Daisy Jones & The Six Fanfiction - Tumblr Posts

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."

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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THE CHAIN -> e. roundtree PART THREE: the six

PAIRING: eddie roundtree x fem!reader WARNINGS: swearing, drinking, drugs, minor injuries, blood, very suggestive content, implied sex (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 fear I may have screwed up the timeline, but oh well! Hope you enjoy!

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

SEVENEIGHTNINE (1975-1976)

The recording of their first album tested The Six's strength ― not only as a band, but as friends. And Y/n, who had never really been a part of the band during its songwriting process, was quick to realize that there was friction between the same band members again and again. Most notably, Billy and Eddie.

KAREN: Eddie wanted more freedom with what he was playing, Billy thought that since he was the frontman that his word was law...it's the same old story you've heard before. They were in a constant dick measuring contest and neither one of them wanted to admit defeat.

WARREN: Billy was my friend. Eddie was my friend. But when you put them in a room together and told them to make a song, they were the most annoying motherfuckers you'd ever met.

One day after a particularly harrowing songwriting session, the band found themselves back at the house in Laurel Canyon. The place that was usually filled with talk and music was silent, the telltale sign that they had brought work home with them. but what else were they supposed to do? They worked together, they lived together. The lines between work and home were becoming dangerously thin.

Y/n couldn't stand the silence. At her house, there had always been something going on ― her mom would be talking on the phone, someone would come in injured and she'd fix them up. At the very least, she'd keep the television on so she could get a good nights' sleep. But that night it was dead silent. Sickeningly so.

So Y/n got out of bed and wandered into Eddie's room. She didn't acknowledge his presence as she walked in, stopped in place suddenly, and collapsed onto the ground, staring up at the ceiling.

Eddie watched the whole thing from his bed, his guitar in his hands. He expected that maybe she'd say something, start a conversation and whatnot, but she didn't. She just went on, staring at the ceiling as though she had all the time in the world and a perfect reason to be there on the floor.

So he spoke first. "Hi."

"Why can't you just get over things?"

EDDIE: Out of the blue, no hesitation. "Why can't you just get over things?" I knew what she was talking about. Me and Billy had been at each others' throats for weeks, ever since we started writing the damn album. She wanted to know why I couldn't just pack it all in and take the hits as they came.

"Um―"

"Because here's the thing: you guys both have so much pride. Soooooo much. So much it makes me want to slap you guys across the face and remind you that you're human, not gods. And, look, I get it. He walks all over you sometimes and that's not cool. But sometimes it feels like you're pushing back just to be contrarian. Like you don't really disagree with what he's saying, you just disagree with the fact that he's the one saying it. You get my drift?"

EDDIE: Like I said, she doesn't sugarcoat things. She'll tell you what you are and if you don't like it? Tough.

Eddie paused, leaning back. She was right; he knew that much. And maybe he did argue with things just to argue, but so what? They weren't The Dunne Brothers anymore, they were The Six. Implied equal partnership. And still...

"He's thinks it's his band, Y/n."

"Then talk to him about it."

"I can't."

"Why not?" Y/n sat up, a crease formed between her brows.

He wasn't quite expecting that question. But, after a bit of stumbling, he came to what he thought was a reasonable answer: "Because he doesn't listen."

Y/n just looked at him like that was the dumbest thing he had ever said. "Well then make him listen."

"Yeah, alright. and how the hell am I supposed to do that?"

She didn't answer immediately, thinking. Eddie thought for a moment that he might have won.

EDDIE: There wasn't really a way to win an argument with her. Not really.

After a moment she turned to him. "A war isn't just two guys screaming at each other, Ed. They need soldiers, armies. Let me be your army."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like watching you get pushed around. It's kind of...sad."

"Thanks."

"You asked."

They lapsed into silence again. Y/n laid back down on the floor, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. When she spoke again, it was so quiet, Eddie wasn't sure at first if she was talking to him or to herself. "I just...I'm on your side, okay? So don't make it any harder to be."

EDDIE: I never quite got that, you know? "I'm on your side." I had no idea why she'd be on my side. Billy was the frontman, Billy was the guy you looked up to. And there she was, trying to help me out without me even asking. I guess I thought, am I really that pathetic? [Laughs] I probably don't want to know the answer to that. I don't know why she was on my side, I really don't. But it was good to know. Made me feel like, aside from all the melodrama that came with rock n' roll, I had something to hold on to.

By the time SevenEightNine was done, the CEO of Runner Records, Rich Palentino, was not impressed. In fact, in his opinion, the entire collection of songs they had collectively poured their hearts and souls into, did not have a number one single among it. Teddy Price decided to take things into his own hands, and that's when Daisy Jones got involved.

The plan was to take 'Honeycomb' ― a song Billy had written about the life he had promised Camila ― and add a female vocal onto it, a sort of call and response duet.

Needless to say, Billy was not happy about the arrangement.

GRAHAM: He had just gotten back from rehab and was finally making things right with his wife and his daughter, and they wanted to bring a new chick in to "fix" his song. I can see why he was upset. I just think that he could've handled it better.

EDDIE: He threw a fit. So, naturally, everybody tried to do things to appease him. Graham had the idea that Karen could sing the female part.

KAREN: Like I said, I can back up a chorus, but I can't hold my own.

EDDIE: Y/n was thrown into the mix.

KAREN: Eddie put "Y/n" and "solo" in the same sentence and she looked like she was going to vomit. We moved on.

GRAHAM: Eventually Billy got the gist that Daisy was what we needed. At least, Teddy thought so. And Billy would take Teddy's word over his own any day of the week.

BILLY: I thought, "Fine. If this Daisy girl wants to try it, we'll let her try it."

Daisy was brought into the studio within the next couple of days, marking the first time she ever officially worked with The Six. She was generally well received by all its members (except maybe Billy) and found a fast friend in Y/n.

Firstly, they were the closest in age, and, when you're thrown into a new environment surrounded by strangers, that tends to be what you gravitate towards. That, and Y/n had the special ability of getting the boys to shut up long enough to let her do her thing. That was especially important.

DAISY: The first time I got into that studio to record, the rest of the band crowded at the window, staring at me like I was an elephant in a zoo. It was unsettling. I was probably on the verge of yelling to them to give me some room to breathe when I saw Y/n and Karen dragging them out by their collars, kicking them out of the room until they were the only ones left. That meant a lot.

Despite Billy's every attempt to complain, Honeycomb was released featuring Daisy Jones. Billy was stubbornly pessimistic about the whole thing, of course. And by the time the recording and mixing of 'Honeycomb' was done, it was completely different from the song Billy had first pitched. He felt that his vision had been trod upon in a most disrespectful manner, so much so that, when it was first played, start to finish, for the entire band, the walked out the second the record stopped.

They all watched him go with confusion ― the song was good. It was great, even, but Billy hated it so much that he couldn't even stand to be in the same room as it. And this was before Camila started coming to recording sessions, so no one really wanted to follow him out. Especially not Eddie.

So after the door slammed, they all spent a tense few seconds looking around, sharing confused and annoyed looks over Billy's outburst, and when it became clear that no one was going to do a damn thing about it, Y/n sighed and got up. "Looks like I have to do everything around here, huh?"

She found Billy outside, leaning on the hood of his car, staring at the slowly heating pavement in the California sun. He had his hands crossed over his chest, not unlike a kid who had just gotten his toy taken from him. He didn't look up when Y/n stepped outside, but he spoke the moment she was within earshot: "We're not releasing it."

