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marblemoovt · 7 months

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Waterfall - Guts/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, A sprinkle of angst, AFAB Reader, Porn with a little bit of Plot, Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V Sex, Edging, Aftercare (Let me know if I'm missing any)

Summary:

Months after the eclipse, you're still grappling with it all. But at least you're not alone. You might as well get railed to ease the burden of living.

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“I’m ok,” you repeat, smiling more easily now. His brows furrow and he rests his forehead against yours.

“I could have lost you,” he whispers, his eyes sheen in the light. You click your tongue and pinch his cheek. Guts scowls but doesn’t move away.

“But you didn’t. I’m right here. I’m standing right in front of you, so why do you keep looking back?” There’s a slight tremor in your tone. You unclench your fists, pushing him back to create some distance. There’s a brief flash of emotion across his face, but it dissipates with the heat simmering your blood. “I’m right here,” you whisper against the roar of the waterfall.

Note:

Hello! I know I disappeared for like, almost a year. No freak accidents or anything of the like. Life has just been busy and I have poor time management. But I missed writing, even though it did not miss me ;-; The writing gods did not bless me with inspiration for a long while, not to mention I have a stubborn habit of only having one wip at a time (I have multiple ideas, but I only work on one fic at a time).

In any case, I hope this brings joy to somebody. I am frankly tired from editing this monstrosity so I'll leave you to enjoy :)

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

Note: This does take place in the same universe as Love Triangle but this can be read as a stand-alone.

Water cascades down your body, beating into your skin. The temperature was freezing earlier, but now it’s numbed into a slight chill. You stare at the rock wall, trailing along the cracks and crevices that crater the surface. Sprinkles of minerals sparkle throughout, reflecting rainbows when the moonlight hits them just right.

The cold bite of metal stings into your shoulder, and you jerk away from the contact. Whirling around, you come face to face with Guts. He stares at his hand, clenching it into a fist before it drops to his side.

“You’re gonna freeze to death,” he says. You notice the gray towel peeking out behind his arm.

You drag your fingers through your hair, shaking off the water droplets. A few stray drops trickle down your chin, and Guts watches them drip along your collarbone. “I’ll be done soon,” you say. The phantom blood still sticks to your raw skin, the scent of iron lingering while your body becomes a collage of self-inflicted wounds. You scrubbed and scrubbed, but it’s not enough. Not even an entire ocean can wash away the atrocities you witnessed. But maybe that’s the burden of surviving the eclipse, for living when you were marked for death.

“You looked done 20 minutes ago. Skin’s gonna start peeling if you don’t stop,” he says. You look away from Guts and pick at the dead skin underneath your nails, grimacing at your wrinkled fingertips.

“I don’t feel done. I don’t think I ever will,” you admit in a hushed whisper. Guts doesn’t say anything, offering his hand for you to take. Accepting the gesture, you’re tugged into his chest. The soft towel gently pats your skin dry and tousles your wet hair. He pauses, eyes scanning your face. “I’m okay, as okay as one can be in our situation.” Your lips twitch into a small smile, but this seems to only frustrate him more.

Guts growls, his jaw clenched shut. “I’ll kill him.” There’s no room for questioning who ‘he’ is. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, and his posture relaxes. Your thumb traces the bags underneath his eyes.

“I’m ok,” you repeat, smiling more easily now. His brows furrow and he rests his forehead against yours.

“I could have lost you,” he whispers, his eyes sheen in the light. You click your tongue and pinch his cheek. Guts scowls but doesn’t move away.

“I’m not…. ”He sighs and finally meets your gaze. “I’m not angry at you.” Guts fiddles with the towel in his hand. “I wasn’t strong enough to save you.” His touch drifts towards the bandages wrapping his torso.

You walk up to Guts, enveloping him in a hug. “Can we pretend for once that everything is ok? That spirits aren’t hunting us, and a bunch of Apostles won’t fuck up the world?” When he doesn’t respond, you look to see him staring at the ceiling. “Guts?”

“Clothes,” he stutters. “You’re not wearin’ any.” You look down at your naked body pressed against his.

“You weren’t shy earlier when you were drying me.” Leaning in further has the desired effect when you feel a bulge against your lower abdomen. “Looks like someone has no complaints,” you say with a smirk.

Guts groans and shudders when you roll your hips. He wraps an arm around your waist, palm splayed against the curve of your back. His hand slides to squeeze your ass, and he whispers into your ear, “Don’t provoke me.” It’s a similar tone to when he shouts orders on the battlefield. You take it as an invitation to tease him further. He notices the glint in your eyes and clicks his tongue. “Brat.”

You know he’s soft beneath that tough exterior. You can see it in how he brings you something warm to drink when it’s cold, how his hands naturally gravitate to your waist or the small of your back. Guts doesn’t like saying it, but you just know. Currently, he’s scolding you for being in the water too long. You won’t point it out, but he grabbed the softest towel to dry you.

“I love you,” you say. His hands freeze, and the lines on his face soften.

Guts sighs, “How can you be so lovely and infuriating at the same time?” He cups your cheek but quickly recoils upon noticing the gleam of metal contrasting against your skin.

You grab his wrist and press a kiss onto the palm of his prosthetic hand. “It’s one of my many talents,” you reply, pressing another kiss to his lips to prevent him from biting them.

“It’s strange,” Guts mumbles. Your other hand slides down his chest, trailing along his abs to the waistline of his pants. His breath hitches, and he nips your earlobe in retaliation. “Sometimes I still feel it when you touch that hand,” he says.

“Do you feel this?” You trace the outline of his growing erection, eventually rubbing your hand against the bulge in his trousers. He bucks his hips into your touch, and a low groan escapes from his lips. “Or what about this?” Slipping your hand beneath the fabric, you’re surprised by the lack of an additional layer. “Expecting something, are we?” You grin impishly at him, inching your fingers closer to his cock. Your skin is still cold from the water, and Guts is blazing beneath your touch.

“Not at”—you firmly grip his shaft and begin stroking languidly—”all,” he forces through gritted teeth. You can almost hear the creak of his jaw as it strains under pressure.

“So you weren’t expecting to find me still naked at the waterfall and indulge in some intimate acts?” You stop stroking to tease the head of his cock, running your thumb over the frenulum. Thick precum coats your hand, and you reluctantly pull away, but only to see the frustration grow on Guts’s face. “Then I guess there’s no need for me to continue.” You wade through the pool and use the waterfall to rinse your hand.

As you’re flicking off water droplets, a broad chest presses against your back, and thick arms wrap around your waist. The sudden force pushes you into the rock wall, your hands flying up out of instinct to lessen the impact. You turn your head to see Guts, completely bare, his clothes lying in a forgotten heap by the pool. That explains what’s twitching against your lower back. You grind slow, lazy circles against his stiff cock, grinning at how he trembles with the slightest rock of your hips.

“Stop,” he pleads, squeezing his arms to constrain your movements. It’s cute; he’s pretending to stop you, but his hold is too lax.

You hum and redirect one of his hands to your breasts, sighing at the contact. “If you really wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be enthusiastically rutting like a dog in heat,” you say. As if to prove your point, a low whine pitches in the back of his throat when you press against him to hinder his movements.

“So maybe I don’t want to stop,” he admits. “Maybe I want to rough you up against the wall until you can’t walk the next day.” The imagery sends a gush of slickness between your thighs, and you rub them together to ease the ache.

“Then why don’t you?” You spin around to face him and hook one leg around his thigh, tugging his hips closer. The sharp exhale followed by a groan is music to your ears. Your arms drape over his shoulders, sinking your nails into his broad back. You have him trapped. Or is it the other way around? He could effortlessly pry you off, but his dark eyes hold no intention of letting you go. “I don’t break easily, you know,” you whisper against his lips, his breath fanning your face.

Guts bites his lips, fingers bruising your hips, marks he’ll kiss in the morning when you’re bedridden. “I—“

You cut him off, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Let me make myself clear, Guts. I want you to fuck me.” His breath hitches, the click of his throat silenced by the rush of water. “Fuck me so damn hard I don’t remember a thing about this shitty world we live in.” You want to spend at least an hour free from the waking nightmare that plagues your daily life. Maybe this isn’t the best way, but it is the most pleasant.

You know you’ll go to bed and dream of crimson skies and shrill screams. A world where the tang of metal never leaves your mouth. Where rot and decay fester in your lungs, smothering you alongside the scent of burning flesh. And then you’ll wake up, touch your face to feel the wet streaks streaming down your cheeks. Guts will be sleeping beside you, faring no better in his dreams, relaxing only when you hold his hand and lay on his chest.

Yeah, the world is fucked up, and so is your mental state. You might as well get railed to ease the burden of living.

But enough about later. What’s happening right now is important. And what’s happening right now is Guts pleading with his eyes to please you. He has one arm hooked underneath your leg to support it, the other still wrapped around your waist, hand dipping to cup your ass. He grinds his erection against your clit, and you bite your lip to hold back a moan.

Guts kisses behind your ear, sucking on the spot. Your blood thrums through your veins, buzzing with electricity. “Guess the waterfall will be useful,” he says.

“How so?” you hum, closing your eyes as he trails his lips along your jawline. You tilt your head back, and he peppers your exposed throat with kisses, playfully nipping but careful to avoid breaking the skin. A tingle shoots up from the base of your spine when his teeth scrape over your pulse, tongue laving over your racing heartbeat.

“Others won’t hear any of your screams.” He hoists you up, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. “I get to have you all to myself.” Your back thuds against the wall, the rough rock leaving a light sting on your skin. There’s a hunger in his eyes that threatens to devour you. He always gets that look when he’s determined to spoil you rotten.

You ignore the throbbing heat in your core, focusing on the slanted curve of his lips. “Ooh, confident are we?” you tease, dragging your nails across his back, grinning at the shudder it elicits.

“I’ve always been skillful with my hands,” he says, lowering your feet. At the shallow end of the pool, water laps at your knees. The chill heightens the burn of your skin, and the slickness between your thighs becomes impossible to ignore. Guts sinks down, kneeling in front of you, hands parting your legs gently. He tuts and gazes at you with mock scorn. “You cleaned up earlier, but now you’ve made a mess again.”

“And whose fault is that?” you reply, inhaling sharply when his fingers rub circles into your thighs.

He hums and plants a kiss on your kneecap, lips skirting up closer to the source of your dripping cunt. “A man should always take responsibility for his actions.” His warm breath is like a spark of flint on kindling. It starts a blazing heat that crawls up and pools in your stomach, spreading throughout your veins until your entire body is engulfed in flames.

A thin veil of fog blankets your mind. For a second, you almost forget how to breathe. He looks up at you from between your legs, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. He looks eager to taste you; it causes you to clench tightly, gripping around nothing but air. And you want him to fill you up, to replace the void the eclipse left behind after it tore almost everything from you.

Your body seizes up. A cool jet of air against your clit catches you off guard. Guts looks you in the eyes, trapping you in their dark depths. “If—at any time—you want me to stop, tell me,” he commands. His lips are pressed into a thin line, and he holds your gaze. He won’t continue unless you agree.

You wrack your brain together, drumming your fingers on the wall behind you to form a coherent thought. But all you can focus on is his warm breath against your skin, the burning ache in your core that beckons for his attention.

Guts sighs, drinking in your scent deeply. He licks his lips, and his fingers dig into your flesh. “I don’t want this to be like the other times,” he admits.

You stare at him quietly, observing the clarity in his eyes. This isn’t the first time you’ve sought each other’s company. After all, who better to seek comfort from than someone who’s been through the same traumatizing event? Overcome with grief and guilt, you found solace in the warmth of his body and vice versa. It wasn’t always sexual, but sometimes you crave the shelter of having no other thoughts besides pleasure. To know nothing else but pure bliss for a brief respite.

