OH MY GOD. THE CHAIN. IT WAS SO GOOD AND ITS ONLY THE FIRST PART?????!! IM REALLY EXCITED FOR THE NEXT

OH MY GOD. “THE CHAIN”. IT WAS SO GOOD AND ITS ONLY THE FIRST PART?????!! IM REALLY EXCITED FOR THE NEXT ONES!!!!!! also your writing is so sweet and so nice and so Good. i was giggling the whole time i already love them i need more

AHHHHH THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART TO THE MOON AND BACK!!!!!!

I just finished reading Daisy Jones & The Six for the second time in like…six days?? I read The Atlas Six in between but I knew DJ required more than one read. But honestly, this time around all I could think about was The Chain—how it would fit into the whole thing, what bits I could take from the book and whatnot. I’m getting really excited about the upcoming chapters and I’m so so glad that you are too :)

THE CHAIN -> e. roundtree PART TWO: knocks

PAIRING: eddie roundtree x fem!reader WARNINGS: swearing, s*xual h*rassment, men being awful, mention of divorced parents, drinking, drugs (NOTE: some warnings for this story include MAJOR spoilers for this series down the line, so I'll put those beneath the cut. If you don't want to get the story spoiled, then just ignore it ― but I did want to provide the chance for you to get an idea of how the story will go later down the line if you have any sensitive topics you'd like to avoid. please prioritize your mental wellbeing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I didn't expect to have an update ready this quick, but here you go! Enjoy the product of sleep deprivation and sun sickness! Love youuuuuu <3

WARNINGS (SPOILERS INCLUDED): reader has a life threatening illness. Discussions about death and loss, depictions of grief, hospitals

GRAHAM: I think we were all a little worried about her, you know? Like, she was younger and, not to mention, a girl. We didn't really know if she could...hang with us, I guess. Which sounds stupid now, I know. But we thought we were going to be the next big thing. Bonafide rockstars. And you didn't get to be a rockstar by wearing pigtails and overalls.

WARREN: I mean, that van, man. It could get pretty hectic. I think Graham was worried we were going to scare her away, but, I don't know...she didn't seem like the type to get scared away.

Long days on the road were always Y/n's favorite. Back before their van was fancy enough to have actual seats, it was five of them shoved into the back bed of the thing while some poor sucker got forced to drive. It was usually Warren. Or Graham.

WARREN: Every. Single. Fucking. Time. "It's your van, Warren, drive the fucking van." Like, hey, dingbats, I bought this van for the band, not so that I got to be your private chauffeur. But, you know, water under bridges and all that. And I could bully Graham into driving most of the time.

GRAHAM: I didn't get bullied. I...I'm a team player, that's all.

Y/n liked those long drives, mostly because she could find a corner of the van to shove herself in with a book. The boys and Camila would roughhouse until inevitably someone got actually injured, and then Camila would put them all in a semi-time out, and that's when the talking started.

BILLY: Camila was always the one who could get her to talk. One of us would ask her a question, and she'd give a bullshit answer that we knew was bullshit. Five minutes later, Camila would ask her the same question, and she'd get a real answer. [Laughs] It never failed. Cam always said she thought Y/n was scared of us at first, but I don't believe that for a second. She just didn't want to give us any reasons to mess with her. I get that.

"Whatcha reading?" Warren asked, kicking his shoe in Y/n's direction.

"Toe-curling erotica. Written by your mother."

CAMILA: Toe-curling erotica.

EDDIE: Written by your mother.

WARREN: She said the most outlandish shit, man. No filter. [Laughs].

That caused a howl of laughter from everyone ― even Warren, who was the epitome of a good sport, even when he was the subject of ruthless teasing.

WARREN: I just found it funny. I didn't care it was supposed to be a dig at me. It was funny.

After a few more minutes of chatter, Camila leaned over and moved the front cover of the book Y/n was reading to catch a glimpse of the title. "Lolita."

Y/n nodded. "My school library had it banned, so I decided to read it. I asked our librarian for a list of the banned books and I've been making my way through them ever since. What's the endgame here?"

She said the last part to Billy, who was only half-paying attention until Camila nudged him. "What?"

"What's the goal, what are we trying to do? Are we going to play local for the rest of our lives or are we going to go out there and do this like a real rock band? What's the endgame? How far are we taking this?"

Everyone went silent, looking to Billy for an answer. No matter how much some of them might have disliked it, he was the frontman of the band. The one with the answers. But he fell silent with the rest of them because he'd been wondering the same thing himself.

After a moment, he shrugged and turned to her. "We go as far as it takes us."

A look of understanding washed over Y/n at his words. She gave him a single nod and went back to her book, though now she wasn't quite sure she could focus on it.

EDDIE: You could tell right then that that was when she started respecting Billy. She didn't have to like him, but she respected him. They had the same goal without even having to talk about it. For better or for worse, they had that in common.

A few minutes later Y/n spoke without looking up from her book silencing everyone. "You do know that if we want to succeed ― I mean, really make it ― we need a keyboardist, right?

EDDIE: Yeah. [Laughs] He didn't really have an answer for that one.

