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Kinda nsfw buuut Ghost BIGGEST turn on is domestic. You're sitting there on the couch in nothing but his shirt, freshly showered, absolutely devouring your favorite meal, theres love bites around your neck and thighs from when got home. He's watching you and that little primal part of his brain is going off about how content and happy he made his girl. Immediately ready to have you again just to make you happy. Bonus points if your pregnant cause then he already can't get enough of you.

domestic ghost is so turned on by you <3

You're already awake when Simon trudges out of the bedroom. He'd only just gotten home from a month-long mission overseas, and he was still catching up on sleep.

But when his lidded eyes catch sight of you, sitting on the couch with only his long-sleeve thermal slung on, he feels properly awakened. It's a damning image. One that has consumed his life and heated his heart.

His shirt— too damn big on you, even with the growing swell of your bump. Your cheeks— a glowing beacon of content. You look blistered with happiness, sitting on the couch and eating a bowl of cereal, a hand idly caressing your stomach.

A baby. Fatherhood. Maybe those things still itched him with worry. But they also gripped him with a rare excitement. A nest of love cooped up in his chest whenever he brushed a hand to your belly.

And perhaps it's something primal— something about the jarring domesticity of it. But the sight of his pregnant girl in his shirt, little marks on the bit of your collarbone where he'd nibbled the night before, makes him ache.

So when you do notice him enter the living room, you don't have the chance for even a good morning before he's knelt on the floor in front of you. A stance of worship. His hands lazily take hold of your knees to part you open.

He eats you out like this.

Right here.

One hand slips under the shirt you've got on to cup the underside of your stomach while the other hand spreads your folds apart. His mask is long gone at this point. There's no desire to hide from you. His tongue is your disciple. It finds home in the temple between your thighs and slurps and dribbles and glides with love more than anything. The taste of you is something sweet, something precious.

"Wanna make you feel good," Simon sighs into your cunt. Your hands have already found his hair. The heels of your feet propped on his shoulders.

"Wanna take care of you."

And he does, in every way he can.

STRANGER THINGS - PORN LINKS (twitter)

Warning: 18+!!!, pornlinks

links for Steve, Nancy, Eddie and Robin, because why not

Steve Harrington

— Teasing Steve after a fight

— Fucking after he climbs through your window

— Steve can’t stop fingering you

— Him fucking you passionatly in the shower

— Steve breeding you all night long

— Making you ride him but he can’t resist fucking you

Nancy Wheeler

— Nancy comforting you after a stressful day

— “studying” with Nancy

— Playing with Nancy and a strap-on

— Rubbing your pussies

Eddie Munson

— Rough fuck with Eddie

— Eddie loves seeing your face when he fucks you hard

— Eating your pussy like his last meal

— Playing with his hole while fucks you

— Eddie loves choking you

Robin Buckley

— Robin fucks you with a strap-on

— Robin fingering you

— Playing with Robin in the backroom when you visit her at work

— Robin got you a toy

— beybaldes's masterlist !!

eddie roundtree !!

the woman that loves you (boy you're such a fool)

they long to be (close to you)

don't let it burn (don't let it fade)

all I know of love is how to live without it p2 (i just can't seem to find it)

gold dust woman

yesterday once more

some word today from my boyfriend so far away

goodbye to love

social media au 1 2

warren rojas !!

and wouldn't you love to love her?

back again (just like a long lost friend)

rainy days and mondays

the lovers, the dreamers and me

your love's put me at the top of the world

social media au 1

graham dunne !!

maybe you can’t see how much you mean to me

i’ve acted out my love on stages with 10,000 people watching

social media au 1 2

̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇

roy kent !!

it was simple, it was sweetness, it was good to know

the twitter verse - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft

and somehow I know that you and I would’ve found eachother

jamie tartt !!

the heartbreak prince coming soon!!

̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇

simon aumar !!

that which you cannot see

that which you cannot here coming soon!!

suck the rot right out of my bloodstream coming soon!!

̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇

detective abe !!

the prying hands of choice

a love never flourished

somewhere, somehow

̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇

sejanus plinth!!

one single threat of gold tied me to you

I swam a lake of fire, I’d have walked across the floor of any sea

of the goodness, love, I still carry for you

David Bowie and the End of Gender, Anne Rice, Vogue, November 1983

Detail from An allegory of sculpture and architecture by Thomas Germain Joseph Duvivier

Gates of Dawn,  Herbert James Draper, 1900

art student!reader x life drawing model!Eddie Munson

E 18+, so nsfw Words: 7048 read on ao3

find the sequel here

Paint It Black Summery: You’re frustrated with your latest work and look for distraction by attending the open life drawing class on what looks like a very ordinary Thursday. Eddie, the new model, is everything but ordinary but definitely a distraction.

CW/tags: characters somewhere in their twenties, meet-wild, smut, fluff, some sort of voyeurism/public erection, gets a little rough, unprotected sex, piv penetration, oral for everybody, v fingering, biting, love marks, talky sex, aftercare, art school bullshit, messy sex, artsy sex (I guess), love at first sight (I guess)

A/N: @edsforehead made me do it. (thank you so much)

comments and reblogs are so appreciated

The air is cold, stinging your cheeks as you ride your bike through a clear and crisp winter morning. It does wonders for waking you up and clearing your mind; you had spent way too long in your studio last night, hovering over this painting that just wouldn’t go the way you wanted. Inside your mind, you hoisted it off the wall to place it right in the middle of the room, a bucket of thick black paint in one hand, the other one dipping in until the medium reached your wrist. You drop down to your knees and get to work, blacking the wretched thing out one large swoop of your arm after another, sending hours of work into oblivion.

Oh my, it was so tempting. Your fingertips tickle with the urge to turn your frustration into something wild and rough and… simple.

But your Professor had sworn to make your life very hard if he ever got wind of you destroying one of your works again, so you followed the advice he had given you: You had decided to take a break. Do something different, something simple, something rewarding and easy to clear your mind to recharge your drained batteries.

So it is Thursday and you crawled out of bed after four measly hours of sleep to go to the life drawing class. You are early as always to get one of the good spots. The small auditorium is still empty except for your teacher who is busy untangling the cords of the various space heaters that will keep the model warm for the next hours.

“Ah,” he says as he sees you, “haven’t seen you here in a while.”

“Yeah, been busy wasting paint.” You smile and walk down the steps of the middle aisle and drop your bag on the best chair: first platform, second chair on the right from the aisle. It had the perfect distance and angle and the top of the backrest of first row to put your feet on so you could rest your paper on your thighs and wouldn’t have to struggle through two hours and a half hours of numb feet.