Guts mistakes your silence for rejection. “Let me cherish you,” he pleads. “Let me worship you the way you deserve.” And you recall dark nights of clashing teeth and tongues, scratches and bruises made just to feel something—anything. There’s still a tinge of purple around his collarbone, the imprint of your teeth long faded. The harsh lines on his face are nonexistent. His touch is light, revering.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this important. Guts doesn’t treat you like glass. He looks like he would raze the entire world in flames for you, and all you need to do is ask. Cupping his chin in one hand, you stare into his earnest eyes. Guts pulls away to plant kisses along your knuckles. The corners of his mouth curl up at your sigh when he nips at your fingertips. It’s hard to describe this feeling. All the tension and worry in your body building up like a brick wall suddenly crumbles to dust.

And how can you say no when he looks so eager to please—to love you? A brief taste of copper coats your tongue, and you ignore the phantom claws dragging down your lower abdomen. You focus instead on Guts’s soft touches, the steady gurgle of water, and the moonlight filtering through the pockets of sky in the ceiling.

You are safe.

“Ok,” you whisper. Slowly, you spread your legs apart and cool your burning cheeks with the back of your hand. “Please touch me.”

Guts plants a kiss on your inner thigh, trailing upwards. He wants to drag this out and tease you until the anticipation has you dripping with need. With one calloused hand resting on your pubic mound, he licks a long stripe through your folds, groaning at your intoxicating taste. A jolt of pleasure crawls up your back before slamming into your core.

Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when he eats you out messily. Obscene slurps and groans bounce off the rock walls. Guts slings one of your legs over his shoulder and focuses on your clit, inserting two fingers into your dripping cunt. Spots of light dance across your vision when he crooks his fingers to stroke your sweet spot. It’s a wonder how you’re still standing.

Just as the band in your stomach goes taut, Guts pulls away. The pleasure building in your body drops and transforms into a sharp ache that has your body screaming for release.

“Your legs are trembling,” Guts points out.

You press harder against the wall and try to remember how to stand. “No, I’m not,” you say.

Guts hums and plants a kiss on your clit, the kind that fills your veins with lava and sets off the butterflies in your stomach. “You can be so damn stubborn.” He stands and carries you with ease, wading towards the edge.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Some underwater training,” Guts replies, refusing to elaborate further. He stops and sets you on the ground. The water reaches just below your chest in this position; the sudden coldness shocks your skin. It makes you hyper-aware of your sensitivity.

Gus parts your legs, and you lean back slightly, using your arms to support yourself from behind. His touch radiates familiarity, hands caressing all the spots that work you up. You lick your lips and part then to ask another question. “Wha—“

“Always wanted to see how long I could hold my breath,” Guts cuts you off, petting your clit gently. He gazes at you through hooded lids, a grin ghosting his lips. “They say the average is 3-5 minutes. Let’s set a new record.” His words send tingles throughout your body, and you clench at the thought.

“What do you mean?” you ask, distracted by the circles he’s drawing with his thumb. If you time it just right, you can buck your hips and have him stroke your swollen clit.

“Don’t worry about it.” And the next thing you know, his head’s underwater and his tongue is prodding at your entrance. Your fingers immediately thread his hair, tugging his scalp when his nose brushes against your clit.

The water and walls blur into blobs of colour, your heartbeat thundering in your eardrums. The throbbing between your thighs quickens, and that band in your stomach threatens to snap and give you whiplash. Guts brings a hand up close to your clit. You squeeze your eyes shut, dangling on the precipice of an orgasm.

He surfaces from the water. His shit-eating grin only widens when you vocalize your discontentment. A flick to your clit shortcircuits your brain with a jolt of pleasure, eliciting a scream from your lips. One of your hands slips, and suddenly the world is careening backwards—or is it forwards?

Strong arms wrap around your body, and suddenly you’re face to face with Guts instead of the ceiling. Water splashes and drenches both of you in the crossfire. You try to stand up, but Guts digs his fingers into your hips. Something warm brushes against your bare cunt.

This new position has you straddling Guts. Even the most minuscule movements cause some degree of friction. The look in his eyes tells you that he’s barely restraining himself. Since his hands hold your hips in place, you lean forward and attack his neck with bites and hickeys. Guts hisses and immediately stands up, hoisting you with him.

“Let’s move to land. Wouldn’t want you to drown,” he rasps, shuddering when you lick over his racing pulse.

“I can think of other ways to leave me breathless,” you whisper, lifting your head and baring your neck. The perfect place for his hands to wrap around.

“Another time. Right now, I want you to sit on my face,” he says, setting you on the ground. Your cunt throbs in response, and you crawl—a little too eagerly—into position. You stop mere centimetres from his face, hovering in your hesitation. Inklings of doubt blot your thoughts. What if you’re too heavy? What if you smother— “Too long,” he grunts, interrupting your inner monologue. Guts grips your thighs and pulls you down, wasting no time ravaging you with his tongue,

You suck in a breath, hips rocking at a steady rhythm. Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when his mouth latches around your clit and sucks greedily. He pulls away with a pop, the bottom half of his face glistening with your arousal. He licks his lips and groans, “Fuck, you taste amazing.”

“Less talking, more licking,” you say.

“What, no please?”

You don’t humour him with a response and take matters into your own hands. You lift your hips and grind against the ridge of his nose.

Guts swears under his breath, inhaling your intoxicating scent. “What am I going to do with you?” he groans.

You huff in frustration at the loss of stimulation. “What you should have done ages ago. Now shut up before I make you.”

Guts doesn’t move. “Not until you say please,” he says.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” you moan, wriggling your hips to no avail since his hands have barred you from moving any lower.

“I just want to hear you beg for it.” He spreads your lips and admires how wet you are. When you remain silent, he massages the area surrounding your clit. “No? Not gonna cave in?”

You narrow your eyes and scrape your nails against his broad chest. “Fuck, you.” It comes out through gritted teeth.

Guts chuckles. A low sound filled with mirth. “Oh, love. You wish.” His thumb probes your entrance, pulling out to slide along your slit. “I do have to praise you for holding out this long. It must feel unbearable.” And it does. Your skin is about to burst at the seams as the pleasure threatens to drive you mad. Never given enough to bring you over the edge, but just enough to stimulate the ache in your core—the desire to be filled.

“Not. At. All.”

Guts clucks his tongue, drawing circles around your swollen clit. “Liar.” He slowly pushes a finger into your cunt, adding another when he feels how wet you are. It doesn’t take long before the squelches reach your burning ears. His fingers curl and stroke that sensitive area on your walls. The pace is agonizingly slow, and it only deepens the ache. You bite down on your bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

Your body trembles when he plants a kiss on your clit. Ah, to hell with playing hard to get. You might die if he doesn’t give you an orgasm right now.

“Guts?” you groan, clenching when he pets your clit in response.

“Yes, my love?” He sounds so smug. You don’t even need to look to see the smirk on his face.

“…Please,” you whisper, hissing when he stops his ministrations.

“Didn’t catch what you said. Gonna need you to repeat that.” He slowly resumes his movements, rubbing his fingertips against your walls.

You grunt and try to focus, blinking to clear the fog in your brain. “Please. Fuck. Me.” You punctuate each word with a thrust of your hips. Guts’s fingers immediately retract, and you whine at the loss, only to throw your head back when he eats you out like a man starved.

His hands hold you in place, only allowing enough freedom to ride his face, which you do—greedily. He runs the flat of his tongue across your slit. Every so often he comments on how good you taste, normally ending with how he can never get enough. You don’t know. You don’t really care. He’s drawing patterns on your clit, each stroke bringing you closer to climax.

And you’re so close. You can almost feel it. Guts must sense it, too, because he focuses on your clit, hands locking you snugly against his face. With his unrelenting tongue, you cum with a scream. Your entire body buzzes with electricity, clit throbbing in time with your clenches. Guts doesn’t stop, and soon the pleasure borders on pain. It’s too much. You jerk away, but he keeps you trapped in his hold.

You can’t think anymore. You can only incoherently babble for him to let you go. And then it creeps up on you. The aftershocks of your last orgasm, combined with the continued stimulation, tighten that band in your stomach again. Tears sting the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision. It’s too much. You want it to stop.

But it feels so fucking good.

Guts swaps his tongue for his fingers, filling you up once more. Your back arches when he brushes over your g-spot. You mewl and beg him to do it again.

“One more time. Cum for me one more time,” he orders. And how can you say no when he uses that tone? Guts pays special attention to your previous request, fingers curling with practiced precision. “I want even the gods to hear you scream my name.”

He doesn’t need to convince you. Liquid heat pools in your stomach, bubbling like a pot about to boil over. His name is the first sound to leave your lips when you come undone. Guts is gentler this time; he draws out your orgasm slowly, careful not to overstimulate you. Your vision burns with tears as your body curls up before sagging bonelessly.

You heave a sigh and crawl to the side, shuddering when the cold air hits your sensitive skin With a content smile, you stare at Guts in a daze, fuzzy warmth blanketing your mind.

“Good?” he asks.

“Mhmm.” Your eyes drift to his erection; it twitches under your attention. Suddenly you’re aware of the heady scent of musk in the air. Licking your lips, you look back at Guts. He doesn’t say anything, but his pupils are blown. “Can I?” You inch closer to him, and he nods. You spread the precum leaking from the tip with your thumb. On an impulse, you lick the remainder off your finger, smirking when you hear his sharp intake of breath.

A bitter saltiness greets your tastebuds, but it’s milder than you anticipated. You well up some saliva in your mouth and use it to lubricate your hand to begin stroking. Slow, firm pumps have him twitching against your palm.

“Faster, please,” he groans, jerking his hips upwards to match your strokes.

“Ooh, so you do know how to be polite,” you say as you tighten your grip and increase the pace. Guts’s chest rises and falls faster than before.

His face distorts in a mixture of disbelief and pleasure. “Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, nose scrunching.

You laugh and rub his thighs soothingly. “Just this once,” and you take as much of his length into your mouth as you can manage. Running your tongue across the underside of his cock, you widen your jaw to avoid scraping him with your teeth. Anything you can’t fit gets stroked by your hands. Glancing up, you notice him watching you with a tenderness that’s been rare as of late.

He’s been worrying and training almost to the point of obsession. You want to ease that ache in his chest and have him forget momentarily about all you’ve gone through together. Although, judging from how his eyes are starting to glaze over, your objective doesn’t seem that far away.

It started out small, but now the walls echo with his moans and breathy whines. Each sound is like a lightning bolt between your thighs, burning you with strikes of pleasure. You bring a hand down to play with your clit, hoping to ease the ache.

His cock pulsates in your mouth. His entire body starts shuddering, and you know he’s close. So you slow to a halt and chortle at his frustration. The look he gives you could wither the low-level spirits that hang around. Taking a breath, you inch slowly down to take more of his cock, chest brimming with pride at how his body immediately tenses.

“You’re going to kill me here, my love,” he groans, hips stuttering between pulling away and pushing further in.

You slide your mouth off his cock and lick your lips, massaging his balls with your hand. “I want to milk as much of your cum as I can and drink it all,” you say, rubbing your thumb against the tip. You feel a twitch against your fingers and smirk. “Seems like you’re on board with my plan.”

One of his large, warm hands is placed against your head, stroking your hair. You close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Not the only place I’d like to fill you up,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his tone.

“Are you sure you can last that long?” you ask, and his fingers cheekily tug on your hair. The gesture draws a chuckle from you. You open your eyes to see him full of amusement.

“You’re underestimating the stamina of a great swordsman,” he boasts.

You raise a brow. That’s a big claim. “Hm? Then why don’t you show me what your sword can do?” You straddle his hips, your drenched cunt seated against the shaft of his cock. It twitches against you, and you bring a hand down to tease the leaking tip.

“Change of plans?” Guts asks, tone wavering as you slowly pump his cock.

You hum, “I’m feeling a little impatient today.”

“What happened to milking me for all I’m worth?” The cockiness in his tone returns. “Going back now on those big claims?”

You chuckle and flick the head of his cock, watching Guts writhe in response. “You’re trying to rile me up, but it’s not working,” you say.

