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

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

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.

TAG LIST: @itsametaphorbriansblog

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

Could you please tag me in the chain? Love it so far😄

yep yep!! adding you right now :)

Hi, are you still writting the chain series? cuz i’m still waiting for the part 3 hehe 🥹 and anw i love your works sm!!

HI HI yes i am still working on it! i’m so sorry it has taken literally forever and it’s still not finished but i’ve been having a lot of school work as well as struggling with having little to no motivation :( but the show i’m directing is almost over and school is almost out with means OPEN SCHEDULE!! i promise it will happen guys. i promise. the ending is…it’s a lot. i won’t leave you guys hanging 😊

cast your mutuals as colors?

oh my god YES

( my beloved mutuals as colors )

red ― @kolsmikaelson: with the whole horror movie theme you have, i think you can guess why this one is what it is :) your whole account just reminds me of a movie theater that exclusively shows 80s slasher movies, so i think red fits it the best!

orange ― @fxllfaiiry: this one may come as a bit of a shock, but here me out: fire orange. the type of orange that only a slowly burning fire can achieve. it's warm and comforting but can be dangerous if you get too close. your blog is sooooo nice and amazing, and watching fire do its thing is nice and amazing!! very much an orange space.

yellow ― @magicchai: you are one of the sweetest people EVER. your account is so gorgeous and sweet and wholesome and you were so kind to me when i asked if i could take inspiration from you blog layout. one hundred percent a yellow typa blog <3

green ― @bunchesofoats: maybe it's the vibe, maybe it's the pfp, who knows? but your blog is DEFINITELY green to me. i remember first following you for rowan laslow content and he is definitely a green character, so there's that association. but also your blog just gives me the same vibes as spring, which is the greenest of all the seasons.

blue ― @mgcldydrms: the first time i interacted with you, i thought you were a different account with the same pfp and you had just changed usernames. i still feel sort of bad about it HAHA but you were so sweet and nice about it! your vibe is definitely blue based on how chill and sweet you are. also i associate your blog with the ocean for some reason, so blue is the obvious choice :)

purple ― @daveys-sister: your blog just SCREAMS purple to me. and idk if it's because of the fact that davey jacobs as a character screams purple to me (because bi rights, duh) but your account is one hundred percent purple. it's cool and badass but still welcoming and awesome????? ten out of ten, especially because purple is my favorite color :)

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!