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flowercrowngods · 13 days

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🤍🌷 @stevesbipanic and @the-winged-doe asked to see ugly unpolished unrefined words, soo—

cw & tags: past major character death, grief, attempted time-travel fix-it(s), eddie&robin besties || potential wip

Eddie takes a long drag of his cigarette, the biting hot smoke hitting the back of his throat and clawing its way into his lungs, going as deep as he allows and leaving a permanent mark that brings neither relief nor calmness tonight. His fingers shake where they’re pressed to his lips, but the rest of him is unmoving where he sits on the front porch of their new trailer.

It’s quiet out here. It’s always quiet in Hawkins these days, the city a fucking ghosttown.

And he knows it’s not because of the one they lost. He knows it’s not because of him. But still the emptiness is stark and the silence oppressivem more so than it ever has been.

Everyone still looks for him, months later. Dustin still begins to speak, cutting himself off mid-sentence, and Robin still stands with enough space to either side, like she expects him to just show up and invade her space like the home he made for himself in there.

And somewhere among all that is Eddie. With his very own history. Or, non-history, as it turns out. But history and non-history leave wounds alike, and the memories feel just as real. A small mercy, at the end of the day, for them to feel real when they’re all he has left anymore.

He takes another drag, not quite exhaling before he obliterates the cigarette and fishes for a new one before the butt even hits the ground.

Fumbling with the lighter in his pocket, he only gets as far as placing the butt between his lips before a hand snakes into his field of vision to snag it from his mouth.

“Hey,” he complains halfheartedly but makes no attempt at getting it back, watching instead as Robin comes up to sit beside him, grimacing at the stink of tobacco that must be heavy around him.

“You’re disgusting,” she says with no real heat behind her words.

Eddie shrugs, because yeah, sure. He’s been called worse things. Robin’s called him worse things. This is her being nice. Her complaininig about his incessant smoking is nothing new. What is new is what she does next, placing the cigarette between her own lips and reaching for the light he’s been holding in a loose grip since she arrived.

She starts coughing immediately, pulling a face at the disgusting feeling of smoke in her lungs and tobacco on her tongue. But she keeps going. Eddie can only watch in surprise and mild horror.

“These things’ll kill you,” he says then in an echo of her usual sentiment, aware that he sounds as bewildered as he feels.

“Well,” Robin says, aiming for casual, but quickly interrupted by a wheeze and a cough that’s almost adorable. “Let them try.”

Eddie huffs, a pale little smile lingering on his lips as he leans back against the stairs behind him, resting his weight on his forearm to watch her. There is something captivating about her. Eddie always wonders what it is, wants to study her forever.

Maybe it’s only the lingering traces of Everything Steve Harrington that clings to her every breath, her every move, her every fucking cell, with how much he was a part of her and she of him. Maybe it’s their shared grief that has made Eddie fall a bit in love with her and with the way the moonlight catches in her hair and in the smoke wafting from her cigarette.

But somehow he refuses to believe that all he loves about her is merely the memory of Steve.

Robin, in turn, is kind enough to let him stare. Kind enough to let him find out what it is between them. If this friendship is more than a misguided projection of grief and mourning and trauma; more than co-dependence and the obsessive will to keep this one person in your life. This one person who understands.

After a while of Robin just holding the cigarette between her fingers, becuase no matter how strong her will to self destruct, she never quite got it right with the smoking, Eddie snatches it back before it goes to waste completely. As if pulled in by a string attached to his hollowed out chest, Robin leans back and into him in one smooth motion. It’s too calculated, though, and Eddie can feel how much she sags once she doesn’t have to hold herself up anymore.

He’ll hold her. It’s fine. She gets to rest if she wants to. God knows she needs it.

The night is warm for mid-September, but still Robin shakes against him. Eddie holds her closer.

Silence settles over them, and it’s not an easy one. Silence is never easy anymore, especially with them. He feels so deeply hollow that even the silence echoes in there, creating an ever-present, uncomfortable thrumming of apprehension and anxiety within him. A certain sense of doom, one that can’t quite decide if it’s only an echo itself.

“I wanna stop time,” Robin says at last, the cigarette long dead between Eddie’s fingers, but he somehow can’t bring himself to flick it away. “I don’t want tomorrow.”

I don’t ever want a new day. I don’t ever want another tomorrow. I just want Steve.

They ring in his head still, another echo that only hollows him out further every time it reaches him — Robin, overcome with hysterical grief, screaming and crying, curled up on that hospital floor, her cries quieting down and making Eddie wish she would be loud again, because the quiet was what killed him. The quiet, the whispered words, the declarations that tomorrow could go fuck itself if it came without Steve made him wish, irrationally, desperately, that their roles were reversed. That he could have died and Steve could have lived, and Robin would never have to wish tomorrow never came.

He’s not entirely sure if she remembers the words, too. If she even said them in this world.

So he takes a deep breath, breathes away memories and non-histories, feels the heavy weight of his guitar pick hanging around his neck, resting on the scarred flesh of his chest, and tries not to think of the one string left on his acoustic guitar. Tries not to think of his one last attempt. One last try.

“I know,” he tells her. “Me neither.”

He peers over her head, lifting his left wrist to check his watch. Ten minutes until midnight. Ten minutes until Steve’s birthday.

“It’s not tomorrow yet,” he tries lamely, and Robin huffs — the sound wet and bitter and hopeless, making Eddie’s eyes sting.

“It’s always fucking tomorrow,” she rasps, her voice flat and wavering, and Eddie knows her well enough to know she’s about to cry. And she knows him well enough to do it.

“I know,” he says again, and reaches for his necklace through his shirt. One more attempt. One more try. One more chance. His eyes burn.

She turns to him after taking a moment to compose herself, peering up at him through her lashes.

“Tell me again?”

His heart falls, the tense apprehension vanishing from the air, bur quickly replaced by something a lot more heavy. Something that looks and smells and feels like grief.

They both know he’ll do anything she asks. He can’t really bear saying not to her. And not about this, anyway — she’s the only one who knows.

She’s the one who should have had the chance.

“Which part?” he asks, holding a new cigarette out for her to light it. She does, and the both follow the flame of the lighter Robin always keeps in her pocket these days.

She leans forward and takes a drag. Eddie lets her.

“All of them.“

Eddie sighs, pain welling up inside him, and he closes his eyes against the night sky. “Robbie,” he pleads, but he doesn’t finish his plea. He’ll do it. He’ll do anything she asks.

But before he starts recounting the tales of how he almost saved Steve Harrington, he finds himself saying something he never thought he’d tell her.

“There’s one more.” The words hang in the air, and Robin doesn’t react. Has no idea what’s coming; what he’s about to tell her. The guitar pick is heavy on the necklace around his throat. “There’s one more try. One more chance. I’m… I have one more—“

He can’t even finish the sentence. Can’t bring himself to say it, lest it all be jinxed forever. He doesn’t want to hope. Wants to carry this weight for all eternity and never think about all those times he failed to save someone he was never meant to save at all. People like Eddie, they’re not made to save anyone. Hell, they can’t even save themselves.

Steve was supposed to be the one doing the saving.

And he did. God, he fucking did. But he was never supposed to—

Cold fingers wrap around his own as Robin fits their hands together.

“I hate you a little bit for telling me.”

Eddie nods, trying to focus on the cold hand and the nicotine in his lungs, trying not to let panic and grief and guilt and the heavy weight of one more chance win. “I know.”

“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says after a while, the silence stretching on, and it’s almost midnight now. “Can you— Would you do something for me?”

He turns his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the darkness beyond them. “What’s that?”

“Don’t— Don’t try to, to save him. Don’t— Just… Just maybe, could you celebrate his birthday with him? Make sure he knows he’s… God, make sure he knows he’s loved? Last year, no one really made time on his birthday and we just moved it backwards but God, could you— It’s almost midnight, and—“

“Robbie,” Eddie interrupts her, his voice hoarse and wavering, his eyes burning with tears as he tugs her close and holds her to his chest. “You should go. Don’t you wanna…”

But she’s shaking her head against him with a vehemence that can hardly be misunderstood.

“No,” she cries, and it’s more of a sob than anything. “I think if I ever saw him again, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. Burn the whole fucking world to the ground for him or some shit, I can’t— I’d probably just cry all the time and that wouldn’t be helpful, really.” There’s a weak, wet laugh that bubbles out of both of them, and Eddie’s wiping at Robin’s face, drying the tears and making way for new ones to fall.

“I’d light a fire for you,” Eddie says, the same weak smile on his lips that Robin meets him with now. “Nineteen fucking fires, you hear me?”

She laughs again, then buries her face in his neck in a way that never quite fit. In a way that Eddie always knew was supposed to be someone else’s neck.

But he’s not here anymore. And Eddie can’t get him back. No matter how much he aches for it, no matter how much he learned over and over and over again how easy it is to love Steve Harrington and how hard, how fucking impossible it is to lose him. Over and over and over again.

And to live without him. This one fucking time they all get. It’s not fair.

And now Robin is asking him to go back one more time and make sure that Steve knows— That he knows.

Somehow the thought of that feels nobler than any attempt to save him, to bring him back; to rewrite history from a lonely boy’s perspective and hope that no one else is reading along.

It feels right, too. Fundamentally and suddenly, and with such an intensity that Eddie knows the decision has been made the second he started telling her.

Still he hesitates. Robin’s sobs have calmed down, and Eddie’s hand finds its way into her hair.

“Do you really mean it?”

She nods.

He nods, too, but slower. Like he’s trying to sway himself. Which way, he doesn’t know.

“Make him happy.”

“Okay,” he decides after a while, feeling hollow and desperate, but feeling purpose burning underneath his skin again. “One last time.”

