. How you felt when you found out you had almost killed him. Your lover. Your Giyu.

Nonetheless, Giyu still spoke to you with unwavering kindness and empathy. He listened to your pain, validating your emotions and assuring you that you were not alone. He shared his own struggles and regrets, revealing his vulnerabilities in a way he rarely did with others.

"I know that darkness can be overwhelming, but I believe there is always hope, even in the darkest moments," Giyu said softly, his voice filled with compassion.

"And you can hurt me all you want. I'm never leaving you."

He gently talked you through your thoughts and feelings, helping you see things from different perspectives. He reminded you of your worth and the value you bring to the world, and how your life is precious and irreplaceable.

"I care about you deeply, and I cannot bear to lose you," Giyu said, his voice trembling with emotion. "You are not a burden to me, and I am willing to walk this path with you, no matter how difficult it may be."

Tears streamed down your face as you listened to Giyu's words. You realized that you were not alone, and that there was someone who truly cared for you, despite your demon nature. Giyu's unwavering support and understanding touched your heart deeply, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope.

With Giyu by your side, you made a promise to yourself to keep fighting, to seek help when you needed it, and to hold on to the hope that life could get better. Giyu continued to be there for you, providing you with his unwavering support and love, helping you navigate the challenges of being a demon and finding a purpose in your existence.

In time, you learned to cherish your life, and the bond between you and Giyu grew stronger. You found solace in each other's company, and your relationship became a source of strength and hope for both of you. Together, you faced the difficulties and uncertainties of life, knowing that you had each other to lean on, and that with love, empathy, and understanding, even the darkest moments could be overcome.

muichiro

stops dreaming and staring into space the moment he found out about your current situation

immediately finds you in an instant using his breathing techniques and managed to stop you just in time before you were about to jump

you burst into tears the moment you saw him

gives you a backhug so tight that you could barely breathe as he rubs your back to soothe your cries

releases you after you have finished sobbing into his shoulder, leaving a damp spot on his clothes

interlocks his hand with yours as he pulled you away from the ledge of the cliff with no intention of letting you go

teaches you breathing techniques to calm her mind, helping you learn to control you emotions and instincts in healthier ways

gives you affection physically and verbally

pays more attention to you and your behaviour

stops daydreaming to make sure you don't do anything funny

Despite the danger you posed, Muichiro couldn't help but see the pain and anguish in your eyes.

"I won't let you give up," Muichiro said softly, as he reached out to gently touch your hand. "I know you're struggling, but taking your own life is not the answer.

You were overwhelmed by conflicting emotions - the guilt and shame of your actions, the longing for peace, and the fear of what lay ahead.

"I... I don't deserve your kindness and your love," you choked out, tears streaming down your face.

Muichiro's expression softened even more, and he spoke with gentle reassurance. "Everyone deserves a chance at redemption. You are not beyond saving, and your life is worth preserving."

He sat beside you, offering you his calming presence as you poured out your heart to him. You told him about the struggles you had faced as a demon, the pain and loneliness that had led you to lose control. Muichiro listened attentively, without judgment, his hand still resting gently on yours.

"You are not alone," Muichiro said softly. "I am here, and I will help you. You can find a way to control your instincts and live a meaningful life."

His words brought a flicker of hope to your heart, and you realized that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for redemption. Muichiro's unwavering belief in you touched you deeply, and you found solace in his presence.

Days turned into weeks, and Muichiro stayed by your side, helping you learn to control your demon instincts and showing you kindness and understanding. He taught you breathing techniques to calm your mind, and helped you find ways to channel your emotions in healthier ways. He shared stories about his own struggles and hardships, letting you know that everyone had their own battles to fight.

Slowly, you began to see a glimmer of light in the darkness that had enveloped you. With Muichiro's patient guidance and unwavering support, you found the strength to confront your inner demons and make choices that were in line with your true nature.

One day, as you were sitting by a serene lake, watching the sun set, you turned to Muichiro with gratitude in your eyes. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion. "You saved me, Muichiro. You gave me a reason to live."

Muichiro smiled, his usually stoic face softened with warmth as he gave you a kiss on your forehead. "No, it was you who found the strength within yourself to keep going. I'm just glad I could be here to support you. And I will never stop loving you."

You ran into his arms and hugged him for what felt like forever. In that moment, you realized that Muichiro had not only saved you from physical harm, but also helped you find a renewed sense of purpose and hope.

From that day on, Muichiro and you stood side by side, facing the challenges of the demon world together. Your bond grew stronger with each passing day, filled with mutual respect, trust, and a love that transcended the boundaries of species. With Muichiro by your side, you knew that you had found a true companion who would always be there for you, supporting you through the highs and lows of life, and helping you find the light in your life with the love he provided you unconditionally.

inosuke

(with an extra little confession because why not)

"You stupid demon!" Inosuke growled, glaring at you as you cowered in a corner, tears streaming down your face. "Don't think I'll let you off that easily!"

But as he approached you, he noticed the deep pain and sorrow in your eyes. His anger subsided, replaced by a sudden surge of protectiveness. He couldn't ignore the fact that you were hurting, despite being a demon.

"Inosuke, please," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just end it. I can't take it anymore."

Inosuke was taken aback by your words, and he realized that you were on the brink of giving up on life. His heart clenched, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you, even though you were a demon.

With a sudden burst of determination, Inosuke grabbed your hand and pulled you up to your feet. "No way I'm letting you die like this!" he declared, surprising both you and himself with his action.

He pulled you into a tight embrace, ignoring the fact that you were a demon, and held you close to him. "Don't you dare give up, you hear me?" he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion. "I won't let you go. I won't."

You were taken aback by Inosuke's unexpected display of affection. His strong arms around you provided a sense of comfort and security that you hadn't felt in a long time. You felt a warmth spreading in your heart, and for the first time, you realized that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for redemption and love.

Inosuke stayed with you, refusing to leave your side even as you tried to push him away. He showed you a side of him that you never knew existed - caring, gentle, and protective. He helped you learn to control your demon instincts, teaching you breathing techniques and ways to channel your emotions in healthier ways.

Inosuke's rough exterior melted away whenever he was with you, and you saw a softer side to him that made your heart skip a beat. He would often wrap you in his arms, holding you close, and pressing gentle kisses to your forehead or cheeks. His physical affection brought you comfort and made you feel cherished.

As time passed, you found yourself falling in love with Inosuke, and he seemed to feel the same way. He would often blush and stutter around you, a stark contrast to his usual bravado. He would steal glances at you when he thought you weren't looking, and he would always make sure you were safe and well taken care of.

One day, as you were sitting under the stars, enjoying a moment of peace, Inosuke turned to you with a nervous expression. "Hey, demon," he said, scratching his head awkwardly. "I... I like you. A lot."

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest. "I like you too, Inosuke," you confessed, reaching out to touch his hand.

Inosuke's eyes widened in surprise, and then he grinned, his boar-like teeth showing. "Alright then, from now on, you're mine," he declared, pulling you into a fierce hug, his heart pounding against yours.

You laughed, feeling a sense of happiness and belonging that you never thought possible as a demon once your lips connected with his. With Inosuke by your side, you felt completely safe in his arms. You felt at home. You felt love. You felt him.

a/n: i am sincerely so sorry for procrastinating this request atw frm 2021 when its 2023 now LOLS i apologise :( so i hv been quite busy lately chasing after my dreams and career and now im finally back to writing!!! YAY HAHA hope everyone is doing well too! stay tuned for the next post :)

#kny oneshots #kny muichiro #kny #kimetsu inosuke #kny headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba oneshots #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer oneshots #demon slayer oneshot #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer #inosuke fluff #inosuke hashibira #inosuke x reader #inosuke #tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyu #giyu tomioka #giyuu #muichiro tokito #muichiro x reader #fluff #giyuu tomioka x reader #x reader #couple #cute #sweet #sfw

[marblemoovt]

Love Triangle - Griffith/Reader/Guts

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: Graphic depictions of Violence. Attempted Rape/Non-Con. Fluff. Angst (Happy ending)

Summary:

The events of Berserk up until just after the eclipse with the reader. (I honestly cannot summarize this well enough, but just give it a shot)

------

“But what about Griffith? Casca? The men in your unit?”