“Good decision to waste some graphite instead today,” your teacher says and grins. “I’m excited to see your progress.”

You hum, unpacking your supplies. “Who’s the model today? Someone familiar?”

“No, actually, I finally could recruit someone new. He should already be here though. Maybe he has difficulties finding us.” The building was old and could be confusing if you never set foot in it before.

“He,” you say, sharpening your pencil. “Guess it’s my lucky day.”

Male models were rare - maybe two out of ten sessions - and you start to get excited about coming in today.

Your teacher climbs up the stairs past you, “I’ll go and see if he’s wandering around somewhere.”

 —

The room fills with students; you say your How are you?’s and What are you working on?’s and when the clock shows 9:37, you brace yourself for the session getting cancelled. Just then, the door opens and your teacher hurries down the stairs.

“Good morning everybody. Sorry for the delay, our model got lost in our hallways. Let’s hear: anybody working on something particular and has some requests for poses?”

You crane your neck up to the back of the room towards the overflowing coat rack while your teacher keeps going through the usual procedure.

The model’s back is turned and you see a long black coat being shrugged off of lean shoulders and underneath: more black. Black lines of ink meandering out of the sleeves of a black shirt; a harsh contrast against pale skin. Ringed hands come up to the back of his head to put the long dark wavy hair into a bun.

No! you plead internally, surprised by that strong reaction.

He chooses the far left aisle down, almost disappearing behind the rows of students but your eyes follow him with a burning curiosity as if you wouldn’t get the chance to look at him for hours in a moment. You shake your head and open your sketchbook to do just anything but stare. There was a difference between observing and staring and the latter wasn’t fucking appropriate inside this room.

“Everybody,” your teacher announces, “this is Eddie. Eddie has never done this before so be patient and just let him know if he’s moving too much.”

You look up and grind your teeth. This Eddie is fucking gorgeous.

“Uhm, hi!” he smiles into the room then looks back at your teacher. “So, uh, I just get naked or what?”

Everybody laughs, but you don’t. You’re taking a long slow breath.

“That’s the general idea,” your teacher grins. “You can put your things on that table in the corner and then just come back to this spot.”

But Eddie does not move to the mentioned corner, he simply pulls off his shirt and throws it the distance to the table. More tattoos come to light; all black, no color. He then kicks off his shoes and you watch his fingers as they open his belt and his fly, how they lodge into the hem of his black, frayed jeans and pull them down in one swoop. There are giggles as he throws the bundle, aiming at the table like he’s at the bowling alley, completely naked.

And then you realize, Eddie didn’t wear any underwear.

“The rings too, please.”

“Oh, sure.” He picks them off his fingers; one two three from one hand and one more from the other. Eddie looks at them on his palm for a moment and grins. “Nah, not gonna throw those.”

The class giggles again as Eddie takes two three long strides to the table to put his rings down carefully and prances back, taking his spot in the middle of the small platform surrounded by space heaters.

There is a soft crack coming from your lap and you look down to see that you had pushed your pencil to the paper so hard that you’d broken the tip.

—

It’s as always: a series of short poses to warm up. One minute, then three and up from there.

Except it is not like always. You're flustered, you’re hot and you spend way too long staring, not finishing any of the one-minute poses.

This has never happened to you before and you had been presented with a lot of good-looking people over the years but this guy was something else.

Three-minute poses and Eddie is slouched back in a chair, long legs spread, left arm resting on top of his head, the right one on his thigh. This was sinful. You just corrected the angle of his left thigh for the third time when you look up and find him looking right back at you. No lost glance into the distance over your shoulder, no: your eyes meet. And those eyes are big and dark and curious and he holds the gaze for several seconds before the timer beeps and announces the change of poses.

He’s not only beautiful and scorching hot but also incredibly adorable. He’s giddy between poses, shaking his arms and legs - and with that his cute little ass - bouncing on his toes and you start to think that holding still normally isn’t his forte. When he lies on his belly, soft gaze on the floor, he tries to stifle a yawn once, twice and only lets it out when he’s allowed to move again. You like his dedication.

Five-minute poses and you finally get into the flow; things start to make sense on the paper until you find him looking at you again. And not only that: he mouthes a small 'Hi'. You bite your lip and look down, feeling the looks of some of the students on you.

He’s cross-legged, leaning back, hands braced on the ground behind him. The angle is weird and it doesn’t help that the way his lean, inked chest moves every time he takes a breath makes you want to bite down on those sharp collarbones. You hold your sketchpad in your outstretched arms doing those quick back-and-forth glances to find out where to correct the mess when his eyes move back to you. Every time you meet his gaze makes your spine tingle more and more and you have to bite down on your lip again to not let a fucking noise slip from your mouth.

Ten-minute poses and your teacher has made it to you to give you some feedback. Nothing you hadn’t expected: you go about it too complicated, want to do too much in too little time, too much detail. Eddie is stretched out on his back and smirks towards the ceiling.

On the next round of feedback, he tells you to really look at Eddie’s hips. You get the angle wrong, it throws off the stance, and you know why all your stupid drawings look a little wonky: you try to avoid looking at his cock for too long. You never thought about a penis as a cock before in this class and it drives you up the walls seeing it twitch slightly while your teacher keeps explaining things you already know and you’re forced to stare at Eddie's crotch, knowing he's side-eying you and your flustered expression the whole. Damn. Time.

Eddie gets a brief pause to stretch and have some water and you want revenge. While his back is turned to you - shoulder blades rippling deliciously under his skin - you open the top two buttons of your blouse, sliding the collar off your shoulder.

One final five-minute pose before the session ends with a twenty-fiver and Eddie is crouched down with his knees pulled under his chin. He shuffles a little before he really settles, tilting his head slightly in a way that forces him to look in your direction unless he wants to lower his eyes to the floor for five minutes.

When he finally looks up, you’re waiting for him, head titled yourself exposing the side of your neck down to your shoulder where your bra strap is barely holding onto your skin.

Eddie’s eyes widen and you smile, tongue poking out just a little to lick your bottom lip before you focus on the paper in your lap to roughly map out the pose. You don’t linger on him while you draw, quick glances only, but you can feel his gaze heavy on you.

This sketch is turning out to be the best so far. You lean back a little, biting down on the back of your pencil and start rolling your shoulders. One gets stiff sitting like that for so long, so people stretch all the time and nobody will notice that you’re giving Eddie a little show. You tilt your head to the right and run a hand over the muscles in your neck, massaging the achy spot right beyond your skull for a moment. When you give in to look down at him, you do it from under your lashes, taking the pencil stuck in your mouth between two fingers and let your tongue play with it ever so slightly.