He unwinds his arms from around her and heads inside to grab his acoustic guitar. The last remaining string, badly untuned because he never dared to touch it, stares back at him in both mockery and invitation. A dare. A chance. A promise.

Outside, Robin is waiting for him, looking anxious. Eddie wants to hug her. He doesn’t, only tightens his grip around the guitar’s neck.

“Listen, Eddie, if this is goodbye or something—“

“It’s a birthday party, Robsie,” he interrupts her, aiming for light, aiming for brave. “I’m coming back right here.”

“I know,” she rushes to say, taking a step toward him and wringing her hands. It’s endearing. It’s genuine. Eddie really is a little in love with her. “But, y’know, you don’t mess with time, and I don’t know what all you already changed before and I don’t wanna know but… If this is goodbye, if something happens, I just wanna tell you that I’m gonna miss you. And that I think you’re really cool. And that Steve’s— he’s really missing out, okay. Okay?”

Eddie breathes, taking in her words and letting them soak into his body, his every last fibre.

“Okay,” he smiles. “Thank you. You’re… I’m kind of in love with you, Robin Buckley. So there had better be no change in the universe, ‘cause that would really suck.”

They smile at each other, Eddie with his guitar and Robin with her lighter, and somehow this feels like a deja-vu. The antithesis to a moment forever burned into his memory.

Make him pay.

Make him happy.

Eddie tugs on his necklace and plays the string before he can think about it too hard; before he can decide otherwise.

Distantly, he hears the church bells announcing midnight as the world around him fades.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @cryptic-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @bookworm0690 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

#steddie #steddie fic #eddie & robin #eddie munson #robin buckley #robin and eddie are grieving besties now #me writing another story about death and the inability to grieve?? it’s more likely than you think #this one probably doesn’t make sense yet because they’re both refusing to think about what’s real or think about anything at all #so past present and future need time to develop above the damaged psyche of two entirely too young adults #so bear with me and give us time #anyway i’m posting this despite its unpolished ugliness bc this is as good as it gets #if i were anything like my self this would be a 7k study but as it turns out writing about grief is exhausting #(hi taglist gang i hope it was okay to tag you for entirely too raw a draft for anyone to lay eyes on lmao 🤍)

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falloutjuli · 8 months

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Thanks to my beloved fellow unhinged Chuuya simps, I wrote this monster. Please do let me know if youre interested in more domestic malewife Chuuya, because woo boy was this fun to write. <3

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Chuuya Nakahara x Reader - Domestic Adventures Wordcount: 4,7k Short summary: Chuuya, being the kind man he is, gives you an empty room after moving together to do with whatever you like. While he is gone over the weekend, you get to know his subordinates and take him up on that offer. Warnings: NONE - Reader is an socially awkward mess, Chuuya being a cutie, author is too dumb to propperly proofread, author is unsure at this point what sap means, but also doesnt get a clear answer from google, so she will let it stand the way it is.

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"Chuuya... I eh.. that's really kind, but seriously I dont-'' Rudely you were interrupted by a chaste kiss that your favorite ginger pressed into your lips.

"No back-talking. I insist you take it and make it yours. I never used it for anything anyway. Was planning to turn it into a wine room perhaps but it serves a way better purpose as your room." You looked at him, annoyed, a sigh escaping your lips.

"But you like wine." You mused, trying to convince him again, but he was a stubborn man after all. "Yeah, but I like you more, doll. And you moved into my apartment, so I think it's fair you get a room where you can destress and take a break from me if you ever need one."

Leaving your side he picked up his hat from the kitchen island, before coming up behind you, pressing a few kisses to your neck.

"I'm leaving my credit card with you, the pin if you need it is our anniversary. And since I unfortunately have work to do, I have two of my subordinates waiting outside if you want to go anywhere. They will also gladly help you with anything regarding the room, just ask yeah?"

You looked at the room one last time, before turning around to hug him. "Okay. I'll see what I do with this room. Be careful okay?"

He nodded, kissing you one last time before leaving out the door. His heart ached each time he had to leave for a while, especially over the weekends but it also gave you time to fully focus on this project and he was more than excited to see what you'd do.

Back inside the apartment that now was your home too, you really were unsure what to do. Being given a rather spacious room to do whatever you want with it... that was a new thing.

But it wasn't like you had no Pinterest boards filled with room inspos. Scrolling through them while drinking tea helped you to get a better idea of what you wanted to do.

So a little paint would be needed, some furniture, and loads of tiny decorations. But how would you even manage to paint, the last time was when you moved into your old apartment, and that sucked majorly.

Remembering that your trusty boyfriend had left his subordinates with you, you could ask them perhaps. After getting ready to go out you went out into the spacious hallway that lead to the apartment, where two men dressed in black suits were already standing.

"Um, hey." You said awkwardly. Could you even ask hardened mafia members to please help you paint a room? Well, you'd find out now. The burly guys nodded, signaling you to continue, no emotion readable on their faces.

"Well, I was planning to paint a room and I wondered if it was alright to ask for your help?"

"We'll do anything you ask of us, that was Nakahara-san's instruction." The blond one said, adjusting his sunglasses.

"I figured, but still, I want to ask, if you don't want to, you won't have to."

The ensuing silence felt awkward as you shifted from one foot to the other.

"Is the paint already inside or do you need an escort to the city first?" The brown-haired one asked and you responded with a weird ramble of all the things you would need and places you planned on going to.

"Well, we better get going then right?" The blond one said and guided you over to the elevators.

It wasn't long before you sat in the backseat of one of the Port Mafia's Standart black cars, with your new companions sitting in the front. The ride was silent and you kept accidentally meeting their gazes whenever they went to look in the rear mirror to check in on you.

"(L/N)-san?" The brunette spoke up, making you cringe a little being addressed so formally.

"Just Y/N is fine!" You said.

"Right, Y/N, you can always call a friend if you want to have someone more familiar with you. We can pick them up on the way." You shook your head.

"No, it's alright."

You'd rather not subject your friends to suddenly seeing you with an entourage since most didn't even know you're dating a Mafioso. You had lied and told them he was working a government job and therefore needed his privacy.

So far no one had ever questioned you further about your elusive boyfriend and you preferred it to stay that way.

The first stop at Ikea made you grateful Chuuya had left these guys with you, since it was really helpful having four strong extra hands who lifted heavy packages and drove the carts around for you.

You still wanted to disappear in a hole whenever customers or workers turned their head, watching you with confused expressions but yeah, you'd need to get used to that now.

Chuuya was overprotective and now that it was more apparent that you belonged to him, there was no chance you'd have much alone time while out and about. Somehow the Mafia would always have an eye on you, even if it's just to calm Chuuyas mind.

"We scanned everything in, you can now pay." The blond said and you nudged past the many cartons to hold Chuuyas card to the card reader that happily asked you for the pin.

Typing in your anniversary date made the window close and a long paper came rushing out. You quickly collected it, stuffing it in your purse before you and your companions went back outside. Just outside the building, you noticed there was no way in hell all the new stuff would fit.

"Hey eh, guys, how are we gonna get this to Chuuyas?" You asked and the guys exchanged looks, obviously not having considered that either.

"I'll stay here, make a call and deliver them in a while, you go and pick up the rest." The brown-haired one offered, making you immediately feel bad.

"But won't that be... boring or rude?" You asked but he shook his head. "It won't take long, don't worry." You nodded and waved goodbye, following the blond to the car.

Once back on the road you finally asked what had been on your mind.

"Mind if I ask your name? It feels weird not knowing who's driving me around and all." You said and you spotted a smile from the rear mirror. "Sato and the other guy is Hiro."

You nodded, the awkwardness still barely fleeting.

While picking up the paint and anything else needed to mount the furniture later you and Sato fell into some Smalltalk. Nothing deep or noteworthy, just anything to ensure no awkward silence could take place again as it drove you up the walls.

The ever so slim fear that these guys could tell Chuuya how much of an awkward mess you were had a chokehold on you.

After being sure you had everything needed for the start, you two drove back, only stopping by a bakery you spotted near your new home.

When you were finally back in the familiar four walls of your home, you saw that Hiro had been a busy bee, by having gotten all the new furniture already up and inside.

"Oh wow, thank you so much." You said and placed the bakery goods on the kitchen island. Meanwhile, your new Mafia friends, if they could be considered that even, sorted things away and then quickly grabbed everything to start painting Soon.

"So what's the plan?" Hiro asked you eventually and had you pull up the references you picked out.

"You guys think you can manage that?"

"Don't doubt our capability." They humored you and got to work, while you began putting together the little nick-nacks that would soon find home in the room.

Around the early evening, you made tea and coffee for the two men and served some of the cake you got earlier, which the two thanked you wholeheartedly for.

Even later again, they called it quits, the room now colored just how you wanted it. "Wow, that's perfect! Thank you two so much." You beamed at them and though they would never admit it, they felt glad you enjoyed it.

"Well, it'll need to dry overnight before we put in the furniture tomorrow, so we will leave you to it for tonight, alright?" Hiro stated and you bid your goodbyes, now once more alone in the spacious apartment that currently was inhabited by Swedish packages, and loads of decorations, only waiting to find their place soon.

Yeah, this was all coming together.

The next morning started slow, the bed always felt the worst if Chuuya wasn't in it with you, but you managed to pull it together once you were munching on your breakfast. Especially when a quick message pops up on your phone.

Chuu Chuu: Thinking about you

He was a sap, even if he'd never admit it. It was tiny gestures like these that had you know how much he loved you. Even when he was away on missions or errands, he tried to find the time to let you know his heart was with you.

Same here. Can't wait to see you again.

