i'm sorry but daisybilly shippers terrify me

how am i supposed to live with the knowledge that there were "stunning scenes of a highly sexual nature" of eddie & camilla that won't ever see the light of day because they were "too hot to handle".

do i shoot straight (or do i cheat fate?)

synopsis: jealousy is a good look on eddie.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), dirty talk, swearing

a/n: i need him.

---

"Who the fuck is that?" Eddie questions, thinly veiled fury laced within his words, and despite having your back turned, you can probably guess they're spoken through gritted teeth.

The fact that he had practically dragged you to the kitchen, as well as his hostile tone, makes you heave out a sigh, but admittedly, seeing another guy's arm around your girlfriend's waist is an understandable cause for concern. Swallowing your fears, you nervously adjust your hair and turn around to face Eddie, ready to tell him the news that had you avoiding him these past few weeks.

"My fake boyfriend. Label said I'll have to keep him around for a while, it would be beneficial to my public image or whatever, especially with the new single coming out." You start, the darkness of the quiet kitchen hiding Eddie's expression, the only source of noise being the loud, drunken hollering and cheering of The Six behind the closed door. "It's all fake. I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I just...I just didn't know how to tell you. You know I hate this just as much as you do."

You step forward, shyly reaching out and intertwining your fingers with his. For a moment, you think he won't forgive you, that he'd drop your hands and tell you that he just can't keep up with all your famous pop singer bullshit anymore. Instead, he proves you wrong, like he always does, and pulls you forward by your intertwined hands until your foreheads touch. He sighs, anger washed away by your explanation, but tension in his shoulders still very much present.

"Is this why you've been avoiding me? Jesus, you made me go crazy. For a second there, I thought it was over when I saw you with that blonde douchebag. Don't ever do that again." Eddie murmurs and you smile slightly, shaking your head.

"Noted. I'm sorry, again." You reply and he kisses your forehead, accepting your apology.

"I want us to go public." Eddie declares after a beat of peaceful silence, looking at you right in the eyes, speaking with the hard resolution of someone who's saying something that's been on their mind for a long time. "I don't want to hide anymore. I want to write songs about you, and I want you to write songs about me, and have everybody know we wrote them for each other. I don't want to love you in secret like this anymore."

Your eyes soften at his confession and you kiss him tenderly, putting every single ounce of your love into it, hoping he'd understand that you feel the same way. He leans into it, hands grabbing your waist and pulling your body against his.

"Y'know, the entire band probably knows we're an item already. I mean, we don't exactly try to hide it around them." You joke when you break apart for air, a trail of spit connecting you and Eddie's lips.

He chuckles, pupils dilated as he gazes at it, and starts to slowly corner you against Billy and Camilla's fridge.

"They do. But how about we make things clear for that boyfriend of yours too, yeah?" He whispers and you swallow when his thumb reaches out and slowly pulls your bottom lip down. You tune out the sounds coming from the other room the longer you look at him.

"Jump, baby." Eddie commands and you immediately do so, wrapping your legs around his hips and burying your hands in his hair, while he grips your ass, fully pressing you against the fridge.

He kisses you then, previous tenderness replaced with predatory hunger, as he bites and licks his way into your mouth. You let out a helpless moan, involuntarily dragging yourself across his hard-on, the feel of it on your core making you gasp.

"You're already hard?" You question in disbelief, slightly pulling away from him, eyebrows raised so high they almost reach your hairline.

He licks his lips while you speak, looking inconvenienced at your interruption.

"Been hard like a rock since I saw you in that dress, sweetheart, you just didn't see it. Too focused on your boyfriend, probably." He teases without any actual malice, but before you get the chance to scoff and tell him to fuck off, he's already kissing his way down your neck.

You can only sit there, lost in a haze of enjoyment, as he frantically drags your dress up your thighs, continuing to pepper kisses on your collarbones and cleavage. Once your dress is finally out of the way, he doesn't waste any time and cups your cunt in one large hand, making you shiver, while he drags his thumb across the wet spot of your panties.