The reply that came back was a sharp, loud laugh from Y/n. "Fuck you, we're not releasing it. It's a good song. Probably the best one we've ever made."

"You don't get it," Billy shook his head, "that's my song that she's singing. Mine. The one that I wrote about my wife."

"It's not about your wife, Billy," Y/n said. "It's an apology to your wife. You asked us all to make it and we said yes, so don't go acting like you're the goddamn puppet master pulling all the strings. You asked us to make the song, and we said yes. And it's our band. Your song, our band. Sometimes we have to make decisions that don't please your every fucking whim because it's our band and we want to take it as far as we can. And this song, Billy? This is how we do that."

He said nothing, continuing to stare at the ground.

"We're releasing it as soon as we can, and the world is gonna lose its fucking mind. At least you can go home and tell your wife that everyone loves her song."

Billy looked up then, some of his scowl melted away. Y/n grabbed him by the wrist, uncrossing his arms and pulling him back towards the studio. "Now the least you can do is go be civil to your bandmates and to the girl who just made us a number one single."

Eventually she succeeded in dragging him back into the recording booth, to the surprise of everyone already there.

"He threw a fit; I told him to shut up and get over himself. So, when can we release it?" Y/n asked, looking to Teddy.

BILLY: Just like that, she told me to get my act together and got me back in that studio. It was a little harsher than it had to be, but it worked. She had perfected the art of making someone realize how much of an asshole they were being at that point. I think she used it most on me. Occasionally Warren. If it weren't for her, I don't know if I would've gotten back in that studio. Because I don't know if anyone else would've walked out to get me.

Just as Y/n had predicted, 'Honeycomb' quickly sailed to the top of the charts. It generated national attention, with the whole world seeming to suddenly ask the question, Who the hell is The Six?

Daisy Jones had singlehandedly brought them to the top, and it pissed Billy Dunne off to no end.

The rest of the band, however, was enjoying their newfound celebrity. Their album, SevenEightNine, came out soon after, putting them on the road for their first tour ever. Daisy was set to be their opening act ― which, again, did not exactly please Billy. But she was a magnet. Where Daisy went, people seemed to follow.

As the days counted down before they left, they did what they knew best: partying. Y/n, in particular, found herself spending increasingly more and more time with Daisy.

DAISY: Not everyone was on board with me having a hand in the band's success, I knew that. But I had a place at the Marmont that had a pool. And back then, that was all it took to be okay in Y/n's book.

―

[The following is a transcription from an interview with Rolling Stone. On June 2, 1975, Jonah Berg sat down with Y/n L/n to discuss the band's recent success and life on the road.]

JONAH: Where do you think you'd be right now? If you weren't in a band, I mean?

Y/N: [Pauses. Smiles] Somewhere in the ocean.

JONAH: No thoughts as to a career?

Y/N: You didn't ask about a career. You asked what I'd be doing right now. And that's it ― I'd be in the ocean. And I'd be in whatever career got me there.

[This marks the end of the transcript.]

―

WARREN: The girl is a fucking fish.

DAISY: She'd go under for as long as she could, come up for a single breath, and go back under again. Over and over and over. You can't get a single word in that girl's ears when she's in the water.

KAREN: Y/n had a habit of getting...obsessed. With people, with music, whatever it was that caught her interest and held it. And Daisy...[pauses] Daisy did that.

EDDIE: I'm not so sure it was a great thing that Daisy and Y/n became friends when they did.

In Laurel Canyon, Y/n was often the first to come home. In fact, whenever another band member stumbled in, they could most likely count on the fact that if they shouted, "Y/n, I'm home!" they'd hear her yell "Good. Go to sleep!" in response. But that night, it was not the case.

After all the band members had returned for the night, Y/n was still at the Marmont with Daisy. Her hair and clothes were still drying from when she had jumped in the pool an hour previous ― well, she either jumped or she was pushed. She couldn't quite remember now.

Dozens of people had crowded around the pool, drinking and doing whatever drugs came their way. More than once, Daisy and Y/n would stop their stroll to knock back some pills passed their way or do a line off a pool table. Y/n started to wonder what time she had to get home when she noticed Oh, the sun is coming up. Has the sun always been that purple?

"Daisy, what time is it?" she asked, looking to her left. But Daisy had disappeared. There was a splash, and suddenly Daisy was floating in the pool with her nicest Caftan dress billowing around her. She looked like some kind of mystical sea nymph, or so Y/n thought.

"DJ!" Y/n yelled at her, catching her attention. "I need to go home."

Daisy, of course, wouldn't hear of it. Parties didn't end until she thought they were over. "No, no come on! Just stay a little longer!"

"I can't, I...we have rehearsal in the morning."

Daisy sighed, splashing somewhat disappointedly. "Mkay. Fine," she sighed, swimming over to the edge, "can you at least help me out?"

She held a hand out, which Y/n took. Stupid decision, of course. Daisy just pulled her into the pool, causing an eruption of cheers around them.

As she hit the water, Y/n briefly thought that she had some reason to be upset with Daisy, but she couldn't quite remember why. Within a moment, all discomfort had disappeared, completely forgotten, and she was perfectly ready to stay as long as Daisy wanted.

That was, until she came up for air and saw Billy standing there at the edge of the pool.

For a moment, Y/n just stared up at him blankly. Then, she splashed water on him. He looked at her in confusion and she explained, "I had to make sure you were really there and I wasn't just making you up."

"Y/n, it's time to go." he said.

"Oooookay," she said slowly. "I'll get a taxi in a little bit."

"No, this isn't some kind of courtesy call. It's time to go now."

Y/n huffed in response, swimming over to the side. She was too tired (or doped up) to argue. Really, Billy's presence reminded her that she had a house with her own bed. And she realized right then how much she really, really wanted to be in bed.

"Who told you I was here?" she said as she attempted to hoist herself out of the pool.

"Eddie did," Billy replied, helping her out. "Something about you not knocking."

"That son of a bitch," she muttered. "Where is he?"

"Back at the house. Asleep."

"I want Eddie. Get him here."

"You'll see him in the morning."

Y/n, not satisfied with that answer, pushed Billy away, anger curling her hands into fists. "I don't need you to tell me what to do, Billy. I'm a fucking adult. I know when I've reach my limits."

Billy looked at her. Mascara and eyeliner had traced gray lines down her face. Her hair and clothes were soaking wet, clinging to her, dripping onto the pavement. For a second, the hardened look on her face reminded Billy of the day she wandered into their garage and stole the drum sticks straight from Chuck's hands. She didn't look much older now than she did then.

"Just get in the goddamn car."

"No."

"Get in the car."

"No!"

"Y/n, you're bleeding."

She looked down suddenly and noticed a deep cut on her right hand. She frowned at it, but didn't seem that surprised at its existence. "That was there when I got here."

Billy more or less forced her into the passenger seat of the car, where she hung her hand out of the window, letting the blood drip onto the pavement rather than onto the seats.

In the less than ten minute drive home, Y/n talked until she was laughing hysterically at her own jokes, stuck her head out the window and howled at the moon, and finally sat in silence long enough that she started to cry.

Eddie woke up that night to a book hitting him in the face. He jolted awake, looking around wildly. And then, in the dead silence of his room, Y/n's voice came from the doorway. "Snitch."

She shut the door after that, and he heard her stumbling footfalls down the hallway.

And while that should've been the last time Y/n partied with Daisy, it wasn't. She went the next night, and the night after that. The knocks on Eddie's wall became less and less frequent until they stopped all together.

Daisy became her favorite pastime.