Guts smiles and shrugs. “They’ll be fine without me.”

You stare at the ground and fidget with your fingers. “What about me?” you ask in a quiet voice. When you dare to look up, he looks conflicted, And for a second, you actually think he’ll stay.

“…Come with me then,” he suggests.

You blink owlishly at him. “Sorry?”

“Come with me. We can travel together and look for our own dreams.” He looks so earnest that it hurts to turn down his offer.

“Guts, you know I can’t leave.” You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. The thought of leaving Griffith is too much to bear.

Guts furrows his brows. “We both know that’s bullshit. It’s only a matter of if you want to.”

Note:

This is an ask.

This took me a while to write because I kept getting ideas. Honestly, I'm tempted to rewrite this one day as a series instead of a oneshot, just because this version feels too condensed for what I wanted to convey. I initially thought that this wouldn't be that long, and then I ended up around 11k words, so oops. My brain is very kaputt, so there's not much else I have to say right now. I did have fun writing this though, I found it interesting.

Happy reading! (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“Good job, darling,” Griffith praises, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. You glance over at him with a smile. 

You sheathe your sword and wipe away the sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand. “Thank you. There’s still a maneuver I struggle with,” you say. You worked on it all week, but your one swing doesn’t have as much control as you would like. 

“Perhaps I can help?” Griffith offers, and you nod gratefully. You demonstrate the move and huff in frustration when you miss your mark on the training dummy. “I see the problem.” Griffith comes up behind you and adjusts your stance. His breath tickles your ear. “You need to tilt your wrist at more of an angle.” His soft hands encompass your wrist—how can he have such delicate hands for a swordsman?? “Like this.” Griffith chuckles in bemusement, and you could have sworn the jet of air against the nape of your neck was intentional. “Try now.”

You tighten your grip on the sword and swing your arm, gasping when you cut the dummy clean across its torso. “Thank you, Sir,” you say, eyes still lingering on the deep gash you made.

“I merely guided you, dear. Take more credit for your talents,” Griffith says. You nod mutely and glance over your shoulder, scrambling away from him when your nose almost brushes against his. He merely flashes his usual smile and walks away to talk to the other members. You’re too lost in your head that you don’t notice Guts approaching you.

“I see you finally managed to perfect your swing,” Guts says, tilting his head towards the dummy. You grin and bounce on the balls of your feet.

“Yeah! Griffith helped me. Wanna see it?” you ask. The stiffening of his jaw is too subtle for you to notice. You’re too caught up in your excitement and the adrenaline from being close to Griffith.

“Alright, show me what you got.” Guts crosses his arms and waits expectantly. You take a deep breath and resume your stance, angling your wrist like earlier. One swing later, the dummy has another gash across its chest. You turn to Guts, the grin on your face faltering when you take in his unimpressed expression. He hums and says, “while that was a good swing, it won’t work in battle unless your enemy is unarmoured. But every armour has its weak spots.” Guts pulls out his sword and decapitates the dummy in a single swipe. “Like the neck.”

Your lips pinch together, but you manage a weak smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You thank him for the advice and excuse yourself under the pretence of fetching a new dummy. Walking past the shed where the dummies are kept, you stop at the bench where you left your belongings. Taking a swig from your waterskin, you douse the remainder on your head to cool yourself off. You run a hand down your face, jumping out of your skin when Griffith appears in front of you. 

“I do apologize for Guts’s behaviour. He’s not very adept at matters of the heart,” Griffith says. His hair is bright underneath the sun, and you’re momentarily blinded by his beauty. 

“I-I don’t quite understand,” you say. Since when did training fall under the category of feelings?

Griffith’s lips turn up in a gentle curve, and he pats your head. “I’m sure he meant to praise you in his own roundabout way,” Griffith says, wiping a drop of water that was about to drip off your chin. You shudder from the contact and cannot control the colour of your face. He seems pleased by your reaction and adds, “you did wonderful, darling.”

“I-I did?” It takes all your brain cells to say those two words. You can only stare like a startled deer. His touch still lingers on your chin, the rough pad of his thumb caressing your skin. 

“Of course. Our enemies will never know what hit them. The Grim Reapers of the Battlefield and you, my Scythe.” The grin on his face is soft, but you can’t shake off the predatorial feeling. He’s never called you that before. A title makes you feel important; it gives you a purpose. You understand that Griffith has a dream, an ambitious one at that. Maybe this is his way of keeping you by his side. 

“I won’t let you down,” you say, straightening your back.

Griffith chuckles and says, “Of course, dear. You never fail to exceed my expectations.” And this time, the smile reaches his eyes. Warmth blooms in your chest, and you forget your feelings of uneasiness. He kisses your cheek, and it’s the most open he’s been with his affection for you. You don’t have a label for what you two are. You obviously like him more than a friend, and he seems to reciprocate those feelings. But you’re too afraid to ask what you mean to him. Because what if you’re deluding yourself into thinking he likes you back?

“What are we?” The words tumble from your lips before you realize they’re coming out. 

Griffith tilts his head to the side. “That’s quite a philosophical question,” he remarks.

You nibble on your bottom lip. “N-no. I meant us. What’s going on between us? You clearly know how I feel about you.” Your anxiety spikes when he doesn’t respond. “I can pretend nothing ever happened if that’s what you prefer,” you add.

“What do you want us to be?” Griffith asks.

You furrow your brows. “Does my opinion really matter?” He has the power in this conversation, not you. It doesn’t matter how much you love him. Your love does nothing unless he accepts it.

Griffith smiles, and there’s a gleam in his eyes. “I want to hear you say it,” he says. His eyes burn into you, and you feel so naked under his gaze. A part of you is thrilled by the attention. He must like you to some capacity if he can look at you with such intensity.

Emboldened by his stare, you say, “I want us to be lovers.”

He bows and kisses the back of your hand. “Then your wish is my command. Come by my tent tonight,” Griffith commands. Your shoulders tense, and a chill washes over you.

You lick your lips and hesitantly part them. “Griffith, when I said lovers, I didn’t solely mean sex.” You didn’t want to be used and thrown away. The lustful stares you’ve received from others are frightening. Enemies on the battlefield have sneered at you and made taunts about what they’ll do to you once they win. The nobles that Griffith deals with are not subtle at all in their advances. This is not to say that you are the most attractive person in the land—no, that title is taken by Griffith—but that humans can be awful and scummy creatures.

Griffith hums. “You desire to be my partner, do you not? There are many other activities to do during the evening. I apologize if my intentions came off as otherwise.” He makes it sound like it's your fault, but you apologize like the fool you are.

You quickly throw your hands up and sputter, “Oh, no! I’m sorry for assuming!”

Griffith strokes your arm, and a soft smile tugs his lips. You breathe out a sigh of relief; he forgives you. “Then I look forward to your company later,” he says, grinning in a cat-like manner.

You watch as Griffith walks away. In the corner of your vision, you notice Casca glaring at you. What’s her problem?

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“You’ll freeze to death if you keep standing out there,” Guts says, observing your shivering form. You rub your hands together, hoping the friction will thaw the numbness gnawing into your bones.

“I was going to enter… eventually,” you say, pausing when you hear the gentle slosh of liquid. “What are—“

He holds out a mug and says, “It’s for you. Thought some cider would help you warm up.” This is probably the kindest thing Guts has ever done for you. You gratefully accept the drink and groan when your fingers wrap around the hot cup. Blowing on the surface of the cider, you take a small sip and feel the warm liquid flow down your throat and into your stomach. Warmth pools in your belly and the rest of your body heats up.

“I…. Thank you,” you whisper. You almost hope that Guts didn’t hear it because it was embarrassing, but the soft lines in his features say otherwise. You’re halfway through your cider, making small talk with Guts. He asks you about your hobbies and what you did before joining the band. You learn how he was picked up and raised by mercenaries. You vocalize your admiration for his tenacity. It requires tremendous strength to endure such hardships as a child and learn to grow from them. Guts is left speechless after your little ramble.