That Thursday, the night they were set to open for The Winters, they found what was going to be the answer to their (or, rather, Y/n's) prayer. Their keyboardist was a girl about the same age as Graham. Y/n hung out backstage during their sound check, watching her with interest. In her mind, she was the only one worth watching. Not just because she was pretty ― though she was, admittedly, gorgeous ― but because she was the only one up there who seemed to be really interested in what she was doing. And yet, the half-talented half-wits in her band had shoved her to the back, practically out of sight.

Y/n clapped when they finished, earning her a nod of appreciation from the guitarist and a wink from the bassist. As they all walked off stage, she saw the drummer grab for the keyboardist's ass, laying a rough hand on her. Immediately, she turned and slapped his arm, cursing at him. And the drummer seemed completely undaunted, laughing and holding his hands up in surrender. "Sorry Karen," he muttered as he skirted past her.

The guys disappeared, laughing amongst themselves, but the girl ― Karen ― stayed there, looking like she was ready to spit fire. She noticed Y/n after a moment, at which point the younger girl spoke.

"They treat you like shit."

"They do, don't they?" she replied, as if it was the first time she had thought to say it out loud. "Are you in a band?"

Y/n nodded. "The Dunne Brothers."

"Yeah? Are they like those guys?" she said, nodding to where her band had just been.

Y/n paused. Thought. "I'm not totally sure yet. But, from what I've seen, no. Not at all."

KAREN: I told those assholes I was out the next morning. I couldn't handle their shit anymore. Plus, I liked Y/n. She had a nice vibe, and, honestly I felt like she just needed a friend. One that she knew wouldn't try to harass her. I didn't care how nice those guys in her band were. Everybody needs that. And anyway, they needed the help. Like, there were six members of their band by then, and they still called themselves "The Dunne Brothers." Only two of them were Dunne Brothers. it was ridiculous.

"What about...Shaggin'?" Warren suggested as he ate a fry. The seven of them ― the band and Camila ― had been attempting (and failing miserably) to come up with a new name for the band, at Karen's insistence.

There was a chorus of Absolutely nots and Hell nos, mostly from Karen, Camila, and Y/n. Warren rolled his eyes at them and sarcastically apologized for being a "forward thinker."

Graham spoke up then. "Or what if we combined words, like...like Dipsticks?"

"Dipsticks?" Eddie repeated. "I love you man, but no."

Y/n was getting impatient. "Come on, our combined intelligence makes up, like, three and a half high school diplomas. The six of us can come up with something."

And as another chorus of arguing broke out, Karen suddenly had a look of intrigue on her face. "I like that."

Y/n frowned. "Like what?"

"The Six," she clarified.

KAREN: It was quick, it was snappy. The Kinks, The Whos, The Six. It fit right in with all these bands we were inspired by. It was a stroke of genius in the middle of a sentence.

EDDIE: We all knew it was the one, I think. None of us could really argue with it, you know? It's what we were; the six of us. And Y/n was pumped that it was sort of kind of her idea.

Y/n raised her glass, which at that point was filled with her third Shirley Temple. "To The Six," she declared with a smile. "And to our stage mom, Camila."

There was a smattering of laughter as they all raised their respective glasses, meeting in the middle with a collective clink.

And then, instantly, things went back to normal.

"All right, who the hell just kicked me?" Warren said. "Y/n?"

"It wasn't me. But maybe it should've been." she retaliated, sending a kick back in his direction.

Of course, she missed, instead hitting Eddie's shin. He groaned in pain, then kicked her back. She fought back by throwing a crumpled up napkin at him. And then it was an all-out war of kicking shins and throwing napkins that not even Camila could put a stop to.

GRAHAM: I was the one who kicked Warren. It pissed him off and I thought it was funny.

WARREN: It was Graham? Of course it fucking was. That little shit.

BILLY: Around 'seventy-one, we'd booked a couple shows in New York, which was huge for us.

EDDIE: New York was how you knew you were somebody. Getting out of your hometown was one thing, but New York was an entirely new plane of existence. To say we were excited would be an understatement. We lost our minds.

Their first show was set to be at the Bowery, a bar towards Time Square. It was there that The Six first came into contact with Rod Reyes.

"Obviously, you got to write your own material," Rod said, lighting up his second cigarette in the last ten minutes. He, Billy, Graham, and Y/n were sitting at the back door of the Bowery after their show, smoking. Well, Y/n didn't smoke. Neither did Graham. But Billy had seen Rod Reyes and pulled them away.

GRAHAM: He saw Rod Reyes, grabbed me and Y/n by the sleeves and said, "We're going for a smoke." And Y/n and I looked at each other and I said, "We don't smoke." Billy just pointed to Rod Reyes and said, "You do now."

"I do," Billy responded. "Most of it's not good enough...yet."

"What are you writing about?"

"I have this one song called 'Nevermore,' about the Catonsville Nine..."

"Nooooo," Rod said, cutting him off. "Are you Bob Dylan? Are you Buffy Sainte-Marie? Enough with the political shit. It's a new decade! No one needs reminding that the world is a mess."

"He has a point." Y/n said, causing Graham to mess up her hair and push her away.

Rod continued on, "People want to feel good again. They want to feel hope," he said. "You can write a love song, can't you?"

GRAHAM: Rod was the first person to offer us any real criticism. In fact, at first, it seems like that was all he really had for us.

ROD REYES (manager, The Six): I may have been a bit harsh with them in the beginning.

"You need to cool it with the solos, brother," he said, turning to Graham. "Nobody cares about your technical guitar skills. They want to sing. They want to dance."