Eddie takes a deep breath; you can see it in the way his shoulders rise and his knees are pressed forward. You grin and he pulls up his brows and you can’t tell if he begs you to stop or go on.

Twenty-five-minute pose and the crowd demands him to stand.

“Twenty-five minutes of standing is ok?” your teacher asks Eddie, who hasn’t jumped up like a spring toy after the timer rang.

“Uhm, yeah,” he says, legs still drawn to his torso. “Sure thing, uh-hn.”

It takes him another beat to push himself up and come to a stand. Your eyes wander from the top of his cheeks, tinted in a pretty pink, down to those hips to find him not exactly half hard, but on a good way to it. You feel your eyes roll up.

Shit.

Your teacher instructs him how to stand, feet wider apart - a little more, perfect - arms crossed over his chest which too is now slightly pink. His biceps’ flex a few times as he waits for more instructions.

“Can you turn a little, to the left?” a guy in the top row asks and Eddie does.

“Like this?”

Like this you get him in a three-quarter-view and your heart is racing; will he look at you again or did you push it too far?

“Anything else?” your teacher asks and you want to bite down on your tongue but instead it’s moving and forming words.

“Can we have the hair down for this last one?”

Eddie’s head snaps up, catching you in the middle of your request. He pinches his eyes shut at the approval of your fellow students. Below the waist, he’s twitching again.

Loosening his hair tie, Eddie musses around in his dark waves with practised fingers until he seems satisfied with what he sees in the mirror across the room. You suppress a moan, breaking the tip of your pencil again. He’s not looking at you, this time choosing to turn down his eyes while his face points in your general direction again. You curse at yourself internally; you should have just gone to him after the session and slipped him your number or asked him if he was busy after this while the both of you were still flooded with whatever this was and—

Shit!

Whatever Eddie is thinking while not looking at you did not help with what was going on in his loins. That pretty cock was getting bigger: half-hard-hello! And judging by his current state, he was big. You involuntarily grind your hips on your chair and drop your pencil in the process. A groan escapes you, sounding much too pleasant for a case of dropped art supplies and you bend down to get it back. When you come up, brown eyes are waiting for you. There is a smile playing around them while his pretty pink lips are slightly pressed together. Thank god he doesn’t look mad or annoyed, only the blush giving away that something was going on.

You can’t help it, you’re biting your lip, eyes wandering between his face and his cock and his brows draw slightly together before he averts his eyes again, breathing a few times: deep and slow.

Deep and slow.

Holy shit you are throbbing and wet and all you can do is fake another stretch and while shuffling around, press your thighs together for a little bit of friction. You tilt your hips down slightly and the sensation is so good and welcome that your eyes pinch close and your back arches. The movement is jerkily and you stretch your arms over your head to conceal it, slowly opening your eyes again.

Eddie is watching. Eddie is hard.

You grab your pencil and start drawing the spectacle in front of you; concentration isn’t the right word for the sharp focus that settles over you. It’s fucking lust.

It’s not the first hard-on you’ve seen in this class, not by any means. It happens now and then and usually a slight blush from the model was the only reaction. But this wasn’t any hard dick: you did this. You did this to this gorgeous man and you wanted to capture this with your own hands. In case he just bolted right after the session, you would have something to remember this.

You’re leaning in, literally, sketch pad balancing on your knees and bent over your thighs you almost forget the additional loosened buttons on your blouse until you catch those eyes directed at your chest. Seems like Eddie figured the damage was done anyway so why hold back now?

And fucking hell was that precum glistening at the tip?

 This is when the timer starts announcing the end of class.

Eddie shoots you one final look, a sharp grin, a slight shake of the head, tips of his hair tickling his shoulders and hops off his little platform to get dressed.

“Holy shit,” says the guy next to you, leaning over. “Have you seen that dick?”

You huff a laugh that throbs in your pussy. “Hard to overlook.”

“Exactly,” he groans and picks up his things.

—

You look at drawings of Eddie of all kinds. They are all beautiful, even the bad ones. You rub your forehead catching that corny thought and look across the room where Eddie is talking to two people, gesturing to the drawings on the floor, laughing. The two of you are slowly moving towards each other. The journey consists of looking, talking: This is a good one! and That one is crap, right? and glancing to your right. You reach the row with your own stuff, groaning internally at how very off everything looks, everything but two.

Suddenly, a chest presses to your back and an arm sneaks past you to point at a drawing.

“That’s amazing.”

The explosion in your insides barely travels to your voice and you’re impressed with yourself. He even smells amazing. “Thank you.”

“Oh, that’s one of yours then?”

You turn to face him. The smile on his face is obscene.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Eddie.”

The smile shrinks a little and his nostrils flare with the air he pulls in. His voice is low and deep when he speaks. “You… uh, made that a very hard job to do.”

“I’m almost sorry,” you croon. His face is way too close; one uptilt of your head and you could bite his plush bottom lip.

“Don’t be,” he licks the spot you just imagined nibbling on. “I didn’t start it for nothing.”

You both jump when someone hijacks your moment. “Those detailed studies are really nice.”

“Yeah, right?” Eddie says with genuine enthusiasm. “Almost the only ones who got some of my tattoos…”

“Uhg, tattoos are hard in that short time, man and you know, not really anatomy.”

The exchange goes back and forth a little longer until Eddie loops his arm under yours and not so causally pulls you in the direction you’d come from under the disguise of looking at sketches.

“So, uh, what are you doing, like, right after this?”

“You, I hope.”

“Shit…” he shakes his head, hair falling into his face. “You’re killing me already… where do you want to go?”

You think about this for a moment, greedy and soaking through your panties you’re in no mood to wait much longer to have him naked again.

“I have a studio two corridors down…”

His brows shoot up. “You ahm…” he blurts out, then lowers his voice, “want to do me here at school?”

“Yes, Eddie… like the pretty little muse you are.”

—

His hand is warm in yours as you pull him along behind you through the hallway past your fellow students who throw curious glances over their shoulders.

Eddie catches up to your side and leans close to your ear, “Are you already wet for me? The way you moved on that chair…”

“Drenched,” you breathe against his neck and almost stumble over your own feet. Eddie sneaks his arm around you, keeping you steady.

“Easy, sweetheart. Let me be the one to bruise you, ok? I’ll do it in aaall the nice places.”

You stare at him, mouth hanging open.

“Promise,” he adds, tapping the tip of your nose, a devilish smile spreading on his face.