“Darling, there you are. Please, come inside. You’re shivering.” Griffith fusses over you. You actually feel quite warm now thanks to the cider from Guts. Griffith takes your hand and tugs you toward his tent. You smile and wave goodbye to Guts, thanking him for helping you warm up. He nods stoically and stands there, watching you disappear into the tent before stalking off toward the campfires.

“Griffith, your hand is squeezing too tight,” you say. A grimace forms on your face, and your hand throbs from the pressure. He doesn’t say anything but loosens his grip. You observe the inside of his tent. It’s modest since the camp is relocated often, but the tent is full of his scent. You’re too preoccupied to notice when he takes the unfinished drink from your hands and empties it into the dirt.

“Can I get you anything to drink, dear?” Griffith asks, already browsing through his wine collection. 

You shake your head. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t drink. My tolerance is weak.” You want to be completely sober tonight. Alcohol will only make you feel awful the next morning with little recollection of the previous night.

Griffith tuts, and there’s disappointment in his tone. “Come now. Let us celebrate our budding relationship. Don’t make me drink by myself,” he frowns. 

You bite your lip and mull over it, but you eventually shake your head. “No. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to drink alcohol tonight.”

“Just one glass, please?” Griffith gives you a pleading look, and your resolve crumbles.

You sigh and relent. “I guess one glass wouldn’t hurt.”

Griffith grins and pours you a drink. You swirl the maroon liquid and inhale its sweet aroma. Taking tiny sips, you pace yourself. The wine is nice and most likely very expensive. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth at the revelation that it was probably a gift from a noble. You always thought something was off about the way they treated Griffith.

You set down your half-finished wine and lick the remaining sweetness from your lips. You catch Griffith's gaze, and he’s staring at you intently. Heat floods your body. Whether from embarrassment or alcohol, you’re not sure. He stands up and towers over you. You look up and lose yourself in his blue eyes.

“A toast to us,” he says, holding his drink out. A slight frown forms on your lips, but you pick up your wine and clink your glasses together. After another sip, a familiar fuzziness blankets your mind. You hum and curl up in your seat. The room begins shifting and morphing in your vision. 

“I think I’ve had a bit too much.” You try hard not to slur your words.

Griffith lifts your cup to your lips and says, “You’re almost done. Let’s not waste such fine wine.”

You pout. “Can’t you drink the rest for me?”

“Are you sure you don’t want the rest? It’s only a few sips.”

You shake your head. “Don’t want anymore. Head’s fuzzy now.”

“Alright, darling.” He takes your glass from you and finishes your drink.

You rub your eyes and blink to clear your vision. “Can you hold me?” you request, holding your arms out like a small child. 

“I would love to. Come here, darling.” Griffith picks you up and walks over to his cot. It’s a tight fit, but there’s enough room for two. He cradles you to his chest, and you soak in his warmth. His hair tickles your face, and you brush the fair locks away with a giggle. 

You look up at Griffith to see him smiling fondly down at you. “This is nice,” you say, playing with a strand of his hair. 

“Yes, it is.” His breath fans across your face, and he nuzzles his nose against your cheek. You giggle from how it tickles, your skin tingling with electric sparks. His lips hover in front of yours, and he looks at you for permission. 

“Please kiss me,” you whisper. His sharp inhale eases some of your anxiety. He wants this as much as you do. You wait with bated breath. Should you be the one to close the gap? 

His lips make contact with yours before you can mull over the idea much longer. He tastes sweet like the wine from earlier. His fingers thread your hair, and he kisses you like a starved man. He devours you, nipping softly at your bottom lip. You groan, and he slips his tongue inside to explore your mouth. The sensation is foreign but not unpleasant. In fact, a shiver runs down your spine when he licks your gums and teeth. 

An idea pops into your head, and you suckle on his tongue, resulting in your scalp stinging. “You’re going to be the death of me,” Griffith groans. You pant and catch your breath, beaming a smile at him. He shifts so that you’re underneath him now. His arms form a cage around your body. He peppers kisses along your jawline before trailing down your neck. Your skin burns every time his lips make contact. You moan his name softly, and he slips a hand beneath your shirt. 

You tense up and shove him back. “Wait! I’m sorry. I’m not—I’m not ready for that,” you stammer. You’re afraid to be another conquest. Everything feels like it’s moving too fast. You bite your lip and blink furiously. Griffith looks at you with wide eyes, taken aback by the sudden stop.

He coos and caresses your cheek when your eyes glisten with tears. “That’s alright. Sleeping with you in my arms is enough. I would never force you into something so intimate without your consent.”

“Promise?” You stare into his blue eyes, and they crinkle at the corners. He kisses your forehead.

“I swear on it,” he promises. And you believe him.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

Almost a year has passed since that night in Griffith’s tent. While you’ve given and received pleasure, you still haven’t gone all the way. That’s not to say you’re a prude, but you still worry about how penetrative sex will change your dynamic with Griffith. Yes, you love him. And yes, he loves you too. But will his feelings change once you allow him to see your most vulnerable parts? Will he decide that you no longer deserve a place in his dream? Being discarded is one of your worst fears.

The band mostly comprises of men, and some of their views are… crude, to put it lightly. Honestly, how they can lust after people like they’re mere objects leaves an uneasy ache in your stomach. The love you see in this world is not always idyllic; it rarely is. So you developed a fear of getting too close to people. Because deeper connections lead to stronger heartbreak when they inevitably betray your trust. But then came Griffith, and you knew you were helpless.

Despite this, Griffith has never complained. He never pushes you further than you’re willing to go, and he always leaves you thoroughly satisfied. He seems content with the way things are. Every night spent in his arms leaves you feeling safe and loved.

You always supported Griffith’s dream. So when he was granted a noble title, you were ecstatic for him. He’s one step closer to achieving his goal. But then he stopped coming home at night. He started disappearing for days without leaving an explanation for his whereabouts. You don’t want to embarrass him by frantically searching the castle grounds, so you spend many nights waiting for him in your shared room until you pass out in an armchair or in bed. The others don’t say anything, but you can feel their pitiful gazes when they think you’re not looking.

These days you tend to avoid everyone, and they give you your space. But it seems like the only one who won’t leave you alone is Guts. Whenever you’re wallowing in the corner of a tavern or wandering aimlessly through the streets, he always finds you. At first, you ignored him, but his company wasn’t unwelcome. There isn’t the desire to impress or strive for perfection that comes with Griffith. With Guts, you’re allowed to just exist. He doesn’t expect anything from you, and that’s very liberating.

Today is one of your wandering days. Griffith didn’t come back last night. Again. The weather is growing colder, so you bundle yourself up before heading outside. You snag one of Griffith’s scarves and blink back tears when his scent encompasses you. The wind whips through your hair, but you only tighten the scarf around your neck and trudge forward. You avoid the square, not wanting to be surrounded by people. You decide to walk towards the gardens today. The collage of red, orange, and yellow might brighten your mood. Luckily, the gardens are empty. Everyone must be in the marketplace preparing for winter or warming up in the shops.

You find a bench near a tall oak tree. Leaves crunch beneath your feet, and the wind sends a couple dancing through the air. You take a seat and wrap your jacket tighter around your body. Your fingertips tingle, and you scold yourself for forgetting to bring gloves. Although your mind has been drifting lately.

“Mind if I join ya?” You turn in the direction of the voice and see Guts. He’s holding two cups in his hands.

“You can if one of those is for me,” you reply, rubbing your hands together. He sits beside you and hands you the steaming drink. “Cider?” you ask, sniffing the cup. Instead of smelling apples, there’s a dark, rich scent. You’ve only smelled something similar on rare occasions. “Is this?”

“Chocolate. Hot chocolate. I know you don’t care much for ale, and I’m sure you’re sick of cider.” Guts shrugs and takes a sip. His pleased expression makes you curious. You always find chocolate bitter, and the sweeter options are ridiculously overpriced because of sugar. He watches with an amused smile as you inspect the drink in your hand. “It ain’t gonna bite.”