KAREN: Rod told me to wear low-cut shirts. I told Rod to eat shit, and that was that.

"And you," he said, looking over at Y/n. "You gotta start putting on some makeup, kid. No one wants to show up for a rock show and then feel like they're at Sesame Street Live."

Y/n wrinkled her nose, giving Billy a look that said, You're really just going to let this happen? But Billy just shrugged.

"Oh, and one more thing," Rod said. "Keep eyefucking the bassist. You guys got that perfect 'Will they, won't they' thing going. It's perfect."

Y/n felt like the air had been knocked out of her.

EDDIE: Graham was the one who told me what Rod had said. Y/n never mentioned it.

"The last thing I'll say, and this is key," Rod said, bringing them in. "You need to get the fuck out of Pittsburgh. New York is one thing, but if you want to be signed to a label, you want to work with Jimmy Miller, Tom Dowd, Teddy Price..."

And the name Teddy Price, they all exchanged excited looks.

"You gotta get out west. They're all in LA now. Not London, Not New York. California, my friend. That is the place you gotta be."

BILLY: We knew it was a big ask. For all of them to put their lives on hold and move out to the opposite side of the country. Graham and I were in it from the get-go, one hundred percent. It was up to the rest of the guys to decide if they were coming or staying.

"I'm in," Eddie said without a second beat.

"Me too," Karen said.

Billy let out a surprised chuckle. "Yeah?"

"Guess I better gas up the van. You think she's gonna make it?" Warren joked.

"I think she's gonna make it," Eddie laughed as Billy slung an arm over Warren's shoulder. "Y/n? You in?"

They all paused, looking to her.

EDDIE: She was in it from the beginning; we all knew that. But out of all of us, she was the only one with a really good relationship with her parents. She was seventeen then, and I don't know if or when she really planned on leaving her mom behind.

But then, she smiled. "As far as it takes us, I'm there."

And there it was, they all howled with cheers of celebration, jumping around and giggling like kids. They were heading out west, chasing their collective dream, all because some man wearing sunglasses in the dead of night told them to.

GRAHAM: It was that sort of last minute, flying by the seat of your pants stuff that got us amped up. It was like this guy had held out the golden ticket and all we had to do was take it. We all felt it right then ― we were gonna be rockstars.

It took almost five days for them to pack up and drive from Pittsburgh to Los Angeles. Camila joined at the last minute, bringing the total of licensed drivers up to six. In actuality, Y/n was the best driver out of all of them, she just wasn't legally able to.

There was no time in between reaching their destination and performing their first gig. In fact, they were so pressed for time that they skipped going to what would be their new house entirely, heading straight to the Troubadour for their first gig.

GRAHAM: I don't know if it was all the exhaustion and drugs kicking into eleventh gear, but...that was our best show to date. The one we had the least time to prepare for. We were all in it, you know? Didn't matter that we'd just been in a van for four and a half days. We had a job and we did it. We kicked ass that first gig.

ROD: Teddy Price was a producer with Runner Records at that point. I saw him halfway through the set, just listening. So afterwards, I went up to him to talk. He told me his assistant had seen them back in Pittsburgh and thought they were something worth watching.

BILLY: Rod introduced us to Teddy Price after the show. The first thing he asked me was, "Where do you see this band in five years? Ten years?" And it was all I could do to say, "We'll be the biggest band in the world."

Shortly after meeting Teddy Price, The Six was invited to Runner records, where they signed a recording and publishing deal. Their debut album would be produced by Teddy Price himself.

"You're fucking with me," Y/n said.

Billy had just broken the news that Teddy Price ― the same Teddy Price they had spent their time idolizing ― wanted to create an album with them.

"I'm not fucking with you," Billy replied, the widest smile any of them had ever seen on his face. Everyone had been stunned into silence, other than Y/n.

She walked up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Because if this is a joke and you think you're being funny, I'll chase your ass all the way back to Pittsburgh. With a shotgun."

And Billy just shook his head. Y/n's hands flew up to cover her mouth, the breath suddenly pulled from her chest. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Oh my God!"

She threw her arms around Billy, and that was when the rest of the band started screaming.

BILLY: One night in LA. One. I...[Laughs. Shakes head] I don't know what else there is to say.

Once in Los Angeles, the band settled in a rickety old house in Laurel Canyon. The front door was off its hinges and it creaked whenever someone took a step, but, to the seven of them, it was home. They just needed to adapt.

And adapt they did.

Every once in a while, Graham would pick up a spatula, toss it from hand to hand for a moment, and then point it at Warren and declare, ‘En garde’ in a shitty French accent.

And then all hell would break loose.

Graham would whack Warren with the spatula until he grabbed the fire poker from beside the fireplace. And then Eddie, realizing a fight had broken out, would grab a wooden spoon from the kitchen and join in.

Y/n would try to speculate, but it didn’t quite work like that ― inevitably she’d get used as a shield by one of the boys until she elbowed them in the nuts to get free. And then she’d have no choice but to grab the plastic baseball bat from the closet and fend all three of them off.

Karen had perfected the art of staying out of their way when this happened, retreating to her room and blocking out the noise by blasting a record.

Billy and Camila kept mostly to themselves. Y/n chalked it up to "playing grown-up," but she admired their commitment towards each other. And when they decided to up and get married at four in the morning? She was the first one to start decorating the backyard for the ceremony.