"You're in love with Eddie, right?" Daisy asked. They were both lying on the ground outside at the Marmont, letting their heads hang over the pool so that only their hair soaked in the water.

At her question, Y/n shot up, her wet hair drenching her back with cold water instantly. "What?"

"Oh, sorry," Daisy said, still hanging there. "I just thought...you know..."

Y/n did not, in fact, know. She turned to Daisy, a crease formed between her brows. "Why would you think that?"

Daisy sat up then, her impossibly long hair acting like a weight that she had to struggle against to sit up. "You're always lookin' at him when you're rehearsing. At a certain point it was like...I could count on the fact that when I walked into the studio, you'd be right next to him."

As Daisy spoke, Y/n felt herself frowning deeper and deeper. Eddie...Eddie was her best friend. That was for sure. He was the one she went to when she wanted to talk to someone.

Three thoughts emerged as Daisy talked.

One: I am not in love with Eddie Roundtree.

Two: I'm in love with Eddie Roundtee.

Three: It's so obvious it's sad.

Daisy kept talking, oblivious to her sudden revelation. "I get it, you know? If you really like him, you should just go for it. He's a nice guy, and he looks at you as much as you look at him."

Y/n excused herself then, claiming she felt sick. Well, that was mostly true ― she did feel sick. But not the type of sick that drinking generally made her. The kind of sick that came from thinking too hard, too quickly.

But instead of coming back, she left the Marmont, walking home with bare feet. She was still dripping with pool water, freezing her ass off the whole way home, but she was too deep in her own head to really realize it.

She made it back just as the sun was starting to come up, falling asleep on the couch rather than in her room. She slept fitfully, waking up every half hour or so thinking she had said something in her sleep that she couldn't take back.

The next night, she didn't go back to Daisy's. In fact, when Eddie heard Y/n's bedroom door shut before midnight, he frowned, wondering momentarily if she had just imagined it. Then, to test the theory, he knocked. It was the tune to the newest song by the Kinks. He didn't think too long about the song, really, he just wanted a response.

For a moment, none came. He waited patiently, silently, for any response. There was none.

Sighing, he settled back down on his bed, deciding that that was the last time he'd knock. There was no point in knocking to no response.

But a few moments later, the response came ― this time at his bedroom door.

He paused, sitting up, part of him wondering if he'd completely imagined it. Either way, he had to check. He got up, leaving his bass on the bed, heading to the door. He opened it and Y/n stood in the doorway, hair still wet from a shower.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi."

And then, before he had the chance to say anything else, she stood on her toes and kissed him. He was so taken by surprise that he practically froze as he kissed her back, only to be unfrozen by her pushing him further into the room and kicking the door shut behind them.

EDDIE:  [Pauses. Takes a deep breath] Oh, wow. Um. Yeah, sure. Yes. I did…I did love Camila. But, everyone loved Camila, you know? Maybe it was…at one point I thought maybe…[pauses] it’s not important. The love I had for Camila…it was painful. It was so much stuff that had nowhere to go, so it just sat. Weighed me down. And Y/n was the first person who, I don’t know, made it lighter.

The next morning when Y/n woke up, she was clearheaded for what felt like the first time in years. The sunlight didn't make her head pound, she didn't feel nauseated, and she didn't have to check herself to see if she'd acquired any news injuries from the night before.

When she rolled over, Eddie was there, still asleep. Her lips parted slightly at the sudden reminder that the previous night hadn't been a dream. And the reminder of Eddie's presence next to her reminded her that there were, in fact, several other people in the house.

She sat up and saw Eddie's shirt at the edge of the bed. She reached for it, leaning over and tapping Eddie on the shoulder. "Hey," she said. He stirred a bit. She held up the shirt. "Can I borrow this?"

"'Course." he responded sleepily. "You leaving?"

"Oh, don't worry. I won't be far. Just down the hall" she said with a smile. He laughed slightly at that, and she gave him a quick kiss on the side of his lips. She tried to get up then, but Eddie caught her wrist, pulling her back down to him. He wrapped an arm around her, pressing his lips to hers. She found herself smiling as he kissed her, a chill running down her spine.

Eventually he let her go and she slipped his shirt over her head. She went for the door, pausing before opening it. "We're going to talk about this later, by the way."

Eddie frowned. "What's there to talk about?"

She paused, thinking. "Maybe talk is the wrong word for it."

She gave him a sly smile, causing him to roll his eyes and bury his head in his pillow. She laughed quietly, opening the door as quietly as she could and shutting it behind her. And as she went to walk into the hallways, she saw Warren standing there, a beer can in one hand.

WARREN: She looked at me with this doe in headlights look, and I just knew she was going to ask, so I told her before she had the chance.

"We have thin walls."

WARREN: Man, the look on her face right then. [Laughs] Priceless. I was so drunk the night before, I didn’t hear shit, but one look at her—the messy hair, the smudged makeup—you just knew. I was happy for ‘em. For once it felt like I wasn’t waiting for the shoe to drop, you know? It just…dropped. I was happy for them.

Y/n said nothing to him, simply turning and walking away, causing Warren to chuckle to himself.

Billy and Camila moved out of the house in Laurel Canyon soon thereafter, wanting to have a home to call their own. That left the more, well, irresponsible band members to themselves.

One day, Warren returned to the house to find Graham, Karen, Eddie, and Y/n on the back porch, slumped in chairs, staring at the air in front of them like they were waiting for something.

"What are you guys on and can I have some?"

WARREN: It was mescaline, because of course it was.

"How long does it take to kick in?" Warren asked.

Karen shrugged. "Depends on the person."

A few seconds later, Warren suddenly stood up, stumbling slightly. "Whoa..."

Y/n giggled, then frowned. She moved her head back and forth, side to side, like she was weighing it. "Guys, my head is getting really heavy. Too heavy. How much should my brain weigh? Can brains gain weight? Do I have an overweight brain and I didn't notice it until now?"

"If you had an overweight brain, you wouldn't have failed math." Warren said. "Now, I-I feel on a molecular level, you know, like me and the canyon, we are..." he trailed off, then clapped, "Ha! No, we're the same, man."

Karen laughed. "Warren and Y/n are feeling it, clearly."

Graham laughed, and then suddenly he went slack, eyes wide. "Oh shit..." he put his hand over his stomach, "I can't feel my heart."

As Karen went to make sure his heart was actually beating (which, of course, it was ― he was just looking in the wrong place for it), Y/n turned her attention to Eddie. He was staring at his hands like it was the first time he was seeing them. She looked at her own, waving them in the air like she was trying not to hurt the air.

Y/n and Eddie had kept their, well, for lack of a better word, tryst, from the rest of the band members. Except, of course, Warren who had found out completely by mistake. As Y/n inspected her hands, she let one fall to the side, landing on Eddie's thigh.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. She bit her lip to hide a smile.

"No, Graham, it's there."

"Karen, I can't feel my heart. It's gone, man."

Y/n slid her hand further up his thigh, trying her best not to giggle at the way he tried to keep his cool under her touch.

"Can-Can we call a doctor or something?"

"Graham. Move your hand up."

Graham frowned, looking down. Then moved his hands to the correct place and, upon feeling his heart beating steadily underneath his palms, sighed in relief. "Oh. Thanks."

Eddie suddenly stood up, startling all of them. Without a word, he took Y/n by the hand, pulling her back inside. Y/n giggled then, already going to unbutton her shirt.

Karen and Graham watched them go in confusion. "What the hell is up with them?" Graham asked as the door shut behind them.