You drag him on and he laughs behind you until he catches up again. There is a brief moment where you leave him in the middle of the empty foyer to get your key from the doorman, interrupting his lunch break, praying to whoever deity will listen to your horny call that none of your studio mates is in there already. You almost moan when the guy hands the key to you and you bump into Eddie’s chest face first when you turn around in a hurry.

“Fuck you’re so pretty,” he rasps, takes your face in his large hands and bends down to press a hot kiss to your mouth. Your fists close around the lapel of his coat as he licks along your teeth until your tongue finds him. The world around you feels vague and unimportant until the doorman behind you knocks against the glass of his booth.

“I don’t need to see this, folks.”

This time Eddie takes your hand and walks on. “Show me the way, babe, or I’ll have to hoist you up one of those windowsills… you people are doing performance art here, right?”

Eddie is mumbling filthy things at you the whole way down the empty corridor where your shared studio is the last room on the left. You try to fumble the key into the lock and drop it because Eddie is already busy bruising your neck. Pressed flat to your back he brushed your hair to the side and started sucking at the spot just below your ear, his hands sneaking around you, cupping your tits through your blouse. As you bend down to pick up the key, Eddie grabs your hips and rolls his own against you, almost pushing you into the door. You both laugh and he pulls you up by your waist.

“Sorry,” he chuckles as you finally unlock the door. “I couldn’t help myself.”

You let him inside and lock the door behind you.

“What’s your workspace?” he asks, already poking his nose into things. “No! Don’t tell me… it’s… this one.”

“How did you know?” you ask surprised, taking off your coat and fully unbuttoning your blouse while he looks at your work lined up on the wall, hand on his chin like a proper little art critic.

“Well, I saw your drawings and this stuff here… it has the same… Duktus?”

“Christ,” you moan and he looks at you. “That was so sexy.”

“Hey, you’re starting without me?”

Eddie rushes to you, hands instantly sliding inside your open blouse against your bare skin. His hands are rough, calloused in some places and the slight scratch is making you shiver in his arms. He pulls the fabric off of you and drops it to the ground. His coat falls next, then his shirt. Eddie hisses as you sink your teeth into his collarbone as soon as you have access to them.

“Too much?”

His eyes are lidded and so very dark as he shakes his head. “Just start pulling my hair too and you’ll never get rid of me again…”

“That a threat or another promise?” you purr as you open his belt and fly over the impressive bulge in his pants.

“Which one turns you on more?” You hook your fingers into his waistband and drop to your knees, pulling his pants down with you, making his breath hitch. “Oh, s-shit…”

This is the close-up you've been yearning for all morning. Fully hard and flushed a deep pink already; you wonder if it will feel as heavy on your tongue as it looks. You run a finger along the underside and it twitches again, bobbing up and down in front of your face. You lean in, stick out your tongue and give the swollen tip a lick that makes Eddie whimper above you.

Again you meet his eyes and the expression in them is so unexpectedly soft that you almost whimper too. Your cunt is clenching around horrible nothingness as you lick him again, flat tongue sliding along the underside, feeling a vein, tasting salt, watching those big brown eyes roll up and close as a moan escapes him.

“You’re gorgeous, holy shit.” You firmly grip his cock around the base and stroke him a few times, your mouth watering, before you close your lips around the tip, your tongue swirling in lazy circles around it. Eddie’s breath is uneven and laced with soft moans from his glistening parted lips while you softly play around with his cock. Every twitch of his face is a delight, the way his abdomen tenses when you press small kisses to the length of his shaft makes you swoon with adoration. You reach up one hand to trace up the lines of a tattoo on his ribcage and he catches it, pressing it flat against his chest. Eddie’s heartbeat pounds against your palm and you moan around his cock.

“Holy… fuck… I wanna watch you so bad but I don’t know if I can take it.”

“You can take it, big boy,” you say in a low voice. “Look at me.”

It takes him a few more seconds until he opens his eyes and looks down at you; the moment you lock eyes you take him down as far as you can. A string of loud but mostly intangible curses echoes through the large room as you suck him down again and again in long leisurely motions. Your lips stretched around his girth curl up into a smile when his hands look for something to hold onto in your hair and you place your index finger at the corner of your mouth without stopping your onslaught to signal him to keep the volume down.

“Sorry, ah fuck fuck FUCK… I’ll try… shit I’m balls deep in your mouth and still don’t know your name—”

You don’t want to stop, not even for the moment to tell him your name. There’s a big portfolio folder leaning against the wall and you point in the general direction before running your fingers through the dark curls around his base and up the trail to his stomach while he’s trying to figure out what you’re showing him, failing at his attempt to stay quiet.

Then he says it: your name, no, he moans it. And he doesn’t fucking stop.

Suddenly your abdomen is on fire and you have to pull back to catch your breath. But you can’t, not really, because Eddie has kicked off his pants the rest of the way, dropped to the floor and pushed you to your back to peel you out of your clothes.

The floor is cold under your ass and back and you thump your head a little as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer to him.

“Shit, you okay?”

“Yeah,” you giggle, “keep manhandling me.”

Eddie grins like the devil himself and goes to work. He’s everywhere: kissing, lapping biting at your mouth, your jaw your neck your tits, his fingers pushed into your thighs and you know it will bruise. He’s keeping his promise, leaving wet tingling marks all over you, a purple trail of small galaxies. His fingers find your cunt, finally, and Eddie eats the moan out of your mouth.

“Shh,” he says with a cocky laugh, his forehead pressed to yours, two fingers circling your clit in dragging motions. “You’re loud, beautiful. You don’t want us to get caught before I had a chance to fuck you.”

“N-no… ahhh.” Two thick fingers slide into you and your muscles grip down hard at the sudden intrusion.

“Hi,” he grins down at you as if he wasn’t just pounding your g-spot out of nowhere and making you see stars.

You hold on to his face, grappling for purchase and finally wind your fingers into this wild tickling hair and pull.

“Jesus, finally!”

“I— I’m so close.”

“Keep holding on,” he groans and moves down your body, fingers stilling for a moment.

You keep your hands in his hair, pulling in frustration from the ebbing pleasure.

“Of course, you have the prettiest fucking pussy, you—“ he doesn’t finish his thought, diving in with his tongue to lap at your clit like he’d been starving for you his whole life.

You bite the back of your hand to keep from yelling out at the sight alone. His eyes meet yours, of course they do and he sucks one of your lips into his mouth.

“You’re a fucking tease, Eddie… what’s your last name?”

“Munson,” he mumbles against your core and keeps on feasting.