You replied and put it down to walk to your front door which had just been knocked on, opening it to be met with the two guys from yesterday.

"Morning." You said and they replied the same, as you let them in. "Coffee, tea, anything I can offer you guys?" You asked, still feeling guilty for taking advantage of the fact that Chuuya had ordered them to fulfill your every wish.

"Am fine for now, what about you?" Hiro asked Sato, who agreed to not need anything.

You shrugged and watched as the two inspected the now-dried walls in your room, then making plans on the next steps.

"Need any help?" You chimed in, but again, the two declined.

"No need. Enjoy your morning Y/N." You nodded slowly and sat back down on the red, expensive couch with your tea, while scrolling through your phone.

Ever so often you'd look up, watching the two Mafiosi rip open packages, bicker about what they'd do first, and carry things around.

Soon little to no big packages were left, Sato and Hiro currently working on a bookshelf, when your scrolling was interrupted by a phone call from Chuu Chuu. Surprised you picked up immediately.

"Hey, didn't think I'd hear from you so soon." You said, getting up to satisfy the odd urge to walk around while talking.

"I currently have a little downtime before I'm probably am right back in the middle of annoying shit, so I called my doll. How is the room progress coming along? Are the guys helping you?"

You slyly took a peak in said room, watching the almost finished bookshelf and replied; "Yeah, going great. At this rate you won't even see any trace of package material." You laughed and he chuckled along too.

"I cannot wait to see you again. I miss you." He sighed, his longing clearly audible.

"Chuu, it's been barely twenty-four hours."

"And? Even a minute without you inflicts me more pain than any other wound I have received over the years." You bit your lip, trying to not laugh. If anyone knew the scary gravity manipulator and Mafia executive was one of the most domestic and sappy guys you knew, no one would believe you.

"You're exaggerating."

"Perhaps a little. But my point still stands. I'll treat you to dinner on Monday when I'm back alright?" You leaned on the kitchen island, a dreamy smile plastered across your face and you could only imagine that Chuuya must look similar.

"Alright. See you Monday yeah? I don't wanna keep you from work. Watch out for yourself." You said.

It felt unnecessary to tell him to be careful, he was the strongest man you knew, but you still said it. And while you did it, Chuuya appreciated it each time.

"Of course. The same goes for you. I love you Doll."

"Love ya too Chuuya." And then there was silence, except for the hammering coming from the room. A sigh escaped your lips.

Fuck, him calling you only made you miss him like crazy. How cruel of him.

It only took another hour after Chuuya had checked in with you, for Sato and Hiro to have finished building and placing all the furniture. They watched you inspect the room and felt relieved when you gave them a thumbs-up.

They were kind enough even to help you sort in all your stuff, the new plants, lights, books, figures, even when you had said multiple times that it wouldn't be necessary.

As you poked a fork into your takeout you finally asked the two, "Don't you like... I dunno, get bored of hanging around me..?"

Looking up from their portions, they immediately shook their head.

"Not really. Even if, we couldn't complain since Nakahara-san gave us this order, and the order is to "keep his most priced possession safe"." The three of you finished the sentence, imitating Chuuya.

Yeah, he really was obsessed with your safety ever since he knew he wanted you by his side. Well, being in Chuuyas Highranking Mafia position, he of course had enemies and while you knew you could be targeted just to get to him, you always found him to get a little too paranoid.

Sure, he had lost so much already and was afraid of losing again, but you weren't a child. Though you still appreciated his concern and knew he'd never trap you, make you depend on him or anything, he simply wanted your safety assured so his mind was calmer.

You knew him too well by now.

"Well, thanks anyways for all the help! Don't think I could have gotten the whole thing done this quick without you." The two guys smiled at you, nodding their heads.

The evening soon came to an end as you declared you'd take a bath and then go to bed, feeling exhausted even if you barely did much today.

Sato and Hiro bid their goodbyes, telling you they will check in tomorrow around noon for your well-being and then left to keep guard around the block.

Once more, an evening alone. It was spent with some snacks in front of the TV, catching up on some series that Chuuya wasn't interested in.

It was a nice distraction from the now lonely feeling in the apartment. When you could barely keep your eyes open, you decided it was time for bed.

Sinking into the luxurious and spacious bed, you fell asleep right in the middle, hugging Chuuyas pillow close to you, his scent slowly lulling you into a well-rested sleep.

Well, the well-rested was a lie. You had woken up, groggy and exhausted, despite having slept rather long. Thanks bunch weird nightmares that don't even make sense.

With a hot mug in hand, you took pictures of the room, sending it to your friends to flex a little.

Youre kidding? Holy shit that looks so cool?

Does your bf have a brother or something?

A whole ass room to yourself? Wow you really finally got lucky. When are we finally gonna meet him?

You hated that question. Chuuya had told you countless times since moving together that you were more than welcome to invite people, but you always felt uncomfortable in a weird way.

First off, you didn't wanna come across as a sugar baby. This whole apartment screamed money and luxury and then there was you, a regular person from Yokohama, that'd beg questions.

Second, you liked to keep Chuuya away from your relationships with other people. He wasn't the only worrywart in your relationship. You simply felt uncomfortable, possibly spilling what Chuuyas occupation actually was.

Sure, it sucked having to always plan meet-ups elsewhere, but you liked it better that way.

Soon perhaps. He's currently out working over the weekend

You replied and watched as your friends flooded your phone, jealous that you seemingly found the perfect guy™.

Chuckling you sat down on the new couch in your room, putting on the LED lights.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

Maybe it was good that Chuuya didn't relent.

It was already pitch back outside when Chuuya parked his motorcycle in the garage of his apartment complex. He was spent. But back a whole day earlier.

He could still have a nice relaxing Sunday evening with you, and that was all he currently wanted. He checked his phone for the report from Hiro, which had him chuckling as he rode the elevator up.

They are truly a sweetheart. You made a good catch Nakahara-san.

He had expected nothing else. Your kindness and irresistible smile was what had him at his knees all the way back then and he had suspected that even his subordinates would like you.

Sighing contently, he unlocked the apartment door and when you didn't immediately rush to him, he figured you must be occupied or aren't hearing the rustling of him taking his coat, shoes and hat off.

The dinner he had picked up on the way was placed in the open kitchen and spotting colorful lights coming from the room he left to you, he knew where to find you.

But first he got rid of his second jacket, vest and leather accessories, remaining in only his white dress shirt and black dress pants. Creeping up to the open door, he knocked before entering, finding you playing video games on a new couch.

The shocked expression as you pulled your earbuds out warmed his heart, especially when you broke into a huge grin.

"But it's not Monday." You said and got up to embrace him. Hugging you tightly and enjoying just having you in his arms he finally replied; "Worked extra hard to get back quicker. Can't leave my doll all alone for so long, now can I?"

His hands found your face, holding it still, while he pressed kisses all over it, until he eventually, finally, kissed your lips.

After enjoying the sweet sweet bliss you stepped away a little presenting the new room.

"So what you say?" You asked, gauging his reaction. It was your room, but you still wanted him to like it.

"Looks lovely. I really like what you have done with the place. Better than a wine room for sure." He hugged you from behind as he looked around, taking in all the details.

Your favorite books, merch from shows and games you enjoyed, lots of LEDs and fairy lights, plants, a comfortable carpet.

Yeah, it was truly pretty, just like you.

"You know I won't enter unless you give me permission right?"

"You're in here right now and I don't remember giving you permission." you teased him, humming as you swayed from left to right. "You know what I mean."

"I do. And I appreciate it Chuu."

He pressed a kiss to your neck as you pulled him with you to the couch. Quickly spinning around to face him, your hands hooked around his neck, pulling him with you as you let yourself fall down onto the soft material, with Chuuya obviously having used his ability by the way you very softly landed.

Reuniting your lips again and again was now the agenda, the smiles never fading from either of your faces.

When Chuuya then lifted his upper body up, you looked at him puzzled.

"I brought food." Pulling him back down, you kissed him again, your tongue softly swiping over his and he gladly opened his own mouth to let your tongues meet.

Your hands moved from lovingly brushing your thumbs over his cheeks to his soft hair, playing with some strands, which had him groan into your mouth.

He was a mess in your hands when you played with the ginger locks. It took minutes until you pulled away, and when you looked at your boyfriend his pupils were blown wide. You loved having this effect on him.

"Want to eat now?" He asked and you contemplated. On the one hand... making out with him ... on the other... food.

"What did you have for lunch even?" He asked and you looked to the side.

"Nothing." You whispered but he heard you well and got up immediately, pulling you to the kitchen.

"Nothing? Yeah, no, you're gonna eat now." Rolling your eyes you still helped getting cutlery, glasses, and drinks to then finally sit down and eat.

It was a quiet dinner, like always, the only extra thing was Chuuya seeking out your hand to fold while he continued eating.

How could a man become so touch-starved after having been away for barely 48 hours? You couldn't imagine how bad it'd be once he'd be needed to get out of the country.

"What's got your mind running?" He asked, having noticed that you only poked your food with a smile on your lips.

"Oh just this really cute guy I know." "Oh." He mused, feeling up for the game. "He must be a pretty great catch if he's got you smiling like that."

Digging around in his pockets, he found his phone and started playing music over the stereo. You chuckled when he got up, inviting you to dance with him.

"Oh he is..." you murmured as Chuuya pulled you close, swaying with you softly to the music.

"Respects me, makes me smile, always puts my comfort first, insists even that I get a to have a personal room in his luxury apartment."

"Well, that does sound nice. Hope he's good-looking." You laughed as he dipped you, your head tilting all the way back as you couldn't meet his gaze. You know he was smirking waiting for an answer.