Warren just raised his half empty beer can in their direction. "L'Chaim," the declared, then drank it all in one sip.

Thanks to Honeycomb, The Six had been put on the map. They were touring for their first album with Daisy Jones as their opening act. It was on that tour that they all got their first taste of real fame of screaming crowds and fanatic fans.

Towards the end of the tour, the decision was made that Daisy would join the band, and they would soon become known as Daisy Jones & The Six. After the tour, they were on their way to creating their first album with Daisy on the team.

EDDIE: Things were perfect. Well, I didn’t think they were perfect at the time. I still wasn’t getting along with Billy, I didn’t feel like I had any creative control, I basically felt like a second-class citizen even though I had been there from the beginning. But I had Y/n, and the band was successful. If I had been able to put down my pride and look at my life from a couple steps back, I probably would have thought, damn…this ain’t bad.           I never really guessed how bad things would go downhill after that.

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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 FOUR: aurora

PAIRING: eddie roundtree x fem!reader WARNINGS: swearing, drinking, drugs, minor injuries, blood, very suggestive content, implied sex (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: HIIIIIIII HI HI HI HELLO AND WELCOME TO THE FOURTH AND FINAL INSTALLMENT OF THE CHAIN! I'm so sorry this took me ten million years to write, it was really hard both time-wise and emotionally, as you'll see later...but HERE IT IS!!!!! This little story has gotten so much love since I posted the first part and it is absolutely insane. I'm almost at 800 followers now, compared to the 300-and-something I had before. It is absolutely crazy how this little plot bunny turned into something that you all really love. I'm glad that this story has brought you guys joy, and I hope I can do that one last time. So, here you go! Part four of The Chain!

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

AURORA (1977-1978)

EDDIE: It started with little things, you know? The drip before the dam breaks. She would have these moments of...of absentmindedness. She'd say "I think I'm going to wear the red sweater at tonight's gig." And I'd say, "I love that one." And she'd say. "Me too." And then she'd pause, and go back to whatever the hell she was doing ― strumming on the guitar, packing for tour ― and all of a sudden she'd say, "Oh, Ed, I'm going to wear the red sweater at the show tonight." I thought maybe she was telling a joke, but she'd look up at me, waiting for a response. So I'd say, "Baby, you just told me that." And she'd say, "I did?" And I'd say, "You did." And then she'd pause again, thinking. And then she'd shrug and just say, "Oh." Oh. Like it didn't even matter that she'd just said the same thing twice and forgotten she'd even said it in the first place. I don't blame her for it. I mean, she was like the opposite of a hypochondriac. She could stitch you up when you got hurt, but she thought she was indestructible. It was all I could do to get her to see that everyone has a breaking point. Everyone has that point that they can't come back from. And I didn't know it then, but she'd already crossed it.

KAREN: The first time it happened ― the first time we really started to realize that something was up ― was during a rehearsal. I think...I think we might've been recording, actually.

Aurora was coming along better than any of them thought it was. The songs were recorded in six days. The band was in the middle of the fourth day, mid-recording of "Kill You To Try," when the drums came to a sudden halt at the song's peak.

And Billy, whose only goal was getting the album recorded so that he and Teddy could take over on the mixing, was on the verge of losing his mind.

It took him a moment to realize the drums had faded away until they were completely gone. The rhythmic guitar faded next, next the bass, and then Billy caught up, his voice breaking off and his headphones pulled away from his ears.

He turned around, an angry knot forming between his brows. "Y/n?" he said impatiently. When there was no answer, he said it again. "Y/n."

She was staring straight forward, arms fallen limp to her sides, a blank look on her face. Her eyes fluttered rapidly, more half-blinks than full stops.

Karen, who was closest to her at the keyboard, walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. "Honey, are you all right?"

And then it stopped. Y/n blinked one last time and her eyes went still. She looked around at all of them, a crease forming between her brows. "What?" she asked, looking back at their stares. "What did I do?"

DAISY: We just...we didn't know what to say.

"You zoned out, dude." Warren replied.

"I did?" she asked. There were nods. "Oh. Sorry."

They went back to recording then, mostly at Billy's insistence, but Eddie couldn't help watching Y/n through the corner of his eye for the rest of the day. She seemed fine enough for the most part, but he couldn't get rid of the sneaking suspicion that something was very, very wrong.

"Okay...okay. Mom, go, I don't need Dr. Medina getting mad at me. I'll call you in the morning. I hope the surgery goes well. Be the best damn nurse the world has ever seen. Okay, bye. Love you."

Y/n hung up the phone and jumped over the top of the couch, lying down and laying her head in Eddie's lap. Everyone else had left the house in Laurel Canyon by now, making them its only two residents. It was quieter than it was before, sometimes unsettlingly so, but they liked it. With the band becoming more and more chaotic, they both needed the quiet. Plus, they could make out in the kitchen without worrying about anyone walking in on them. That was a definite plus.

Eddie stared off into space for a moment, absentmindedly running a hand through Y/n's hair. "You ever think about getting married?"

Y/n sat up, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Getting married. Out of the blue. Just like Camila and Billy."

Y/n stuttered, "Camila and Billy have been together since, like, the beginning of time. We've only been together for...we can't..."

She trailed off, and Eddie's face fell. He covered it up with a shrug. "No, it's fine."

"Eddie, hey."

"No, no it's fine, I get it," he said, getting up from the couch. Yes, it was a risky thing to say. And he hadn't exactly known what to expect, but it definitely wasn't that.

Y/n got up to gently grab his wrist, stopping him in place. "Eddie, Eddie," she said gently as he reluctantly turned. He looked somewhat dejected ― it hurt her to see, so she put on her sweetest smile as she laced her fingers behind his neck. "Camila and Billy got married at three in the morning because she got knocked up. That's not me. That's not us."

He said nothing, but his features softened just the slightest bit.

"It can't be out of the blue, okay? Call me old fashioned, but I want the planning. The pretty cathedral, the stupid vows, the white dress...I want it all. And being in a rock band doesn't really coincide with that, yeah?"

Eddie just rolled his eyes at that, but there was a slight grin on his face as he did so. "Come here," she muttered, pulling him closer and hugging him tightly. He held her back, his chin resting atop her head like she'd fly away if he didn't try hard enough.

"Give me some time. We have a world tour coming up, but after that..." she trailed off with a smile. "That sound okay?"

"Yes ma'am," Eddie responded with a shit-eating grin. Now it was Y/n's turn to roll her eyes and push him away, smiling.

"Why are you in such a rush to get tied down? Aren't rockstars pretty flighty people?"

"I'll let you know you when I see one," Eddie said, and pulled her in to kiss her.

Billy and Daisy were nowhere to be seen. Daisy Jones & The Six's World Tour of Aurora was set to begin in less than a month, and their main attraction was missing from rehearsal. The rest of the band sat around like sitting ducks, fiddling with their instruments like they had no purpose. Well, right then, it was like they didn't. Without Billy or Daisy...practice almost wasn't worth it.

And eventually, Eddie had had it. "Okay," he said, standing up, "this is bullshit. Just because Billy and Daisy aren't here, we have to sit with our thumbs up our asses?"

Warren paused. "Yeah, basically."

Eddie shook his head, giving a bitter laugh. "Yeah, fuck that. Up."

He slung his guitar over his shoulder as they all reluctantly got up, groaning in exasperation. Y/n took her seat behind the drums, Karen got behind the keys, and Warren picked up his guitar. And Eddie headed for the mic, causing a few confused glances between the other band members.