You stick your tongue out at him and bring the cup to your lips. You tilt it slowly to avoid burning yourself. The hot chocolate glides smoothly down your throat, and your tastebuds feel delighted. It’s not bitter, but it’s not overly sweet. The richness of the chocolate is tamed by the warm cream, and there’s just enough sugar to make it enjoyable. You make a happy noise and take another sip.

“Good?” Guts asks, and you nod your head enthusiastically. The hot chocolate is still too hot, so you use it as a hand warmer until you can drink it without scalding your tongue.

“What brings you here?” you ask. You don’t keep track of what everyone else does in their spare time, but Guts doesn’t seem like the type to spend it in the gardens.

“That little guy over there,” he answers, pointing a finger to the tree near the bench. You look and see nothing out of the ordinary and turn back to him with confusion.

“The tree?” You hope you’re wrong, although it would be hilarious if you weren’t.

“Shh, no. Look again,” he says. You shrug and look at the tree, scanning its long trunk and colourfully decorated branches. Something moves in the corner of your vision. You narrow it down to one of the lower-hanging branches. There’s a tail flickering from side to side??

Guts whistles, and a cat jumps down from the tree. Its orange fur camouflages it perfectly amongst the leaves. The cat struts over but pauses when it sees you. You freeze, not wanting to startle the creature.

“S’alright, boy. Nothin’ to worry about. Brought a friend with me today,” Guts speaks in a soft tone. You’re honestly surprised he can sound so gentle. The cat eyes you warily but pads forward and hops onto Guts’s lap. He scratches the cat's head before stroking down his back. A low purr rumbles along with the wind. You stare in awe at the scene in front of you. Guts grins when he notices your expression. 

You feel your lips curling up into a smile. “Does he have a name?” you ask, but Guts shakes his head. 

“He’s a stray. Didn’t wanna name him in case I got too attached,” he replies. You nod in understanding, glancing at the cat enviously. Guts chuckles and asks, “do ya wanna pet him?” 

“May I? What if he doesn’t like me?” You roll your bottom lip between your teeth, drumming your fingers against your cup.

“Just gotta move slowly. Let him sniff ya a bit,” he instructs. You shift the cup and stretch out a hand, hovering it in front of the cat. A puff of air hits your skin as a wet, pink nose sniffs you hesitantly. You hold your breath, gasping when the cat rubs its fluffy head into the palm of your hand. You take it as permission to pet him and scratch behind his ears. “Cute,” Guts mumbles.

You grin and look up at Guts. “He’s adorable. I wish we could keep him,” you say, entranced by the fuzzy creature. 

“Yeah. A battlefield ain’t a place for a cat.” There’s a dip in his tone. Your smile turns bitter, and you give the cat a scritch underneath his chin.

An idea pops into your head. “We could keep him in our rooms in the capital! I think we’ve left our camping days behind us.” Your suggestion sparks Guts’s interest, which spurs you on. “He can clearly take care of himself, so we can let him out every day and ask someone to feed him when we’re away!”

“That… doesn’t sound half-bad,” he remarks. 

You bounce in your seat and plant a kiss on the top of the cat’s head, which earns you a loud purr. “Did you hear that, little guy? You’re coming home with us!”

Guts smiles in amusement and says, “Your idea; you get to name him.” 

You shake your head and laugh. “Oh, no. I’m terrible at making decisions.”

“C’mon, I’m sure ya got somethin’ in mind.”

“Hmmm. Then what about Ember?” you suggest. Guts ponders for a moment, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Since his fur is orange, it reminds me of fire,” you add as if your explanation will improve your idea.

“I like it. He’s warm like fire, too,” Guts says.

You smile. “That’s perfect for me since I’m always cold.” The sky has melted into a soft pink as the sun begins to dip. You didn’t realize so much time had passed. “I’ll go buy some things before the shop closes.” You rise from your seat and give Ember one last pet. Impulsively, you pat Guts on the head. His posture stiffens, and you giggle at how taken aback he is.

“I’ll, uh, take Ember to his new home,” he says, rising up and rushing to the exit. You watch as he scrambles frantically, stifling a laugh when he smacks into a bush. Heading to the shops, you make a mental list of the items you need. You stop by the butcher to buy some chicken and other cuts of meat you think Ember will like. Next is the general store, where you buy some blankets and bowls. Armed with bags, you head home, eager to return to your new feline friend.

You enter the building and nod your head to greet everyone you passed, beelining straight to Guts’s room. You adjust the bags in your grip and knock on the door. “It’s me,” you say. There’s a soft thump followed by a loud meow. You smile to yourself and wait patiently, hearing some scuffling and more cat noises.

“Come in. Doors not locked,” Guts says. You enter and set the bags on the ground. Ember is immediately interested in what you’ve brought him. You take out the blankets and hand them to Guts. He walks away to find a spot to place them, so you grab the bowls next and fill one of them with water. When you turn around, you’re greeted with the sight of Ember sitting contently in an empty bag.

“You are so damn cute,” you whisper, crouching down for a better vantage point. Ember flops onto his side, and you squeal.

“What’s the matter?!” Guts rushes to your side, looking around the room for any threats. You point at Ember, your hands shaking from excitement. Guts turns his head, and his expression softens. “Just when I thought the fucker couldn’t get any cuter.”

You gasp and grab his arm. “I have a basket I never use. What if….” You gesture frantically towards Ember, and Guts catches on.

“He would have his own bed. And you could carry him too!” 

You snap your fingers. “Yes, exactly!! I’ll be right back!” You stand up and head to your room with a spring in your step. You hum happily and open the door, forgetting to close it in your excitement.

“And just where have you been?” You pause. You haven’t heard that voice in days—a week almost.

“Griffith?” You stare in shock. You wouldn’t blame yourself if it turns out you’re hallucinating. But Griffith is very much real and not a figment of your imagination when he invades your personal space. 

He frowns and furrows his brows. “Were you expecting someone else?” he asks. You step back, and the smile on your face falters. 

“What? Of course not. What gave you that idea?” You search his eyes and find nothing but suspicion. Does he not trust you?

“It’s alright, darling. I understand it gets lonely. I didn’t mean to leave you alone so often,” he condescends. He reaches out and places a hand on your shoulder. 

White, hot anger flashes through your veins. “I hope you’re not implying what I think you are.” Your tone drops low, and Griffith smiles. 

He tilts his head to the side. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” you seethe, shoving his hand off of you. “If you actually asked anyone here how I’ve been, you would know the answer.”

“I—”

“No.” You jab a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to disappear with no explanation for, what, a week? And then come back to accuse me of cheating?” You huff and clench your fists, raising them before letting your arms fall to your sides right after. 

Griffith bristles at your raised voice. “Stop acting like a selfish child. I am doing what’s best for us. Do you know how hard I am working to improve our lives?”

“I’m not being selfish,” you say. You swallow the lump in your throat and continue, “All I ask for is a fraction of your time and affection. Countless nights going to bed and waking up alone. I’m sick of it.” You keep your tone even, refusing to let him know how much this is destroying you internally. 

Griffith scoffs, “What am I? A pet? Must I return to you every night and be at your beck and call?”

You shake your head. “I never said that. Stop twisting my words!” He does this all the time. That glib tongue of his comes in handy when interacting with the nobles. But he uses it against you to gain the upper hand in arguments. You don’t have the energy to deal with this. Today was going so well—you got to pet a cat! And now, this one interaction has soured it all. You turn towards the door. 

“Where are you going?” Griffith asks. Are you running from your problems? Yes. Do you care? Not at the moment, although you’re sure you’ll regret this later. 

You glance over your shoulder. “I’m going to cool off.” You storm out, but not before grabbing the basket you came for. The door whips open from the sudden force. Your feet continue trudging with no destination in mind. Eventually, you stop in front of Guts’s room. You stand in front of the door and wait until your eyes no longer burn, breathing slowly to ease the tightness in your throat. With another deep breath, you enter the room.