"Is this all for me?" He asks, knowing the answer already but wanting to enjoy the satisfaction of hearing you say it.

"It's always for you." The words roll off your tongue, an unabashed truth, and he rewards you for it by pulling off your panties - but instead of dropping them on the floor, he decides to shove them in the pocket of his jeans.

His movements are quick, but you see all of it, and hit his back with your leg as a form of protest. Eddie squeezes your hips in return, stilling you immediately, but offering no explanation, only dragging his thumb across your slick entrance, eyes intently focused on it.

"Eddie, why the hell did you do tha- oh, shit." You start just as two of his fingers glide inside of you, and his thumb starts rubbing your clit in circles.

Your back arches at the feeling of his fingers pistoning in and out, as you completely disregard what you were going to say. Eddie answers anyway.

"Want my cum to be leaking out of you after this." He tells you like it's obvious, and the idea is so erotic it makes you whimper, your warm head falling back against the cold metal of the fridge.

You take a look at Eddie, not nearly as messy as you, a perfect picture of composure and self-control, and feel as if you have to rectify it. After all, you can't the only one moaning and panting.

You grab the collars of his jacket and lean in to whisper in his ear, just as he delivers yet another precise thrust to your g-spot and another wave of pleasure hits you.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, if you don't put your cock in me right this second, I just might have to call my boyfriend." You tempt, tracing the shell of his ear with your tongue, and he catches the bait, anger coming back with a vengeance.

Suddenly, his fingers are being pulled out and the metallic clink of his belt echoes throughout every crevice in the room. Before you know it, you feel the head of his cock against your entrance and he enters you impatiently, your mouth opening in a silent scream before he catches it in a passionate kiss.

You think he's going to start out slow like usual, savouring the feel of you around him. But it seems that he has different plans for you tonight.

You groan out his name as he instead begins to pound into you mercilessly, and all you can do is hold on for dear life.

"Yeah, baby, take my fuckin' cock, just like that. Shit, I missed this tight little pussy. Missed you." He groans in your ear, alternating between kissing your neck, shoulder and jaw, the contrast between his tender touch, filthy words and brutal pace rolling your eyes back with sheer pleasure.

His thrusts move in tandem with your moans as your body slackens in his grip, letting yourself feel every single delicious inch of him inside you. Your shaking hand moves downward in an attempt to relieve your throbbing clit, but Eddie slaps it away, replacing it with his own.

"So fuckin' pretty when you're like this, sweetheart, dumb on cock. I'm the only one that gets to have you like this, yeah?" Eddie asks, voice hoarse, rubbing your clit just the way you like it.

"Yes, fuck yes, yes, yes, yes, Eddie!" You gasp out, partly as a response and partly as a plea for him to keep fucking you silly like this.

He gently slaps your clit, a satisfied smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, as he reaches forward to suck on your earlobe, and you barely have time to yelp when his pace quickens even more. The sound of skin slapping against skin is so painfully loud in the dark kitchen it makes you briefly wonder if his bandmates in the other room have already heard you, but as if reading your thoughts, Eddie speaks again.

"Let them hear what I'm doing to you, how much you love this cock. My pretty girl." He tells you, pulling out and lightly slapping your clit with the head of his cock, a gesture so uncharacteristically possessive of him, it makes you clench around nothing.

Nodding helplessly, you move your hips around in an attempt to communicate how much you want his cock back inside, and he complies, resuming his punishing pace the moment he re-enters you. You cry out, walls gripping him like a vice, nails dragging against his clothed back. He groans at the combined sensation and kisses you so hard your teeth clank against each other.

"Eds, I'm going to-" You're cut off as his cock delivers yet another precise thrust. But you don't need to finish your sentence, if the understanding glint in his eyes is any indication. He moves you around before you have any time to process what's happening and you're suddenly being laid on the countertop - face down, ass up - and he enters you just as his hand buries itself in your hair, yanking, but not enough to hurt, as you feel your whole body being manhandled upright, your back pressed against his chest.