"Hey, Ed?" Y/n called. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? We're going to rehearse."

"Yeah, but...you're not going to sing, are you?" Graham said.

Y/n threw a drumstick at him. "Dude."

Warren and Karen held back laughter. Eddie looked around the room, eyebrows raised. "Fine. Anyone else want to volunteer?" he asked. "Please, someone else take over."

No one moved to take his place. Eddie nodded. "That's what I thought. Okay, let's start with Regret Me."

"You're going to sing Daisy's part?" Y/n said, eyebrows raised.

"Nope," Eddie responded. "You are."

Y/n froze. For a moment she thought that might've been a joke.

KAREN: She looked like a deer in headlights. I knew Eddie wouldn't ask me, probably because he was still a little scared of me. But Y/n always hated being front and center. She looked like she was going to be sick.

Eddie beckoned her forward. She looked at the others for help, but all she got in return was wide-eyed looks and desperate shrugs. She looked back at Eddie. "N-No! I-I have to do the drums!"

"Teddy can play the drums. Right, Teddy?"

Caught off-guard, Teddy pressed the speaker button. "Um, sure?"

As Teddy came from the booth into the studio, Eddie walked over to where Y/n sat behind the drums. She had shrunk down as if to hide herself. She stared up at Eddie as though he were about to lead her to the slaughter. "What the fuck are you doing?" she said in a harsh whisper. "I'll kill you, you know. The second we get home, I'm taking the bat and crushing your fucking kneecaps."

Eddie just laughed as he took her hand to guide her to the mic with him. "I know you can do this," he muttered, quiet enough so that only she could hear, "I've heard you sing it."

"In the shower."

"Still counts."

She resisted the urge to slap him right then, looking around at the rest of the band. "If any one of you ever bring this up ever again―"

"Yeah, yeah, save the death threats," Warren said. "Can we all just shut up and rehearse?"

"Oh, now you have a sense of urgency." Y/n muttered.

After one final look around, Graham counted them in, and the song began. And Y/n who had no instrument to play, only stood a solid foot away from the mic, her heart beating so quickly that she could feel it in her skull. Eddie gently took her hand to pull her closer. When he opened his mouth to sing, hers stayed shut.

"You regret me and I regret you," he sang alone. "Except I don't care what you're feeling and I don't need your reprove."

He squeezed her hand, trying to encourage her with only his eyes. And then, quietly, she joined in on the next line.

"I'm a slippage in the system with a natural gift, how I move," he found himself starting to sing through a smile, "So go ahead and regret me but I'm beating you to it, dude."

The chorus was approaching, making Y/n feeling more and more like she was going to throw up. The logical part of her knew that she wouldn't burst into flame if her voice cracked. But the other part? The other part of her wanted to punch Eddie in the face for ever bringing her within a five foot radius of this mic.

"You regret me and I regret you!"

WARREN: They had that chemistry that Billy and Daisy had, but it felt more…lived in. Daisy and Billy were like two pieces of flint that you’d knock together. Sparks would fly and hey, maybe something would catch on fire. Eddie and Y/n were like a bonfire. Controlled. And, if you stood a good enough distance away, you could see how nice it was. It wasn’t as exciting, but it sure was good enough to take the place of the real thing.

She gained confidence the more that she sang. Whether it was the fact that her voice held on or the fact that she got to stand so close to Eddie, she didn't know, but she felt okay.

"Go ahead and regret me, but I'm beating you to it, dude." Y/n finished the song with a smile at Eddie, her face flushed. It took her a moment to realize that the room around her was silent.

Her smile fell. "What?"

"Nothing," Graham said. "That was great. Um...what about Honeycomb?"

Everyone nodded in agreement, going back to their instrument. Eddie pulled Y/n to his side, pressing a kiss to her head. "Told ya."

She suppressed a smile. "Shut up."

EDDIE: The lead up to the tour, I think. That was when things got really weird. She was tired all the time, no matter how much sleep she got. I mean, yeah, we were recording an album and getting ready for a world tour, but it wasn't like normal. We'd come home and she'd go straight to be, sleep until the morning, wake up, and an hour later she'd be yawning again. For a while I thought she might've just been tired of me [laughs].

"Y/n, come on. Time to get up," Eddie said quietly, crouching beside their bed to be at her eye level. Her eyes blinked open reluctantly and she groaned, rolling over.

"My head is killing me."

"I'll get you some Advil."

"No, no, I got it," she said, and then proceeded to lay in bed, eyes shut, curled under the blankets.

After a few moments, Eddie spoke. "Y/n?"

"Five more minutes."

He laughed quietly. "Come here," he said, sliding one arm under her back and one under her legs, scooping her up into his arms.

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders gratefully, burying her head in his neck. "Wow, you're so strong," she said with a little giggle.

"Yeah, yeah. I can still throw you down the stairs."

"Ooh, I'm counting on it."

They went to rehearsal―where, luckily, Daisy and Billy were already located―and got to work. Eddie kept an eye on Y/n out of the corner of his eye. Her headache had worsened on the drive there despite her taking more pain pills than was probably necessary. She played just fine, but she cringed ever so often at the punctuated hit of a hi-hat. He thought about taking her off the drums for a bit and putting Teddy in her place, but she'd just get angry at him.

In the middle of Let Me Down Easy, the drums stopped suddenly, drum sticks clattering to the floor. Everyone looked up to see Y/n sprinting out of the room, a hand clamped over her mouth. Eddie froze. Karen was the first to move, running after her to make sure she was all right.

They all stood in silence for a minute or two, unsure of how to proceed. Karen came back, running a hand through her hair. "She just got sick. She's fine now, but I think we should give her a minute."

"What, does she have the flu or something?" Graham asked.

"Maybe she's pregnant," Camila suggested. Everyone turned to look at her at once. She blinked. "What?"

Eddie left the room then, feeling like he was about to be sick himself. The bathroom door was ajar when he got there. Y/n was sitting on the floor when he walked in, knees tucked to her chest, her head propped up by one palm.

"Hi," she croaked.

"Hi. You okay?" he asked, sitting beside her.

"Fucking fabulous," she replied with a slight grin.

He smiled and kissed her forehead, wrapping an arm around her. "D'you think that maybe it's time you see a doctor? I mean, the headache, you're tired all the time, and now this?"

"No, no," she waved her hand to brush that away. "I get like this sometimes. It's like allergies. It's whatever. I'll ask my mom on the phone later. She's never failed me."

Eddie nodded, going silent for a moment. "Are you maybe...do you think you might be pregnant?"

"No, I'm―" Y/n began, then cut herself off. She paused for a moment, thinking. Then she turned back to Eddie, eyes wide. "Um."

Cut to the two of them in the bathroom at midnight, Eddie pacing and Y/n staring at a little pregnancy test on the counter. It had taken them nearly half a dozen drug stores to find a regular pregnancy test, not to mention the fact that they grew more and more panicked with every second that passed.

"What if―"

"Nope, no," Eddie cut her off, "We are not playing the What If game right now. Whatever happens happens, and we'll deal with it."

Y/n nodded, pursing her lips. "But, what if―"

"Y/n, no."

After a few minutes of anxious silence, Y/n exclaimed. "Look, I see a line!"

Eddie quit his pacing to rush to her side, looking down at the test. "What does that mean?"

"Two lines means I'm pregnant."

"There's only one."

"I know that, Eddie."

"Well, what does that mean?"

