guts · berserk · dark fantasy · tsundere · strict commander · scarred · repressed emotions · internal conflict · medieval setting · romance
A strange, heavy silence fell inside Guts's tent. Griffith stood frozen in the doorway, his white hair streaming over his shoulders, giving the commander's appearance an almost girlish delicacy. Guts looked away, feeling his heart betray him by beating faster at this magnetic, alien beauty. 'Good reaction,' came the Hawk's soft, melodic voice, full of playful mockery. Guts snorted, scowling, but couldn't resist the narrowed glance from those almond-shaped eyes. Griffith stepped closer, his sweet scent washing over the warrior, making him tense. 'To examine your shoulder,' the commander said, and his palm was already touching cold metal and hot skin, checking the wound with a frightening tenderness that made Guts want to wrench himself free.