Your blurry eyes catch sight of the kitchen entrance, and it clicks, just as you feel your climax take hold - anyone could walk in right now and see you getting fucked like a whore by Eddie Roundtree himself, bent over the countertop.

And that's exactly what Eddie wants.

"Cum for me, baby, c'mon. Let go for me." He urges behind you, panting due to his own impending orgasm, and you do just that. As your ears start ringing and your vision turns white, you can briefly recognize his voice coaxing you through it. You lean your head against his shoulder when you feel him follow shortly after, releasing inside of you.

The kitchen is comfortingly quiet as both of you calm down from your respective orgasms. Eddie presses kisses at the back of your head, a silent apology for his slightly rough treatment, and you turn your head, kissing his cheek in return.

You're about to tell him that you love him when the kitchen door opens and your fake boyfriend Anthony (or was it Aaron?) appears at the threshold, eyes widening in shock as he takes in the sight in front of him. You avert your eyes down in embarrassment, but Eddie moves his hand towards him in a shooing gesture, a toothy smile on his face that only emerges when he knows he's being a prick and loving it.

"Do you mind? Me and my girl were having a moment."

The guy nods shakily and leaves, the look on his face so bewildered it almost makes you feel bad.

"Eddie..." You sigh and he laughs, prideful, the sound of his uninhibited laughter making butterflies flutter in your stomach. "That was so unnecessary."

"I know. I don't really care, though."

sometimes babygirl is a fictional bass player played by josh whitehouse

eddie roundtree fanfic writers after using the same 5 gifs over and over again:

the hate show eddie gets when he's completely justified in his anger towards billy will always be something i will never understand. his opinions, ideas, comments, views being treated as irrelevant & unimportant for years, being forced to move to bass (dare i mention that the only reason he agreed in the first place was out of his genuine desire to appease billy), having his parts literally re-recorded by billy without his knowledge or consent, not even being allowed to write said parts, his only moment to shine during the pittsburgh concert and make his grandmother proud being stolen by billy are all very understandable reasons for his deep-rooted resentment. in a cruel twist of fate watching the love of his life, who happens to be billy's wife and mother of his children, choose her marriage with billy, who eddie deems an unworthy husband and father, over him, reiterates and confirms his deepest fear - that compared to billy, he will always be the second choice. never seen, never heard, never appreciated.

the worst part is that i really don't think eddie truly hates billy the way we're led to believe. all he's ever wanted is the approval and praise of a man who couldn't care less about giving it. when billy does give him that approval at the chicago concert, albeit forced and wholly ungenuine, eddie is quick to tell him "i love you, brother", and while we inwardly cringe at his inability to read the room, it's completely logical that he can't. eddie reacts instinctively, rushing to thank billy for the praise he's been craving all his life. the fact that he has a black eye due to billy himself, who had punched him just an hour or two ago, the fact that any shred of true camaraderie and friendship that might have existed between them is completely and utterly ruined because of eddie's one-night affair with camilla doesn't occur to eddie. in that brief moment before billy brings him back to reality with a few hard-hitting words whispered in his ear, his biggest dream has come true.

of course, this isn't meant to excuse some of the things eddie has said or done. he's very flawed, as the writing is very quick to point out, and the magnitide of his flaws and wrongdoings is amplified through his bitterness and jealousy, which ultimately influences his decision to leave the band. but as a final nail in the coffin, as if eddie hasn't gone through enough already, the show, led by its surprising pro-daisybilly agenda, decides to punish eddie in a move that can only be described as "every tongue that rises against billy dunne shall fall" and strips him of his original book ending, in which he becomes a successful record producer. instead, he is given by far the most unsatisfying and saddest ending of all the band members. graham, while no longer working in the music field, gets what he wants most - a happy family. daisy and warren continue their careers and collaborate together, even having children of their own. karen becomes the frontwoman of a punk band. billy gets to enjoy a long, happy marriage with camilla, and goes on to pursue a renewed relationship with his second love daisy, aided by his late wife's blessing. eddie, on the other hand, hopelessly tries to replicate, or at least re-live, the six's success through mediocre bands, but to no avail. locked in his bubble of shame, he doesn't attend the funeral of the only woman he has ever loved, in fear that his presence there is unwanted. it's as pathetic as it is tragic.