“Can you blame me? You’re irresistible when you get all fired up,” he says,

You line up the tip of his cock with your entrance, slowly sinking down until his entire length is inside you. “Sorry to disappoint, but the only one losing their cool today is you.”

You start bouncing your hips, finding a steady rhythm to keep. Angling your body, his cock drags against your walls in all the right places. Guts begins aiming his thrusts when he notices how you cry out each time he hits the mark.

Guts groans, face screwed tight in concentration. “You’re gonna squeeze me to death,” he moans.

You smirk, running your hands across his chest. “It took you this long to realize my intentions?”

He responds with an airy laugh. “You always were a damn good strategist.”

“And you’re living up to your title, General,” you say, feeling a twitch inside you. “Oh? You like it when I call you that, don’t you?”

Guts looks at you with a sheepish grin. “If I say I do, will you call me that more often?” he asks.

You hum, tracing his abs with your fingertips. “I’ll consider it, but it would have to be sparingly. Don’t want to inflate your ego too much,” you tease. A spank smarts your ass. The sting is quickly soothed by a gentle massage. You retaliate with slow, deep thrusts, grinning when Guts curses and loses his ability to form sentences.

His cock throbs inside you, swelling up in preparation for his release. Guts’s fingers are bruising your hips, and he’s rutting into you. Slamming yourself down, you remain seated.

“Fuck, I was so close,” he groans, cock twitching in your warm cunt.

“I know. That’s why I stopped,” you say.

Guts looks at you with betrayal. “You, my dear, are a cruel lover.”

You tsk and clench tightly around him. “I may be a bit mean, but never cruel.”

“If this isn’t cruelty, then wha—“

You cut him off with a roll of your hips, successfully speech-jamming him. “You’ll see,” you say.

You continue drawing out his release, bringing Guts near the edge only to wrench him away. You’ve lost count—not that you were even counting in the first place—of how many potential orgasms you’ve robbed him of. But from the sour gleam in his eyes, a few too many.

Any of his attempts to take over the pace are thwarted when you turn into an immovable object. The loss of friction is not deemed a worthwhile risk because Guts soon lets you have your way after only a few attempts.

“Good boy,” you purr, a chuckle tickling the back of your throat. “Look at you, getting turned on when so much as a compliment is awarded.” You drag your fingers down his chest, sloping along the defined ridges of his muscles. “It’s kind of cute,” you admit.

Guts watches you through hooded lids, mouth parting as incoherent pleas spill between his lips. You tsk and twist your lips into a mock frown. “Oh no. Did I wear you down already?” You cradle his face in your hand, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “I can feel you throbbing inside me. Do you want to cum?” you ask, receiving a shudder in response when you roll your hips.

“Mhmm,” he grunts, nodding in fervour. Guts runs his hands along your thighs, gently squeezing the soft flesh. “Please,” he adds politely.

You hum and slow your movements. “Do you deserve to?”

It’s borderline hilarious to watch the gears in his head turn. The vacant look in his eyes shifts as they widen. “I do,” he says, but the slight wobble in his tone is tinged with nerves.

You can’t stop the grin forming on your face and opt to kiss his damp forehead to hide it. “Relax,” you hush, “I’ll let you cum……

“…eventually.”

Guts groans and slides a hand between your thighs, fingers searching for your clit. You clench tightly around him when he taps it gently with his thumb. “Looks like the blood’s starting to rush back into the right head”—Guts slams his hips upwards, nearly winding you—“Ow, fuck! Ok, ok. No more jokes during sex.” You wince from your sore abdomen. “I’ll cut you a deal,” you pause to gain his attention. “If you make me orgasm within the next ten minutes, I’ll let you cum.”

“You can’t take back your word,” he grunts through gritted teeth. You squeal, arms flailing to wrap around his neck when he flips you onto the ground. There’s a pregnant pause as you stare into each other's eyes. Warm. There’s so much warmth in his gaze for you. “Beautiful,” he says, running his fingers along your face.

Your chest squeezes tight. You turn your head, feeling the cool stone floor press against your burning cheeks. “9 minutes,” you say. Guts clicks his tongue and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. He angles his thrusts, ramming into the deepest parts of you. The inferno consuming your body melts your bones to liquid.

“With the sounds you’re making, it won’t be long,” he grunts. You clench tightly around him like a vice. Every well-aimed thrust sends your walls pulsating around his cock. The familiar tightening in your stomach takes hold and threatens to tear you asunder. “Fuck you look so good like this, I don’t think I can hold out much longer.”

You feel calloused fingers brush against your clit, and a bolt of electricity strikes the base of your spine. He chuckles at the way your body curls open like a flower, eager to meet the sun’s rays. When your hips raise to meet him halfway, who is he to deny you of more pleasure?

He brings a finger to his mouth, groaning at your lingering taste on his skin. Before you know it, the building pleasure threatens to burst. He rolls your clit between his fingers, applying constant pressure. Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head.

How much time was left? Gods, you don’t remember anymore. All you can think about is how you’re a second away from release.

The intensity drops. Guts’s thrusts remain deep; his cock drags along your walls in a sweet, slow torture. The flames licking your body from the inside are dying, but the embers are stoked just enough to keep the fire going. “You wouldn’t dare,” you seethe between clenched teeth. The muscles in your jaw are almost as tense as the knot in your stomach.

“Who says I wouldn’t?” Guts remarks calmly. A slight chill creeps up your spine, and you begin to sweat for reasons other than physical exertion.

“But then you don’t get to cum,” you say, trying to build a counterargument to sway him. You were so close; you needed just a little more to get there. In all honesty, both of you knew that if he really wanted to, Guts could easily ignore the bet. But that would mean destroying the mutual trust you spent years building. And you know both of you would rather die than betray the other.

“You said within the next ten minutes, I still have two left.” He slaps your pubic mound lightly, fingers resting above your swollen clit. “It’s not like you specified a time, only a period. So it doesn’t matter if there’s only a second left as long as you cum before it’s over.”

You shudder. What have you done?

Guts begins mumbling to himself. Between the grunts and groans, you can just barely make out a decreasing string of numbers. He’s seriously counting down the seconds he has left before the bet is over??

You arch your back, fingers fisting the stone floor with nothing to ground you. “Fuck me,” you sigh, lifting your hips to feel his cock brush against that sensitive spot.

“Already am,” Guts rasps, wiping the sweat from your brow. “Any other requests?”

“Yeah, fuck me harder.”

He leans down to plant a kiss on your damp forehead. “As you wish.”

And fuck you harder he does. You swear you must be above the clouds with all the stars you see. The slap of flesh echoes in your ears, filled with strained grunts and moans. You like it when Guts is vocal; it makes you feel like you’re doing a good job. One of the quickest ways he can turn you on is by moaning your name, which he’s doing right now. His breathy sighs as your name slips out of his mouth repeatedly like a prayer… it drives you crazy.

There’s only one thought in your mind; it overtakes all the others. You’re on the brink of an orgasm, standing at the edge of a cliff as you wait for the final push. “M’ close,” you say. Your clit throbs, and you feel a tug in your navel as the pressure builds.

“Then let’s bring you closer.” He slowly increases the pace, and your nails claw his back, leaving scratches in their wake. “I want you to look at me when you come undone. Can you do that for me?” You nod, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head when he rubs your clit. “Good.” His fingers maintain pace, and he consistently rams his cock against your g-spot.

Your body thrums with pleasure, ready to come undone at his command. Guts wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes gently. He wasn’t affecting your oxygen supply, but fuck did it do things to you. His thrusts become deeper, pounding into you at a steady rhythm.

That was all it took to shove you off the edge. Your walls spasm around his cock in a toe-curling orgasm. All you can focus on is the waves of mind-numbing pleasure crashing into you, the force of the undertow sweeping you away.

Guts continues to thrust, helping you ride out your orgasm. As you come down from your high, dizzy and lightheaded, you feel his cock swell inside you. He pulls out, pumping his cock as his warm seed spills onto your stomach.

You laugh a breathy chuckle, staring at the mess he made. “I think I need another bath,” you say.

Guts kisses the top of your head and says, “Then let’s get cleaned up.” He scoops an arm underneath your knees and wraps the other around your back.

“Guts!”

“Don’t worry. I won’t drop you,” he says, walking towards the pool. Wading in, he brings you to the stream of water. Already, the spray of droplets is freezing against your skin. You shudder and cling closer to Guts and the heat he radiates. “I’ll help you wash up,” and he lowers your legs, a hand still resting on the small of your back.

“I am capable of washing myself,” you say. Hopefully, the rising sun made the water at least slightly more tolerable. But from how it feels like your feet are encased in ice, you don’t have much hope.

Guts cups some water in his hands and pours it onto your shoulders. “I know you can, but I want to,” he says, kissing the side of your temple. “So stop being stubborn and let me help you.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. “I don’t kn—“ Guts flicks water at your face with a smirk. You pause, your brain struggling to process what happened. “You!” Your eyes narrow into a glare.

Guts bolts, his laughter reverberating the cave walls. You run after him, but it’s difficult despite the water reaching only your calves. Guts is somehow brute forcing his way, but you adapt a weird mixture of hopping and running to catch up.

Once you’re within arm's length of Guts, you kick up the water, successfully splashing him. The smug grin on your face falters when he turns around with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He moves only a single step before your flight instincts take over.

Your heart is thumping against your chest, thundering in your ears. His fingertips brush against your spine, and you squeal, dodging to the side. Large splashes grow closer and closer. But they suddenly stop. And amid your confusion, you stop running.

Looking over your shoulder, you see no sign of Guts except a few ripples in the water where you expected him to be.

“Got ya!” Big, strong hands wrap around your waist, and the ground disappears beneath your feet. The world spins in a whirlwind of lights and cool shades of blue and purple. As your surroundings grind to a halt, warm arms pull you into an embrace. Your laughter is dampened by his hug, and you blink to quell the dizziness.

You stare into his eyes, watching black swallow brown. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek. “Shower?” you whisper, unwilling to break the stillness. If the universe would let you, you would spend every day like this with him. To wake and sleep together, sharing the mundane moments of life and experiencing the little pockets of joy as they occur. But that’s not the kind of world you live in— not if Griffith has anything to say about it.

Guts leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead. “Yeah, let’s get cleaned up.” He guides you back to the waterfall, fingers intertwined. You follow him without resistance. All the running around has warmed you up, but that only makes the water feel colder. Guts is careful as he washes you. “I know it’s cold, but you’re being so good for me,” he coos. His hands firmly glide across your skin. You feel him pause to trace the scars on your body, gently tracing the thin lines on your lower abdomen. His touch dips down between your thighs, and you part them.

He does nothing more than clean up the mess he made, but you’re still sensitive. Little tremors run through your body, the aftershocks of your ground-shaking orgasm. Guts surprises you with a kiss on your neck. You swear this man is trying to kill you with his affection. With the uncomfortable slickness gone, you lean against Guts and relish in him pampering you. If only you had brought more soap. You could have asked him to wash your hair.

“Done?” he asks, to which you nod. Guts picks you up again and carries you to dry land, where he dries you off with the towel again. “Arms up,” he commands. And before you know it, a shirt is pulled over your head. The fabric still smells like him. Smoke from a fire pit and the medicinal scent of herbs from his ointment. You glance over and watch him put on his pants. Your eyes trail along the scars on his body. Most of them have healed nicely, but they’ll always remain to remind you how close to death you were that night.

Your fingers absentmindedly rest against the area of your brand. Before you can slip into a spiral, Guts calls out your name. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes are focused on where your hand is. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. You’re unsure if he believes you, but he nods and doesn’t pry further.

Your eyes begin to droop, and a big yawn escapes your mouth. “I think it’s time to rest,” Guts says. Luckily, your sleeping arrangements aren’t too far. With Rickert’s help, Erica was able to find a larger bedroll for you and Guts to share. You never voiced the thought out loud, but you liked the closeness it forced. Something about sleeping in his arms brought you a sense of peace and security.