“You’re a fucking tease, Eddie Munson… ahhh don’t stop please.”

And he doesn’t. He gives you his fingers and his mouth, his eyes fixed on you— well, most of the time, he keeps looking to a spot behind you but you have no time to inquire as your legs start to tremble and everything inside you starts to tense and pulse and you’re coming apart under his mouth before you’ve really seen it coming.

Yeah, that guy was something else.

When you’ve come down he gently pulls his fingers from you and litters your thighs and belly with kisses. His fingers are sticky against your skin but a slight roughness remains.

Your head lolls against the floor while you’re still blissed out and Eddie still puts those feathery kisses to your skin.

“You… you’re a musician…” you drawl out.

He looks up. “Yeah! How do you know?”

You take his hand from your chest and lick your wetness from his fingers before you turn his palm to him, sliding a fingertip over the calloused skin.

“You like that?” he grins.

You let go of his hand and nod. “Something with strings?”

“Guitar. And vocals.”

“Fuck you, you’re way too hot as it is…” you squeeze him with your thighs and his eyes go to that spot behind you again before he kisses your chest.

“What do you keep looking at?” you wiggle and crane your neck. It’s that painting. The one that has been haunting you for weeks.

“Sorry,” he scrunches up his nose. “I don’t know, draws me in somehow… it’s… weird… sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be…” you say and pull him up to you, kissing him. “You’re right.”

“Yeah?” he glances over again. “Well, fuck… yeah… m’ not gonna lie to you it’s kinda terrifying.” You both laugh. The warmth in your chest only expands more.

“Want to slather me in paint and fuck me against it?”

Eddie’s eyes widen as he glances between your face and the canvas. “Yes? Fuck yes!”

He pulls you up and into a hungry kiss, his thick cock hard against your belly.

 “Is that stuff safe to use?” he points his chin to some paint tubes on the trolley in the corner.

“No, oh god, no. But…” you leave him to look for a large bottle of black paint letting out a triumphant ha when you find it. You turn around beaming. “This here is… and will wash out of hair with no problem.”

“Come here…” he curls his finger to beckon you to him. “And hand that over.”

“Is that turning you on?” you ask as you join him.

“You have no idea.” Eddie takes the paint from you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling your back to his chest. “You’re so pretty already with all my marks on you.” He walks you over to the canvas that way, his lips pressed close to your ear.

You turn in his arm and reach for his cock, stroking him softly. “How do you want me?”

“Fuck if I know… gimme a second and don’t stop that.” He looks at the canvas, really thinking about this. You suddenly want to pull his hair again. “Hands above your head, babe,” he says, opening the bottle of paint and squirts a generous amount into his hand. “Keep them clean. You have to put me inside you.”

You lean against the canvas; it’s large, so large that your outstretched arms above your head just graze the wooden frame inside.

Eddie’s hands are dripping black paint as he grabs your hips, bends down and sucks your nipple into his mouth before he kisses up to the crook of your shoulder to suck on you once more. “One last one before I make a mess out of you.” The contrast between the warmth of his lips and the cool paint as he slides his hands up your sides to your ribs makes you squirm and whimper. Eddie steps back to look at his work.

“Fuck, I’m an artist.”

He grabs the bottle from the floor and gets more paint, letting it drip right to your tits before smudging with splayed fingers. You watch him, mesmerized. When he is satisfied, he spins you around and pats your thigh as a sign to widen your stance. You feel him shuffle behind you as he presses himself against you and your chest against the canvas.

“Ready?”

You reach down, fumbling in the air for a moment before you find him. “You ready?”

 “Ye—ahhhh, you little minx,” he groans as you line him up and push back on him half the way. He holds you steady and slides in the rest of the way breathing out a long low fuuuuck. Then he stills. “Are you holding your breath? You ok?”

You are more than ok and you let the air out, your forehead dropping against the canvas. “It was that or letting everybody in the building know I’m getting stretched real fucking good right now…”

He angles your hips back and pushes closer. “Yeah, you are… shit, you’re unreal.”

“And you’re big. Gimme a moment.”

“All the time you want, I’m cosy here.”

While you get used to the stretch, Eddie caresses your back, rubbing small circles up the sides of your spine.

“I have a show next Tuesday,” he says kissing your shoulder. “Would love to see you in the first row.”

“Wouldn’t miss it… I assume it’s something hard?” you wiggle your ass, making you both sigh.

“You like it hard?” he laughs. “Music, I mean.”

“I do.”

“’Course you do. Can I fuck you now? Please?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Before the paint dries.”

He starts slow, pulling out almost all the way and sliding back in till he bottoms out. Your front slides against the canvas blackening out parts of it in big splotches.

“How’s this?” He’s so careful it makes your throat feel tight.

“You feel in-incredible.” You push back, meeting his thrusts as he picks up the pace.

“You’re incredible, sweetheart.”

Then you’re just getting lost in each other. His movements get rougher, more confident as he thrusts into you. You feel him deep inside you lighting little fires everywhere. A hand presses to the canvas next to your head, an arm loops around your waist and you yelp as he sharply slams into you. You beg him to do it again but he’s already on it, relentlessly fucking you into the canvas. Most of the paint is dry now, it’s prickling on your skin. Eddie moans your name into your ear, squeezing your tits and you squeeze your muscles around his cock.

“Shhh, babe…” you chuckle after he cries out.

“Fuck you,” he laughs hoarsely into your hair.

You’re so close again and you slip your hand between your legs but Eddie stops and pulls your arm to your back. “No nono, shit, not-not like that…”

“Eddie…”

“Stay like that,” he says and pulls out of you, leaving you empty and confused. There is some shuffling and then he is back behind you. “Going to be cold.”

“What— uhn!”

Paint trickles onto your arched back, sliding down your spine and making you shiver. Eddie gives your ass a little smack and turns you around, crowding you against the canvas, and hoists you up by your thighs.

“Oh my god,” you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck while he balances you out.

“Can’t do that all day but you’re close ‘n I wanna see that face when you come.” He leans you back to create some space between you. “Help me out, put me back inside you…”

You do as you’re told and you clench your thighs hard around his hips as he starts up almost at the same pace he stopped. He kisses you, so sloppy so wet you feel a string of spit between your mouths when he pulls back again to hook his arms under your knees and spreads you open so wide that you’re crying out his name.

“I got you,” he assures you, pounding into you at a new angle, so deep it makes you dizzy. “I got you, you can juuust fall apart…”

The noises you two are making where you’re joined are obscene.

“Holy shit,” you moan, “li-listen… those sounds.”