he looks at julia dunne, a carbon copy of her mother, and talks, talks, talks to the camera, hoping that it will give him closure. it doesn't. nothing ever will.

freak out on me

synopsis: your feelings for eddie come to a head.

warnings: slight angst (can you believe i didn't write porn without plot this time, me neither!), light smut, mention of drugs & alcohol

a/n: to the wonderful @atrimmunson!

~~~

In a world, a life and a band full of uncertainty, you knew at least one undeniably true fact about yourself - one-night stands are absolutely not your thing.

On the rare drunken evenings when you did welcome a stranger into your bed, you were quick to find out that the shitty, uncomfortable feeling in the middle of your chest the morning after overpowered any sense of pleasure you might have felt during the night. It varied from guilt to sadness to dissatisfaction to even anger. You weren't exactly sure why it happened, or what it meant, but you didn't let yourself linger on it for too long anyway. Like a good, responsible citizen of society, you decided to simply stay away from what you knew made you feel bad.

Despite your fellow bandmates finding your decision fairly strange at first, you stuck to it with such determination that they couldn't help but get used to your "self-induced celibacy", as Daisy had so affectionately called it one time. Every evening you drank a bit, you did a few lines here and there, and made out with whoever took your fancy. Afterwards, you returned to your hotel room and either practiced a bit on your bass guitar or just climbed into bed immediately.

Was it boring for a rockstar? Definitely. But it was a safe and comforting routine, one which you so unfailingly followed that nobody dared to try and disrupt it.

Well, until this morning.

The first thing you notice when you open your eyes is that the colour of the bedsheets is different from the ones you're used to. The first thing you feel is the soreness between your legs. The first thing you hear is the quiet snoring from someone behind you.

Holy shit, you think to yourself as panic starts to creep in, this isn't real. There's no way this is real.

You allow yourself to realize that, despite your growing anxiety, you feel good in a specific way that you've only felt after having been well fucked. It's a sensation you've only felt once or twice in your entire life and something you had nearly forgotten as you grew accustomed to the sheer mediocrity that was your sex life.

You try to dispel those thoughts from your mind as you turn around, trying to see who the sleeping, apparently good at sex man beside you might possibly be and gasp when you see the mop of light brown hair you've fantasized about running your hands through.

He has his back turned to you, but you recognize him immediately. After all, you've had a massive crush on Eddie since the moment he convinced you to join The Dunne Brothers as a bassist when Chuck left.

As your breathing picks up, you try to recall something, anything about last night. You turn your head around, hoping to see clothing on the floor so you'd at least remember what you were wearing. When your eyes land on your dress, a nude mini, and shoes, a pair of beige stiletto heels, the only memory from last night that manages to emerge is Karen complimenting you and telling you something about how Eddie's been looking at you all night.

After a couple minutes of failing to remember anything else, you sigh and run a hand over your face, deciding it'd be better for you to just wash your face with cold water and choose where to go from there.

You walk towards the bathroom, grabbing Eddie's shirt and half-hazardly putting it on, all the while slightly limping, which you can only guess is the result of your more than satisfactory late-night shenanigans with Eddie. You look down when you step on clothing half-hidden under the bed. In particular, Eddie's blazer.

And it all comes flooding back.

---

"Hey, how are you doin'?" Warren greets you good-naturedly from his place on the couch as soon as you enter his incredibly big hotel room, full of people mingling. "Is it just me or do you look sexier than usual?"

Before you can respond, Karen appears and wraps an arm around your waist, eyebrow raised at Warren.

"Back off, Rojas. She's mine." She tells the drummer, who defensively raises his hands in the air.

You laugh at the interaction as Karen turns to look at you.

"Seriously though, you look incredible. That dress is stunning." She tells you, smiling, and you return it.