And then they were scrambling for the box, looking for the instructions they worried they might've accidentally tossed out. Once the box assured them that one line meant Y/n was definitely not pregnant, they both let out a sigh of relief, Y/n slumping over the counter in exhausted victory. "I feel like we should take several rounds of shots right now."

Eddie wrapped his arms around her waist. "Thank God, I was about to call Karen's priest."

She laughed, feeling giddy.

"Would it have been the worst thing In the world, though?" he asked.

Y/n turned her head to look up at him. "Sweetheart, we're about to leave for a world tour. The timing isn't exactly ideal," she paused. "But no, it wouldn't have been the worst thing ever. I mean, I would have a lot to explain to my extremely Catholic grandparents, but no, I wouldn't be entirely devastated."

Eddie couldn't stop a smile that spread out of her sight. "First you want to marry me and now you want to have my children? God, are you obsessed with me or something?"

She gasped in mock offense, tearing herself from her grip and glaring at him. "You precocious son of a bitch."

"Careful, you might accidentally turn me on."

She narrowed her eyes, staring at him for a moment. Then, quick as a flash, she turned and ran to the bedroom. Eddie chased after her, their screams of laughter floating up through the ceiling as he slammed the door behind them.

AURORA WORLD TOUR (1978-1979)

WARREN: Tour life was crazy, man. It always had been, but that one was insane. Daisy and Billy had it out in Rolling Stone, and everyone wanted to see their little shitshow. I'm not saying that their blowup was what rocketed us to the top...but it fuckin' was. Drama, man. The people eat it up.

Daisy Jones & The Six was the shit. Everywhere they went, massive crowds followed. Record sales were at an all-time high. Everyone knew the band. They were on top of the world.

Eddie thought every day about taking a knee and proposing to Y/n. In the middle of a show, even. He'd do it in the dead of night. They never tired of each other, no matter how long they were together. They were attached at the hip until they were forced away, which, now that they were on tour together, wasn't often.

They had made a routine. Wake up, rehearse with the band for a couple hours, and then go walk around whatever city they were in. Then they'd play the show, go to a party, and go back to their hotel room. They clung to each other through all of it. Eddie wasn't quite sure what the terms of common law marriage were, but he was sure that they would meet all of them. But he'd wait until the tour was over, just like she said. And then he'd marry her. That much he knew.

When they got to Chicago around early July, it was set to be their biggest show of the tour.

KAREN: Tensions were high. I don't think the two of them noticed, or they were too in love to care.

They stood backstage, the sounds of the crowd growing louder and louder as more people arrived.

Camila turned to wish her good luck with a smile, but it quickly faded. "Oh, honey, your nose."

Y/n frowned, then felt a drip. She swiped her thumb underneath her nose and it came away slick with blood. "Oh," she muttered, "oops."

"Are you alright?" she asked in a very mom-way.

"Yeah, feeling okay," Y/n nodded. "Goodnight, Julia."

Camila rocked her daughter, "Say bye-bye, Julia."

Julia lifted a hand and made a grabby motion in farewell. Y/n giggled and did the same back, still holding her nose. "Bye, Squishy," she said, poking one of Julia's little dimples. The girl giggled and clung to her mom, disappearing out of sight.

She staunched the blood as best she could once she found tissues, stashing bloody tissues in her bag rather than the trash can so as not to worry anyone. She swiped on some glitter anywhere that would catch the light. Eddie came in as she was tying her hair up. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and she wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder.

The moment her eyes closed, she got this feeling like she wanted nothing more than to let them stay closed, to drift away into sleep right there. She was tired. There were thousands of screaming people out there waiting for her, and all she could think about was getting to sleep as soon as possible.

"Maybe this tour is it," she muttered into Eddie's shoulder.

"What?"

She paused, trying to form a thought into words. "After this. I don't know if I can do it again."

They pulled apart and Y/n saw a crease between Eddie's brows. "What makes you say that?"

Before she got a moment to figure out what exactly made her come to that conclusion, she was being pulled forward onto the stage by Warren. The crowd came to a deafening roar as they appeared, and Y/n waved and smiled like she had done a hundred times, taking her place behind the drums.

They all picked up their instruments, and then Billy turned and gave Y/n the nod. The first drum hit of 'Aurora' rang out, and the show began.

EDDIE: The show was great. We all played great, the crowd was great, it was all...[pauses] it was great.

The set was coming to a close. They had played through nearly the entirety of the album, throwing in some older songs of theirs. But the crowd had ceaselessly been chanting for one song in particular, one that had purposely been left off the setlist for the entirety of the tour: Look At Us Now.

Everyone looked around at each other, then at Billy. He glanced back at them as if asking permission. They each gave a nod, and Daisy turned back to the mic. "Who wants to hear Honeycomb?"

The screams of the crowd that followed were enough to answer that question. Billy looked back at all of them again. "You know what to do."

Billy picked up an acoustic guitar from the side of the stage and came back. He tapped his foot a couple times to set the pace, and then he began to play.

The crowd sang every word with them, for them at times. And Y/n selfishly thought she had the best seat in the house. From the back of the stage, she could see it all. The crowd, the band, and everything in between. How could she let this go? This tour couldn't be the end of it all. She decided right then that she wouldn't let it. Not when there were views like this in the world and she was one of the few that got to see it.

And in an instant, it all went haywire.

Daisy and Billy were so caught up in the song for a moment that they both failed to notice as the drums grew more and more muddled until they stopped all together. Drum sticks clattered to the ground, heads snapping in their direction. Thousands of eyes saw as Y/n slumped out of her seat, collapsing on the ground beside the drums.

Instruments were dropped haphazardly as everyone on that stage stopped what they were doing to rush to the drum set. Rod left his spot in the wings to see for himself as Y/n laid stiff on the ground, seizing.

What followed was a rush of colors and light, of ambulances and ceilings, none of which she could really see or understand. But Eddie could. Eddie saw and understood all of it. And that, possibly, was the worst part.

Y/n woke up not long after, feeling as though she had just woken up from restless sleep. She asked quick questions, which were answered in short, quick words by Billy and Camila. Who she really wanted to speak to was Eddie, but he was laser focused on whatever needed to happen next. All he could do was hold her hand and squeeze back.

By the time she was in her hospital bed, she was convinced that she was perfectly fine. The part she was most upset about was ending the concert early―which, she assured them, would not happen again.

"After I get treated for whatever this is, I can come back, right? Rod?"

"Calm down, kid. You just had a seizure. Give yourself some time to be overdramatic before you get back on the road," he said with a slight chuckle.

"Miss L/n, have you ever had a history of epileptic seizures?" the nurse in the room asked. Y/n shook her head, and the nurse gave a nod. "I'll be right back with the doctor."

She left, and Warren suddenly gave a shiver. "Fucking hate hospitals."

Y/n shrugged. "I basically grew up in one."

"Ah, so that's why you're...you."

Several people had to dodge as Y/n hurled a pillow at him. Then, realizing it was the only one she had, she pouted. "Give it back."

"Oh, this pillow? The one you threw at me?" Warren said, being annoying as usual. "No way, sister. This is my property now. Bequeathed to me by your sorry arm muscles."

"I'll beat you up as soon as I get out of this bed."

"Sure you will, honey."

The door to her room opened and the doctor stepped in. He was tall, older, and graying a bit at the ends. "Hi there," he greeted. "I'm Doctor Lawrence."

Y/n waved, and he suddenly seemed to realize how many people were in the room. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid only family are allowed in here," he said.