When he holds you at night, the nightmares leave you in peace. The screams quiet, and the stench of iron is replaced with cedar and smoke. The arms around your waist are tender. Guts is like a kiln; you’re dry clay—fragile at first but robust after exposure to his warmth.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Guts asks, petting your hair. You’re lying in bed, limbs tangled like vines wrapped around a tree.

The corners of your lips curl up. “Like what?”

Guts leans his forehead against yours. “Like I’m everything to you. That’s my job,” he says.

You’re smiling so much your cheeks ache. “I love you.”

Guts mirrors your smile. His hand slides down to cup your face. You can feel his breath tickle your skin. His eyes dart to your parted lips before closing the gap.

The kiss is slow and tender. Soft, pliable lips that leave you panting for air. Guts trails his mouth along your jawline, leaving a path of fire as he moves to the hollow of your throat.

You can’t help but let out a content sigh when he pays attention to the sensitive area. Your cheeks tingle at the thought of waking up and being greeted with a new mark. Guts plants one last kiss on your collarbone before drawing you closer to him.

“I love you so much,” he mumbles into your skin. You snuggle into him, wanting his scent to envelop you. His next words are so quiet you almost miss them. “Promise me you won’t leave, too.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. You look into his eyes and see a reflection of what you’ve become. His dark circles fare no better than yours, and that vengeful spark has dulled, having been weathered over time by grief.

You lost your friends and family, but so did he.

With the brand carved into your skin and the spirits waiting around every corner to devour you…. “You know I can’t promise you that,” you say, and you hate how your words feel like a punch to your own gut.

“Then lie to me and promise anyway,” he whispers, staring at you through glossy eyes.

You bite your lip but refuse to look away. Raising a hand to wipe his tears, you say, “I promise to stay for as long as I’m able.”

Guts nods, soothed by your response. “Rest. I’ll keep us safe.”

Us. The word sends your heart a flutter. You shift into a comfortable position and drift into darkness, dreaming of campfires and starry skies for once.

End Note:

It's like I can't decide whether I want the fic to be sad, happy, or horny. So why not all three?

I also decided to bite the bullet and get image dividers, because trying to get center formatting and having it stay consistent across platforms is tiring. Do they look ok? I got them from a Tumblr post by @/saradika if anyone wanted to know.

I have no idea when my next work will come out. I already have some fics queued up and knowing myself, I'll either speed right through them, or drag them out too long and lose interest lol

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

#guts x reader #guts x reader smut #berserk x reader #berserk fic #berserk #afab reader #otherwise gender neutral #no y/n #fluff and smut #Angst #But just a smidge #It helps season the fic #This sat in my drafts way too long #Why is writing smut so hard #Why can't I have some sort of divine oracle to enlighten me?#Time to yeet this into the void and never look back

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crscntwhite · 1 year

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╰─▸ ❝ masterlist.

↳˗ˏˋjojo's bizarre adventure ✧ˊˎ˗ ⠀⠀➼

↳˗ˏˋchainsaw man ✧ˊˎ˗ ⠀⠀➼ hayakawa aki ー in-bed headcanons (m!reader) (s) ⠀⠀➼ hayakawa aki ー plus-sized boyfriend (m!reader) (f)

⠀⠀➼ yoshida hirofumi ー first date headcanons (m!reader) (f)

↳˗ˏˋberserk ✧ˊˎ˗ ⠀⠀➼

↳˗ˏˋjujutsu kaisen ✧ˊˎ˗ ⠀⠀➼

↳˗ˏˋattack on titan ✧ˊˎ˗ ⠀⠀➼

↳˗ˏˋhonkai star rail ✧ˊˎ˗ ⠀⠀➼ koski sampo ー a special service (m!reader) (s)

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frenskcup · 8 months

Text

guts x gn!reader

Warnings: oral sex mentions, suggestive content (Minors DNI) Reader is fem leaning (takes shirt off for tighter top and can be "eaten out")

Summary: Modern!AU oneshot based around reikuto's sfw Guts hcs.

AN: i miss the gym so i wanted to write about Guts going to the gym w his s/o

The gym was always a place for Guts to relax, as odd as that sounds. But for a man like Guts, one could believe that. Going through the motions of warming up his body and the familiarity of the burn of lactic acid was an addiction of sorts. His demeanor in the gym was that of bang out the sets and leave, not allowing himself to chat with any of the gym goers. The volume that he lifted did leave him with moments of just sitting and catching his breath, yet his aura about him and his R.B.F made him seem like he couldn’t be bothered for even a spot for the most experienced of lifters.

You can imagine the look of confusion on the regulars’ faces when they see him walk in with a significantly smaller person, dressed in a large shirt with yoga shorts and Converse. You can’t help but feel eyes on you when you go to warm up with Guts in an empty corner. While you do your dynamic stretches with him, you get your gym playlist ready for the session - a mix of metal and early 2000s sounding club bangers, something for Guts and yourself. You knew he didn’t mind your music taste even with how he reacted to you skipping his late 90s numetal for a song about grinding and back-alley sex. You knew he especially didn’t mind when you would do a little dance to accompany it.

You took a last sip of your preworkout and got your earbuds out for you and Guts. Placing an earbud into his large hand as he got out of a lunge, you put yours in your ear and start the playlist. The start of Rihanna’s S&M makes you roll your head to the beat as you and Guts walk to the empty squat rack.

Both of you put a few more plates on each side of the bar after your set, alternating from your working weight to his, which was a significant amount more than yours. As Guts unracks the weight, you watch him squat and nod your head to the music. Your work schedule doesn’t allow for you to go to the gym with your boyfriend very often, so you take any time you find to do so. There’s nothing you enjoy more than seeing your mountain of a man sweat while lifting heavy items and setting them back down. You enjoy working out, too, but the views you get when Guts is with you make it all the more enjoyable.

He reracks with a grunt and undoes the collar to take plates off for your next set, and you copy. You continue this for a few more sets between you two, and you bask in the confusion you see on onlookers faces every time you reset. Like, yeah, that’s your man. Yeah, he’s strong and powerful. Those thighs and triceps aren’t for looks only.

The next few exercises have you looking for your water bottle. Leg day with Guts is torture, but you indulge in public masochism every once in a while. Your toes tap to the heavy sound of SOAD as you drink your precious water, and as Guts approaches you, you lift the bottle to him to offer a sip. He takes it from you with a nod and a thanks. Smiling, you take off your shirt to reveal your tight underlayer because of the lack of ventilation from the shirt. You stuff the shirt in your bag and take back the bottle to also place in the bag. You giggle at a thought that comes into your mind.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, already knowing you’re going to tell him the silliest shit imaginable like you always do.

“Ew, you just drank after me,” you sneer, not meaning it at all. “You just, like, kissed me technically. Gross.”

“I ate you out this morning,” he informs you, unphased and face stoic. “Grow up.”

“Shut up, asshole! We’re in public.” You push his arm hard, but even that’s not enough to make him budge.

“I’ll say worse if you keep stalling abs.”

“Ugh, fine. You’re lucky you’re so hot,” you say while poking him. He lets a small smile show.

The two of you work on core, all the while Doja Cat sings about getting naked. You mouth the words as you do hanging leg lifts. Guts keeps going when your grip fails and you have to jump down. The burn in your hamstrings and abs feels nice but awful at the same time. You’re getting bored of waiting and start to mess with him to get him to quit sooner.

“I know you’re tired. C’mon, your core couldn’t be more engaged right now. You two are practically taking a honeymoon. Ooh, I see your hand slipping there. You gotta listen to your body, babe. It’s telling you to stop.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What? I’m doing nothing. Literally. I’m bored.”

He ignores you and keeps at his set, determined to finish all the reps left. As you wait more, an idea pops into your head.

“Hey, babe,” you coo. “If you quit now, I’ll have enough time to make those shumai you like.”

You can see the gears in his head turning before his hands let go and he’s grabbing your hand to pull you to the corner you started at. You laugh and allow him to guide you, just like his stomach guided him to stretch. He seems to rush through the movements, not stretching as deeply as you know he can. Just to be a pain, you complain that Guts isn’t being truthful to the workout, rushing and sabotaging your gains. The next time you see his face is after returning from your downward dog - he has your bag over his shoulder and the next thing you know, he’s got you over his other shoulder. It’s humiliating to be seen like this, but you know you asked for it.

“I’d complain more about this being humiliating, but the view of your ass is too good to complain,” you tell him, smacking one of his cheeks to emphasize how much you like his ass.

#reader insert #gender neutral reader #not sfw #berserk fanfiction #guts berserk x reader

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jean0farc · 2 months

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☆ STARRING !!! JEAN LEE. adult. any pronouns. INTJ-T. ☆

• BAR RULES — JEAN LEE’S MENU •

WISHING TO IMPROVE OUR SERVICES?! SUBMIT A TICKET!

This bar is dedicated to all things dark — from dead dove content to occasional devious imagines! We serve juicy beverages (smut) and snacks (husbandos and waifus) to quench your thirst and satiate your hunger. Welcome to our bar, where we indulge in our heavy sins.

★ WHAT WE SERVE AT JEAN LEE’S BAR !! ★

☆ He Who Tends The Weak — Alucard (Hellsing).

☆ Long Term Effects of Suffering — Blade.

☆ What Looks So Strong, So Delicate — Arlecchino.

CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF JEAN LEE’S BAR NIGHT?! FOLLOW AND SUPPORT THEIR PAGE!

#x reader #yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #darkfic #dddne #angst #berserk x reader #death note x reader #johan liebert x reader #alucard hellsing x reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #directory #pinned post

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ctheathy · 2 months

Note

Hello, I hope you have a nice day! , I would like to request a headcanons of yandere nine x reader being kidnapped by doctor eggman

Yandere Nine w/ Darling who got kidnapped by Robotnik

Nine x Reader

Yandere Headcanons

Short Concept

Author's note: You, my dear reader, are all out for the drama and I'm here for it~!

Nine/Reader [Romantic Tendencies]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Possessiveness • Nine is so traumatized omfg- • Eventual PTSD • Age regression • Overprotective behaviour • Poor mental state • Paranoia • Emotional dependency • Trust Issues • Insomnia • Violence

Pfft. If Nine wasn't already considered severely unhinged before, he most certainly will be right now. Oh how much terror the fox would feel in the pits of his stomach, the horror in his eyes, the helplessness in his heart. He most certainly would have never allowed this to even remotely come forward if he were the one to be in your presence. But... he wasn't. The whole team would have felt this immense sense of hesitance and dread to even tell him about it, having noticed his attachment and emotional bond towards you... and when the words slip from Sonic's mouth, not ready to test the nine-tailed foxes’ impatience, he cracks. And not just any regular burst of anger, he has a complete mental breakdown.

Nine will be nothing less than a ball of angst and fright at this point, something which he desperately tried to cover up with an infuriated facade, despite his evident worries from your abduction. But none of that would matter in the end, because he'd behave completely berserk one way or another. He doesn't dare rest or waste time for that matter until he can hold you in his arms again. Likely as soon as they reach The Chaos Council to try and bring you back... Nine would not hold himself back, still taken over by his violent meltdown. Instead of trying to avoid the Council's eyes and enemies that are in the way, maintaining a low profile as he'd say, he releases all of that pent up malice.

Though he'd leave many of the his robotic opponents onto the grounds ...torn to scraps by the fierce abilities of his mechanical tails, Nine would be surprisingly merciful to any living mobian for the sake of getting answers on where you're being held hostage. Because remember; although venting out some of his frustrations during the fight was equal to his hostility towards those who just so happened to be in his way, this mission is not and never will be about assassinating every enemy he comes across for the sake of just hurting them. It's all just to release you from The Chaos Council's grasp, take you back to his workshop where you rightfully belong ...bring you back to him. An objective and promise he will never allow himself to forget ever again after seeing your frightened face and body.