KAREN: I think it all excited her. Camila was pregnant, she and Billy were getting married. I never expected that from her. She just lit up at the idea. And she was the kind of person that, once you woke her up, she was up. It was all we could do to stop her from going overboard with the decorations. Aluminum foil in the trees, Christmas lights over the back porch. Eddie had to tell her to chill out when she started pulling out the plastic flamingos. [Laughs] I don't know, I still think they could've made a good aisle to walk down.

CAMILA: I got married in a white t-shirt and jeans. Karen and Y/n were my bridesmaids. The boys were the groomsmen. And we had a little wedding in the backyard with this ordained minister that Karen knew.

EDDIE: Y/n was crying through the whole thing. I mean, bawling. I'd never seen her cry like that.

WARREN: Eddie kept making faces at her, trying to make her lighten up. Nothing worked. The kid was inconsolable.

"You gonna be all right, babe?" Karen asked during their makeshift after party, which involved blasting music from the one record player in the house and making an impromptu dance floor in the backyard. Karen, upon seeing that Y/n was still crying after the ceremony, asked her to dance in an attempt to make her feel better.

"I'm fine," Y/n insisted, wiping away the latest bout of stubborn tears that had begun to trace their way down her cheeks.

EDDIE: Her parents got divorced when she was nine. She saw all of it. Billy and Camila's wedding was the first one she'd ever seen. It was just...a lot for her, I think. And we were all half drunk and sleep deprived at the time, anyway.

Eventually she dried up and was able to fully join in the all-night party. They drank champagne like there was no tomorrow and slow danced with everyone ― which, when there were only seven of them, didn't take too long.

BILLY: I don't remember exactly what she said, but it was some sort of veiled threat about how she'd bash my kneecaps if I ever hurt Camila. Call her what you want, she was creative. Especially when it came to threatening people.

CAMILA: She told me that if Billy ever hurt me, she'd bash in his kneecaps. [Laughs] I told her I'd keep that in mind.

KAREN: To this day, it was the best wedding I've ever been to.

The party faded out around six in the morning, as the sun began to peek out over the horizon.

WARREN: I got so drunk I didn't know which way was up, so I was the first one to leave. I'm not much fun once I lose my sense of direction. Or so says my wife.

EDDIE: Y/n passed out in a lawn chair around five, so Billy carried her back to her room. From there everyone just kind of filed out to either get what sleep they could get or get ready to rehearse.

The backyard would be decorated to the nines for the next several weeks, as most everyone in the house was too lazy to take them down unless forced. By Camila. With the plastic baseball bat.

They truly settled into life in LA after that. They played shows, partied, and did whatever drugs were handed their way. But, more often than not, they all found their way back to the dinky house in Laurel Canyon, the one place that was theirs. Or, rather, the band's.

Eddie and Y/n's respective bedrooms were separated by a single wall ― and a thin wall at that. Y/n got into the habit of knocking on the wall every night to the tune of whatever song came to mind. Eddie would have to knock back to finish the beat.

She started with simple songs like Jingle Bells, or even songs they had made ― stuff they both knew. But gradually she started knocking out more obscure, complicated beats for Eddie to finish. It quickly became a language; if Eddie found that he needed her to repeat the melody, he’d knock three times. If he needed a hint in the form of a little more of the beat to go off of, he’d knock three times, then once. Sometimes there would be minutes in between knocks. But Y/n would sit on the floor, her head pressed to the wall, waiting for the knock back. And it always, without fail, came.

Unfortunately for him, Warren's room was behind the other wall, meaning he could hear the knocking clear as day.

WARREN: You stumble home, you're drunk as shit, and all you want to do is go to sleep, right? And then you hear these two knuckleheads knocking in Morse Code right next to your fucking ear. What was I supposed to do?

There was the sudden slam of a book getting thrown against the opposite wall, making Eddie jump.

And then Warren's voice came through the wall: "Will you two please shut the fuck up?"

Eddie heard Y/n laugh, and then there were two quick knocks: goodnight.

He smiled to himself and knocked back twice.

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Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future parts!

The Eddie Roundtree series is a masterpiece! I hope to read the next part soon 😻

ahhhh thank you so much!! working on it right now!

i'll hopefully release part three later today!

haunted (k. sirko)

summary: after watching a horror movie, y/n starts to believe that the rumors that her room is haunted are true. pairing: karen sirko x fem!reader warnings: swearing, mentions of all things horror movie-related (brief mention of gore and paranormal activity) word count: 1.4k

𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐊𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐒. Since she joined the band, it's been no secret that whenever there's a new scary movie coming out, she's the first to buy tickets and the first to get in line at the theater. Most of the time she'll go alone―the thrill of seeing a scary movie by herself is something that she actually enjoys (adrenaline junkie is how Eddie chose to put it)―but that morning she walked into the kitchen during breakfast and turned to the full table to ask, "Anyone want to see Dance of Death tonight?"

Everyone went silent, sharing glances. Karen frowned. "No one? Really?"

"Sorry honey, I've got a hot date tonight. Enjoy your demented movie, though," Warren said, getting up to put his cereal bowl in the sink.

