@pinkkunt-imagines @dwelleroftheobsidiantower
req :I saw Berserk in your tags, so assuming I'm assuming you write for it. I'd like to request either a headcanon or a scenario about Post Eclipse Guts and Griffith having become parents from a relationship pre-eclipse. Like their reactions, interactions with the child, etc. Thank you, bookie. 💖
pairing: Guts x Reader, Griffith x Reader
a/n: ive done your request but there is so many things i am not satisfied by. there's probably a lot of repetitive words and i deeply apologize, enjoy it nonetheless!
tags: hints of violence and manipulation in griffith's, angst to comfort, fluff,
─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────
Guts wasn't one to soften his heart easily, he pushes away people and let people assume of him by his strength and how much of an arrogant man he is. He didn't bat an eye to people who try to cross him again and goes off to his own path to protect others from him.
He felt that he'd let his weakness slip when he had opened his heart to another person.
There was just something about the way you held the baby in your arms. You wonder what type of hell he'd been through to look at you that way. It was a haunting look not one of no emotion but weakness from the facade he had pulled away from.
"Guts?"
Your voice didn't reach him as he runs out the door. Understanding him will always be never ending, there will be more questions you utter than answers he can think of.
Erica holds your baby, her childlike innocence calling Guts such a bad guy for leaving you just like that and you could nothing but chuckle. The chuckle made your throat hurt from the tears that had started pouring down your ears, darting from the little girl's sight to wipe them away quickly.
Your hands extend to the teapot and look closely at the tea leaves that had dwindled down since the trees in these parts were dying to the fast winter that was approaching. It was quite silly worrying about Guts who was running out in this cold, he was a machine. A weapon that wont stop to anything in its path yet the nights of worrying about the sores he had on his feet, the splinters he had from trees he gathered back to home will always stick close to you.
"I have thick skin, don't worry too much."
That soft smirk he had when he wipes tears away from your eyes as the blood just won't stop flowing. Every scar that was stitched was remembered, it came from many brave battles that may have been a breeze for him but an impending ache to you.
Should you rush out the door after him, the wailing of your baby could be heard miles away. A fierce cry coming out from such a small body. All the pain of child birth would come rushing back into you, legs trembling when the throb shoots up your nerves. Oh and Erica who was so observant even if she held the tiny bundle of joy in one arm while stopping you with the other with a pout on her face.
"You don't need to go out for the tea leaves, Rickert keeps them in the second drawer near the dried fish."
You can't help but smile, such a sweet girl. Stepping away from the door, you trust Guts to return. He always does be it battles or training, clenching the necklace you wore, you've convinced yourself.
He will come back.
-------
The storm had particularly been rough tonight though it didn't wake you up but the anxiety had consumed you on why the baby had been silent. The bile in your throat rises up, whipping your head to the baby's cradle. praying that there was nothing wrong when you saw him.
Guts looked down at his baby, the part of his armour on his chest removed where he laid his child against. His hair was wet but he made sure to tilt back so the droplets don't touch what he was holding. His breathing was slow, the sound of the night drowning out in his ears when he focused on the breathing of the baby in his arms. The little bundle of joy nuzzles into his chest, soiled tank top warm enough for the trembling body of his little girl.
You didn't want to see his reaction, scared he will have the same look of horror from the first time he'd seen the baby. Fist clenching the sheets to try to hurriedly wipe the tears from your cheeks, you twitch when he turns towards you.
He holds up the little girl, a look of pure awe and serenity that made your shoulders droop from the tension.
"She has your eyes.."
He cradles him, running a hand through the short patch of hair on his head.
"She also has my hair.."
Coming from Guts was a smile that looked painful to muster but this baby was the best thing that could happen eversince everything. His finger toys with the spikiness of his child's head and you can't help but run to him. The sharp edges of his armour, the ones on his arms that wrap around you slightly pokes you but you couldn't care less.
His reaction was enough, calloused hand wrapping around yours as his eyes speak more to the fear in yours.
This was his baby, his soon to be pride and joy whom he'll fight for.
With you by his side.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
While he focused on his training, he easily brings back kills to feed you as you light up fire for the pot
He spoon feeds the grilled meat in your mouth while he takes the baby in his other hand. Even if you protest that you should hold the baby, he declines that offer
You were a hardworking parent without him and he wants to give his part too if possible, give himself whole for you
Everything was warm enough for you. He pulls that romantic stuff of blowing your hot food for you and you'd slap him playfully when his spit dribbles on to it
When it comes to sleep, he made sure to let you sleep. Ever since he came back, he looked at his baby with a look of longing. like he had lost so much time because of battles, missing the period where you had given birth to a new life.