"Well..." You started as pulled you back up, straight into his chest. "He's got reeeal pretty eyes. Like I can get lost in them for ages. Nice and smooth skin, which he better should have, since he spends ages in the bath."

Chuuya laughed about your backhanded comment as he twirled you so your back was pressed against his chest, his hands roaming you still swaying body.

"His hair is also so nice too. I have never seen a haircut like that, but he absolutely rocks it. And the color... reminds me of the most beautiful sunsets."

Having heard enough, you were twirled once more, so Chuuya could lean his forehead against yours.

"What a guy. Do I know him?" You leaned closer to his lips, your breath ghosting over them as you spoke.

"Yeah, it's you, you fool." He broke the last piece of distance kissing you once more. As the song came to an end, he pulled away, only giving your forehead a quick kiss, and then quickly began cleaning up the kitchen.

You sighed as you watched him quickly clean.

"Are you tired?" You asked, knowing that since he came back a whole day earlier he must have been working hard.

"Yeah a little. Been on observation the whole night."

"Then let's get to bed soon, you need some rest." Not wanting to admit to needing that, the ginger waved his hand.

"Soon. Oh yeah, I haven't asked, but you have been alright with my subordinates, right? Like they didn't make you feel uncomfortable or anything?"

You chuckled, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Not at all. They were very sweet. Did they complain about me?"

"Of course not." Chuuya would genuinely like to see someone try and badmouth his partner to him. A laugh escaped him.

"It really seems that I wrap the Mafia about my finger. Are we sure I don't have an ability? The ability to make any mafiosi putty in my hands."

"To test that theory I should get Akutagawa to meet you. If he likes you, then I'll call it an ability." Chuuya immediately shuddered as he imagined the strange situation.

"Never mind that, I prefer you in one piece."

You laughed as he kindly pulled you along into the bedroom, flicking on the light so you both could change into more comfortable clothes.

"In one piece? Is he the eh..." You rummaged through your brain. It was rare that Chuuya was ranting and raving about his higher-ranking colleagues, so you desperately tried to find any information your brain had anchored to "Akutagawa".

"He's the dog guy right?" Chuuya started laughing his ass off, doubling over, he pulled his shirt off. "The silent rabid dog of the Port Mafia. That's what you mean right?"

You felt your face warm up. Wow, you kinda missed the mark.

"Yeah. But don't laugh so much, you kept confusing my best friend with that annoying customer from work!" You said and remember how shocked you had felt when Chuuya had casually offered to order a hit on your best friend, only to find you he had meant the annoying customer that had been bothering you for weeks.

"To be fair, they had really similar names!"

"They really aren't similar." Chuuya pouted and pulled out some jogging pants and a loose t-shirt and changed into them, still chuckling to himself that you called Akutagawa the dog guy.

"I'd prefer if my colleagues don't know much about you." He stated content when his ginger head pushed through his t-shirts opening.

"Why's that?" Instead of answering directly, he pulled you into bed with him, snuggling up to you, relinquishing in everything you had to offer.

"Well, you're mine. Don't want you to see what the Mafia has to offer." You snorted. As if that really was his reasoning, but it gave you another opportunity to stroke his ego.

"Pft, as if anything better than you is walking around there. You're already the Port Mafia finest."

Chuuya pressed a kiss on your hair, his warm hands already stroking your body in a gentle, soothing way.

Comfortable silence ensued, where you two only enjoyed the presence of the other.

This is home.

Chuuya is home. The feeling of being content, comfortable, and warm, Chuuyas simple presence gave all of this to you and he felt very much the same.

Before you, he had little to come home to. He didn't mind working longer, didn't mind doing more work, but ever since he knew you'd be waiting for him, he had cut back, less overtime, less spending the night in a bar and then power napping at the headquarters.

His life was just perfect right now.

And then you speaking about a dog came into his head again.

"Hey, doll... what would you say about getting a dog?"

"Huh?" Confused you looked at him, checking if he was joking.

"I have wanted one for ages but my duties leave me with so little time to properly care. But with you now here... I think we could manage."

"Are you forgetting I'm Working too?" He shook his head, his red locks of hair, bobbing around.

"Of course not. But your work times are actually normal and don't require you to fly out of the country in case of emergency."

"True true..." you mumbled. "And you'd be less alone! When I'm gone you'd at least have a companion."

He was really convincing and the way his eyes sparkled, you could only guess how long and deeply he has longed for a dog.

"That does sound enticing. I'll think about it." A bright smile stretched across Chuuyas face and he immediately peppered you in kisses.

"You're the best." He whispered in-between them, hugging you tighter.

This was your life. If someone had told you that you'd end up dating a Mafia Executive who controlled Gravity and was also the vessel for a god... you'd have laughed. That was simply absurd, but here you were, in bed with that exact guy.

You meeting him had been so long ago. It felt like ages.

And as the time went by, your love for Chuuya deepened, and the two of you faced life's challenges hand in hand. You knew that life with a Mafia Executive was far from ordinary, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Despite the odds, you had found your place by Chuuya's side, and he had found his home in your arms.

---------------------- Tag list!; (Im finally one of the cool kidz and have one of these too!) @pillow-princess-diaries <3

#bungou stray dogs chuuya #bsd x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #oh just why cant he be real and my bf #look who now got a taglist! thats right #your girl jay got one

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thcbolter · 1 month

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taylor swift — the manuscript

#taylor swift #tscreators #networkthirteen #ttpd #the manuscript #music #gif #angel.psd #just barely missed the cutoff for the psc event whoops #not doing a big taglist bc this is Not good cause i haven't giffed in months so. warming up fsdfdsf #i just really needed somebody else to fathom the ''trip to your shores'' in the context of the ootw video #and the ''shores'' being her own past selves/albums/''all her fucking lives''#cause ttpd is such a retrospective and self-analytical album it makes me insane #also idk if im gonna make a gifset for this but i need anyone and everyone to consider it with me:#''and at last she knew what the agony had been for'' vs #''and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars and why i've spent my whole life trying to put it into words''

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strawbeerossi · 1 year

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Hello! I’m T. I am from Texas and I am 23 years old. I enjoy creative writing in the form of fanfiction and roleplay. I also listen to Taylor Swift and Harry Styles.

My favorite shows at the moment are Criminal Minds and Supernatural.

This blog is dedicated to Criminal Minds and Supernatural.

Any work that is NSFW is intended only for 18+ readers.

Recent Milestone: 3,000 followers!

Anon Emojis: 💋, 🪩, 🐚, 🖤, 🍓, 🫧, 🍒,🍺

This is a blog that is a safe place for everyone. I will not tolerate homophobia, ableism, transphobia, racism, xenophobia, or anything of the sort. I have absolutely no tolerance for intolerance.

❥ Criminal Minds Masterlist

❥ Kinktober 2023

❥ August Masterlist

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Luke Alvez

Emily Prentiss

Derek Morgan

Supernatural

Sam

Dean

Castiel

Crowley

Charlie

Rowena

Lucifer

Requests Open | Closed

Request Guidelines

When you make a request, give me a clear plot idea and let me know the character of your choosing.

I will not write:

Pedophilia

Bestiality

Scat

Vomit

Self Harm

Suicide

#strawbeerossi chat hour - asks and requests

#strawbeerossi recommend fic - fics you should definitely read

#strawbeerossi’s moots - My beautiful moots 🍓🩷

#strawbeerossi ramblings - random posts

#strawbeerossi polls - polls for fics

#strawbeerossi masterlist - tag on every masterlist that I have.

#strawbeerossi fiction series - my first series

#strawbeerossi august series - my second series

#strawbeerossi speak now (tv) series - a series of blurbs based off of songs from Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)

#strawbeerossi kinktober 2023 - Kinktober 2023 strawbeerossi style 👻

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #strawbeerossi masterlist #strawbeerossi taglist #aaron hotchner #dr spencer reid #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fandom #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fandom #derek morgan #derek morgan fandom #strawbeerossi speak now (tv) series

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ghost-proofbaby · 9 months

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SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER THREE: ALL TOO WELL

AND I KNOW IT'S LONG GONE AND THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE I COULD DO, AND I FORGET ABOUT YOU LONG ENOUGH TO FORGET WHY I NEEDED TO.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, description of panic attack, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.7K+

☆ A/N: it'll be a short fic, i said. short and sweet and simple, i lied to myself.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

The moment your name leaves his lips, you swear the world halts on its rotation.

This was real. Every fear and every anxiety you had wrestled with over the last twenty four hours wasn’t for naught – he was here, sitting before you, breathing your name out like a sigh of relief when all you felt was pain. Stabbing, radiating pain. It’s even worse than looking at pictures and headlines of a stranger on a phone screen. Something about him suddenly being tangible, suddenly being real, sends you reeling.

Lydia looks wildly between your showdown with the ghost of a man before you, “I’m sorry… Do you two- do you know each other?”

Not anymore.

“I-” you choke on your stutter. You’re frozen under his stare, going ashen as your head spins. Leave the room. Think of an excuse, get out of this room, run away. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

It’s the world’s most pathetic excuse, but the only thing you can spit out before you’re turning heel and running, just as your body had so desperately craved. You nearly bump into one of the security guards you’d just bravely had a confrontation with.

They’d demanded your phone, you had put up a fight. You had stood your ground. Had held your chin high, dared them to push further even once they had your cell phone in their grasp, and displayed all that self-assuredness you had curated in the last two years. Only to end up scampering past them like a wounded animal mere seconds later.

Pathetic.

Lydia calls out something after you, but it reaches deaf ears as you blaze down the hallway. Your chest is squeezing, as if someone had wrapped it in shrink-wrap and sucked all of the air right out of it, swathed so tightly you could feel every pounding beat of your pulse racing. Your eyesight completely blurs, not quite from tears but rather a mere loss of focus. You nearly knock over one of the god forsaken fake plants Lydia insists as a primary form of decor, hardly being within the right mind to reach out and right the oversized bush of green plastic.