"I agreed to watch Julia while Billy and Camila are out on their date," Graham said. Eddie offered no excuse, but it was a well-known fact that horror movies are not his thing. The last time he sat through one he ended up staying awake for almost two nights straight, thinking that the second he closed his eyes some malevolent spirit was going to possess him. It was hilarious.

"I'll go," Y/n said, shrugging. "I've got nothing better to do."

"Would you look at that," Karen replied with a smile, "Y/n's got the biggest balls of anyone in this room."

The boys rolled their eyes and scoffed at her comment as Y/n grinned smugly, finishing her bowl of cereal with a flourish.

Later that day, Y/n dressed for the movie in her tiny bedroom, settling on jeans and a dark sparkly shirt that Camila had helped her pick out. As she tied her hair into loose braids, there was a knock at the door. "Come in."

The door opened and Eddie stood in the doorway, looking amused. "You getting ready for the movie?"

"Yep," Y/n replied, refusing to look his way.

Eddie glanced around him before walking in and mocking her. "I'll go to the movies with you, Karen. Can you hold my hand if I get too scared? You're way too obvious."

Y/n threw a hairbrush at him. "Will you shut up? I don't...it's not like that any more, okay? And besides, Graham's been eye-fucking her for months. I figured I'd give him a chance."

"Give him a chance, okay, sure."

Y/n ignored him, swiping another coat of mascara onto her lashes.

"For the record, I think this is very brave of you."

"It's a horror movie, not sky diving," Y/n replied, putting the tube down and heading out the door.

"Okay, just remember that your room is that one that's haunted!" Eddie shouted down the hall at her, making her roll her eyes.

Karen was already in the living room, sitting on the couch, waiting to go. She looked up when Y/n walked in. "Don't you look pretty?" she said in her casual Karen way. Y/n tried her best to ignore how i made her heart beat faster. "Come on. Let's go get scared out of our minds."

Y/n hadn't seen enough horror movies in her life to know whether she liked them or not. Sure, she'd seen bits and pieces of the ones that played on the television when she was younger, but she'd never quite sat down to watch one. Dance of Death was not at all what she was expecting.

She spent half the movie curled into a ball in her seat, nervously passing back and forth the bottle of tequila that Karen had snuck in. The more buzzed she got, the more prone she was to scream at jumpscares. The more buzzed Karen got, the louder she'd laugh at Y/n's reactions.

When the movie was done, they tossed the empty bottle in the trash and left the theater, heading back in the direction of the house. Karen sighed as they stepped into the cool night air like she hadn't a care in the world. Y/n could still feel a light sheen of cold sweat on the back of her neck, not to mention that her hands were sore from gripping the seat.

Karen turned back to look at her, her lips parting in surprise. "Come on, it wasn't that bad!"

Y/n looked at her like she was crazy (which at that point she thought she was). "The ghost picked the guy up and threw him through the window. And then he set the house on fire."

"I've seen worse."

Y/n just frowned at her, then turned and walked away. Karen giggled and raced to catch up with her, hanging onto Y/n's shoulder and interlacing their fingers. "I'm sorryyyyy," she apologized, "I should've warned you."

Y/n said nothing.

"Y/n," Karen said, getting no response. "Okay, fine. How can I make it up to you?"

Y/n glanced at Karen's hopeful face leaning on her shoulder and a small smile broke through the grimace. Karen smiled wider and tugged on her hand. "Come on, what?"

"Next time, I'm picking the movie. And it'll be a comedy. Or a romance. Or a romantic comedy." Y/n said, unable to wipe the smile off her face.

Karen nodded. "Done. Anything else?"

Y/n paused, thinking. "Never tell anyone that I nearly threw up in that theater."

Karen just laughed, swinging their interlaced fingers. "Blame it on the booze, babe. Blame it on the booze."

The house was quiet when they returned. Warren had returned from his date and was lounging on the couch, a beer in his hand. "How was the movie?" he asked when they walked in.

"Great!" Y/n answered, stumbling over her feet. "Not scary. At all."

She and Karen glanced at each other and burst into laughter, shoving each other as they made their way up the stairs. "Goodniiiiiiiiight!" Karen sang.

"Goodnight, lovebirds!" Warren shouted back, then laughed to himself. "They're so shitfaced."

When they made it up the stairs, Y/n paused in the middle of the hallway, her face falling. "Karen," she said, voice suddenly serious, "my room is haunted."

Karen laughed in response. 'What, seriously?"

"Yes. Remember the previous owners said the thing about the lights flickering and the door opening by itself?"

"Okay, well have you ever seen it do that?"

Y/n paused. Thought. "...No."

"Then it's not haunted. Problem solved!" Karen declared, then hopped away to her room. Y/n was still stuck frozen in the hallway, dreading the half dozen steps leading to her own bedroom.

She got ready for bed, putting on an oversized shirt and shorts, trying not to think about the possibility of an evil spirit coexisting in the same place she slept. God, she felt just like Eddie probably had. It almost made her feel guilty for bullying him mercilessly.

And then, finally, she laid down in bed, shutting off the lights and staring up at the ceiling above her. A few moments passed in silence. Okay, this isn't bad.

And then the door creaked. Y/n sat up, eyes wide, heart racing. She heard the click of the bolt on the door sliding out of place, and then, slowly, the door began to creak open.