“You ok?” Guts gets straight to the point. He takes in your expression and curses under his breath. “Stupid question. Course you aren’t.” You hate how gentle his tone is. You don’t want to be treated like a wounded animal. 

“He just makes me so mad sometimes,” you say, staring up at the ceiling. Gravity works against you, and your tears still fall. Guts walks up to you but lingers around an invisible threshold. He looks conflicted. Like he wants to comfort you but is afraid to get too close. He remains an arms-length away 

Guts opens and closes his mouth. You can see he’s cycling through various things to say, and you appreciate his thoughtfulness. “Cause he leaves you alone often?” 

You wince. “Were we that loud?”

Guts shrugs and says, “Half the band could hear ya going at each other. The door was also wide open.”

“Fuck.” You plop onto the ground and sit cross-legged. You are not looking forward to the looks you’ll receive from everyone once word spreads of your fight with Griffith. For ex-mercenaries, they sure do love their gossip. “It’s just not fair when he gets mad at me for doing the same things he does to me. And then he has the nerve to accuse me of cheating?” You lie down, hoping the wood against your back will ground you. 

Ember shimmies out of the bag and curls up on our chest. The added weight is comforting and warm. He purrs loudly, and you laugh through your tears. Guts sits down beside you, still maintaining some distance. This irritates you, so you decide to bridge the gap by shuffling closer to him. 

He tenses up, but you don’t care. You like the warmth radiating from his body. “You can always come to me if you need someone to listen to your troubles,” he says, glancing down at you. “Or for some cat cuddles.” He pets Ember on the head. “They’re great at healin’ all types of emotional wounds.”. 

You crack a wry smile. “Thank you.” You can faintly hear Griffith calling your name. He must be looking everywhere for you. “I gotta go. His Highness is calling me.” You sit up and move Ember onto Guts’s lap. The cat gives you an annoyed look and flicks his tail. You apologize as you stand up, promising to bring treats next time. 

Guts tugs on your pants leg. “Just take care of yourself, yeah?”

You nod but don’t give a verbal answer. Waving goodbye, you head in the direction you last heard Griffith. 

You never take Guts up on his offer. Griffith makes another promise and returns to you every night. 

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“I’m leaving,” Guts says. He’s carrying Ember in his little basket, but your full attention is on the determined look on his face.

“Are you going to train? Can I join you?” you ask.

Guts shakes his head. “No. I’m leaving the band.”

You pause and stare. “You’re—you’re joking, right?” When he doesn’t say anything more, you realize he’s serious.

“I don’t belong here anymore,” he says. The expression on his face is all too familiar to you. The face of someone who knows they cannot stay. But you just can’t understand why he would want to leave everything behind.

“But what about Griffith? Casca? The men in your unit?”

Guts smiles and shrugs. “They’ll be fine without me.”

You stare at the ground and fidget with your fingers. “What about me?” you ask in a quiet voice. When you dare to look up, he looks conflicted, And for a second, you actually think he’ll stay.

“...Come with me then,” he suggests.

You blink owlishly at him. “Sorry?”

“Come with me. We can travel together and look for our own dreams.” He looks so earnest that it hurts to turn down his offer.

“Guts, you know I can’t leave.”  You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. The thought of leaving Griffith is too much to bear.

Guts furrows his brows. “We both know that’s bullshit. It’s only a matter of if you want to.”

“I….” You’re at a loss for words. Yes, it would be so much easier to just leave everything behind and start again. Travel with someone who actually enjoys your company. Explore the world to find yourself. But you just can’t. Silver hair and blue eyes will continue to haunt you no matter where you go. You don’t want to prove Griffith right by running away from your problems.

Guts places a hand on your shoulder, and you stiffen. No one but Griffith ever gets this close to you. “Love, I’ve seen the way he treats you. He’s cold one minute, then showers you with affection. And the two of you pretend as if nothing happened. It ain’t healthy,” he says.

You frown. Griffith can be a bit moody, but that’s because he’s been under a lot of stress lately. “No, Griffith loves me.” 

“And so do I.” Guts scans your face. You’re not sure what he’s looking for. “Why can’t you see that?” he rasps.

You smile and pat his hand. “You’re a good friend, Guts.” You’re glad that he cares so much for you. You hope that he achieves his goal—you really do.

Guts chortles, “Right. Friend. Listen, if you won’t leave with me, at least save yourself the heartache and end things with Griffith.”

Your smile slips. “I love him too much,” you say, gnawing the inside of your cheek.

“He ain’t the man you think he is, and you’ll feel like a fool when you realize it,” he warns.

You shrug your shoulders. “I know I’m a fool, but I can’t stop loving him.” If only it was easy to stop loving someone. People would be changing lovers like they change clothes. Despite knowing Griffith is flirting with Princess Charlotte, you can’t bring yourself to hate him. You definitely don’t blame Charlotte. So yes, you’re well aware of how naive you are to think Griffith is still yours alone.

Guts hands you the basket. “Take care of Ember. I would take him with me, but I’d worry too damn much since I’m gonna travel lots.” You take the basket and peer at the orange tabby, who’s adjusted very well to domestic life.

“He’s going to miss you,” you say, holding back tears.

Guts pats your head, and a bitter smile twists his lips. “He ain’t even gonna notice I’m gone.”

“He will. He’ll definitely notice and miss you a lot.” There’s a pregnant pause. You both know you’re not talking about the cat. 

Guts rubs the back of his neck. “I ain’t good with goodbyes, so I’ll see you again,” he says.

“Soon?” you croak, tightening your grip on the basket.

“Whenever our paths decide to cross.” He ruffles your hair and laughs when you gripe about it. You resist the urge to hug him, remembering how he flinched the last time you touched him. So instead, you wave and stand in the doorway until he disappears from sight.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now, little guy,” you whisper to Ember, who rolls onto his back and stares up at you with his green eyes. You shut the door and set the basket by the fireplace, heading to the ice chest to prepare supper.

The day that Guts leaves is the first time Griffith breaks a promise to you. You wait all night for him, but he never shows up. You fall asleep in front of the fireplace, curled up in an armchair. You don’t find out why until the morning when some band members storm your room and demand you get ready before promptly leaving.

“What have you done…” you sigh and trail after the rest of the band. 

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

He got captured. The stupid idiot got himself captured for treason. It’s been almost a year, and you’re still struggling to wrap your mind around it. You didn’t realize how important Guts is to Griffith. But then, doesn’t that mean you aren’t as important to him as you thought? Because at his lowest, Griffith decided to seek comfort from someone else and not you. When you came to this conclusion, you decided you wouldn’t live for someone else again. Yes, you still love him. But you can’t forgive his actions. His decision put the rest of the band in danger and destroyed everything he built toward his dream.

What’s left of the band is planning a rescue mission. With Guts back, you know that the operation is guaranteed to be successful. You were going to greet him but hung back when you saw him with Casca. It seems you have a track record of having an interest in men who have their eyes on someone else. You pretend to not notice when they disappear together. Instead, you sit on a log and cuddle with Ember, who miraculously found you after your exile. Food isn’t as plentiful as it was in the capital, but he doesn’t complain. You’re thankful you don’t have to spend your nights alone again.

When Casca briefs everyone on the plan, you feel hurt that you’re not part of the group that infiltrates the tower. She sees right through you and shakes her head before you can utter a word. You bite your lip and nod, unwilling to make a scene in front of everyone. This small interaction catches Guts’s attention, and your eyes meet for the first time since he’s arrived. You quickly look away, missing the hurt that flashes across his face.

Everyone gets into their position, and all you can do is wait.

You don’t wait long. From the racket you’re hearing, things did not go smoothly as planned. Once the signal is given, the rest of the group charges into the fray. You see the bodies dangling from weapons, and rage burns inside you. It’s been a while since you’ve spilled some blood.

By the end of it, you’ve won. Guts managed to defeat whatever that monstrosity was. And for the first time in a year, you see Griffith—what’s left of him anyway. You wait until Judeau and Casca are done before slipping into the tent. You’re having trouble reconciling the Griffith you know and the empty husk in front of you. You stand in silence as you examine how a year of torture has treated Griffith. He has a helmet on, but you imagine that his face matches the rest of his body. The scars and missing skin make you sick to your stomach. What you worry about the most is when you overheard how Griffith will never be able to walk or wield a sword again. Flesh can be healed, but tendons cannot.