He traced his fingers against the skin of the girl, she was quite plump. Guts was grateful that you had reside with Rickert and Erica, you look pale, the challenges of childbirth evident on your body but both of his dears healthy and untouched by any danger he had feared of
Small arms wrap around his hand, the swordsman knew he was a walking heater and caressed the little one's face. His palm on her cheek as she gurgles
This is one of the cases where Guts will give you never ending heart attacks when the sun had illuminated the room and his thick body resting down on the baby
You'd pound on his back to wake up, he was a beefcake so your punches barely register not until the baby started crying
"You idiot, you fell asleep on the baby!"
Rickert entered the room to see what the commotion is, he could only chuckle softly but before he asked the couple to tone it down, Erica pulled him out the door with all her might. Rickert nearly stumbled back against the short girl.
Erica shushed him excessively, clutching tea leaves in her hand.
"Shh! Don't bother them."
She huffs, letting go off Rickert's scarf and walked away to start a fire, blowing it a bit before wiping her cheek. That soft look in her eyes wary.
"I haven't seen Mx Y/n this loud before.. not since Guts came back."
Rickert understood the implication, his tense shoulders drooping as he listens to the rattle in the room. Y/n had been restless since the months Guts had been gone from war. Even if Erica had talked with them daily, there's so much a parent could worry about. He clenched his hand, it made sense. Sooner or later, Guts have to leave even if it looked like he won't.
That sword man's always had many things plaguing his mind but for now, he'll stay with his spouse and hold his partner close to his heart.
Griffith
Those sharp eyes look down at his child, sweat running down his face with a tissue lodged in his nose. He held a sword in his hand, one that was in his favourite colours and chattered in excitement on how he won his third fight with the older fighters.
Griffith's eyes slowly trail to the noise of your steps, you looked at your son with endearment but a hint of worry. He was barely bruised and his cuts were covered by bandaids, those eyes of his though were filled with the same fire just like his father's. You adjusted your son's collar to which his eyes follow, whining when you'd pull the ribbons too tight.
"Cmon, dont you want that puff pastry I baked this morning? If you get your teeth knocked out, you can't chew it!"
The little boy lights up to the sound of having a treat after a day of training, he really wanted to bite into something that was as rewarding as his parent's creation. He then runs home, slipping through your fingers to get that bite of pastry. You sigh, holding onto the boy's sword that dropped out of enthuasiasm. When you look back up, Griffith was staring straight at you, a look that sent a chill down your spine before he pulls away.
Unlike Guts, Griffith had already made his plans for his child.
He'll be strong, he'll fight like him but not become just like him
He let his son indulge in human activities like playing about, tasting all kinds of foods, giving him clothes warm and luxurious clothes. Things he weren't able to experience when he was a child
Scratching after scraps of food, the clothes on his back wet from grime and rain and his only childhood friend a sword amongst a pile of dead bodies wasn't something he wanted his child to ever go through
Even if he watches his son play in the garden, he doesn't feel like anything. He would be another weapon whom he can send off into war but he made it count for his creation, the spitting image of him should reign amongst everybody and step on the tombs of his once companions
He does engage in idle talk with his son, maintaining a connection with his creation in order to bring him over on his beliefs. He does find the benefit in attaching himself onto the little one's mind. It was obvious that his normal was completely different from his son, his stories full of sparks of colours while Griffith's was only red
Griffith's fingers occasionally comb through his son's, just what is mentioned prior is that he was a spitting image. It almost seemed like his genes had been more on the dominant side but what was different was the shape of his eyes and nothing more
Griffith smelled the fresh smell of baked goods being made, you had made a new batch instead of reheating the ones in the morning and heads inside. His home was lavish but due to your wishes on wanting to bake alone, the ones under him followed
He follows you and sits down, his hand caressing your face.
"Thank you for this, my love."
He kisses your hand before his son passed his father a piece of puff pastry, putting it on his plate. The dining table was quiet with the clinking of forks and knifes and soft laughter from both of his beloved. He didn't have to eat it, he didn't have to do all of this. He could even succeed without his family.
But maybe, this was a sense of normalcy he always wanted to feel when life was nearly stripped away from him.