"Nope, nope, nope, fucking no goddamn way," Y/n muttered as she slid out of bed, not giving herself time to be afraid as she grabbed her blanket and left the room, padding softly across the hallway to Karen's

Y/n slowly pushed open her door, casting a beam of light onto the floor. Karen sat up, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"It's haunted. It's so, so haunted," Y/n said in disappointment.

Karen just smiled slightly, and then held out her arms to Y/n. "Come here, honey."

Y/n hurried forward at the invitation, throwing the blanket over and crawling under the covers. Karen didn't waste a second before wrapping her arms around Y/n pulling her close. If Y/n hadn't been so drunk, she might've been on the verge of losing her mind. But, again, she was very drunk. So she just held onto Karen, letting herself believe that she'd protect her from whatever ghost was haunting this house.

And Karen held her back, silently vowing that she would.

After a while, Y/n muttered, "I don't think I like horror movies."

Karen laughed quietly, pulling away and brushing a strand of hair out of Y/n's face gently. "I know, Y/n. I know."

THE CHAIN -> e. roundtree PART ONE: drummers' curse

PAIRING: eddie roundtree x fem!reader WARNINGS: mentions of minor injuries (NOTE: some warnings for this story include MAJOR spoilers for this series down the line, so I'll put those beneath the cut. If you don't want to get the story spoiled, then just ignore it ― but I did want to provide the chance for you to get an idea of how the story will go later down the line if you have any sensitive topics you'd like to avoid. please prioritize your mental wellbeing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies in advance for making Y/n the drummer and putting Warren on rhythmic guitar. I just loooooooove female drummers. Also can you tell that I love Karen and Camila? Because I love them with alllllll my heart and soul. Another sorry in advance because this one may break your heart a little ― it sure broke mine. NOTES ON THE WORK: I used the timeline from the book, mostly because I couldn't keep track of it in the show haha. I read the book twice before watching what episodes of the show were out, so the lines may blur between the two. For your convenience (and mine, tbh), I'll put the year all the characters were born underneath this note so you can reference it when you need to. I just couldn't keep track honestly. I think in the show they start the band when Graham is fourteen, but in the book he's around 18 when they add Warren on, so it's kind of confusing?? I decided to stick with the book because it was a more physical timeline. Anyways, enough talking, here's your guide! ― YEARS BORN (in order of age) Billy Dunne -> 1947 Camila Dunne -> 1949 Graham Dunne -> 1949 Warren Rhodes -> 1949 Eddie Roundtree -> 1949 Daisy Jones -> 1951 Y/n L/n -> 1951

WARNINGS (SPOILERS INCLUDED): reader has a terminal illness. Discussions about death and loss, depictions of grief, hospitals

It's no secret that the renowned 1970s band Daisy Jones & The Six went through its fair share of ups and downs. Until their inexplicable split on July 12, 1979, they were undeniably one of the biggest bands in the world. While a more detailed account of the band's history will be recounted in a more thorough transcript, this advanced edition will focus specifically on two of the band members: Eddie Roundtree and Y/n L/n. More specifically, it will focus on their individual and combined roles they played in the band's eventual downfall.

THE RISE OF THE SIX (1965 - 1972)

GRAHAM: Y/n grew up next door to us. She was a little younger, two years or so, so we never really gave her a second look. Until the day she wandered into our garage during band practice out of nowhere. She practically ripped the drum sticks out of Chuck's hand and just started...wailing on 'em. I mean, she could make your head spin. Here was this thirteen, fourteen year old girl next door, this kid, and she was the best fuckin' drummer we'd seen. I mean, in the neighborhood. She wasn't Mitch Mitchell, but she was the closest thing we had. And she was too good to be shoved in the back with a tambourine. But we couldn't just take Chuck's spot away and hand it over to the new girl.

CHUCK: I knew right then and there that they wanted to give my spot to the new girl. There was no doubt in my mind. And, you know what? I got it. This chick was good. Way too good. Did I feel threatened by her? Hell yeah, I did. And at the time I probably wanted to tell her to screw off, but now...now I get it.

EDDIE: She was good. Amazing, actually. Graham and I looked at each other and knew that she was something we'd be stupid to pass up on.

BILLY: When Chuck told us he wanted out, we were pissed, of course. We were heading off to open for Winters that week. It felt like things were going to look up, just like I always knew they would, and he was ditching. I know now that that wasn't really what it was ― he'd gotten into college, fan-fucking-tastic. It was a good opportunity for him, a sure thing. But right then it felt like a betrayal.

WARREN: So he ditched, and Billy just turned right to Eddie and said, "Go tell Y/n she's in." And he was just...terrified.

EDDIE: I said, "why me?" You know? It wasn't my band, it was Billy's. And here he was, ordering me to tell some new girl she was in. I was fifteen and could barely ask a waitress for ketchup. At the time, that was probably the last thing I wanted to do.

GRAHAM: He asked why it had to be him, and I told him the truth: he was the least intimidating. Billy, you know him. He had a tendency to get too focused on the task at hand and could get a little...harsh. And Warren? He had one of the biggest personalities you could find. He'd scare her off before we had a chance to offer her the spot...[Pauses] I probably could've done it, in all honesty. I just didn't want to screw it up. Eddie was better with words than I was, and we needed her in our band. Badly.

EDDIE: And I remember thinking, "Here goes fucking nothing."