A gurgled noise snaps you out of your thoughts. No. You clench your fists. They didn’t take his tongue, too, right? You see those familiar blue eyes again, but they look dull now.

“Hi,” you rasp, waving awkwardly.

“I told ya I could handle this—oh. It’s you,” Guts cuts himself off. He glances between you and Griffith. “I was just helpin’ Griffith put on his armour.”

You pause and wait. When Griffith says nothing, your feared assumption is confirmed. “What did they do to you….” You move closer and crouch in front of him. He slumps forward, and his body leans against you. You inwardly curse at how light he is. You stiffly bring your arms up and wrap them around his torso. Guts motions his head to the wagon entrance, and you shake your head. Gently, you squeeze Griffith. The bandages feel smooth in contrast to his rough skin. You hear a quiet sob that breaks your heart. “Let’s get you suited up,” you say, blinking back the tears. You receive a slight nod, and it brings a smile to your face. So you assist Guts in dressing Griffith in his armour. A commotion outside draws your attention, and Guts tells you to stay with Griffith while he checks it out. You had no idea that it would be the trigger for a series of unfortunate events.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

You stare up at the eclipse. The entire field is washed in crimson, both with the blood-red light and your fallen comrades. How did it come to this? Do his friends mean so little to him? Do you mean so little to him? 

Shutting your eyes won’t help. The constant screams and cries of your friends pierce your eardrums. The roars of the monsters as they tear into flesh and bone rattle your heart in your ribcage. And, oh god, the smell. The air is foul, and you can almost taste the iron on your tongue. You feel the bile rise up your throat, and you dry heave. The sour and bitter taste is more welcome than metal. 

It’s not until half of your comrades are slaughtered that you realize nothing is attacking you. You’re kneeling in a pool of blood and carnage, and not a single drop of it is yours. Why? Why must you watch everyone get slaughtered while you’re the sole exception? The guilt claws at your skin. You ignore the feeling and glare up at the pillar of flesh. 

Griffith is simply watching the chaos before him. His eyes are cold, and dread runs through your veins. You want to believe that a part of him feels remorse, that a part of him is regretful over sacrificing his loved ones. But you know him better than that. He doesn’t care so long as he gets what he wants. And he will never want anything more than to achieve his dream. The end justifies the means. Isn’t that how the saying goes? 

Your eyes meet. You’re too far away to see, but you can picture the smirk on his lips, the way the right corner of his mouth lifts up ever so slightly whenever things go his way. There’s an indescribable anger that simmers beneath your skin, threatening to burst through your veins to make its presence known. 

And you remember that it’s because you all mean so much to him that he’s chosen to sacrifice everyone. He loves you and still chose his dream over everything you built together. But why won’t he let any of the creatures harm a single hair on your head? You are a sacrifice, and he is choosing to spare you. For what reason? For what purpose? Surely he’s not narcissistic enough to believe you’ll still welcome him with open arms after slaughtering everyone? Or maybe he’s leaving you until the end. To finish you off himself. Either way, you are not leaving this world without taking that bastard down. 

You don’t want—no. You refuse to look around the field. Because you don’t know what you’ll do if you recognize one of the mutilated corpses or mounds of flesh. You might lose it if you focus too much and spot what remains of one of your close friends. So where else to look but up? Up at the one who started it all. 

A gasp tumbles from your lips when you notice a figure crawling up the pillar. You had forgotten that Guts was swept away with Griffith. Even now, he’s trying to save him. Bitter tears burn your eyes. You no longer believe Griffith is worth saving. What a colossal waste of your time. 

You can do nothing but sit there as the river of blood turns into a lake. Every time Guts gets close to Griffith, he’s swatted away like a fly. Eventually, he plummets to the ground. To your horror, Griffith is engulfed in a white ball of light. The monsters bellow at the sight, waving around detached limbs and corpses. Entrails and viscera fly through the air, and the squelchy splatters send a wave of nausea through you. 

Everyone’s dead. Oh, God. Everyone’s dead. And now you’re all alone. You look back up to see Griffith emerge from the light. At least you think it’s Griffith. The only recognizable characteristic is the beak-like helmet that resembles the armour he wore. He is covered from head to toe in black. The blue eyes you love getting lost in now resemble an iceberg; cold and deadly on impact. 

The abominations that ignored you earlier now turn towards you. All your limbs are snatched and restrained. You scream and flail against their iron grip. Griffith descends from the large hand and waits as you’re dragged in front of him. 

“Hello, darling.” Griffith’s greeting is anything but pleasant. He still looks at you with affection, but you’re no longer sure if that’s a good thing. You know there are some fates far worse than death. His hands are clawed at the tips, and the sharp points trail down the soft flesh of your cheek. You stiffen, afraid that he’ll slice you open if you move. “Terribly sorry you had to witness such atrocities.” His finger trails down your neck and along the slope of your collarbone. “Well, I suppose they were only minor inconveniences.” He shrugs and studies your expression. 

“Those ‘inconveniences’ were your friends,” you spit out. He grins and grabs your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact. 

“Friends?” Griffith chuckles. “Care to join them?” he asks, but you both know the answer. You feel his nails dig into your skin, fresh wounds stinging as sweat drips into them. “I didn’t think so,” he sneers when you remain silent. 

“I believed in you. I listened to your promises. And for what?” Your voice cracks near the end as the tears trickle down your face. Griffith tuts and brushes your cheek, licking the tears off his finger. The grin on his face is manic. And for the first time in your life, you’re afraid of him. 

“I hardly ever break my promises, especially to you, dear.” He strokes your hair, and how his talons scrape against your scalp raises goosebumps on your skin. He grins when you involuntarily shudder. “You are my scythe and mine to wield alone.” His eyes dart to the side. When you turn to follow his gaze, you see Guts fighting back a horde of monsters. You aren’t alone after all, but for how much longer? You can’t decipher whether you feel relief or terror.

The monsters release their hold on you, but some invisible force is still gripping you in place. You look at Griffith, and he’s staring at his hand with a curious expression. It’s the expression of a child that’s discovered a new toy. You attempt to wiggle your fingers, but your body refuses to listen. You grunt and can only move your head. A yelp escapes your lips when you’re turned around mid-air, and Griffith presses up against you from behind. 

You watch in horror as Guts falters from your shriek and a monster clamps its jaws around his arm. He tries to behead the monster, only for his sword to snap in half. You meet his panic-stricken eyes with your own. His face twists with rage, and you hear Griffith click his tongue by your ear. 

“Let’s give him a show, darling,” Griffith purrs. His tone is possessive as his hands caress your stomach. His gentle touch ends when he tears your clothes off. You scream and manage to move your limbs, kicking his leg in the process. Griffith grunts and a small smile flashes across Guts’s face before it’s replaced with worry again. “Acting disobedient, dear?” Griffith sighs with disappointment, and you freeze at his words. “I was going to be gentle, but a harsh punishment might teach you better.” The invisible force now feels twice as heavy, and you no longer have mobility over your limbs.  

The breeze is freezing against your bare skin, and disgust rolls off you in waves. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what Griffith plans to do with you. But maybe this is what you deserve for denying him all those nights. You whimper when his fingers brush against your nipples. His erection presses into your back. Griffith lets out a low growl and draws blood with his sharp talons. This is not how you wanted your first time to be. Instead of candlelight and wine, you are basking in the light of the eclipse. The only red liquid around is blood. You begin to sob as utter helplessness consumes you. Griffith shushes your cries and nuzzles into your neck. You feel the vibrations when he chuckles. 

Guts is still visible in your field of vision, and he looks furious now. You gasp when he takes his sword and severs his arm to escape the monster’s jaws. He begins running towards you and takes down two monsters along the way. But one of them slams into him, and they form a dogpile to hinder his movements. Guts struggles, but it’s no use. He’s completely restrained and can only watch Griffith’s twisted performance. You give him a grateful smile and close your eyes, resigning yourself to your fate. 