"Thank you! Almost didn't wear it, but I'm glad you like it."

"Oh, trust me, I'm not the only one." Karen replies, smirking, as she subtly nods her head towards the other end of the room. You turn around and see Eddie, whose eyes widen when your gazes meet. He promptly resumes his conversation with Graham, cheeks slightly flushed.

You look him over, taking note of his dark red velvet blazer that hugs him in just the right places and the unbuttoned white shirt underneath which reveals just the right amount of skin, and you start feeling a little warmer yourself.

"He's been looking at you since you arrived." Karen elaborates, adding fuel to the fire, and you smile to yourself. Ever so perceptive, the keyboardist notices that too, and links her arm with yours, leading you to the drinks table. You can feel Eddie staring at you as you walk away and you have to put in an embarrassing amount of effort just to not trip on your own feet.

When Karen hands you a shot, you drink it immediately, hoping that the taste distracts you from even thinking about Eddie. It doesn't. In fact, it only heightens your senses to the point where all you can focus on is him. You steal glances at him when he isn't looking, silently admiring him until you lose track of time. Various people come up to you, at one point Karen leaves you alone for a bit to go talk to an old friend, and you really, truly don't know if it's been minutes, hours or millennia since this damn party started, but when you look up from your whiskey and see a girl touching Eddie's arm, flirtatiously laughing at something he said, everything snaps back into place. Suddenly, your dress is too short, your heels too uncomfortable, makeup too sticky, hair too tangled, and you feel like you can't breathe. You're drunk and the room is closing in around you.

You're at homecoming again, watching as the homecoming queen leaves with your date. You're at graduation, looking at your boyfriend of two years through teary eyes, as he tells you that he "just isn't feeling it anymore". You're at Warren Rojas's party, loving someone who will never love you back.

You stumble towards the balcony, wiping a lone tear from your cheek. Karen calls out after you, and you really don't want to ignore her like this, but your mouth isn't even capable of forming the words to tell her that you just need some air. You shakily wave a hand towards the direction her voice came from, trying to dismiss her worries, as you step out onto the balcony and feel the cold evening air hit your face.

You inhale sharply, choking on the wave of tears that had threatened to drown you just a second ago, greedily gulping the freezing breeze in hopes that it would kill the poison inside your stomach. Wrapping your naked arms around yourself, you look up towards the starry sky.

"I look like a mess." You mutter to yourself, voice hoarse although you've barely said anything all night.

You hear the sliding doors open and close behind you, and just as you're about to turn around and politely tell the intruder to piss off, a velvet blazer is being wrapped around you.

"Never." A familiar voice responds and your sluggish brain can barely process that the whole reason for your mini-breakdown in the first place is now in the cramped balcony space with you.

"Eddie, what are you doing here?" You question as you slowly turn around to face him.

He looks beautiful, you think for a moment,

but he isn't yours, a second voice berates you a beat later.

Eddie looks at you like you've just asked him what colour the sky was.

"You're upset." He puts it bluntly, eyes frantically looking over every part of your face, as if you being upset and him coming to your rescue correlate to each other whatsoever. As if it's a given.

You blink up at him. He reaches and wipes off a tear that escaped from the corner of your eye. You can feel the calluses on his fingers, the ones only a guitarist could have, the ones you have as well.

"Are you..." He swallows and his nervousness almost makes you smile. "Are you okay?"

You're tempted to lie the way you usually do when you're asked something like that.

"It doesn't matter." You brush his inquiry off instead, looking down at your feet and starting to pull his blazer off your shoulders. "Here's your-"

In the blink of an eye, the sides of your neck are being enveloped by warm hands and your head tilted upwards. Empty eyes meet urgent ones.

"I don't buy that for a second, don't give me that bullshit!" He tells you, desperation laced within anger, helplessness hidden underneath fury. "Don't, don't fucking shut me out again, the way you always do. I'm sick of it."