Eddie drops his head to your shoulder, sweat dripping from his forehead onto you. “Like fucking music…”

You laugh. “Fucking music indeed.”

“God, you’re perfect,” he presses out through a laugh and really leans into you. You grab a thick strand of hair and pull as your insides begin to tense.

“Oh… oh shit, don’t stop.”

The world tilts as he leans you back again. “Wouldn’t dare… touch yourself for me, I need to feel you come around me.”

“Come inside me, yeah?” you rasp as you circle your swollen throbbing clit.

His eyes bore into yours, the strain and pleasure all over his face. He’s a mess as much as you are. “Come on, darling… come for me… I want you to run through my fingers.”

And you swear you do: your head thumps against the wood frame as your muscles try to create a black hole or whatever happens under so much pressure, but who cares when this stupidly perfect man fucks you through the hardest orgasm anyone ever had while looking at you like he was fulfilling his fucking destiny. You can’t hear him over the blood rushing through your ears, but he looks so pretty with his nose scrunched up, a streak of black paint running over the bridge and his eyes shut tight. A few more thrusts and he collapses against your chest with stuttering hips, pinning you so hard against the wall that it drives the air out of you.

There is only breathing, hot air from his lungs against your tickling skin. You cup the back of his head and stroke his hair; he nuzzles deeper into your skin and makes a noise that sounds like fucking home.

“I need to put you down now… sorry.”

He puts you down but doesn’t let go. Kisses cover your face until you cup his cheeks and claim his mouth while he’s dripping down the inside of your thighs.

Then you giggle together, Eddie squeezing your ass with both hands, smiling at you so silly and soft. You’re thirsty, you let him have the bottle first and he gulps the water down, spilling down his chest, creating little rivers of paint that let the ink show through. You want to study those lines up close without twenty people around you, without the blinding fire of lust, but calm, taking your time asking questions.

“What’s going on up there?” he asks, tapping a finger against your forehead.

“I wanna study you some more,” you say, taking the bottle and down what’s left.

He doesn’t ask you what you mean, only tilts his head and smiles. Then he sits down in that worn-out armchair your mate had dragged in a few months ago, still naked, it isn’t time to cover up yet and you find a clean enough rag, climb into his lap and clean the paint off his face as gently as you can.

“Stop,” he grabs your hips, “do you have a camera or something?”

You do and the timer takes too long for you two not to start fooling around before the soft click of the shutter sounds. One more and one more and the film has only two more left and he pulls you in to kiss you just before the camera rewinds.

“You want to join me when I make the prints?”

“You, red light and chemicals?” he grins. “It’s a date.”

The painting is dry already; Guache dries rather fast, you explain to him. It’s itchy, he adds and scratches his chest, small flakes of black falling down to the floor. You sit in front of both your work, your head against his shoulder and your fingers fumbling with a strand of his hair that is stiff with paint.

“You know,” he says, “it would have made a damn good record cover before…”

“You can have a picture… I document every night before I go home.”

“Really? I mean, the picture?”

You brush sweaty hair off his forehead, “I’m sure it’s in good hands with you.”

He almost shoves you over when he kisses you, the giddy streak you saw earlier during class showing when he chuckles and licks your cheek like a puppy.

“It looks really good now though, don’t you think?”

“You’re just horny,” you laugh.

“What? You don’t like our work?” he pouts and this shouldn’t pull at your heart that much.

“I do,” you kiss the pout, “I was just teasing.”

“I mean it,” he looks at the canvas, “It’s a bit crooked and dented now, but that just adds to the charm.”

 “It has nothing on you though when it comes to charm.” You lean in with a sultry smile and his palm cups your breast and then—

A knock on the door. “Come on, you still fucking in there? I need to work.”

You look at each other with large eyes and break out laughing, scrambling for your clothes. Eddie hisses sharply when you slap his ass just before he pulls up his jeans and you forgo the bra because one strap did not survive Eddie’s enthusiasm. There is paint sticking out of his collar that you couldn’t clean before your photo shoot and you remember to put the film in your pocket while he kisses your temple because he seems to can’t help himself but stay close to you.

“Ready?” you ask and he grabs your hand and nods, following you out.

“Finally,” your mate says, but smiles when she sees you. “Aren’t you that new model?”

“Muse,” he grins without further explanation.

You hand her the key, mouth a small sorry and admit it when she calls you out on your lie.

His hand is warm in yours, his thumb playing with your knuckles as you walk back through the hallway.

“So,” he says, “we gonna shower at your or my place?”

New York City ballet production of Midsummer Nights Dream

David Bowie (1974)

You matter to me

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by @itzajeanspears — Hi!!! Love your writing so much!! Not sure if you’re still doing requests lol, butttt I have a really specific one so if you’d be able to do this I’d like actually die omg. Okay so I’m a fashion student from LA and I was thinking, the reader is like basically siblings with billy and Graham, (her dad and their mom started dating when they were kids so they were practically raised together) but she’s closest with Eddie in particular. They’re best friends. They’ve basically been attached at the hip since they were kids. They’re both secretly harboring feelings for each other and everyone knows it but themselves. She’s been there for them since the band started, like Camilla, making them outfits for gigs and stuff. and Eddie even takes her to prom when her date ends up being a jerk to her. Butttt the reader ends up moving to LA to go to fashion school (maybe eventually she can be their costume designer for the aurora tour 🙏) and Eddie slowly stops talking to her god knows why. Fast forward- The band moves out to LA and they stay with her until they’re stable enough to be out on their own. The tension is super high between her and Eddie and EVERYONE notices. Super Angsty. Ends in fluff and love confessions 🫶 maybe angry billy lol. AGAIN THANK YOU!!! I know that was super complicated. YOUR WRITING AND EDITS ARE AMAZINGGGG !!

✧.* you're reading part two, here's the part one — A letter?

✧.* summary — Eddie was waiting for your response, and when it never came... A wall was built between you.

✧.* warnings — none.

✧.* word count — 3.5k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I know it took me forever!!! I'm so sorry, please enjoy! And let me know your thoughts about it :)

I have no idea how to start this, my head has been a mess since our last conversation. I'm sorry for the way I left, I should've been more polite involving all we've been through in the last couple of months. I confess that I don't understand why you thought I couldn't support you in this situation, I've seen you dreaming about this day since I was ten years old, where we chatted about school and unattainable plans for the future… Seeing you achieve everything you dreamed of is like being hit by a ray of sunshine, I am deeply proud of you.

I wish you all the best on this new journey in your life, you are great and your talent is not left behind! Know that you wouldn't be there if it weren't for all your extraordinary talent. There is something in everything you do that exudes originality and no one can take that away or dispute it from you.