“Did you ever notice how he would look at you?” Griffith questions, his talons digging into your hips when you don’t answer. He loosens his grip when you groan and shake your head. “He was one of my closest companions. You two are the only people I would ever consider giving up my dream for.” His hands travel down to your thighs. “But that doesn’t matter now.” He forces your legs to part, and you stifle the sob that gurgles in the back of your throat. “I hated the way he looked at you. He knew you were mine and still chose to keep his lecherous gaze on you.” 

You open your eyes and let out a confused stutter. Making eye contact with Guts, you see a depth of emotions that you never noticed before. It makes the anguish on his face unbearable to look at. 

“What are you doing?” you whisper. A numbness spreads throughout your chest like there’s a black hole sucking up all your emotions. 

“Making sure the entire world knows who you belong to,” Griffith growls. Suddenly there’s a searing pain on your right inner thigh. The burning sensation rips a scream from you, and you nearly faint. You can only compare this to how livestock are branded with hot iron. Warm blood trickles down your leg, and you bark a bitter laugh, mind muddled from the pain. 

“So now you want me,” you say, glaring at the ground. 

“Don’t be like that, darling. I’ve always wanted you. The others were only a means to an end. You know that.” Griffith says and kisses your shoulder. It feels like a million insects are crawling underneath your skin, and you bite your lip to subdue the urge to retch. 

“Is that what Charlotte was? A means to an end?” You can’t help but let your bitterness seep into your tone.

“Now, now. Let’s not be rude and forget our audience tonight.” You glance over at Guts, and he’s no longer struggling. He’s panting heavily with his eyes trained on your form. Frustration and fury mar his features. It’s a pity you never noticed his feelings earlier. Maybe you would have left with him when he asked, and you wouldn’t be in this mess now. “If I recall correctly, a punishment is due for your disobedience.” Griffith walks around you until you’re face to face. You don’t register the slashes until your abdomen stings and weeps with your blood. He hums and licks his talons. What is with this man and licking your bodily fluids??

“Fuck you,” you bite out, gritting your teeth to temper the pain.

“All in due time, my dear,” Griffith says with a salacious grin. You start to feel light-headed.

“You promised,” you say, blinking to clear the spots in your vision.

Griffith tsks, “Some promises need to be broken for others to be kept.” He says it like that’s just the way things are. No consideration of your feelings whatsoever. You’ve been labelled as collateral damage. 

You build on your last point. “You promised you would never force me into anything without my consent.” Griffith has never broken a promise to you before. You desperately cling to that belief. Except he has. And if he’s lied to you before, what makes you so sure he won’t do it again?

“Think on the bright side. We’ll become connected as one,” Griffith purrs, eyes roaming your body. You feel like a piece of meat strung up at the butcher. 

“You’re a filthy liar,” you snarl.

Griffith’s voice drops an octave. “Darling, I won’t tolerate baseless accusations.” It’s not a warning, but a demand for obedience.

You snort. That’s rich coming from him. “You’re a goddamn liar, and I fucking hope you rot.”

“You don’t mean that.” His blue eyes become glacial. “Tell me you’re joking.” His hands wrap around your throat. “Say it!” With just the right amount of pressure, Griffith can strangle you or crush your trachea. His grip tightens, but only enough to shorten your supply of oxygen.

“....” You concentrate on Guts and refuse to respond.

Your silence further agitates him. And then it finally happens. His focus slips for a moment due to his anger, but it’s enough for you to grab the dagger strapped to your thigh and drive it into his shoulder. Griffith lets out an inhuman screech, and you drop to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Air rushes into your lungs, and you hack out a cough. 

“Just wait, darling. I’ll have you, even if it can’t be officially.”

The last thing you hear before you black out is the rattling of bones and the thundering of hooves.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

You wake up in a cave. There’s a faint light coming from the ceiling and the sound of water falling in the distance. Through the haze in your mind, you recognize that you’re in an unfamiliar place. You bolt upright, looking around to gather your bearings. There’s rustling behind you, and you whip your head in the direction of the noise. Startled, you scream when a girl pops up by your side. 

She’s unphased by your reaction and smiles widely. “I’m Erica!” Her voice is bright and cheery. She hands you a mug, and you glance at the liquid with suspicion. The earnest expression on her face persuades you to take a sip. You sigh with relief when it’s water. Feeling parched, you gulp the rest down. “Are you Guts’s lover?” You choke on your last sip of water. Your throat burns from the coughing fit. “Cause I think you’re really pretty, and he keeps mumbling your name in his sleep,” she whispers conspiratorily to you. You turn to see where she’s glancing at and notice that Guts is lying not far from you. 

He looks rough. You inhale sharply when you notice the bandaged stump at his side—fuck there’s one around his eye too. You hope he didn’t lose an eye. “Is he… ok?” you ask, voice scratchy from not talking for a while.

“Godot says he’ll be fine, and I believe him! Guts is super tough!!” she flexes her arms to exaggerate, and you can’t help but giggle. This kid is adorable. “But he did lose an arm and an eye. We’re not sure when he’ll wake up.” The graveness in her tone throws you off. “You must feel bad that he got hurt, but it’s not your fault.” Suddenly, her gaze makes you uncomfortable.

“I….” You stare at the small being in front of you. Since when were children so observant?

“Oh my god, you’re awake!” You turn your head to the cave entrance and try to decipher the figure jogging towards you.

“...Rickert?” You rub your eyes, convinced that you’re hallucinating. But Rickert pulls you into a hug, and you crumble in his embrace. All the feelings you couldn’t express during the eclipse come bursting forth. You cry for an embarrassingly long time, blubbering incoherently about what happened that night. He holds you and tells you about what happened to him and how the three of you are all the only survivors left of the band. He goes on to explain where you are and how long you’ve been unconscious. You’ve been unconscious for four days, recovering in an ore mine.

“Is there somewhere I can clean myself?” you ask. You can still feel the stickiness of blood on your skin, and surely you stink.

“Yeah, there’s a waterfall deeper in the cave. I’ll bring you a change of clothes.” He hugs you once more. “It’s good to see you again.” His smile is infectious, and you nod. While Rickert leaves fetch clothes, you head to the waterfall. Erica seems to have wandered off, so you have some privacy. You peel off your clothes and stand underneath the falling water. The pressure isn’t as hard as you expected. It’s almost pleasant. You scrub your skin until it’s raw and pink, but it doesn’t remove the stickiness or the smell of iron that lingers. You let out a frustrated groan and scrub too hard, breaking open the skin on your arm. The water stings as it laps at your new wound. But you just stand there, holding your arm out until you become numb to the stinging.

A hand grasps your shoulder, and you’re teleported back there again with him. You yelp and jump away, back pressed against the rocks. Your eyes dart for an escape route, and panic seizes you when a pair of hands grab your shoulders again. You thrash and cry out, freezing when you realize it’s Guts. You can only see the left side of his face, but his mouth is slanted in a smile. You bite your lip to prevent it from quivering.

“I’m so sorry. I thought you were….” You trail off, unable to complete your sentence. You hug your arms around yourself and avoid his gaze. 

“S’alright. C’mere.” His right arm is open, and he’s waiting patiently for you to make the next move. You stumble into him and bury your face into his chest, apologizing weakly for getting his bandages wet. He kisses your forehead and holds you tight. “I get it, y’know? The whole bein’ touched thing. I, uh, had some things happen when I was a kid that made me hate bein’ touched 'cause it would always remind me of those memories.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.” You squeeze him tight, but it’s surprisingly difficult with how muscular his torso is. 

Guts chuckles, but it’s bitter and hollow. “Yeah. There was a man who would… do bad things to me. And I couldn’t do jack shit ‘cause I was just a kid.” 

“But you’re still here. Learning this about you… I think you’re the strongest person I know.” And you mean every word. Guts stares at you with a mixture of awe and adoration. He cups your face and strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“Wasn’t very strong a couple nights ago,” he mutters. You can see that he feels guilty. You also carry the same weight on your shoulders. After all, why did you get to survive while everyone else died? But you can’t allow yourself to be trapped by these thoughts. You need to figure out what to do now.