But you don’t have to. Right as your back collides with the wall off to the side of the plant, breathing only coming in short and miserable pants, a different hand reaches out to catch the plant. A ringed hand.

When Eddie says your name again, it’s not a sigh. It’s laced with panic as you support your full weight against white plaster and stare at where knuckles wrap around faux wooden stems.

“Hey,” he stresses, hand leaving your line of sight as he puts a large palm on each of your shoulders. You can’t look at him, not yet, “Hey, can you breathe for me? C’mon, big breaths.”

This close, you can smell the cologne. It’s not even the same woodsy drugstore scent that had lingered on the pillowcases he’d left you to cling to while on tour. Even that, something so miniscule as what cologne he now wore, had changed. And the new and unfamiliar scent chokes you, turns your desperate gasps for air even more futile.

You had walked out of that apartment two years ago, without any intention of ever being this close to him again. You’d sworn to yourself you’d never be this close again.

“You’re having a panic attack,” he squeezes your shoulders within his hold ever so slightly, as if attempting to ground you, “You need to breathe.”

Your eyes nervously find his brown ones. For a second, you recall summer days when the sun would hit them just right, turning them into molten honey for your tasting. Soft and glowing, warming you from the inside out so effortlessly.

But there’s not a single shred of sunlight in this hallway. The dark brown falls flat against your vision.

“I’m fine,” you very clearly aren’t, struggling to even get the words out into the air between you two, “I’m- I’m fine.”

He doesn’t fight you when you reach up to swat away his hands. He lets you, hands falling away with ease, touch retracting as if it had never burned you. You take the chance to look over the metal now settled on his fingers, and you realize he still wears all the same ones you remember so vividly. A cross, a pig’s face, an animalistic skull. But there are new ones added to his collection, adorned on his right hand rather than the left. Unfamiliar and odd, the bulky metallic additions are more plentiful. A silver snake wrapped around his pinky, a large spider with the body of a Magic 8 ball on his pointer, a bat spread eagle on his middle. There’s a chunkier one on his thumb, thinner ones added above a few of his second knuckles, but you can’t clear the haze of your vision long enough to pick up on the designs. You choose to focus back on the familiar ones instead, old and comforting even in your panic.

New rings, new cologne, new habits – the Eddie before you is not the Eddie you once knew.

“Okay,” he’s whispering now. You’re not even sure what excuse he used to follow you out here without causing a scene. Maybe he did cause a scene, surely a grander one than you. He had that privilege now; he was an untouchable rockstar, he could afford to raise a ruckus. “I… Are you sure?”

It’s hard to believe there was a time he was a familiar comfort when all that remains now is the awkward distance between the two of you.

But when he takes a step back from you, the new cologne leaves your stratosphere and the new rings leave your field of vision, and the breaths finally come just a tiny bit easier. Still not enough to satiate your lungs, but enough that the headrush begins to pass.

“I’m sure.”

You try to insert such finality in those two words. As if whatever had just happened would fade and never exist, as if you could walk back into that conference room and take yourself off this project. You can’t. Eddie has a sense of control, a grip on his reality and the reigns of his choices, but you don’t. If you were to demand Lydia remove you from the project, you’d be risking termination. You’d be risking everything – and it may not be much, but you’d built it brick by broken brick these last few years. You’d salvaged what you had been able to out of the ashes of what had been, but it hadn’t been enough. It had hardly been enough for a foundation. You’d built up the person that now stood before him from practical scratch.

The weight of just how much you had to lose hits suddenly – the realization that this was happening and you had no control of it.

But Eddie did. He had to.

“You need to go back in there,” you start, voice still shaking and eyes still averted, “And you need to demand that they reassign you guys. You… You need-” you begin to stutter and fumble to find the right words. You could have lashed out, could have tried to pour salt in a wound you weren’t even sure still existed so that Eddie made the choice on his own. But your mind is muddled and you’re desperate, “Someone else can take on the project. You need to go and demand that someone else takes on the project.”

“What?” Not the response you wanted. Not the response you needed, “I- No.”

Two years later, and he still found a way to do significant damage.

Your eyes snap up, “What do you mean no?”

“I mean no.”

“I haven’t asked anything of you. Not back then, not after everything happened, I-”

He cuts you off with a scoff. “Can’t ask for anything if you just fall off the face of the fucking earth.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but as his walls begin to build, you realize that the prior interaction had been something vulnerable. Something where neither of you were on the defense quite yet like you’d always imagined a reunion would go. All that had mattered ten seconds ago was you being okay, him coming after you, making sure you were fine. He’d allotted you all the care and attention you had craved so terribly two years ago, nearly begged for until your knees had bled for.

“Eddie,” you whisper, getting too distressed to think straight, “Please, for the love of God, just make them reassign the project-”

“I can’t,” he interrupts, shaking his head, “Do you think I’d put myself through this if I could help it? I fucking can’t. I have absolutely no control in there. I didn’t even-” he cuts off his sentence, looking you in your eyes, leaving more to be said.

He didn’t even what?

“I can’t do anything about it,” he says instead of whatever had been on the tip of his tongue, “Trust me – if I could, I would. But I can’t. So why don’t you say something?”

It’s your turn for scoffing and disbelief, “I can’t. I’m not the one with all the power and glory-”

“Is that what you think I have?”

“That’s what I know you have.”

You both go quiet as a battlefield fills the distance between you. All anger, all regret. None of the love or care that had once existed between you two exists here in this quantum plane of sharp words and deadly jabs.

“Just- please ask for a reassignment,” you try with one final plea, eyes hard on him, “Say that that first impression left you unimpressed, I don’t care. She won’t fire me for that.”

“Once again, no. As it turns out,” his voice is low, dangerous, unfamiliar. A tone he had never used before with you, “Even the one with all the power and all the glory can’t make miracles happen. Sorry, doll.”

He doesn’t await your response, leaving you on your own as you stay pressed against the wall and he’s walking away.

What is the saying? ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’?

You were certainly feeling scorned.

You felt ripped wide open, beaten and bruised and damn scorned as he leaves a conversation you weren’t finished with. You can’t tell which limb aches the most – the shoulder where his now strange hands had held onto you, your fingers that had curled into pained fists at your side to show you were prepared for a fight, your rib cage that still struggled to expand and accommodate the air now vacant of his cologne that you needed after your panic attack, or the legs that had once carried you away from Eddie Munson only to lead you right back to him.

There’s nothing you can do, though, beyond composing yourself. You take the same big, deep breaths that Eddie had tried to coax out of you moments before. Your fists slowly unfurl and your palms rake against the side of your jeans in an attempt to wipe away the sweat of the interaction.

Fine. If he wouldn’t help you, you could handle this. You could manage this project, plan a goddamn party for your ex-boyfriend’s new single. You would treat it just as you did every other previous project you had excelled at, and you would avoid all unnecessary contact with him just as you had with previous clients.

As a matter of fact, you could probably get away with avoiding all contact.

He hadn’t hired you. His management had. And, according to him, he had no real power in this situation. If he had no say in the matters, then there would be no reason to reach out to him.

You could do this. You could handle this.

It’s a mantra of salvation that you repeat to yourself internally as you take confident strides back to that conference room, not even stopping for the guards this time before you burst back into the room when your imminent doom awaits.

The repetition falters a bit when all eyes land on you as you take your first steps into the room.

Your name comes out of Lydia’s mouth like a hiss, her teeth locked into a smile that would better pass into a grimace as she asks, “How nice of you to join us again. Please, take a seat.”

“Of course,” you can’t look her in her eyes for very long, immediately rushing to sit at the chair she’d motioned towards. You haven’t spared Eddie a single glance – you haven’t spared any of the boys you’d once known a look. Instead, you look up to direct an apology at the only face you don’t recognize before you, “I’m truly sorry.”

The older gentleman, wrapped in a certain kindness and warmth below his professional attire, smiles. And in an instant, his face isn’t quite as unfamiliar, “No worries. When Nature calls, right? Regardless, I’m Matt. Nice to meet you.”

You can guess which hole in Eddie’s life he’s attempting to smother, which shoes this man serves to fill. He has more hair than his predecessor, but the grin is the same.

If you picture the man he reminds you of back in Hawkins, you’ll surely begin to ache.

When you reply with your name, you can hear a fragment of your youth in your voice. Better days spent in Forest Hills trailer park, loitering about a trailer as Wayne Munson asks you how well of an eye you’ve been keeping on his nephew. You’d always lie, say you were keeping him in line when you knew you’d spent the day following him right into trouble, like some sort of lost puppy. Like some sort of loyal soldier. It occurs to you that that’s who you had always been; a fierce soldier over the shoulder of Eddie, ever the brave commander. You would have followed him into battle without a second of consideration, you did follow him all the way to New York without ever taking a final glance at your hometown.

You wondered if he had tried to replace you as well. You imagine it; the new and fresh face that replaced yours in picture frames, that laid beside him at the end of each night he returned home, that heard a whisper of I love you over the line to the backtrack of a sound rehearsal.

Were there ever any bloody wars between him and his new lovers that could compare to the battles never fought between you two? Did anyone else in this world know the wounds of his gun never fired?

The smoke clears. You still don’t look at Eddie, afraid to only see the commander you once knew. You force a smile, putting on a soldier's bravado that doesn’t fit quite right anymore.

Bullets never fired, triggers never pulled, but the blood stained the same.

“So, where shall we begin?”