I decided to respect your choice and not go to see you on the day of your departure, I confess that this is demanding a lot from me, but I do everything to see you well. I hope you have a great trip and a great life there too.

I don't want to lie to you, I really hope you write me back, I have a huge hope that you'll give me another chance and we can work things out... I'll understand if you don't want that, I just want you to keep in mind that I love you. Fly towards your dream, and when you miss home, maybe my words will warm your heart.

Yours, Eddie Roundtree.

The bassist seals the letter with trembling fingers, he knew you would leave tomorrow and he still had his doubts about what he was going to do.He wanted to come see you before the match, kiss you gently, hug you as if you were going to escape at any moment... But he couldn't, if that was your choice he would respect that.

He knocks on the Dunne house three times, his hands trembling as he waited impatiently with the letter in hand.

"Eddie? What are you doing here so early my dear?" Mrs Dunne's sweet voice asks, she was quiet, probably because she was the only one awake in the house.

"I— I came to give this to Y/N." He extends the paper to her, confused, the older girl takes the object.

"Do you want to come in?" She asks, opening the door for him.

"No no, thank you." He seemed nervous, afraid that you would show up at any moment. "I really just came to leave this"

The madness was crazy the morning you were going to leave, you waited in secret for Eddie, a hope that he would appear was growing in you even though you wanted to kill it. Everyone else had made a point of saying goodbye, even Warren had stopped by to leave you some chocolate for the flight, but nothing from your boyfriend.

That's what you were, right? After all, there was no ending, not formally in so many words... Anxiety made you fear that when he left that had been your final point.

You open your arms to hug your considerate mother, Mrs. Dunne had been very present to you since she came into your life and saying goodbye was harder than you thought.

"I'll miss you so much." Her choked voice says, and you hold her closer.

"Oh honey, I'll miss you too." She answers, still holding you. "Anytime you need us, you just have to call. You have a family here."

At this point you were already in tears, and you let the hug go to wipe them away.

"Look." She starts to say, opening her bag to hand you something. "Eddie asked me to give you this."

Your eyes widen, you take the letter in your hands and leave for your new life.

…

You open the drawer of the nightstand next to your bed and return the letter to the place it always rests still not being able to open it, a sigh leaves you as you relive the night you had just had. Now that you were in the same city everything was more vivid, it was like living your teenage years again and it was frustrating. Of course you missed your friends and your brothers, but feeling Eddie's look at the back of your head was a huge distraction that kept increasing many questions in the same.

Eddie let the air out of his lungs as his body collapsed onto the bed he had fought for hours with Warren for, He lights a cigarette while staring at the ceiling and gradually sees the smoke draw your face, He hated how all the feelings he had put so much effort into hiding returned like the tide flooding over him, it was frustrating how you could make his heart race in a way no drug could ever manege to.

He knew that maybe all he had to do was just get over it, and that's all he was trying to do since you left Pittsburgh and him. Eddie was never the kind to get attached to relationships easily, he was used to having one night stands or just casual dating, so when his heart was captured by your gaze and the funny feeling of falling in love... He didn't know what to do.

The cigarette had come to an end and sleep had not even threatened to arrive, Roundtree sits on the bed regretting it before even finishing what he planned to do. He might not have talked to you during the party, but he was a good listener, something he didn't know if it was a blessing or curse until then.

He puts his leather jacket over the blouse he had worn to the party he attended hours ago, also grabbing some cigarettes before going down the stairs of the new house towards the keys to Rojas' van. He considers going to the drummer's room to tell him that he had borrowed the vehicle, but settles for writing a note in letters large enough for him to notice while he looks for it.

He let in his breath once again, shaking his head as he starts the van and heads towards what haunts his mind.

...

The three rings on the door make you lazily get out of bed, your arms go to the blouse thrown on the table before answering.

"Eddie?" You say between shock and yawn, your hands fix your hair automatically.

He avoids your gaze, looking directly at the ground as if he is very anxious. You wait for an answer, but nothing comes out of his mouth, you take a step forward taking his hand and leading him inside.

"Is everything okay?" You ask, after you both sit at the table in your living room.

"I don't know." He lets it out, wondering if he should actually do what he had planned. "I wanted to talk to you about everything."

"In the middle of the night?" You let out a weak laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

"I couldn't sleep, sorry I woke you up." He looked embarrassed, but it was as if being there was more comfortable than anything he had been doing before knocking on the door.

"We can talk, no problem.”

"With us moving here I imagine we'll see each other more often than we have over the years." He looks you in the eyes, the red of the cigarette in them. "And I don't want there to be a fight between us, I don't want there to be things that aren't clear."

You let the air out, trying to look as if you were mature for this situation. "What do you mean by that?"

"Even with our history, is everything ok between us?" He wanted to tell you that the answer was no, that he hadn't forgotten you, but it stayed in his throat just like the growing knot.

"For me yes, but for you I'm not sure." You are honest, letting the frustration go with your words. "You were the one who ignored me the whole party, I felt seventeen again."

"You don't need to be sarcastic." He says rolling his eyes.

"Since when do you call the truth sarcasm?" He arches his eyebrows at your response, you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "What I meant is that I'm over it, I just don't know if you are."

"You know what..." He gets up, adjusting his jacket on himself. "I think we've cleared that up, let's just be polite to each other and that's it. I see you around."

"You're kidding right?" A mocking laugh is let out by you, disbelief shines through. "Is that what you consider resolution?”

"I'll see you around." He says, you get ready to close the door. "Let's just keep things between us, like before."

Your eyes roll back and you slam the door shut, anger and confusion rising in your chest. How can he just show up in the middle of the night to turn your life around like that? You only feel the tears when they fall on your arm, was it frustration? You preferred to believe so, but seeing him treat you with so much indifference was painful.

Still angry, you go to the nightstands and open the drawer to take the letter in hand. Your vision blurred with emotions growing, you tear it apart and as soon as the first cut is made the rest are just a trigger for the pieces on the floor. You cry, regretting it and at the same time wanting to disappear... It hadn't even been twenty four hours since he had returned to your life and everything was chaos.

You collect the pieces and place them inside the box you found, trying your best not to glue the pieces together to read something that could be your answer.

...

You had done a good job of trying to forget about Eddie Roundtree, you had gone out with a few people and avoided running into him as much as possible when you met the band. But that became impossible when his brother went to rehab and his niece was born.

You moved into their house to help with the baby, Camila had never been so vulnerable and you couldn't feel more angry at Billy than in those first few months. Of course, you knew he wasn't one hundred percent to blame, addiction wasn't easy and it made you very sad to know he was like this.