Y/n immediately grabbed Eddie by the wrist. "He's my husband!" she said. Everyone quieted. "And they're my brothers," she looked at Billy and Graham, "sister-in-laws," she glanced over at Camila and Karen, "he's my cousin," she nodded to Warren, "and he's my weird uncle," she said, looking at Rod. Then she looked back at the doctor. "They're my family."

The doctor didn't believe a word she'd said. But after a moment of silence, he nodded to the group. "You can stay."

Y/n sighed in relief, lacing her fingers with Eddie's. If anything were to happen that night, she'd rather have him by her side.

Doctor Lawrence asked her a couple menial questions, then rambled a bit about what exactly seizures are (which, of course, she already knew) and suggested a CT scan to better understand what was going on. She agreed.

The next few hours were rather boring. Silences were punctuated with pain, as Y/n grew to realize how stiff her neck was. Her arms and legs were sore, but that, she assumed, was from the seizure.

"It's too bright in here," she commented when she was returned to her room. "Can I turn the lights down a little?"

People milled about. Camila had to go to be with Julia and the twins. Graham and Karen got coffee. Warren and Rod sat around her hospital room, competing to see who had the crazier stories (the winner, of course, was Rod). Eddie sat beside Y/n on the hospital bed the entire time, talking to her as she came in and out of consciousness

One of the times her eyes blinked open, she frowned, looking around in confusion. "Where the hell am I?"

Eddie paused. "You're in the hospital, Y/n."

Her eyes widened. "Why?"

"You...you had a seizure."

"Oh," she said. He felt her flex her fingers in his. "My hands feel weird. I can't feel your hand."

Eddie began to panic. She was treating every new horrible thing as though it were a new science fact she had just learned. "Y/n, what―"

Doctor Lawrence returned then, Karen and Graham trailing behind him. Billy returned not soon after. The only one not pale and freaked out was Y/n, who seemed content braiding small strands of her hair.

"The CT scan came back. She has a severe case of encephalitis."

Everyone looked around, most of them either hearing that word for the first time or not knowing what it is. Y/n did. "How? Meningitis?"

"Hard to say. It probably started out as a virus, something that triggered a strong autoimmune response."

"Can I take an antiviral to treat it?"

"Sorry, can someone explain what the fuck you're saying?" Warren finally asked.

Y/n sighed, letting go of her third braid. "My brain is inflamed, and it's swelling. It's pressing on my brain stem and it caused the seizure."

"That sounds...bad?" Graham said.

"Yeah, but it can be treated," Y/n said with a shrug. "I'll need to take antivirals for a bit, right?"

The doctor paused. "Yes, you would for a less severe case."

Her eyes narrowed. "So, what do I do for my case?"

He went silent. Y/n froze. Everyone looked to the doctor, who seemed unsure of how to continue. "I'm sorry."

Y/n understood what he was saying. She felt her sore muscles stiffen up again, this time from panic. "You're saying there's nothing? Do I just have it let it go away on its own, or...?"

"A case this advanced won't go away on its own."

"Well, if it won't go away on its own and we can't treat it, then...then what?" she asked, her voice becoming more panicked. "What do I do? Tell me what to do, I'll do it."

Lawrence just shook his head again. "I'm so sorry. I'll give you all a minute to figure out how you want to proceed."

He left then, and everyone was silent.

"Y/n," Eddie said, his voice quiet and careful, "what does that mean?"

She was staring at the blanket over her legs, eyes blank. "Can someone please get my mom on the phone please?" she asked quietly.

"Y/n, what does it mean?"

"It can't be treated. It's not going to go away on its own, it'll just get worse," she said in a quiet, calculated voice, like she was reading from a textbook. "It'll put more and more pressure on my brain stem. And the brain stem regulates circulation and breathing, so..."

Karen let out a sob, her hand reaching up to cover her mouth. Y/n couldn't bear to look up at the faces around her, because she knew she'd see a reflection of exactly what she was feeling right then: hopelessness.

It meant that she was already gone.

"Someone get my mom on the phone. Please."

The night that followed was awful. Camila returned, having finally found someone to watch Julia and the twins. Y/n had watched as Billy told her the news. She teared up, tears streaming down her face within minutes. But she shoved them away as she walked into the room to give Y/n a hug. She chatted about how Julia missed her. She did a good job of keeping the conversation off of the obvious. Y/n was glad for it.

Eddie ended up beside Y/n on her bed. She curled into his side, floating in and out of consciousness. She seized twice more, once just past one in the morning, once after the sun had just started to come up.

Her mom arrived on a flight from Pittsburgh at two. The first time Y/n cried was when she saw her walk into the room.

The morning brought some sense of comfort. Karen and Billy went out to get coffee and bagels for everyone. They all sat around and talked about something other than music, which they hadn't done as a group in years, maybe in forever.

Y/n glanced up at Eddie at some point during the conversation and noticed that he had a strange look on his face. "What?" she asked, nudging him.

Eddie looked down at her, a million thoughts in his head at once, all of which combined to form one coherent sentence.

EDDIE: I told her right then and there that I wanted to marry her. I didn't care how much time she had left. I wanted to call her my wife.

KAREN: When I looked at Y/n, I could just tell...he didn't have to say it twice.

GRAHAM: It all happened so fast from there. Karen called the minister that had done Camila and Billy's wedding ― once we told him the circumstances, he was pretty quick to agree to officiate. That guy was metal, man. He'd done two last-minute weddings for a rock band within two years. Show me another priest who could brag about that. Not that priests brag, right? Jesus was humble and shit. But you know what I mean.

CAMILA: Eddie left to get a tux. He said he wanted to do his part, even if Y/n was wearing a hospital gown.

EDDIE: I think I said something really cheesy about how, if she could look that good in a hospital bed, then I could at least do my best to look the part of a groom. She loved it.

KAREN: Graham went with him, for "style advice," is how I think he phrased it. Really I think he just went to make sure he had someone there with him. None of us really wanted to leave Eddie alone.

GRAHAM: I think we got the first one that fit. He wore it as we left the place. Eddie wasn't screwing around. He was giddy the whole time. He would go dead silent for a few minutes and then talk my ear off for another few. All in all, I think we were gone for maybe forty-five minutes. An hour, tops. We didn't know...we didn't realize they couldn't call us if something happened.

KAREN: It happened so fast. She was so excited, she was talking so quickly I could barely understand her. But she was beaming at us the whole time. You couldn't help but be happy for her.

BILLY: Twenty minutes after they left, she asked for something. Ice chips, I think. The nurses gave them to her all the time, she was kind of addicted. She asked if we could get her some, and Karen said something stupid like, "I'd get you a private jet if you asked for it." And she laughed and said "Don't tell me that ― I might ask, just to see you sweat."

DAISY: Billy left the room to get her some ice and then...I'm no doctor, I can't tell you exactly what happened.

CAMILA: She started seizing up again, so Karen and I tried to put her on her side, but she started fighting us. Like, smacking us away whenever we tried to touch her. I don't know if it was her or...[Pause] something other than her. That's the kind of thing that keeps me up, you know? She was so happy to get married. So happy. But when she hit us away...it was almost like she knew exactly what she was doing.

KAREN: The doctors came in and shooed us back out into the waiting room. Camila didn't want to let go. Neither did I. They practically had to pull us off of her. Billy found us out there, still holding the ice chips, and Camila just started bawling. She didn't say anything, but I think he could piece together what it was that'd happened.

DAISY: Karen sat down. Billy stayed up with Camila, holding her while the ice in the cup started melting down to water. We couldn't have been out there more than ten minutes when the doctor came out. The look she gave us...we just knew. We knew.