Even after he does get you back to the team, and he will no matter the costs or sacrifices he has to offer. But although you're back home, safe.... His paranoia will continue to linger and remain at its highest. Though the wounds you obtained through your abduction will eventually heal, his trauma of your kidnapping won't for a very long time. The side affects seemingly starts off small through your perspective, and you probably wouldn't even know how much it deep down affected him. Especially as the amber fox just seems to want to stick closeby you, seeking for comforting reassurance and some guidance to get himself back on the right track, which you more than understand and accept with open arms.

But what if I told you that he just got much, ...much more insane and delusional than you may think after you got taken away like that. It was like a newborn kitten being taken away from its mother right after birth, one whom he'd desperately cry out to and crawl after. To Nine, it wasn't just the idea of losing that happiness of having somebody to care about, but this also re-activated his defense mechanism to his past trauma.

Kill or be killed.

Nine's whole mentality practically returns to that of his younger self, almost similar to an age regression... You'd probably also notice the changes in demeanor, how he's practically almost behaving like a juvenile again. Decisions are made more so out of instinct rather than rational, logical thoughts. Which, to you, is something completely foreign and out of character for Nine.

His overprotective impulses would kick in at full force and he'd be quicker to lash out, along with his pessimistic mentality and stress being multiplied in the process, which is something his already poor mental state is absolutely not emotionally capable of handling. Even with you just not being in his eyesight can leave Nine with severe anxiety. His emotions are quicker to flow over, resulting in either anger outbursts or crying... And he practically treats you as if you were actively dying from a disease, constantly thinking of and mentioning the “what ifs”.

There would be many restless nights where he wakes up in the middle of the night, teary-eyed after a dream vision or isn't even capable of drifting off into a slumber at all. The simple thought of you ending up hurt and scarred while he wasn't there to protect you keeps his nerves excessive and senses on constant high alert. Even just the consideration in itself can leave him in a condition of hysteria for the next half hour, unable to calm himself down. These sudden exchanges of panic making you realise just how inconsistent it is, as Nine was usually known as collected, self-assured... in control of the situation. Something you'd consider the other side of the coin of how he was operating at this very moment. A complete and sudden reverse swap in his very identity.

Making you pray... that this was a crutch you could hopefully help him grow out of

#sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic the hedgehog #yandere nine x reader #yandere nine #tails nine #nine x reader #nine tails #yandere sonic prime #yandere sonic the hedgehog #yandere sonic #sonic prime x reader #sonic prime nine #sonic prime #miles nine prower #yandere tails x reader #yandere tails #tails x reader #new nine post WOOHOO

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fairy-writes · 11 months

Note

😎 I have a request for you!

I would like a fluffy one-shot with Kokushibo with the dialogue prompt #14

Thanks my friend!!

IT’S BECAUSE…

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Demon Slayer

Pairing(s): Kokushibo x Gender Neutral!Demon!Reader

Prompt: “You’re the most important thing to me.” (Dialogue Prompt #14)

Notes: YOU LOVE TORTURING ME WITH DIFFICULT REQUESTS, DON’T YOU

I know you asked for fluffy but aslkdnajkfka idk how to do that for Kokushibo.

This is for my 1K followers event! It’s going on between June 8th and June 22nd!

__________________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You weren’t supposed to die.

You weren’t even supposed to be here.

Kokushibo stared blankly at your slowly disintegrating body, your glassy eyes watching his motionless form.

The demon slayer who had beheaded you charged at the Upper Moon with a wild cry and berserker swing of his katana.

He was dead before his sword had the chance to fall.

“K—Kokushibo?” Your stutter was punctuated by the spatter of blood squirting from your decapitated neck and torso. You didn’t have much time left. That much was evident.

Your body was mostly gone, only your upper torso and one of your arms left. Black dust floats away into nothingness, and you look so sad and so scared that it pulls on Kokushibo’s nonexistent heartstrings.

So slowly… ever so slowly, Kokushibo knelt by your side and reached out with calloused hands to grip yours.

The entire time he wasn’t sure why.

Was it because you had been a demon almost as long as him? He wasn’t particularly attached. He wouldn’t call you friends, much less lovers. But you were friendly to him, and he was cordial to you in return. You weren’t even particularly strong, just old. You were Lower Moon Two, right under that dream demon who Kokushibo couldn’t bother remembering the name of.

“Why did you do it?” He asks in that monotone voice of his. And he was genuinely wondering. He was Upper Moon One. The second most powerful demon in creation. He was perfectly capable of killing some low-rank demon slayer.

“You’re the most important thing to me.” You whisper, part of your face falling away into particles.

He frowned, his six eyes blinking one at a time.

“But why?” He was genuinely confused. Why would you try and protect him when you knew he was more than powerful enough?

You look up with your one single eye that’s left and offer a crooked little half smile. Oddly enough, he likes your smile.

“It’s because I lo—”

Your body turns to dust before you can finish your sentence.

#demon slayer #kokushibo x reader #kokushibo x you #kokushibo x y/n #kokushibo #kny x reader #kny x gender neutral reader #demon reader #kny kokushibo x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kokushibo kny #demon slayer kokushibo #fairy writes #fairy 1000 followers

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reikuto · 2 years

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⋆ฺ｡*:･CONTENT! modern!au, established relationship, cursing :: guts x gender neutral reader. A/N! been thinking of him recently…i try not to though cause every time i think of berserk, i want to die <3･: *｡ฺ⋆

very serious guy. not much going on in the emotion department. very secret soft side that only comes out when the two of you are alone.

not that he’s mean to you in public, he’s just so 😐. like mf can you smile.

most definitely a gym rat, but not the corny kind. he goes to the gym, works out, and that’s that. once you start dating, you’re happy to tag along with if it means spending time with him.

you literally frown when you learn how he works out (no music, no pre-work out, he just raw dogs it. he’s insane)

surprisingly, he actually likes when you go to the gym with him. it’s a nice change of pace because you’re always shimmying to your music or talking his ear off.

he especially loves it when you praise him for pushing through a difficult rep. also won’t admit it out loud but he loves when you beg him to coordinate gym outfits.

big big foodie. comparing his stomach to an endless pit is an understatement. not picky either, so he’s always open to trying new things and making you try them as well.

he knows how to cook idc. eating out is expensive and he has to keep the gainz. he’s really chill about it tho. you didn’t even know he knew basic survival skills until you went over to his place for dinner for the first time.

like you knew his apartment only had a couch and a tv so your expectations weren’t that high (they weren’t high at all).

but when he had prepared a very simple but DELICIOUS dinner??? you were shocked to say the least.

he’s neutral about pda. doesn’t really care for it but really likes it if you’re the touchy type. let’s him know that you’re proud of being seen with him.

has one of those unnecessarily large trucks that you literally have to climb to get into. it’s embarrassing.

after it rains, he purposely parks in front of huge puddles so that he can watch you try to parkour into the vehicle. he thinks it’s hilarious. you think he’s a dick.

does the one hand holding the bottom of the steering wheel thing when he drives. RAGHHHHHHHHH

also subconsciously touches you while driving. you guys will be at a stop light and his hand will reach over, gently punching or tapping your knee/thigh until the light turns green. you don’t even think he realizes he does it.

stiff ass sleeper. does not move an INCH during the night. it’s sorta weird, but kinda sweet cause he cuddles through the whole night.

he’s a weird combination of a heavy and light sleeper. if you shift to get out of bed to pee, he immediately wakes up. but if you come home and he’s napping, nothing on the planet will wake him up.

likes temple kisses. receiving them mostly. don’t ask, it just feels right.

“wear whatever you want, i can fight” bf

mild 👀 anger issues. patience is a must because he can get really worked up and you’ve gotta be the one to sorta calm him down.

always injured??? somehow, he always manages to make himself bleed.

you’re convinced he injures himself on purpose so he can watch you play nurse (he does sometimes)

he adores when you pout as you clean his cuts, lecturing him about about being more careful.

anyway, dating guts is cool. 10/10 recommend

#berserk #berserk hcs #berserk headcanons #guts berserk #guts x reader #guts hcs #guts headcanons #sfw #[🍹]#[🍹] guts!

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leonasbunny · 2 years

Text

Leona x Bunny!Reader — (Gender Neutral)

S/O gets sexually flirted with, physically and verbally. Mentions of; jealousy, slight angst, violence, (slight blood), but very affectionate leona. <3

something bad happened to me today,, I just wanna relieve this stress off with some protective shit from our beloved husband. ❤️

I beg your fucking pardon? Did he just hear what he thinks he heard? Someone made an awful attempt to make a move on you, regardless of whether you’re taken or not!?

At first, Leona will feel his heart drop, and let me tell you— this man was almost going to tear up as he thought you were cheating on him. But that was not the case, he knows you wouldn’t, since you’re so dedicated to him and all but it’s not his fault for having doubts !

:( please understand him ❤️❤️

But after he saw your heavy breaths and uneasiness start growing rapidly by the second; you tried to push him off you, but he remained. And that ticked it all off—

“Oi, the fuck’re you doin’ touchin’ [Name] like that? Ehh.. You want something of mine, huh? — Guess I’m gonna have to take something of yours too, one of your teeth will do.. Come here. ”

Leona isn’t happy. You tired to push the NRC/RSA student off but he was insistent on staying around you, hand firmly gripped on your hip and squeezing your flesh possessively. Leona loathed such behaviour. Only he could do that in private spots..

Only a fool would dare touch something that belongs to the second Prince of the Afterglow Savannah. Doesn’t that idiot know that the rule of the wild, is that one should never try to take a Lions meal?

Leona was ever so close to turning him into sand, right then and there..

Leona isn’t strict with his rules of dating, nor does he care whatever you do, just don’t break his heart by leaving the relationship behind you, or lying to him, or cheating. But he knows you well enough that you wouldn’t do it.

But like I previously said, he’s genuine and caring. He HATES when other filthy carnivores touch his little bunny. You’re his meal, nobody else’s. And it will stay like that forever (if you want that is, he wouldn’t force something on you unless you’re into it, Darling <3)

It only took seconds for him to go berserk and start roaring at him to unleash you. He grabs his hand forcefully and smacks it away while gripping the student’s collar and opening his mouth to reveal such sharp teeth, that could easily rip away meat in seconds.

And it worked; god forbid- he would’ve absolutely destroyed that kids face and broke every bone in his body for disrespecting you like that. Even so, with Women, it may be different because everyone in the Afterglow Savannah treat women with high respect; why should you be treated any different? Leona loves you.. he cares about you like nobody else does.

Whether you’re a man, woman, or person, he won’t care. You shouldn’t have your boundaries pushed and brushed aside for someone else’s sick pleasure.

And Leona understands that above anything.

He has his own boundaries too, but it just depends on what type of relationship you have with him. For friends such as Ruggie and Jack, and all; he’s comfortable to sleep around them and let his guard down. He accepts hugs, friendly gestures but anything romantic is off limits.

But when you’re dating him, he allows you to do whatever the hell you want! He wants to be close with you.. he loves it, genuinely. You’re safe with Leona.. and Leona’s safe with you. You’re very happy with each other and both protective alike.

Afterwards, Leonas grumpy for the whole day after having his day spoiled like that. You have to assure him quite a few times; but he knows you’re hurt too..

So he brushes off your reassurances and holds your shoulders gently before looking at you, softly into his emerald eyes.

“Hey.. You okay? I know you’re askin’ me and all but this goes both ways y’know. You were probably hella uncomfortable with that douchebag touchin’ what rightfully belongs to me, huh? “

“ Sigh.. Sorry ya had to experience that. Make sure ya come to me whenever you’re upset, got it herbivore?”

He hugs you firmly and pats your head, understanding if you need some space.

If you choose to be clingy around him, he adores it.. Bunnies are very needy and affectionate creatures and need lots of attention, and he’s willing to give you all the affection in the world; ( He’s not exactly the best, but give him a break lovely :) )

He will growl at anyone who even decides to talk to you; since you’re still shaken up with the encounter, he holds your waist gently, still sniffing the essence of that dickheads scent on you. He will never do something like that in public, but he will drag you to the most private area and cuddle you.

Or even take you to the Botanical Garden where he will lay you on his chest and cuddle you gently, so his scent rubs on you, replacing that Student who SO rudely decided to touch you.