You pat his chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum against your palm. “I don’t think we should blame ourselves for that,” you say. “We had no idea any of that would happen.”

Guts shakes his head, pain etched into his features. “But I did. I knew somethin’ was going to happen. I heard a goddamn prophecy foretellin’ it. I didn’t think it would be a fuckin’ slaughter.” He rubs a hand over his face and sighs. You do your best to support his weight when he leans against you. 

The moment is interrupted by Rickert, who clears his throat, holding your change of clothes. You thank him and walk away to change, leaving the two to continue their conversation. Unfortunately, the change of clothes consists of a single shirt. The shirt is enormous and swallows your frame, reaching down to your thighs. It’ll have to do for now, but you need to ask where the closest shop is. As you’re walking back, Guts dashes past you. You look at Rickert, but he only shakes his head.

A faint meow echoes through the cave. “Did you hear that?” you ask. You swear you catch a glimpse of orange by the cave entrance. Ignoring Rickert’s pleas, you exit the cave and follow the little paw prints on the ground. You walk through bushes and other foliage until you’re at the foot of a hill. Glancing up, you see a pair of cat ears twitching for a split second. Despite the dull pain in your abdomen, you trek up the hill. “Ember? Is that you?” You left him behind with Rickert and the others. From what Rickert’s told you, you’re not sure if the little guy survived the ordeal. 

Another meow causes you to pivot around. There on a tree branch is Ember. You find comfort in seeing a familiar face. You coo at the cat to come down. And when he does, he weaves between your legs, rubbing his head against your calves. Something feels odd. Ember isn’t as vibrant as you remember. His body is almost translucent. A searing pain interrupts your thoughts. You see blood trickling down your leg from where Griffith marked you.

Ember hisses. You snap your head up, taken aback by the ring of figures surrounding you. The cat circles you protectively, hissing at the weird creatures. They make no move to get closer to you, so Ember eventually settles by your feet, guarding you. You remain still, unsure of what to do in this situation. The thundering of hooves draws nearer, and you hear Guts call out your name. He's riding on a horse with a skeleton? He dismounts and runs to you, frantically checking you for any injuries. He mumbles incoherently when he finds nothing. 

You manage to hear him say, “I can’t lose you too.” You cup his face in your hands, smiling at this wonderful man. His posture relaxes, and he leans his forehead against yours. “I was afraid,” he confesses. “I was afraid I wouldn’t reach you in time and find you dead.”

“I’m ok. You’re ok. We’re both ok,” you state calmly. He nods, taking in a deep breath.

“How intriguing.” You don’t recognize the voice. The skeleton appears beside you, his eye sockets observing you with a scrutinizing gaze. “Yes, what makes you so special?” He leans closer, tsking with disappointment when you shrink away.

“I’m not some circus animal,” you huff.

The skeleton tilts his head. “No, but you are certainly more interesting than one. What about you keeps these spirits at bay?”

“Spirits? Is that what these things are?” you ask, eyeing them warily.

“Yes, and your little feline too. Although it’s quite rare for pets to linger. I’ve seen it with a dog before but never with a cat. However, a cat is not strong enough to protect you from spirits.” He scans your figure and focuses on your bloody leg. You are pulled away from Guts. Your shirt is hiked up to expose your thighs despite your shouts of protest. “Aha! The source of your protection.” The Skull Knight examines the symbol on your inner thigh with interest.

“That’s different from mine,” Guts points out. He traces the mark on his neck. 

“Maybe everyone receives a different marking?” you suggest, failing to convince even yourself.

The Skull Knight scoffs. “The brand of sacrifice is not like a coat pattern. There is only one,” he remarks. You move to get away, but he has a firm grip on your leg. “This… this is something else.” 

“If it’s not a brand of sacrifice, what is it?” you ask, wondering what would happen if you kicked this skeleton right in his rib cage.

The Skull Knight clicks his teeth. “If memory serves me correctly, this loosely translates to ‘side love.’” He finally releases your leg.

You laugh in disbelief. “Huh.” You tug the shirt to cover the mark, clenching the fabric in your hand. How ironic. When you decide to cut your losses, Griffith clings harder to you. He’s like a damn cockroach. You just can’t get rid of him. Your skin flushes hotly. How dare he mark you as ‘his’ when you finally decide to leave him. He has no right to claim you after betraying your love and murdering all your friends. The translation suggests that you won’t be the only one, and your thoughts wander to Charlotte. Of course, he always put her first.

The Skull Knight nods, tapping his jawbone thoughtfully. “Yes, I can faintly sense traces of dark magic lingering in your mark.”

“Well, how do I get rid of it?” you ask. The sooner you get rid of it, the better. You don’t want a constant reminder of Griffith permanently branded onto your skin.

“Perish, I suppose,” the Skull Knight answers. When you glare at him, he adds, “There is currently no known method to remove it.” You sigh. That’s just lovely. There’s a sour expression on Guts’s face, and you know you aren’t fairing any better. You’re potentially stuck with a reminder of your psychotic past lover for the rest of your life. 

The sun rises, and the ring of spirits disappears. Ember remains, looking up at you with his big, green eyes. You scoop him up out of instinct and cradle him to your chest. You’re pleasantly surprised when you discover he’s tangible. It’s the same as if he was alive. The Skull Knight crouches in front of the cat, who pays no attention to him. “Extraordinary! It’s as if there’s some otherly force helping you retain a corporeal form during the day,” he says, but Ember’s disinterest is unshakeable. Dejected, he turns to Guts and starts a discussion. You don’t pay attention much, hearing a recurrence of ‘apostles,’ ‘demons,’ and ‘evil.’ From the determined look on Guts’s face, you have a hunch about what he plans to do. 

The Skull Knight leaves, and Rickert and Erica appear shortly after. The two confess their worries over your lengthy absence. They went to look for you when you didn’t come back, fearing you would hurt yourself or get lost in the dark. The four of you head back to the cave with you and Guts trailing behind. Despite being a spirit, you can feel Ember’s weight as he drapes around your shoulders. You missed hearing his purrs.

Guts is lost in thought. You roll your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes rake over his body. Almost all his bandages are gone. You’re sure every wound has reopened. You reach out and hold his hand. “Whatever you plan on doing, count me in,” you say. He looks down at your intertwined hands and squeezes them gently. It’s too early. You both lost a lot recently. The pain is still too raw for you to confess your feelings. But for now, you don’t need to say anything. In the following days, when he kisses your forehead, pulls you closer to him at night, or brings you hot chocolate to keep you warm, you just know he loves you too. So yes, the world outside the mine is a frightening place to exist right now. But you have time to heal, to spend time with this man you absolutely adore, and cuddle with your spirit kitty.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

I did rush the ending a bit because I just wanted the damn fic to end lol, so sorry if it feels a bit awkward. I have not watched Berserk in a while and I didn't read any of the manga so my knowledge of what happens is a little foggy. I basically just read the wiki a lot lmao.

I wanted to try and set up this dynamic with Griffith where it feels like he loves you on the surface level, but there's this creeping feeling that something is wrong. I don't think I figured out how to execute that well in this oneshot, but hopefully I do if I ever decide to rewrite this.

I did struggle a bit trying to balance the fluff between Griffith and Guts. The one thing I especially struggled with was what to do with Casca. It's implied here that she dies in the eclipse because I honestly had no plans for her. I was not able to come up with any ideas for how to use her if she survives, but I still wanted her to develop a relationship with Guts for character development purposes. So please ignore that obvious plot hole.

I'm starting to ramble so I'm gonna cut myself off here.

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

#berserk #griffith x reader #guts x reader #fluff #angst with a happy ending #griffith/reader in the beginning #guts/reader is endgame #All the fucked up stuff happens mainly during the eclipse #Griffith is toxic in this #Reader is dense #gender neutral reader #no y/n #I know the title is stupid but I can't think of anything else