The air itself hisses back, responding on your behalf with a sudden, unforgiving breeze. Eddie's panting like he's been waiting centuries to say that, while you shiver in his hands.

"Don't act like you give a shit, Roundtree, because I know you don't." You tell him and his mouth opens slightly in surprise. "Don't act like you care."

He's so close to you that your foreheads almost touch.

"Well, I do care. A fucking lot, actually." He fires back and you sigh, closing your eyes.

"Why?" You simply ask, exhausted by the turn the conversation has taken, but you still allow yourself the liberty to bury your head in his chest. You wouldn't have done so normally, but the alcohol in your system makes you braver. He puts his head on top of yours and you feel his heart beating rapidly as he opens his mouth to speak.

"Will you freak out on me if I told you I love you?"

Your head snaps up so fast it’s a miracle your neck doesn’t break. Eddie is looking at you, lips parted and anxiety swimming in his eyes. You open your mouth and close it, like a fish out of water, unable to think, say or do anything at all.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, forget I even said anything, I’m probably drunk.” Eddie apologizes needlessly, shaking his head, interpreting your reaction as rejection and turns to leave.

You grab him by the collar of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks. Before he has the chance to apologize again, which you know he will, you kiss him. His lips are soft, softer than yours, and you suddenly realize that there’s no drug, no food, no man better than this. He stands still for a moment, in shock, but when your hands press against his chest, he grasps the sides of your face, leaning into the kiss.

You don’t know how long you stand there, kissing each other, but when you have to break apart for air, you force yourself to ask him a question instead of continuing to kiss him the way you want to.

“Are you serious? About loving me?”

Eddie smiles at you so brightly that the stars above don’t even hold a candle to him.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

---

"You look good wearing my shirt." His sleepy voice behind you compliments and you turn around to face him.

Half of his face is buried in the pillow, but it still makes your heart flutter. He reaches out towards you, opening his hand and closing it and you can only interpret it as him wanting you to come back to bed.

You comply, anxiety gone, and he rolls on his back, letting you lay your head down on his chest. He wraps an arm around your waist and you can feel him kiss your forehead.

"Eddie..." You start, one last question on your mind. "How exactly did we end up here?"

He turns to look at you, fingertips brushing back and forth against your skin.

"Well, uh, Billy almost caught us making out, and I suggested...taking things back to my room." He sums up and you blush at his choice of words. He doesn't seem to be as affected as you, a smug smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. "You enjoyed yourself. I made sure of that."

You almost scoff at him, but you know he's telling the truth. The evidence is all over your body.

"Really?" You say, on the verge of smiling as you climb into his lap. His hands grab your hips to balance you with such casualness, you almost forget you kissed him for the first time yesterday. "I don't remember much. I was hoping you could refresh my memory."

As soon as the words fall out of your mouth, Eddie's sleepiness vanishes comically fast - in an instant, he's grabbing and kissing you. You thought it'd take a bit longer to convince him, but you aren't complaining at all.

You return the kiss immediately, and you're happy to find out that the feel of his lips is so much better when you're sober. Soon enough you can feel him hardening beneath you. You start taking off your (his) shirt, but he stops you.

"Don't. I want to have you like this." Eddie explains and starts kissing down your neck, rushing like he might die if he isn't touching your skin.

You're about to moan out his name as his hands slip underneath the shirt, gently scraping the skin with short nails, when the door opens.

"Eddie, man, you won't believe who I sa- Holy shit, I'm so sorry, Jesus Christ!"

---

WARREN ROJAS: That shit left me scarred for life. Should I have knocked? Yeah, I mean, probably. But man, was it traumatizing. [silence] I'm happy for them, though.