The doorbell ringing was what got her attention. No one ever used the doorbell. It was always a knock ― that, or someone just walked in. The L/n's front door was hardly ever locked back then. Y/n's mom was a nurse, formerly a school nurse. She didn't want to risk the chance that some kid took a spill and had to limp home on an injured leg. So all the neighborhood knew, if you got hurt playing outside, you could march on over to Miss L/n's place to get yourself fixed up.

Y/n had her own share of walk-ins, too. By the time she was ten, she had seen her mom help out enough kids that she was practically a nurse herself. She could disinfect and bandage and stitch up any old case that walked through her front door. And if someone who was too busted up for first aid? She knew where the keys to the family Winnebago was and how to drive herself and them to the local hospital. She was only fourteen and didn't have a license, but it didn't matter. She was a safer driver than most everyone else on the road.

So when someone rang the doorbell, she assumed that it was someone too injured to knock. She grabbed the car keys and made sure her suture kit was within reach.

When she opened the door, she didn't see the blood and broken bones she was expecting. Instead, Eddie Roundtree stood on her front porch, hands shoved anxiously in his pockets. He looked all right, but that didn't stop her from asking: "You're not hurt, are you?"

"Um. No," Eddie said quickly, taking his hands out of his pockets.

"Okay," she said slowly, eyes narrowing. "Do you want to come in?"

"Yeah, sure."

Y/n turned and walked further into the house, prompting him to close the door and follow her. She led him to the kitchen. "Lemonade? I made it this morning," she offered, already opening the fridge.

EDDIE: That jug of lemonade was bigger than she was. [Laughs] I could barely watch her get it down. I was afraid she'd drop it on her foot. But she just took her time getting it from the fridge to the table. I found out later that her mom bought a pound of lemons a week because Y/n wanted something to offer every kid that came through their front door. [Pauses]. She was just like that.

He gave a nod. Y/n stood on her toes to grab two glasses from the cabinet. She poured one glass, hands shaking from the weight of the jug, and Eddie realized that this awkward silence was probably the best time to transition into his real reason for visiting.

"Chuck left the band."

"Oh," she said simply. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

She paused, looking confused. And Eddie, who's will to live was slowly draining from this conversation alone, raced to finish what he had (awkwardly) started.

"I just mean that...you're in. The band. If you want to be our drummer, you're in."

Y/n paused mid-pour, setting the pitcher down on the counter carefully. She turned around until her back pressed into the kitchen counter, arms crossed over her chest. "And you thought I'd jump at the chance to join?"

"No. No," Eddie said quickly. "We just wanted to offer you the spot if you still wanted it."

"Did I say that I wanted it?"

"No, but―"

"Okay, just making sure," she handed him a glass and hopped up onto the counter, crossing her legs underneath her. "So you need a drummer?"

"Yes. Badly."

She took a sip from her glass and paused, as if weighing her options in her mind. She swallowed. "Are there any other girls in the band yet?"

EDDIE: Yet. Like she knew it was going to happen. It was just a matter of time.

"No, not yet." he replied.

"Then be honest with me: are you guys sleazeballs?"

EDDIE: Sleazeballs. She didn't sugarcoat things. She wanted to know if we were creeps or if we'd let her play drums in peace. I get that, one hundred percent. but back then, it felt like she was trying to accuse us of something.

"No," he said quickly, "Well...Warren can be a little much, but he means well."

She took another slow sip, once again weighing her options in her mind. "When's your next gig?"

"We play pretty much every night, wherever we can find. It might take us a bit to teach you the songs, but―"

"I can learn them," she said confidently. "How soon do you need someone?"

"Soon as possible."

EDDIE: By then, I was terrified she'd say no. All these questions and never once did she seem really interested in joining. I was already trying to figure out which of us would be the least shit at the drums.

"Okay. I'm in."

EDDIE: And that was it. She said yes. I didn't appreciate how much she'd saved our asses right then, but I was relieved. That was for sure.

GRAHAM: Eddie came back, told us she said yes. She couldn't join practice until her mom got home ― she didn't want the house to be empty if some injured kid wandered by ― so we had about an hour and a half to teach her every song.

BILLY: She picked 'em up like [snaps] that. Never doubted it for a single second, either. Once she knew it, she knew it.

EDDIE: She showed up to the first gig in overalls and sneakers. She let Camila put a little makeup on her, too, but we could all tell she hated it.

CAMILA: She was sweet. And, surprisingly, a little shy. I could tell she was a little scared of the boys. That's why she was a little cold to them at first. But she was just the coolest kid. I mean, fourteen years old and joining a rock band? She was a little rockstar, right off the bat. She asked me to put some makeup on her before her first gig with the band. When I gave her a mirror after and asked her what she thought, she said, "I like it, but it makes me feel like a doll. Not a drummer." She liked the glitter the most, though. It became her trademark. She put it on her cheeks, in her hair, everywhere that would catch the light. She'd come off stage and you'd see a little pile of sparkles behind the drum set.

EDDIE: Right off the bat, first gig. It was enough to freak anyone out. She joined the band six hours ago, learned the songs three hours ago, and now she was playing in a club to a couple dozen people. It seems so small now, but back then? It was like starting at Wembley.