—

Matt does most of the talking for the next hour. Sheet after sheet of paperwork is laid down in front of you, your hand beginning to cramp from signing your name so many times, and the details are discussed.

A new single, set to release in three months. A release party that needed to be grandeur and garner the type of attention that Matt feared had been waning from the band due to radio silence on their music front. The outlines of the project were clear cut, simple enough, and you had yourself fooled just well enough that this would be easy.

You kept your eyes set on the prize and never once noticed the tomfoolery occurring between the band members. The words on the tip of their tongues that Eddie keeps quiet through quick kicks to their shins beneath the table, the individual hurt reflected in each of their eyes as you treat them no better than strangers. That treatment of Eddie, they understood. But them?

They could never understand.

“What’s the name of the single, if I may ask?” you question as you look over one of your copies of the paperwork. Lydia had been eerily silent, allowing you to take the lead.

Despite the rough start, it was paying off. Having a switch for your emotions can be a good thing, as it turns out.

“You may,” Matt nods before turning to the boys. It’s the first time he's looked to them for answers during the entire meeting, “Shall I do the honors, or would you boys rather do it yourselves?”

It’s a chance for all the members of Corroded Coffin to open their mouths without silent reprimanding from Eddie beneath the table, but he beats them to it.

“Dial Tone.”

You freeze your reading.

There’s something in the way he says it that forces you to look up. As if he’s only speaking to you, and the rest of the room is a faded mirage for him to send away for these private moments. Still a commander, even when his bravest soldier has left him.

“Sounds… interesting,” you murmur, taking a few seconds too long to meet his gaze, unsure of what to say, “Rolls off the tongue easily.”

“It certainly does. Which, ironic, given the situation that inspired the song.”

“And what would that be?”

You’re both wearing masks in front of an audience half made up of people painfully aware of your history, and the rest being painfully oblivious.

Does Matt know about you? Lydia certainly doesn’t know about Eddie.

“Words never said. Answers never given. Phone calls missed and never… returned.”

You’re not stupid, but you wish you were. It feels a bit selfish, a bit self absorbed, to so quickly assume you’re the inspiration.

But how could you believe anything else when Eddie is looking at you like that?

Hollow eyes, devoid of all the honey you once reveled in. Not so much of a stain of sweetness you swear you still taste on the back of your tongue. He’s looking at you with blame, well-deserved anger, and yet not an ounce of the guilt that should exist somewhere in those depths.

“How riveting,” you play along, trying to swallow down the waves of emotions, “Sounds like it’ll really draw in your audience. Might even be relatable to a few.”

Answers never given. Like how someone could stop saying they loved someone they’d spent years planning their life with, like how he could stop calling so easily, how he could leave so easily.

“Fingers crossed,” his forced smile in return is almost sinister, and you know it was the right choice to avoid speaking to each other until this moment.

There will be no contact. You know now that if you take on this project, which you technically have through law-binding contracts, that you won’t be able to be civil with Eddie. There is a history that can never be erased, mistakes made and wounds inflicted by both sides. Two worlds of hurt caused by opposing sets of hands that can only clash when they try to meet in the middle.

But then Matt, sweet Matt that you had come to actually like during this meeting, has to burst your bubble.

“Right, well, the good news is the boys aren’t on tour for the time being, meaning there will be plenty of time to talk about the small details and how the single will come into play during planning,” he explains, happily and still so unaware, “As a matter of fact, I would like to emphasize just how much I would appreciate you including the boys, especially Eddie, in this ordeal. His participation would be very helpful.”

Some silent form of communication happens between Matt and Eddie, glinting eyes and sudden frowns meeting raised eyebrows and fake smiles, but it’s not your concern.

The last thing you want during this project is Eddie’s involvement.

“Of course!” You need to think of an excuse, push for a way to keep him out, “But if Eddie is too busy, I’ll completely understand. I know that a single usually means an album, and that can be very time consum-”

“He won’t be too busy,” Matt interrupts, still staring at Eddie as if he’s daring him, not even questioning you singling him out as he does the exact same.

You recall what Eddie had insisted in the hallway, that his reach of control wasn’t as far as you had been assuming.

Swallowing hard, you see another relic of Wayne Munson in this man – he wasn’t someone to argue with, “Right, of course. Eddie will be involved. Absolutely.”

All the power and all the glory – but did it really rest in Eddie’s palms like you assumed?

“She has a point,” Eddie finally finds his voice, leaning back in his chair, trying to relax the tension from his shoulders, “I do have the album to work on.”

“And now you have this. I’m sure you can find a way to multi-task.”

Your comparison was accurate. It had been a while since you had seen another grown man capable of shutting Eddie down so quickly, tearing down his walls of affinity for challenging authority and reducing him to nothing more than a shell of his younger self. Matt and Wayne would have gotten along well. You doubt that they’ve met, but you know a bond would have formed between the common denominator of being able to subdue the once-rambunctious boy before you.

Eddie pouts nearly the complete remainder of the meeting. And those foolish, bitter shards within you become determined to be the bigger person. To smile and nod along, even when you disagreed with certain terms discussed. To be agreeable, to be good, to be better. This new version of you has something to prove; that you’ve done better without Eddie, that you’ve changed into something that no longer aligns with who he is.

It’s all for show, but you tell yourself no one can see through the cellophane disguise.

The only remaining signatures aren’t required from you but the rest of the boys. A single contract is passed down the line, and each of them sign themselves away to the agreement. Line after line of swooping black ink locks the five of you into an entrapment, a crowded dance of newly made strangers who have no choice but to play pretend.

Eddie makes it a deliberate point that he’s the last one to sign. Forces Grant to slide the prettily detailed paper right in front of him until it’s clear he’s making no move to pick up his pen, and the poor guy has to stretch a bit further and let Gareth take it rather than the stubborn rockstar. Only once Jeff’s own night-shade of ink has looped over one of the many lines does it return back to Eddie.

He looks you in the eyes for several seconds too long, pen crooked beside the paper on the table. You can’t take a single breath as you register how lifeless his eyes remain.

He’s not the person you once knew, but you are no longer the girl that once saw the world in him.

You will not drop to your knees before him, you will not worship the ground he walks on, you will not break. Certainly not first. Certainly not at all.

There’s no final words before hands donning unfamiliar rings pick up a pen amongst the silence. Just the click of bringing the ink to life, and the soft scratch of promises that will not be kept. It’s nothing new amongst the two of you.

As a matter of fact, if the scratch of the pen could echo, it might just resemble the sound of the door on that haunted and vacant apartment closing for the final time behind you two years ago.

—

“Do you two know each other?”

You had been waiting for this moment. Once Matt had called for a quick break so that he could organize and make copies of all paperwork, you knew Lydia would be chasing you down.

“What do you mean?” you question airily, topping off the small paper cup of water you had used as an excuse to dismiss yourself into the corner of the room, “Me and Matt? No, I’ve never-”

“Not you and Matt,” she moves to stand in front of you, your back to the room and the band, as she continues in an authoritative whisper, “You and the band – you and Eddie.”

“Why do you think we know each other?”

Please don’t catch on. Please don’t notice. Please don’t make me admit it.

Please don’t fire me.

She retrieves her own water, moving as if she wasn’t having such an intense conversation with you at this moment. All a show for the clients, no doubt. You weren’t the only skilled actress in this room, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way you ran out of this room when you saw him, maybe the way he ran after you without a word. Maybe the way the two of you spent a good ten minutes alone in that hallway, and how the rest of that band has been looking at you like you’re a ghost. Please don’t tell me you had a fling with Eddie before this. I really need my best person on this project, but I can’t have personal relationships interferin-”

“No, we don’t know each other,” you cut her off, ignoring the compliment and taking a sip to give your chance to formulate a better addition to the lie. It wasn’t really a lie, though, was it? “I promise it’s nothing, and it won’t interfere. I just…” I just hate him. I just miss the version of him I used to know. I just need you to take me off this project as quickly as possible for a reason that won’t make you think less of me or affect my future career here. “I don’t like the band, you know this.”

“I knew you weren’t a fan of them, but…” she trails off and looks over your shoulder, no doubt surveying the band. When you stood up from the table, they’d all been feigning boredom as if they hadn’t been taking turns staring you down so intensely. You felt like an animal under observation. “I thought it would be a good thing. To have a neutral party take this on. Why, exactly, don’t you like them?”

“ I don’t think he’s a good person.”

He as in Eddie. It goes as unspoken knowledge. And, technically, it isn’t a lie. Based on the headlines, based on his coolness this entire interaction, you don’t think he’s a good person. Not anymore.

You can feel the four sets of eyes on you even now. Your exchange with Lydia has been too quiet for them to hear, but you know you’re still being watched carefully.

“You don’t have to think he’s a good person, but you do need to play nice,” Lydia reminds you. You open your mouth, prepared to argue that you had been playing nice when Lydia waves her free hand to stop you, “I know, I know. I’m not saying you haven’t been perfectly professional. You have been, aside from your… bathroom break at the beginning, but please just remember that.”

You nod, stiff as ever. She was giving you more grace than you deserved if you tried to look at it from an outsider’s point of view.

“Of course,” that tone of professionalism, that mask to hide the whirlwind of emotions. You could do this.

You had to do this.

Choice is an illusion when Matt returns with the copies of paperwork, dividing the files up between himself and Lydia. Choice is an illusion as fake smiles are exchanged and pleasant goodbyes are offered. Choice is nothing but smoke and mirrors when all is said and done, and the entire group of you all stand outside the conference room, ready to part ways with a promise of next time, meaning the next meeting.

You never had a choice in any of this. Eddie did, somewhere along the line, but you didn’t.