He’s satisfied when a there is no sight, smell, or touch of anyone else’s scent on you, and he will keep it that way.. for he just wants the best for you. <3

He will stroke your ears softly and gently hover his hand above your little shaking tail,, he loves it so much, though he wouldn’t admit it!! You’re so cute, so precious for him Darling.. You’re a wonderful, doting and caring person, and this is why he chose you above anyone else.

Lots of hugs and kisses are needed, since It only takes a few things for Leona to go angry or ticked off. He needs you desperately.. <3 and you’re one of a kind, my lovely. He doesn’t want to let go of someone as special as you, though one day he fears someone might steal you away from him.

Hence, his protectiveness. ❤️

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland jack #twisted wonderland ruggie #bunblr #twisted wonderland savanaclaw #savanaclaw x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader headscanons #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #x bunny reader #bunny reader #leona x bunny reader

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witchthewriter · 2 years

Photo

𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧! 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

ENFP

Gryffindor

Chaotic Good

Leo Sun, Aquarius Moon, Gemini Rising

SFW🌿

⭑ Eddie hates social media. Despises tik tok, but he LOVED vine. He constantly sends you old vine compilations on Youtube

⭑ Has a Hellfire group chat that you had to put on silent because the guys would go on tangents about the newest computer game

⭑ Eddie sends you selfies ALL. THE. TIME. Most of the time he can’t be bothered texting you, so he’ll send photos, videos, and voice memos

⭑ You made him watch Twilight and he actually liked it.

“Iconic Y/N.” Eddie stated when the credits rolled.

⭑ Oh and you guys have movie nights all the time, he literally loves to watch movies.

⭑ Loves horror!!! He actually really enjoyed Hereditary and Midsommar

⭑ You guys have long ass phone calls, like hours. You’re just on the phone while doing normal tasks, he just likes your company

⭑ He tries to learn how to skate but he is actually incredibly uncoordinated.

“Y/N, help - heLP ME Y/N STOP LAUGHING I'M GOING TO FALL!”

⭑ Sneaks into your room when your parents are home (even though you’re both adults)

⭑ Sending each other memes

⭑ Having so many inside jokes because of those memes

⭑ Buying him the new editions of Lord of the Rings. You love the way his face lights up, and you wait until he opens the book, before seeing a little note from you.

“Are you joking, babe I love this so much. Thank you!”

⭑ He’d probably still be a drug dealer tbh

⭑ Eddie would definitely go to protests

⭑ He drives you eVERYWHERE

⭑ “Babe change the playlist, babe-”

⭑ He never listens to the radio in the car

⭑ He really likes the Hunger Games series and thought the Netflix Shadow and Bone “was dope” (his exact words)

⭑ Uses your Netflix

⭑ Eddie is able to understand his sexuality more (he’s Pan)

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

Chaotic Dumbass Duo

Two Idiots in Love Who Support Each Other No Matter What

Nerd x Mega Nerd

NSFW🔞 no minors allowed!

⭑ Eddie Munson is a man that will not cum until you have first. He wants his s/o to feel pleasure, rather than use sex as means for him to get off.

⭑ He’s passionate, fervent; his hands grab and squeeze, pull and wander.

⭑ He may not be the most experienced, but he deserves an A+ for effort. And with all the resources available, he makes sure to learn how to please you

⭑ Yes he does know where the clit is

⭑ Eddie is a switch

⭑ He would love to praise you, but also degrade you while his dick is in your mouth

⭑ He would so be down for pegging - I’m serious, he’d want to try it

⭑ Phone sex; mutually masturbating while on the phone together

⭑ Eddie definitely loves it when you send him nudes or even sexts. He goes berserk.

⭑ And speaking of nudes, that’s what he jerks off to. Yeah there’s porn, but nothing compares to his desire for you

⭑ He is very thick and very big

⭑ Eddie loves it when you sit on his face. Double points when you rub yourself back and forth

⭑ Also Eddie really isn’t disgusted by anything. If you’re a person who gets your periods, please tell him when you’re horny because he absolutely would be up for period sex. Would probably forget to put down a towel though.

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imvriix · 2 years

Note

Is it possible to request a Guts x reader where Guts secretly pines(?) over the reader since golden ages and finally confesses in Elfhiem, only to find out the Reader was starting to pine(?) over him too? Sorry if that doesn't make any sense or you don't want to write it-

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𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔶𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔰

summary ;; — he kept it a secret, unsure of how to deal with these feelings, but when he decided it was time he told you after years, he was even more shocked to know you had felt the same.

featuring + contains ;; — guts x gn! reader

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⋆*･ﾟ: :✧*⋆ ･ﾟ

he'd kept it well hidden, but at the same time, if you looked for it, you'd find it. it was small and he was shy about it, unable to talk to you at first and holding you in high respect since he had first met you. he'd be slightly intimidated at the same time, unsure of how to bring up a conversation with you in the first place, even if you seemed relaxed and easy going, but even more so if you seemed reserved.

either way, he looked like a puppy wandering after his owner during your days in the band of the hawk. but maybe thats a bit exaggerated, but it'd also be a lie to say that he didn't always try and linger around you and that his eyes wouldnt search to find you whenever the band was together. he even found himself subconsciously relaxing whenever he did.

he likely didnt even notice this at first, but eventually he would have to. it made him frustrated and even more embarrassed whenever he would think about it. this was the last thing he needed, but he just couldn't help it. he'd tell himself he'd stop, only to never be able to break his habits.

eventually, he was forced to make peace with his feelings. what else could he do? ask you out? no. he just couldn't. he wanted to, be he simply couldn't.

but making peace with it didnt mean necessarily being able to control his feelings better. he'd never be able to get used to that flutter in his stomach whenever he saw you smile, or being unable to calm down his blush whenever you accidentally touched.

with time, he was able to hide it more smoothly, but he didnt see it as a good thing. he hated how he was unable to tell you before the eclipse, because he had absolutely no chance of telling you after. all chances he had before that event were wiped out once it happened.

both of you were still healing and both of you still wanted revenge, and he doubted you wanted to deal with his feelings right after something like that had happened.

but it just felt so perfect now. he hoped that it wasnt just him that felt like this was the time he had been waiting for ever since he had met you. casca had been healed, you both had found your peace in your new group, and you were in the safety of elfheim.

and although both of you were still hurting from the eclipse, the new people and opportunities you had found along the way were slowly healing you, the pain fading away slowly.

and before he could even figure out what he was saying, the words slipped from his mouth.

he didnt even know what he had said himself, just watching the surprising expression form on your face. he only realised after the words began to linger in the air, but it was too late.

he was as shocked as you were, likely even more. but what surprised him even further was finding out that you felt the same.

and he could only damn himself after that, realising he had wasted so much time waiting for this moment when he couldve been with you so much earlier.

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#guts x reader #berserk guts #berserk x reader #guts x gender neutral reader #berserk x gender neutral reader #berserk #berserk eclipse #golden age arc #berserk elfheim #x reader #anime #manga

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warrenwrites · 2 years

Text

Distracting Hands 2

Distracting Hands Part 2/3

Read Part 1 Here

Protector!Eddie x Sunshine!Reader, Slowburn, friends to lovers A/N: Here it is! Thank you everyone who’s showed so much love for it, I'm so happy to finally post it! I kept it gender/body neutral as best I could but the reader does wear one of his shirts

Thank you @sugars-fluffy-escapes once again for proof reading! Word Count: 5.8K

Eddie had never been so productive in his life; he’d sped home as fast as possible the moment he’d heard the bell dismiss him from his last class and was now frantically cleaning his entire home.

His uncle was taken aback by the ruckus as he collected himself to head off for work. His first instinct was that a social worker was on their way but Eddie wouldn’t be so in his own world if that was the case.

Wayne’s attention was caught by the Chemistry text book laying on their coffee table. “Well. Don’t see too many of those around here,” he joked. Eddie didn’t respond and Wayne worried he’d offended him. “I’m sorry, Son. Wasn’t funny, i’m-i’m proud of you, what are you working o-”

“DON’T TOUCH THE TEXTBOOK!” Eddie shouted after seeing his uncle reach for it once he’d bounded into the same room.

Raising his hands in surrender, Wayne refrained from touching the book. “Alright! What’s goin’ on?”

In a single breath, Eddie let the worlds spill out of his mouth in a berserk explanation, waving his hands around as he ranted. “I accidentally invited someone over- Or I don’t know, maybe they made the plans? Jesus! I lost track. We were in class and got distracted so we agreed to meet here to catch up and I’m so unprepared and I took the textbook-”

“A’right, A’right, calm down,” his uncle coaxed. “That’s good of you to wanna catch up on your studies.”

Eddie didn’t respond, he just dropped his arms down to his sides, eyes wide as a blush blanketed his face for, hopefully, the last time today. It wasn’t much in the way of conversation but his uncle caught on well enough.

“Oh, I get it. This the one you always talk about? With the ‘Pretty eyes’ and ‘Bright smile’ that brought your grades up?”

Eddie huffed in response, dropping eye contact for a moment before pointing an accusatory finger. “Don’t say anything like that when they get here. Actually, you know what? Maybe it’s best you head off to work, you’re in a mood,” Eddie joked, he could always sense when Wayne was prepared to tease him and undercut his ‘dangerous persona’, as it was so delicately put.

Wayne laughed through his nose; he admired Eddie’s ability to joke even in tense situations. “Don’t you worry, I won’t say anything to embarrass you in front of your crush,” he promised, grabbing a cap to put on his head as he continued readying himself for work. “I think it’s good what you’re doin’”

Before Wayne could tack on an “I’m proud of you” Eddie interrupted him. “NOT my crush, just a classmate. That’s all.”

“I’m sure it is, boy.” Still with a few moments to spare, Wayne began helping Eddie tidy up and prepare the couch for an impromptu study session. Subconsciously, he scoffed at his armature nephew for not setting up in his bedroom instead.

As you pulled up to the trailer with Eddie’s distinct van outside, you checked yourself in the mirror one last time, ‘for no reason other than habit’, you told yourself.

As you got out, swinging your book bag over your shoulder, you could hear a faint fuss coming from the trailer, followed by the occasional laugh. You made your way to the door. Before you could get close enough to knock, the door swung open in front of you.

“Oh, pardon me,” the man you assume to be Eddie’s uncle exclaimed. He took a few steps forward and put his hand out towards you, “You must be Y/n. Pleasure to meet you, Darlin’.”

“Oh no, it’s okay. Nice to meet you too.” Smiling politely, you shook his hand and looked behind him to see Eddie leaning against the door, hands shoved into his pockets. “Hi, Eddie,” you waved.

Eddie couldn’t stop the smile that forced its way onto his face. He gave you a little wave but stayed silent and watched your interaction with his beloved Uncle.

“Nice to finally put a face to the name. Eddie doesn’t bring friends over all too of’en.” He complimented in a rasp, smiling, now seeing what Eddie meant by your ‘Beaming Presence’.

“Not that you know of,” Eddie mocked.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’ve heard of me before?” You asked, almost teasing but genuinely wanting an answer.

Before Wayne had a chance to answer, Eddie gave his uncle a small shove and spoke up. “Get going, old man. You waste any more time and you’ll lose more hair than you already have.” He shoved himself off the door and stood up straight, bouncing on his heels.

Wayne turned his head to look over his shoulder, eyes narrowed in a jesting scowl, before turning his attention back to you. “Of course, I've heard about you, Darlin’. There’s no one Eddie talks about more. I’d be able to pick you out in a line up from the description alone.” Eddie jolted, jostling his hands out of his pockets and moved forward to start shoving his uncle towards his car, now understanding how the situation was going to go. “You know Edward, you’re a real story teller, I tell ya. Really paint a picture dontcha?”

“Absolutely not! Get in the car!” Stopping abruptly, he ran back to the front door and snatched Wayne’s keys from the bowl at the door.