Y/n shook out her hands for the eighth time. It wasn't about loosening up for the gig anymore, she just needed something to do that didn't involve throwing a punch or screaming at the top of her lungs. She looked up at Billy, standing at the front of the group, cool and calm as ever, and she had the distinct urge to kick him in the shin. Why did he get to be so calm when she was right behind him, on the verge of throwing up?

She turned to anxiously twisting a single drum stick between her fingers, around and around, faster and faster. Eventually it became so mindless that she barely noticed as the stick slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor. She bent to retrieve it quickly, hoping no one had noticed.

But, of course, someone did.

"Hey," Eddie said, looking back at her.

"Warren knocked it out of my hands." she said quickly.

Eddie glanced over at Warren, who was a solid two feet ahead of her, physically unable to have knocked a drum stick out of her hands. Y/n knew from that glance that he could see right through her lie. Now she really wasn't in the mood to talk.

EDDIE: She was terrified. And she was lying her ass off about it. I didn't want to run the risk that she choked up in the middle of the show and screwed up our set. So I figured I'd just, talk. And if she wanted me to screw off, she'd tell me. She had a way of saying exactly what she wanted.

"You've heard of the Drummer's Curse, right?" he asked.

She frowned in a way that told him no, she did not.

"First, there's the obvious stuff: drummers have to lug around the most shit out of anyone in the band. Drums sets are heavy and expensive, so there's that. But the worst part is that they're easy to overlook, you know? They're at the back of the stage behind all this shit, everyone stands in front of 'em. Drummers can fade into the background real easy. The best drummers can outshine anyone else onstage. You'll do that one day, but if you're freaked out now, just let yourself fade a little. You'll play better than anyone up there and the crowd'll know it, but you can let them focus on someone else if you want. You get what I'm saying?"

EDDIE: For a second, I thought she was going to punch me.

But then she nodded, wiped off some of the pink lipstick Camila had put on her with the back of her hand, and pushed her bangs to the side. "Drummers' Curse, huh?"

"Some people believe in it, some don't."

"And you?" she asked, turning to him. "Do you believe in that kind of stuff?"

Eddie paused. Shrugged. "Sure. Seems true enough to me."

Y/n nodded. "I don't. It sounds like bullshit to me."

Eddie frowned. She looked up at him. "I'm not going to let myself fade because I'm scared. I signed up for this, you know. The least I can do is own my place. If I outshine you, it's just because I'm that good," she said matter-of-factly. "I will need help carrying the stuff, though."

EDDIE: I didn't know what to say. I mean, [laughs] what the hell do you say to that?

He felt like he'd had the rug pulled out from under him. And then, he surprised himself: he laughed.

And Y/n surprised herself then, too ― she smiled.

EDDIE: That was just...[Shakes head. Smiles.] I don't know.

"I think we can manage that." he said with a smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen...The Dunne Brothers!"

WARREN: If I were still the guy I was back then, I would completely undersell her to you right now. I'd tell you she was an average drummer who was more in it for the thrill than the craft. But that wasn't it at all. She got up there and she just...shined.

GRAHAM: We all knew she'd be scared before the first gig. In fact, she looked about ready to throw up when they announced us on stage. But the second she hit those lights, it was like she was a different person. She waved and smiled like she'd done it a hundred times. The only other person I'd seen do that ― I mean really become another person on stage ― is Billy.

BILLY: That first show with Y/n was a little bit of a trainwreck. We were at least a half beat behind the entire show. And I'm not saying I blame her, but she was new and shiny. We got through it just fine, but I think we all felt it wasn't our best show.

WARREN: That show was bitchin'.

GRAHAM: It was a great show.

WARREN: Back in those days, we'd get off stage and start cheering for ourselves like we'd just won the goddamn lottery. Somewhere along the way, that stopped. We'd just pat each other on the back, say 'good job,' and that was that. But when Y/n got backstage? She was screaming and yelling like it was the best night of her life. And all of us joined in without a second thought ― well, maybe all of us except Billy. He was kind of a hard ass, even then. None of us had ever heard this girl talk louder than a glorified whisper, and then she came out of nowhere with this full-body scream. And who did she run to? Well, I think you can guess.

CAMILA: She just about jumped into Eddie's arms.

Adrenaline is a funny thing. For one, the effect is had on different people can be vastly different depending on who it was. Some people mellowed out, some people amped up. Y/n fell into the second category.

The second she got off the stage, a giddy laugh ripped from her chest, turning more into a scream of triumph halfway through. She was buzzing. Literally. Her hands felt numb ― or, more accurately, they felt like they felt more. Everything she touched was sharp and blinding.

The next person to join in on the screaming and jumping around was Warren. Then Graham. Then Eddie. And then, reluctantly, Billy. Eddie was the last to come off stage, slinging his guitar off his shoulders, and Y/n, without thinking much about it, ran straight to him, leaping directly into his unsuspecting arms.

The others were too hyped up on their own adrenaline rushes to notice that anything out of the ordinary had happened. She wrapped her legs around his waist hanging onto him like a koala. And Eddie, who couldn't deny adrenaline, held onto her back without a second thought.

After a moment, she leaned back, arms still wrapped around his neck, faces inches apart. "Drummers' curse, huh?"

EDDIE: She didn't fade. She couldn't, not even if she tried.

Eddie just smiled and shook his head. "Sounds like bullshit to me."

UM I HIT 700 FOLLOWERS AND I DIDNT EVEN REALIZE???????? HELLO??????