Lydia and you both hand over business cards to Matt’s waiting hands, a deliberate move on your part. You bypass Eddie’s expectant glare entirely. The quicker this is over with, the faster he’s exiting the building and no longer occupying the same room as you, the better.

“We’ll be in contact,” Matt promises as he tucks the cards away carefully.

“I look forward to it,” you assure him, as if you weren’t dreading every second of what those contracts had detailed.

Three months. You had just signed on to guarantee Eddie Munson being back in your life for three months. The thought makes you nauseous.

Matt, ever the normal person, takes it as his queue to leave. Lydia has nodded, turned and began her short trek to her office as the band’s manager starts his journey to the elevator. Most of Corroded Coffin scampers after him, gazes on the floor as they retreat to a private space that will certainly be filled with questions. You almost wish there was a way for you to hear what will be said. The topic of conversation, undoubtedly, will be you. You and Eddie, Eddie and you. A pair of intertwined souls that had taken a sharp knife to your connection only to end up with Fate cruelly retying it on this dreadful day.

Fate, and Eddie, it seems.

His hand reaches out and catches your upper arm before you can escape the exchange properly.

“Can we talk?” You stare at him blankly to hide the racing of your heart and pounding in your mind. Those hands on you, skin on skin, leaving an inevitable mark. An inevitable stain. “Go for coffee, go for lunch, just-”

“No.”

You don’t have to think about your answer. Your pause was only born out of shock.

His eyebrows furrow, “No? What do you mean no?”

It feels like a pathetic repeat of your interaction in the hallway, when you had begged him to save you from this doomed union. Except now, you hold the cards in your hand. The first sense of control you’ve been offered this entire time.

“I mean no,” you repeat yourself clearly. Matt is halfway down the hall, and the boys trailing right behind him seem to fumble over their steps for a second. Jeff even goes as far as to look over his shoulder at the brewing storm appearing behind them, but clearly thinks better of intruding, “I don’t want to talk. I don’t want coffee, and I don’t want lunch.”

End of story.

Except, it isn’t, because Eddie’s face only twists further in pain, “We have to talk at some point-”

“Actually, we don’t. I’d prefer we didn’t. I think we can both agree it’ll be better, easier, for both of us to keep this strictly professional until we can go our separate ways again.”

He looks as if you had physically reached out and struck him. The force of your words nearly makes him rock backwards, face falling and mouth agape as he tries to grapple with the determination in your words.

If you were a fool, you’d mistake it for a flash of disappointment. But it’s not possible – it couldn’t be disappointment, only arrogance. He had obviously been assuming you would just give in. Your change just hadn’t become clear enough to him yet. It would, in time.

And now, the two of you seemingly had too much of it to endure.

“Actually, I think we can both agree that’s a load of bullshit,” he crassly argues back once he’s regained composure, “You know that’s not possible.”

You shake your head, suck in a bit of the skin of your inner cheek between your molars as an internal encouragement to stand your ground, “It is. It’s not only possible, but is exactly what’s going to happen.”

“You heard Matt. We have to talk at some point, even if it’s just about this and not us.”

“And we will. We can talk about this project all you want, Eddie. But not over lunch, and not over coffee,” you swear you draw blood from your cheek as you take back on that tone of professionalism, ice cold and completely disconnected, “My preferred form of contact is email. I usually respond in a timely manner, even after hours-”

“Don’t do that,” he stops you.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m just another one of your clients.”

The metallic flavor floods the deepest corners of your mouth, overtaking the aftertaste of a honey you once knew on the back of your tongue, “That’s exactly what you are. One of my clients.”

Just a client, and nothing more. A boundary must be drawn, or else there will be more blood spilled than a mere drop from biting your inner cheek. And you aren’t prepared to bleed for him – not again. Never again.

He opens his mouth, as if he has more to dig out of the grave of this conversation, when Matt’s voice calls from down the hallway, “Eddie! C’mon! There’ll be time to talk later, we’ve got a meeting with the producer across town now.”

His stance goes rigid, annoyance rolling off him in waves, eyes still focused on you.

Maybe the reminder of time, the three month timeline, hurts him just as much as it hurts you. Maybe, just possibly, his arm has also been twisted in carving out a space for you in his life once more, whether strictly professional or not.

He deeply exhales through his nose, “I don’t even have your email.”

“Matt does. He has my card.”

“Yeah, he does. I don’t. How am I supposed to reach you through your preferred form of contact without it?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

You mean to smile at him just as you would the owner of the bakery opening on Third Street, or the mother of a bride trying to share the weight of responsibilities for a wedding. It doesn’t come off that way, though – you can feel the sadness of it tickle the corners of your mouth before he’s even slowly turning from you.

You watch the figure of Eddie Munson walk away from you, and you begin to wish he were walking out of your life rather than only out of the building for the time being.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @thebanisheddreamer @water-loos @dailyobsession @whenshelanded @happy-and-alone

join my taglist!

#ghost's stories #maroon #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #i couldn't access my taglist response list for a few days so the taglists are NOT updated! they will be soon :)#half-assedly edited #i am now going to bed because i am the sleepiest girl to ever exist EVER #playing around with formatting don't mind me

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vegancas · 1 year

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Castiel 💛 9x01 I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here 8/?

#casedit #castieledit #spnedit #castiel #spn #supernatural #gif #spn 9x01 #cas9x1 #will do taglist at some point i need to go to bed now lol

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sourrcandy · 8 months

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KNIGHTS ; a wip re-introduction

genre. neo-noir mystery thriller

themes&tropes. broken crime family, red herrings and martyrs, beware the quiet ones, batman gambit, ambiguously evil protagonists, everyone is a suspect, sibling drama

status. draft 1 version 3

citizens of arkridge city call them puppeteers, rulers, monsters. fear is a weapon the round table wields with ease, but when the godfather of arkridge is murdered, the city is reminded that they, too, are only human.

with a multi-billion dollar inheritance and the fate of their father's kingdom on the line, the nine clemonte children must navigate this elaborate arkridge game before the killer brings the city to its knees.

taglist. @helioselene @seasteading @serpentarii @scaevolawrites @socialmediasocrates

#writeblr #wtwcommunity #writing community #wip: knights #my writing #kedit #harls.jpg #nanowrimo take 3 #anyway this was introed first in 2021 and now im doing it again in 2023 #taglist is once off

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seahydra · 2 months

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I. I. I. WELL. It's not particularly smooth or even that great BUT I had to get the idea out of my head or I'd be sick. My purely self-indulgent "I want to sit around with my wife and do nothing except maybe turn on music to play in the background" scenario. Think of it like a short peek into our life I guess ww

(Featuring a song from my laz pov cg playlist. My Dear by L'Arc-en-Ciel you are everything to me)

#atari.png #I'm hesitant to use my taglist... on one hand this did kind of take me some time. On the other hand. I AM WAY TOO EMBARRASSED #I'M SHYYYYYYYY. I can't think about that right now JUST TAKE IT. IM RUNNING AWAY #❥ the prince and the little mermaid

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librathefangirl · 10 months

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A Libra NNT Analysis: Meliodas' Demon Secret

Masterlist

Part 1: The Start of a Millennia Long Secret (pre-season 1)

Okay, time to finally get this started. And I want to do that by saying what I've said before, and probably will say again: The Seven Deadly Sins is an anime that needs to be watched (at least) twice. It's like Zaratras says:

Looking back, especially at the earlier seasons, so many things get another meaning when you know the whole story. Meliodas' demon secret is no different. The first time around you get to learn about it along with the characters. The second time around you can see the nuances of it, the symbolism and relation between it and the rest of the story. This is why I wanted to do this analysis series in the first place, to look at the earliest episodes with the perspective of knowing exactly who and what Meliodas is, and see how his demon secret is developed - or rather, how it's revealed. This means that yes, there will be angsty ramblings similar to my previous posts on the subject. I mean how could there not, because a) it's me (and if you know me, you know I love angst), and b) Meliodas really hid who he really was from the people closest to him for so long...

But! Before we get into how Meliodas' secret is revealed I want to take a look at how it was formed. Starting with the why.

Actually, first I'm gonna put a read-more because this got long :) Continue reading for: the reason behind Meliodas' secret, 3,000 years of history, the fall of Danafor, and the Seven Deadly Sins knows... what?

Meliodas' demon secret doesn't actually become a secret until after the end of the First Holy War. Before the end of the war, he has no reason to try to hide it. Everybody already knows what and who he is. For those who don't, well, they soon figure it out. He doesn't hide it; he openly uses his demonic powers and shows himself as a demon, because again, he has no reason not to, and he even admits to being a demon when asked about it. This, to me, is especially noteworthy since this is something we're shown repeatedly that he doesn't do after the end of the war.

After Meliodas and Elizabeth's confrontation with their parents, and the following death and cursing, Meliodas wakes up to a new Britannia. A demon-free Britannia. The war has by then ended, leaving the demons sealed away and the goddesses having lost their physical forms. A new era has started in Britannia. An era where the demons are becoming nothing more than a great evil sealed away by the goddesses. The more years that pass, the more solidified this view becomes. The humans who once had encountered demons, all die or are already dead. By the time of the first season, the demons are just monsters of myth. While there are still some people who know about demons, like Gerheade (who lived through the war) and Elaine, we're also shown that most people don't. They struggle with the idea that such beings even exist, or have a very limited knowledge of demons. We can probably also safely assume that nobody is exactly considering the possibility of a "good" demon. After all, that was already a foreign idea back before they were sealed.