“No, now you’re right, really does light up a room.” Wayne continued, gesturing to you, keeping his feet planted as he monologued, to spite his nephew. “The pretty eyes and precious voice.”

“OLD MAN! GO TO WORK!” Forcing the keys into Wayne’s hand, he grabbed his shoulders to turn him around and push him with outstretched arms towards his car.

You laughed at their antics as they passed you, continuing to shout over the top of each other. Had Wayne stopped talking, you assumed Eddie would have stopped as they reached the car.

But as it would happen, Wayne was just as relentless as his nephew, and continued the hi-jinks as Eddie ushered him into the car, going as far to turn on the engine and forcibly put his uncle’s hands onto the steering wheel. “Now ain’t you courteous? Now this is the behaviour I like to see from you. You know, you keep this up and Y/n might just like you as much as you do.”

They continued their bickering and you laughed fondly. It made sense that Eddie’s home life was this high energy and comedic. Eventually, they each said something you couldn’t hear, Eddie nodded, smiling and shut the door. You watched as Wayne backed out and gave you a quick wave through the windscreen, which you returned with bubbly exaggeration

“He’s gone. You don’t have to pretend to be nice.” Eddie jogged over, sheepishly smiling. In the back of your mind, you could only think about how much seeing that smile made your entire week.

As much as you wanted to deny his playful dig you could barely contain your laughter. “Edward?” you teased.

Dropping his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion, Eddie sighed in exasperation as he scooted past you into the home. “I’m so glad that’s what you took from that.” When he reached the door, he felt a rush of excitement in anticipation for more time with you. When he turned around, you saw his cheeky smile and he bowed slightly, directing you into the room with a playful flick of the wrist.

You laughed at him, and scooted your way past him, faltering a bit as he took your bag off your shoulder. “Ohhh, taking your uncles advice?” He raised a confused eyebrow, prompting you to further explain. “Courteous and gentlemanly?”

Narrowing his eyes, he bent over a little, “Get inside.”

Upon entering his living room you immediately noticed the familiar textbook laying on the coffee table, “you bought it?”

Eddie hummed in question, spun around and followed your eyeline. “Oh no, you did, and then carelessly left it in class,” he explained, nonchalantly. “Clearly you don’t take it all that seriously.” He waved his arms in an ‘oh well’ gesture as he sat down on the couch. After taking his seat, he opened up your backpack and started setting up your arsenal of highlighters and notepads.

Snatching the book, you scoffed at him and opened to your last viewed page from your earlier lesson, only to find it completely surrounded in little doodles and messages. “Eddie!” You exclaimed, turning the book around to show off his graffiti.

“What do you think I do in my classes without you? I had an hour to kill,” he pathetically defended.

Dropping the book down to your side, you smiled at him and he only responded by patting the seat next to him, smirking and refusing to break eye contact. Rolling your eyes, you dropped next to him and put the text book on his knee. “Here”

He had to catch it before it fell to the floor, “what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Oh, so that’s a book,” you explained. “Generally you read it and acquire the information inside,” you teased.

“Oh, I’m well aware, Sweetheart. I get you to do it for me all the time,” he shrugs, twirling a random pen in his hand.

You forced your eyes away from the pen spinning around between his fingers and tapped on the textbook with your own. “C’mon, Munson. I am not letting you distract me again.”

Blinking wildly with his eyebrows raised, Eddie put the textbook on the table and began to defend himself, “you were the heart of the distraction! I was desperately trying to commit to my education”

“Oh, that is rich! You were desperately focused on vandalizing my work!” You accused. “You know what? You’re lucky I don't make you rewrite my existing notes,” you challenged, sticking your nose in the air.

“Ah, demanding reparation in the form of labour.” At no point in your back and forth did Eddie drop his smile or his focus on you.

“I do. Now, focus on your own notes so I can focus my bright smile and pretty face on my own,” you smirked, not looking his in direction and instead rearranging the table of stationary.

In your personal distraction, you failed to see him scooting closer to you so it came as a surprise when he snatched your pen and book, throwing it onto the floor. “Oh, we’ll see how pretty it looks when I'm done with you.” Eddie launched himself forward, making you flinch and fall to the floor., screaming and laughing

“EDDIE?” He followed you down and grabbed one of your flailing arms, almost pinning you down with his body weight. It was then that you saw him uncap the pen in his hand with his teeth, blowing the cap across the room.

“NO! Eddie! That’s sharpie! It wohohn’t come ohohoff!” You laughed as you squirmed in a very one-sided wrestling match, that mainly involved you just shaking your head back and forth while drumming your feet on the floor behind him. Your energy depleted, not expecting the sudden laughter and physical exertion you were currently experiencing.

“Dooooon’t worry. I'll be nice.” He smiled, still laughing over the top of you. “I’ll put ‘I Heart Munson’ right on your cheek.”

“EDWARD! DON’T YOU DARE!” You laughed. Reaching out, you grabbed his wrist and moved it over your head, “DROP IHIT!” You insisted.

He leant down and shook his head, getting closer to your face, shaking his hair wildly as he did. “Not a chance, Sweetness!”

You couldn’t stop laughing and felt your face get hot at the level of intimacy in the situation. Desperate to not experience the same level of vandalism as your notes, you used your free hand to skitter your fingers underneath his outstretched arm. He screamed out over his laughter, almost falling on you completely. You were almost blinded by his mane of hair in your face but you did hear the pen fall out of his hand and roll away as he tried to bring his arm down.

”AHA! I HAVE BESTED EDWARD OF THE HELLFIRE DOMAIN!” You exclaimed victoriously, laughing as you did.

The energy in the room settled for a moment. You had planned to continue- How could you not?- but when he lifted his head, he had a daring smirk on his face and his eyes were filled with a competitive drive for vengeance.

“Have you now?” His words sent a chill straight down your spine and he swiveled his wrist around, so the outstretched arm now had yours pinned above your head to the floor. Your other hand was bent, at the elbow, sheepishly covering as much of your torso as you could, purely on instinct. He didn’t move, just smiled and stared into your eyes.

You couldn’t fight your own smile, but were the first to break the silence. “Get off o’ mehehe,” you nervously giggled.

“Whyyyy? Are you-”

“Don’t. You. Dare.” You scrunched your nose in an attempt to scowl but the smile was indented onto your face.

“You know, you look ticklish.” He teased, grabbing your other arm and slowly moving it away from your body.

“ShUT UP!” You were trying to wrangle your laughter but it was hard while the man you had undeniably developed a crush on was lingering above you, staring you down, just waiting for you to beg. “Mehercy?”

“MERCY?” He rocked his body closer to you and back to his position above you. “Mercy like public humiliation?”

“Noho one sahaw and Ihi’d do it agahain.” You challenged, wresting your hand out of his grip while the other was still pinned above your head.

“Oh, you already sealed your fate, I was just giving you your last words. You know, being courteous and gentlemanly,” he shrugged. And may I just say,” he put his hand on your waist and activated a waterfall of giggles as he leant closer with each word. “You. Chose. Poorly.”

And with that he rapidly scribbled at your side, exposed by your pinned arm. “EDDIEEEE!” You slapped desperately at his hand and squirmed around, trying to roll over or sit up or just kick at the ground to in any way fight the sensation you were feeling. “Stohohohohohooop! Okaaaahahahahay Edd- AHHH” You giggled, squirming around in the little room you had between the couch and coffee table.

“Ohohoho no, Sweetheart, yohoou had this coming.” He grabbed at your sides and when you turned your torso to the ground to evade his hands he scribbled over your stomach. He laughed as you did and dropped his head down, hair slightly tickling your cheeks and neck, only adding to the unbearable torment.

“Ehehehehediieeeee!” You bent your legs, pulling them as close to your belly as you could.

Eddie’s heart throbbed. It absolutely ached. He’d always admired you like a piece of art and thought you were the most gorgeous thing in the world since he first met you in middle school. In his eyes you were effortlessly and undeniably beautiful, even when you were younger and experimenting with your more questionable outfit choices. What really made his heart skip was watching you move; he’d watch every muscle in admiration. When you’d write notes or turn your attention from your work to the teacher, somehow so perfect despite the mundane reality. He fell in love with the way you tripped over your feet, stumbling into class late last month. Even more so when you jumped on the spot, pretending you were an Olympic gymnast sticking a perfect landing.

He denied this ever since middle school when a bully teased him for his crush on you that he did. not. have. The whole situation made him feel like Quasimodo, Igor, the Beast in love with Beauty. The feeling, however, dissipated a little more every time you chose to sit by him in class, waved to him in the hall or just looked in his direction like he was worth a damn. Even more so when you would pout when you separated for lunch. He had no idea this was love manifesting inside of him whether you were in his presence or not. He blamed it on your smile; the cheeky grin when you matched his theatrics to tease him. The genuine laugh you’d suppress when he made a scene in the cafeteria.

None of that compared to the scene before him right now. Your carefree laugh filled the trailer and he was absolutely head over heels for it. He felt you tuck your legs up between the two of you and he laughed at your curled up position. Grabbing both of your wrists in his hands, he pulled you up to a seated position.

“Still think you bested me?” He questioned, smiling and looking deep into your eyes.

You were still giggling, waiting for the feeling to subside. Instead of verbally responding you moved your hand, still in his wrists, closer to his face and booped him on the nose. “Boop.” He flinched a little and shook his head.

Somehow his smile got bigger. “Now you see, this-” he stood up and hauled you up, flopping the two of you back onto the couch. “-Is why we don’t get anything done in class.”

You laughed at him and shifted your weight; you were practically against his chest as you caught your breath on the couch. “Nohohooo, we don’t get anything done because you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

He pinched at your sides and you flinched, squeaking as you jumped. Eddie seemed very proud of himself. “Now, that’s rich coming from you.”

You laughed through your nose, catching your breath as you relaxed onto the couch. A moment of silence passed and you became aware of the peaceful aura in the air. You could hear a dog bark in the distance, but other than that it was quiet... much quieter than the suburbs.

Eddie was noticing the same thing, less focused on the quiet and more focused on the sound of his racing heart. He hoped you hadn’t notice with how close you were. He desperately wanted to pull you close, or run his fingers up and down your arm that his hand was beside. He might have tried had he not heard you speak up.

“We should actually study.” You suggested quietly, only hearing him hum in response. “It’s pretty peaceful here. When you have your mouth closed, I assume.” You involuntarily jumped when you felt another pinch to your side. You scrunched up your face and clamped your hand down onto his, not letting go as you fell back into silence.

“Yeah, I suppose it can be.” He finally agreed.

You turned to look up to him and asked, “then why don’t you study?”

“Faaar to busy,” he shook his head and shrugged, throwing out a dismissing motion with his free hand. Clearly joking but you let him continue. “Tonight, I was planning on watching the shape shifting monstrosity “The Thing” mock its victims and reap screams from the Antarctic.”

“Oh, well I’m sor-ry to have ruined your plans,” you joked, turning to face forward, fighting the urge to snuggle in closer as you moved.

“Well,” he paused. “Hearing you scream works as well.”

You bit your lip and blushed, dropping your chin to your chest, trying to not let him see how much he got to you. You took a moment to collect yourself and spoke up. “Okay.” He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head over your shoulder to meet your eye line. “Put your movie on.”

He raised his eyebrows, “you wanna go?”

“No,” you spoke sweetly, shaking your head. “But I can multitask,” you shrugged.

“Well, if that were true you wouldn’t be here,” he laughed. He didn’t move and it slightly confused you until he called for your attention. “Y/n? You gotta let go of my hand.”

“Do I?” You mocked.

He only responded by grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and tossing it towards you. Standing up, he moved to grab the movie, and the two of you set yourselves up for the remainder of the afternoon.

After some organization, you found yourself lounging against the arm rest, while your legs stretched across the couch. Eddie mimicked your position, practically laying on top of you. If he hadn’t been propped up on his arm, he absolutely would have been cuddling into your stomach.