Your move wasn't complete, you slept there some nights and other nights you went back to your house or studio to create some pieces of clothing. It was hard to face Eddie every day, but you two made a point of avoiding each other as much as possible.

It was hard to remember why you didn't like Eddie much when he was being so kind every day by your side, you start to remember why you fell in love with him in the first place. He was kind, funny, he helped everyone, but he was still the one that left you. And that was certainly the impasse for you to sympathize with him once again.

Night fell on the horizon as you leaned over the counter, a cigarette between your lips as you thought about everything at the same time.

"I see you still like the sunset, sunshine." The nickname makes your spine shiver, you don't turn around, you just let him get closer to you. "It always reminds me of you."

The chill comes to your belly, you turn away in disbelief. "What are you doing?"

He rolls his eyes, “Trying to get along with you, is it that hard?"

You let out a sigh, avoiding his eyes. "You want us to be friends?"

"What's the harm on that?" he asks, resting himself.

You shrug, trying your best not to ask every single question that haunted you over the years.

"You made yourself pretty clear that day in my place." That's all you say.

"Why are you acting like I'm a bad guy?" He's confused, upset in his eyes.

"You can't just keep doing this to me, appearing in my life and just leaving me!" You let out your frustrations, he looks at you without understanding. His gaze fixed on your eyes was overwhelming.

"What do you mean?" His voice was trembling, he took a deep breath. "Look, I know I acted childish that night, I shouldn't have just popped at your place and said those things. But I mean what I'm doing right now, I made one mistake... You're really going to blame me for the rest of my life?"

"One mistake?" You tried your best to hold back your urge to cry. "Look Eddie, it's been a long time. I understand if you forgot everything we've been through, I don't want to..."

"You're acting like I didn't care for you. Like I don't care." His voice was calm, it left you disconcerted.

"How can you say that you care for me if you haven't even reached for me all these years?" You turn to face the sky, trying to keep calm.

"I was respecting you!" He avoided coming closer, even though he wanted to take your hand in his. "I told you that! I—...

He stops when he sees your confused eyes, concern takes over his.

"You didn't read the letter, did you?"

You swallow hard, he waits for your answer but you open your mouth and close it without saying anything.

"Did you receive it?" He asks, you nod your head. "I don't understand..."

"I never read it." You confess, looking at your feet.

"Why?" He felt exposed, hurt.

You don't answer, he seems devastated.

"Fuck." He says passing his hands through his hair. "I can't believe this."

He left, leaving you alone with the sunset.

You made a point of coming home that day, there was no way you wouldn't go back to read that letter, your heart was aching with all the emotions that came up this afternoon. You were overwhelmed and feeling guilty, but at the same time confused... You needed answers.

When you managed to put the pieces together it was difficult to tell what was there, but your body softened and your heart tightened. There was your answer.

...

Daisy Jones was responsible for the band's growth after Billy's relapse, 'Honeycomb' was a masterpiece and the whole world knew it when those chords sounded on the radio. You were happy and proud for all of them, it was great to see them all achieving a dream that you followed from the beginning.

You were really excited to go on tour with them, You had already made many different pieces and I'm really looking forward to seeing them using what you created for them from the beginning. Today was the day of the first show, if you weren't even going to be on stage, you were nervous, you couldn't imagine how they were.

You couldn't contain the tears of emotion when you saw them there, the fans screaming excitedly and a long-time dream coming true, it was an amazing feeling and you were so happy to be part of this somehow.

It wasn't easy to deal with the information about the last situation you had with Eddie, of course, Billy had returned and you had spent less time together but that whole scene never left your mind. You tried to expel the flashes as much as possible while pretending to listen to what Camila was saying.

"Swetie, are you paying attention to me?" She says between a laugh, the music from the celebration party made it hard to hear her.

"Aham." You lie, watching Eddie talk to Warren and another girl you didn't know a few steps away. Camila follows your gaze, and turns with an arched eyebrow.

"What's going on?" She asks, her voice softly.

"I feel like I'll never be able to leave what we had behind me." You felt the words leave your mouth with honesty for the first time in a while.

"Have you told him that?" She asks, looking between you and him.

"I'm pretty sure he hates me, so..." You let out a breath, trying to hold back your tears.

"Eddie could never hate you Y/N."

"How can you be so sure?" You take a sip of your beer, avoiding looking at the distant group.

"Oh honey, if you only knew how many times he told me how he felt... How many songs I heard—

"Songs?" You cut her off, holding her arm. "He wrote songs about me?"

"Many." She responds, stroking his hand with a motherly affection. "You should talk to him."

You gather all your strength to follow her advice, and little by little you get closer to them. Warren is the first to notice you, waving in a comical way for you to come closer, Eddie avoids your eyes, the girl greets you with a small smile.

"Hey guys, the show was amazing." They smile at your congratulations. "I'm really proud of you guys."

"Thank you sunshine." Eddie says, almost regretting using the nickname. "I'm sorry..."

"It's okay." You say under your breath. "Look, can we talk alone for a second?"

"Sure." He turns to Rojas and the curly-haired woman. "I'll be right back."

Automatically you take his hand and guide him to a more private place, it's a few seconds of silence before you know how to start. He doesn't rush you, he just waits for you to feel good to begin with what you had planned.

"I read your letter." That's all you can say, he swallows hard. "I'm sorry it took me so long..."

"It's okay, it doesn't matter anymore." He tries to say, but you cut him off.

"It does! It matters and you know it." Tears manage to fill your eyes. "We matter for each other, you matter to me... And I don't know about you, and I know it's probably too late but I can't forget you."

He takes a step closer to you, never taking his eyes off of you. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I love you." A choked laugh comes out of you, it was impossible to contain it all longer.

"Fuck." He holds your face in his hands, touching your foreheads together. "Please, don't mess with me." He jokes.

"I'm done building this wall between us." Her voice was honest, her eyes never stopped staring into his. "I just want to be with you."

He kisses you, a kiss you've missed for years, a connection of souls, an inexplicable feeling. His hands cupped your cheeks and caressed your skin, you pulled him close to feel him after so long. He would always be your point of comfort.

"I love you too." He whispers against your lips, your eyes closed. "I love you so fucking much."

"I know it took a while but I kind of want to stay with you." You joke, he lets out a laugh.

"We can tell our children that we've been dating all this time, they don't need to know about this hiatus" He says while caressing your hair.

"Children?" Rojas' voice made you jump in fright. "Damn, you guys are emotional, huh?"

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

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