So, given everything we know about this new Britannia and how it came to be, it makes sense why Meliodas would choose to hide the fact that he is a demon. He has no reason to believe anyone would accept this about him. While the world before was also filled with hate and fear towards demons, back then he at least had Elizabeth. And his entire race, even if they did hate him too (but not for being a demon). Now he is all alone, stuck trying (and failing) to protect Elizabeth in a world that doesn't understand demons. People knowing he is a demon would also make it a lot harder for him to live among the humans, which we know he has done repeatedly during in his attempts to keep Elizabeth safe and in his search for a way to break the curse. So, yeah, it's easy to see why Meliodas' demon secret would come to be.

At the same time, I think it's really interesting to point out that while Meliodas does hide that he is a demon and won't even answer the question when directly asked about, he doesn't really lie about it either. He doesn't say he is a demon, but he also doesn't say he isn't a demon or that he is human.

We don't get to see lot of what happens to Meliodas over the 3,000 years between the start of the curse and his arrival in Liones. What we do see is Meliodas, repeatedly, living human lives with Elizabeth's numerous reincarnations. Because of this, the most significant moment we get during those years in regard to his demon secret is the fall of Danafor.

Danafor is an example of a human life we see Meliodas living with Elizabeth, or Liz in this case. From the flashbacks of his times there, provided by the druids' trial, and his interactions with Cain, it's safe to assume that the people of Danafor saw Meliodas as a fellow human - a stupidly overpowerful human perhaps, but a human nonetheless. When Cain learns that Meliodas is in fact Meliodas (and not his son) he is, understandably, shocked. After all, he clearly expected Meliodas to age like a human would and not still look as young. Danafor, or rather the fall of Danafor, marks the beginning of the unraveling of Meliodas' demon secret. This is the first time in who knows how long that Meliodas uses his demonic powers. It's also the first time he's faced with someone who knows who and what he really is (not counting Merlin and Elizabeth with her memories regained) with the appearance of Fraudrin. Even disregarding Fraudrin's future possession of Dreyfus, the events in Danafor (Meliodas' destruction of it and the Coffin of Eternal Darkness) have significant repercussions for Meliodas going forward.

After Danafor, Meliodas life becomes different. Back in Danafor, he was greatly respected as the leader of the Holy Knights. In Liones, he still has respect and status as the captain of the Seven Deadly Sins, but he (along with the other Sins) is also seen as a criminal and sinner. By then, rumors have also spread about what happened in Danafor and Meliodas' part in its destruction. We don't really know for sure what exactly those rumors entailed or how close to the truth they were (they most likely did not involve "demon" or "demonic powers"), they still told a story of Meliodas being the one, not only to destroy Danafor completely, but also kill its citizens.

So, from what we can see, Meliodas' arrival in Liones comes with a new life and a different role. While he is still mostly seen as human, he is also seen as more of a "monster" than before. Both Zaratras and Hendrickson admit to having sense Meliodas' true identity during some of their earliest encounters with him.

That brings us to another interesting thing to look at before I get into analyzing the individual episodes: the extent of Meliodas' demon secret. Meliodas is generally seen as a human, but his secret isn't a complete secret. It's not a situation of nobody knows nothing, as seen above. Of course, how much is known depends on who's perspective we are talking about. So, since it's kind of important for these breakdowns, and it intrigues me to talk about, let's end this part with looking at what the fuck do each of the Seven Deadly Sins actually know about Meliodas in regards to his demon secret?

The most obvious (and also easiest) to start with is Merlin. She is the one who knows the most about Meliodas, seeing as she first met him 3,000 years ago before he even betrayed the demons. To her, there isn't really a "demon secret", only a secret he is keeping from everyone else. Merlin knows Meliodas is a demon. She knows what kind of demon he is and was, his past with the demons and Stigma, even about the curse at the hands of the Demon King and Supreme Deity and what it means for him.

I'm gonna try to do these in order of who knows most, so next up is Gowther, who - well, who the hell knows what he actually knows? But he is the one, next after Merlin, who is the most knowledgeable about Meliodas. Technically, he met Meliodas before even Merlin did, since he was (as his creator's proxy) in the Ten Commandments alongside him. It has also been revealed that the original Gowther was one of Meliodas best friends (Q245, Q&A Corner of chapter 234 in the manga). But Gowther also did erase his own memories prior to season 1, after Nadja's death. Despite this, Gowther is still shown to know more about Meliodas' secret than the others. When the group is first reunited with Gowther, he points out to Meliodas that none of them are of the same race, hinting that he knows Meliodas is not human. Though given his powers, to me at least, it's hard telling exactly how much Gowther knows about Meliodas.

Merlin and Gowther are more or less the only Sins with any real knowledge about Meliodas' secret, but that doesn't mean the others don't know anything. In fact, most of them have gotten some hint prior to the events of season 1, proving that Meliodas' demons secret isn't absolute. Among the remaining Sins, Escanor is the one with the biggest reason, I think, to suspect something. Escanor has, after all, seen Meliodas in his demon form. He might not know exactly what Meliodas is, but he should definitely suspect that Meliodas isn't human. The moment I'm talking about happens during the battle between Escanor and Meliodas, when Meliodas is trying to convince him to join the Seven Deadly Sins. During that battle, Meliodas easily defeats Escanor by releasing his Assault Mode. This means that Escanor saw him with his black eyes and demon mark. Like I said, Escanor probably didn't know what it meant at the time, seeing as he hadn't actually met another demon by then, but at the same time, it stands to reason, that Escanor shouldn't be seeing Meliodas as quite as human as the rest of Liones did.

Now let's talk about Ban. The interesting thing about him is that while, out of the last three Sins, Ban is the one who knows the most about demons, he is also probably the last one who would (willingly) suspect Meliodas of being one - something that he shows later in the first season. Ban's knowledge of the demons comes from him encountering and fighting the Red Demon during its attack on the Fairy King's Forest. This means that his knowledge of the demons as a race is very limited compared to Merlin (though to be fair, most people's knowledge is limited compared to Merlin, especially about demons since, well, very few people seem to know what the demons really are anymore). The Red Demon is also a huge part of Ban's struggles with the idea of Meliodas being one, as he obviously can't let himself put Meliodas equal in any way to the monster who killed Elaine. Still, even if he doesn't want to, Ban has reason to suspect it even before season 1, given what happened with Meliodas' dragon handle. When Ban tried to take the dragon handle, Meliodas cuts him with black flames. This is also the one and only time something has managed to leave a permanent scar on Ban's body since becoming immortal. Both of these indicate, if nothing else, that Meliodas isn't as human as he first appears to be.

Between Diane and King it's a little hard to tell who knows most, because let's face it, neither has much knowledge about Meliodas' secret at this point. Though I would probably have to say Diane does - mostly because I've got an issue with King's knowledge, but more about that later, let's talk about Diane first. Diane doesn't have much knowledge about neither demons nor Meliodas' secret, but, like the others, she has some reason to suspect him not being human. Diane was there and saw Meliodas scar Ban, meaning she saw Meliodas with the black flames just as Ban did. Later, during the events of the Vaizel Fighting Festival, she also admits to having seen "that look" on Meliodas, referring to how he looked while defeating Ban. So, yeah, not much knowing but still some hints.

Now then, last but not least, King. Okay, to be fair, he is one of the Sins with the least knowledge about Meliodas' secret. He also, like Diane, lacks the knowledge of demons in general. He wasn't there during the Red Demon's attack in the Fairy King's Forest and has shown himself to not share Elaine's knowledge about demons, given his reaction to seeing the Red Demon's corpse. He even expresses shock that beings like the Red Demon have actually existed in Britannia. As for Meliodas' secret, when King first meet him in the manga, he literally calls him human. By the time of the first season, King is seemingly still holding this view, later expressing his surprise that Meliodas looks exactly the same despite 10 years having passed.

But I did say I had an issue with King's knowledge, didn't I? Well, unfortunately, I do. It comes with that first meeting between King and Meliodas. As much as I love it, it provides some... inconsistencies, especially in regard to the reveal of Meliodas' demon secret - and since that is what this post is about, it's only fair that we address it. Okay, so here's the thing. King was captured 200 years ago. In the manga page above (first panel, lower left corner) you can even see Helbram's dead body still lying on the ground, proving that it was 200 years ago. Now, Meliodas being there when King is arrested by unnamed knights 200 years before he and Merlin decide to form the Seven Deadly Sins, while a coincidence, is not that unimaginable. But King remembers that moment. He references it to Meliodas in the druids' cave and thinks back to it in the fight against Chandler, which means he clearly remembers the Meliodas 200 years ago as Meliodas and not just some random knight. But then when they are reunited after only 10 years he suddenly thinks it's weird that Meliodas remains unchanged? I just- that is what is happening, right?? Anyway, let's just... drop it for now.

Okay!

So what do we start of with when the fist season begins? Meliodas, who has kept the fact that he is a demon a secret for 3,000 years because Britannia is now "demon-free" and demons are seen as ancient evil monsters; Merlin, who knows everything; Gowther, who knows he is not human; and the rest of the Seven Deadly Sins, who still think of him as human(?). At the same time, the events of Danafor's destruction has set the wheels in motion regarding Meliodas' demon secret finally being revealed to everybody.

Coming soon - Part 2: Cracks in the Mask (season 1 part 1)

---

Taglist: @zorria

#suddenly got very nervous about posting this but here we go #finally got started with this which means i can finally start my rewatch which i have been holding off for the sake of this series #also this actually got longer that i thought it would gonna be interesting to see how the other parts end up #fun fact: this post holds 30 images which is the max amount allowed lol #gonna stop talking in the tags and just post this now...#but let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist for this analysis series #okay wtf is going on with the photos... if you see them one by one that's not how they're supposed to be #a libra nnt analysis #nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins #nnt analysis #meliodas' demon secret #meliodas nnt #merlin nnt #gowther nnt #escanor nnt #ban nnt #diane nnt #fairy king harlequin

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