After sometime, you had a complete page and a half of notes, now caught up on the lesson you’d missed while tormenting Eddie. Every time you thought about it, you replayed the entire thing in your head, fixating on the way he looked when he smiled and how much you loved his laugh. You wondered if he thought the same about you when the roles were reversed. As you were thinking about him, you felt a weight on your stomach. Looking down, you’d notice he’d fallen asleep, tucked between you and the couch. He looked peaceful and calm, a complete juxtaposition from his rambunctious personality. You could hear light snores coming from the back of his throat; they were quiet and subtle, not unlike that of a baby Labrador. A part of you wanted to wake him up, but you were genuinely exhausted from school and your body grew jealous of him, soon coaxing you to do the same.

A loud crack woke you both up with a flinch, you jolted a little while Eddie snapped to a seated position, grabbing your arm, almost protectively. “Jesus H. Christ,” he whispered. In his rude awakening he hadn’t even registered the position he’d previously been in, instead calling your attention to how dark it had gotten as the only light in the room came from the moon outside.

“Oh shit, I should get going,” you suggested, pushing yourself a little off the couch.

“What? It’s pouring! You can’t drive in this,” he insisted, voice still laced with sleep.

“It’s alright,” you reassured, “I don’t live all that far.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Just stay. It’s safer,” he insisted, if he wasn’t so tired, it would have faltered his confidence to invite you to stay so casually, but at the moment he was speaking purely on instinct. “You can call your parents; we have a landline.”

You shrugged, “My parents think I'm at a friend’s for the night anyway.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice. “You little liar. Had this planned from the very beginning, huh?”

You scoffed a laugh, and there was a moment of semi-awkward silence before you spoke up. “Soooo, should we take this to the bedroom?” you joked.

Catching Eddie off guard he fumbled over his words, “Uh-well, is that okay? I mean I can stay on the couch or-or my uncle’s room-”

“Eddie, we just snuggled, it’s okay.” He laughed and let the tension fall from his shoulders.

Still tired, he groaned and rubbed his eyes, “hey, when did you turn the tv off?”

“Umm, I didn’t,” you confessed.

“Oh shit, it’s okay. The power always goes out in storms. There’s a torch in my room.” Before you could open your mouth, he’d grabbed your hand and pulled you off the couch, theatrically pushing you in front of him and planting his hands on your waist, feeling you tense up. “C’mon, I know the way, you won’t bump into anything.”

You couldn’t help the laugh bubbling in your throat, “Thahat’s not whyhy i’m nervohuhus.” Instinctively your hands grabbed his as they remained on your waist.

He wasn’t lying, he did know the way and you didn’t bump into a thing but he did squeeze his hands, laughing every time you flinched, and made a show out of dramatically turning you at each corner. The two of you laughed at his antics... Eddie had longed to feel your hands by his since you let go on the couch earlier that afternoon.

When you finally reached his room, he found his torch and turned it on, lighting up the room enough for you to see its general layout. You scoped the area; it suited him perfectly.

“Alright, sit tight and close your eyes, Creep. I didn’t bring you here to gawk on me.” You laughed and dramatically flopped back onto the bed, covering your eyes. You heard rustling of what you assumed to be his closet as he changed.

You only opened your eyes when you heard him softly speak your name. He'd changed into a simple black T-shirt and red, flannel pants. He looked domestic, all he was missing was a pair of bunny slippers.

Refocusing your attention, you noticed his outstretched hand that held out a shirt. "Oh, are you sure?" You questioned; mind blank at the thought of wearing his clothes.

"Courteous and gentlemanly, remember?" Was all he said with a shrug.

Smiling, you took his shirt in your hand and you both turned around while you changed. You faced a mirror and watched as he stayed facing away, only moving to close the blinds of the window in front of him.

After Eddie switched off the torch and clambered into bed, you shimmied off your jeans and joined him, laying back-to-back. Your mind wandered to a cruel place that brought attention to how close you were. You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about ways to end up in Eddies arms. You could accidentally wrap your arm around him 'in your sleep', maybe pretend to be afraid of the thunder? Of course, you wouldn't actually do it but you craved the feeling of him being as close as he was on the couch.

After a moment passed, you mentally huffed at your own pathetic thoughts as you rolled over, now facing Eddie, who hadn't made a sound since you layed down. Settling down, you found a comfortable position and as a draft blew through the trailer you balled the blanket up in your fist and curled up a little more.

"Hmm?" Eddie hummed, as if you'd asked a question.

"Sorry, am I moving too much?" You asked, cringing at how much motion you might have caused.

"Not at all. What's wrong?" He asked, voice laced with genuine concern.

"Nothing's wrong," you insisted, confused by the origin of his question.

"You holding onto my shirt for dear life must have given me the wrong idea," he shrugged.

"What?" Rubbing your thumb over the material, you gasped in realisation and dropped it as Eddie began to laugh, loudly for that time of night. "Shut up," you giggled, pushing him on his shoulder.

"No, I get it," he mocked, rolling over and pulling you closer into his personal space as he came nearly nose to nose with you. At this point you were lucky he couldn't see how flustered you were. "You want me so close," he teased.

"Back off, Edward," you laughed, hands plated on his shoulders as you pushed him back with very little force.

He chambered over you and dropped his entire body weight down on top of you. "Iiiiit's okay, Sweetheart, I- AH!"

He faltered as you scratched your nails under his arms and kept going, skittering over his back and shoulders then back down to his ribs. "What's that?" You questioned with a blatant smile in your voice.

"Ohohoho nonononoNo! You ahahare nahahahahat dohoing thisisis agahain," you could feel him shuffling around, trying to put himself in a position to get you back.

"ME-EEE?" You let out an involuntary scream as you felt him dig his hands into your sides once again. "WAIT! Eddihehehehehehe WaitWaitWaIT"

Eddie fell next to you once you'd stopped your torment and wrapped his arms around you. The two of you poked back and forth in blind darkness, giggling, flinching and grabbing at each other's hands. Eventually, he wrestled you to a position where your back was against his chest. It didn't stop you from reaching around to poke at his sides, just as he didn't stop fluttering his fingers around your stomach and sides.

He laughed into your shoulder, "Yohohohou reheally ahahare relehehentless!"

"Gihihihive ihihit uhup, Mehetal Hehehehehead!" You practically begged, determined to win. However, the moment he wrapped an arm around your body, pinning your biceps either side of your torso you knew it was over.

"After you, Sweetheart." He insisted, bringing his hand up to flutter his fingers by your ears and around your neck.

"AH! EDDIEEEEeeehehehehehehehehe," you giggled unable, to form a full sentence as the light sensation fogged up your brain.

He stopped after a while and whispered into your ear. "Ahare we done?"

You flinched as his breath tickled your ear and you had to assume he did that on purpose. "Yohou're ehevil."

"You started it," he defended.

"Ihihi wahas juhust cooold," you pouted innocently. That alone caused Eddies grip to tighten protectively. How was it that every time you opened your mouth, Eddie fell in love again? He found it cruel.

"Rihight, sorry," he had an essence of shame in his voice as he spoke, getting quieter with each word. "Yeah, it gets really cold in here sometimes," he eased his grip, moving his arm to rest under your head, releasing you from his hold.

He felt you shuffle on the spot and pull his other arm over your waist, close to your chest, almost holding his hand in yours. "Don't be sorry, this works just fine." You weren't sure where the confidence came from. All you knew, was that you were warm and Eddie was close, and that's all you cared about.

Stunned, Eddie tried to solidify the memory of that moment in his head but his mind was so clouded with how good you smelled and how glad he was that he'd recently washed his sheets. He kept overthinking until he felt his breathing deepen, not yet asleep but comfortable. Letting himself relax, he pulled you close and buried his face into your shoulder. The two of you dozed off to the sound of the rain outside...

As your eyes fluttered open, you'd noticed that the rain had stopped. It was peaceful again, but perhaps that was due to the tight hold Eddie had on your body.

The two of you had shifted slightly but maintained the spooning position.

After a few moments, lounging in bed, you finally broke the silence. "I should go, I'm starving," you explained, having considered if it'd be too much to ask him to breakfast.

Eddie felt a wave of guilt at the realisation that he’d never provided food. In his defense, he hadn't in his wildest dreams, ever expected you to stay over but he still felt bad knowing you weren't comfortable. "Wait. W what day is it?" He grumbled, still buried in your shoulder.

"You do this every week, Eddie. Saturday always comes after Friday." You sassed, because of course you'd be a morning person.

Eddie groaned again, "I have band practice."

"What did you play again? Tuba, right?" You felt him shove you a little and you laughed at his antics.

Eddie raised a hand and pointed at his guitar before letting it flop back onto your waist, too tired to give a verbal response. As he directed your attention, you noticed you hadn’t gotten a good look at his room last night. It was cozy and suited him, everyone's rooms generally suit them but Eddie's looked like his personality in a box.

You wanted nothing more than to stay there but you didn't want to overstay your welcome so you asked, "didn't you say you had to get up?"

Eddie only responded by wrapping both arms around your waist and pulling you in even tighter, comedically so the more you struggled to get out of his arms.

Eventually you gave up and Eddie finally spoke again. "We really should get up."

You scoffed at his words and a moment passed before a realisation hit you. "Eddie?"

"Hmm?"

You didn't know how to phrase it. "I don't have pants on," you confessed and, unbeknownst to you, Eddie had turned beat red.

"Are you flirting with me?" He asked to ease the tension.

"You wish, Munson. I just couldn't wear jeans to bed," you defended.

Not wanting to risk making you feel uncomfortable, Eddie released you from his hold, pulled the blanket up to your shoulders and clambered out of the bed. He did so in a lazy, uncoordinated matter that left him falling on his ass next to the bed.

You smiled fondly and watched as he tumbled around, eyes barely open. He grabbed his guitar off the wall and headed to the living room, "I'll let you get sorted."

Once he vacated the room, you also climbed out of the bed in a very lazy fashion. You pulled the bed sheets up to slightly make the bed and pulled on your shoes and jeans.

When you made your way to the living room you saw Eddie packing up your stationary with the guitar resting on the couch.

"Can't wait for me to leave, huh?" You teased, making your way over to help. He only scoffed in disagreement and lightly tapped you on the head with one of the pens in his hand in a scolding fashion. You laughed and nearly dodged his hit before you continued. "Next time you gotta play for me," you insisted, gesturing to his guitar.

"Next time?" He asked, smiling and scratching his head with the blunt end of a pencil, eyes still half glued shut in his morning sleepiness. You found it endearing how cozy and pouty he looked at that hour.

"Yeah, I mean why not?" You shrugged. "We have that new assignment starting this week and I got more done here than we do in class. Which I attribute to you being unconscious, snoring your ass off."

His face scrunched in disagreement, "I was not."

Shrugging, you continued, "No not really. Not loudly at least. Kind of like a puppy," you clarified, reaching over to scratch behind his ear.

Smiling, he slapped your hand away. "Now I can't wait for you to leave."

The two of you finished gathering your stuff and you almost left your textbook again, intentionally this time, but you knew you'd see him on Monday and that was enough for now.

He walked you out to your car and opened the door for you, leaning down with his arms resting on the roof once you got in. "What? you're not gonna turn it on for me?" You questioned. "Isn't that the courteous and gentlemanly thing to do nowadays?" You teased.

He shrugged himself off the car and kept his eyes on you as he backed away slightly. "Maybe I don't want you to go."

You were almost frustrated with how flustered he made you. "I'll see you Monday." You smiled and watched as he shut the door and jogged back to his front door, where he waited for you to leave. He gave you a little wave before you left his eyeline.

The moment you couldn't see each other anymore, you both began replaying the events of the last 24hrs from the moment you’d stepped into class right up to your car leaving his vision, trying to permanently engrave every smile, laugh and touch into your memories forever.

Monday couldn't come soon enough.

#eddie munson #lee!eddie munson #eddie munson tickle #lee!eddie #eddie munson x reader #ler!eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #stranger things tickle #stranger things tickle fic #ticklish!eddie munson #ticklish!reader

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marblemoovt · 1 year

Text

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

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