BILLY: Camila was almost screaming. Karen left; we didn't ask where she was going. All of a sudden, it was like...like the first time I ever took a punch. You know, you've heard about getting in a fight and taking a hit so hard it makes your head spin. And then there's the first time it really happens to you, when you take your first punch. And there's this brief moment in between the hit and the pain. You know it's coming, but there's that delay before it gets you. In a second, you get the air knocked out of you, and then...[Shakes head] and then it hits you. It didn't feel like losing a friend, either. I lost a sister.

KAREN: I was just completely blindsided. I walked out, not really knowing where I was going. I felt like I was going to puke, and I didn't want to do that in front of everyone. I think we all forgot, you know, that Graham and Eddie were out...

CAMILA: I remember looking over Billy's shoulder, seeing the car drive back up and Eddie stepped out in the tux. He was holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands, talking a mile a minute, and I just...[Chokes up] I couldn't tell him.

BILLY: He walked into the room, and he saw her, and...God, he just...he pulled out this little box from his pocket. He took her hand, opened the box, and put the ring on her finger. He kissed her on the forehead, and then he left.

KAREN: Camila was his first love, yeah. But Y/n? She was the love of his life, man. He had something people would die for, kill for. And the minute he realized it, the minute he realized what he had, the universe snatched it away from him. Life is un-fucking-fair, man. Always has been and always will be.

CAMILA: God, he really loved her. He really did.

When Eddie got the call, he was surprised to hear that she wanted to speak to him directly. Even more so, he was surprised to hear that someone wanted to write a book about the band. He had always been a firm believer in leaving the past in the past, but she was persistent. Plus, he couldn't say no. Not to her.

They met in a park near the coast. They chatted about life, what she was doing, what he was doing, and it was the general consensus that all was good and well.

"So, where should I start?" he asked as she hit record on the camera.

Julia stepped back from the camera. "Just...tell me about Y/n."

He paused, caught off-guard. And then, he smiled. "This might be a while."

EDDIE: It's not all bad anymore. I got time with her. I'll always wish I had more, but the time I got...it was great. It was the best time I've ever had. But I was able to move on, meet someone new. I think about her every day, and I always will, you know? A person like Y/n...that doesn't leave you. And Jesus Christ am I grateful for that. Julia...I'm really glad you're doing this. Your Aunt Y/n would've loved it.

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Perhaps a ‘Regret Me’ blurb with Graham Dunne + the song Sex or Robbers by The 1975 😭 🙏

If not no worries at all!

Thx!

So I love this with all my heart?? I saw The 1975 in concert in November and cried my little eyes out, so this is just the epitome of some of my favorite things ever. I would do Robbers, but I simply cannot imagine Graham Dunne committing crimes, so Sex it is! (Yes, I'm aware that that last bit out of context sounds extremely odd. I also do not care.)

tw: slightly sexual content, but nothing graphic at all

Neither of you were quite sure how it started.

One moment you two were in the back of the van, waiting for the others to get back from the venue so you could head back home. You were in the process of sliding off your knee-high boots, which you had regretted wearing halfway through the set when you realized you couldn't feel the bottoms of your feet.

Graham sat beside you, twirling one of Warren's drum sticks between his fingers. He glanced over at you as you threw your boots across the back of the van, slumping down.

Only a few hours ago you had been in the small music hall performing a set. Your boyfriend had been in the front row, beaming at you throughout the entire thing. At least until he saw how you acted around Graham.

As the two guitarists (lead & rhythm) you were bound to have some interaction during the show. He just didn't think that meant the whole show. Anytime you and Graham played at the same time you would stand close to each other, sometimes with you laying your head on his shoulder. One time your faces got so close that your boyfriend wasn't entirely sure that you two hadn't kissed.

So when you bounced backstage to meet him, you weren't entirely surprised at the hardened look he had on his face. The two of you had ended up in a screaming match, heard in part by the entire band as they loaded everything up to get on the road.

Eventually you left, slamming the door to the venue behind you as you crawled into the van, where Graham was already helping pull stuff inside. You mumbled angrily under your breath as you unzipped your boots, throwing them.

You felt Graham's eyes on you and you looked back. He immediately looked away, causing you to giggle and roll your eyes. "Graham," you said, voice low and quiet.

He looked back over. "Yeah?"

And then you pulled him to you by the collar and kissed him hard. Graham, entirely caught off guard, found himself staring at your blurry eyebrows for a moment before he really realized what was going on. And when he did, his eyes fluttered shut, kissing you back.

Your fingers crept to his belt, toying with the hem of his jeans. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, and that was when you pulled away, a devilish grin on your face. Now Graham had a very obvious hard-on, which only made you grin a little wider.

"Think you can wait until we get back to the house?" you asked in a low whisper. Graham just nodded, eyes wide and surprised. You pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his lips and sat back, moving to help Billy haul the last of the guitars into the van.

And as Graham sat there, trying to comprehend what the fuck had just happened, all he could think of was one, single, repeating thought: She's got a boyfriend, anyway...

cherry coke (d. jones)

pairing: daisy jones x fem!reader summary: after an exposing news article is published in rolling stone, daisy and y/n have to figure out how to deal with the world knowing the truth. warnings: swearing, homophobia (not a lot, just mentions and implications for plot reasons only, but nothing explicit), drugs, drinking, s*x (mentioned but not described), mentions of addiction (past and current), daisy wanting to commit h*micide (vengeful wife vibes)

author's note: so this is what i was doing while demotivated to write the chain. I PROMISE I WAS TRYING but this idea also appeared to me and i just. i had to guys. i HAD to. i'm glad you guys have enjoyed the final part of the chain (and by that i mean yelling at me in the comments for making you guys cry. no i am not sorry, this is what i was going for all along) but seriously, i love that you guys loved it. yes it was sad but i'm glad you all felt that with me, because boy was it difficult to write. so here's a happier one! i saw someone say that daisy jones gives iconic lesbian energy and i was like you know what???? i VERY much agree! like, she set so many trends and broke out of the box in so many ways...so like why not by being gay yk?? anyway, this one gets a lil angsty and then supa cute again so enjoy! i love you guys <3

DAISY JONES: You're famous long enough, you start to ignore the rumors. They're always gonna be there―some of 'em will surprise you when they're true, but most of the time they're just plain bullshit. You have to let them roll over you without a second thought. [pause]. But when that Rolling Stone article came out...it scared me. It was like Jonah Berg had stumbled on the gold mine of his career that could ruin mine in a second.

Y/N L/N: [holds up magazine] Inside Daisy Jones' and Y/n L/n's Torrid Love Affair. Quite the headline, huh? At the time, though, it kinda felt something like a death sentence. [pause] Look, the seventies were great, right? The parties, the music, the nightlife...but there were things that society just wasn't ready for yet. And that was what we were.

DAISY JONES: We were both so far deep into our denial then that it just...well, it made me want revenge [laughs]. But Y/n wasn't like that. She had her own things to deal with.

Y/N: Let me just tell you this one thing: never take your best friend on tour.

"You guys sold out this entire place?" Moody said as he looked around the giant stadium.

The band was in the middle of soundcheck in Henderson, but Y/n still found a moment to throw an arm over her childhood best friend's shoulders. "You sound surprised. If I were in a worse mood I might be offended."

Moody chuckled as Y/n wandered away to where Daisy was singing quietly into the main mic. Y/n knocked her foot into Daisy's boot as she passed, giving the girl a quick sly grin. Daisy returned it (not without a cleverly placed eye roll) and went on singing.

After a moment, an arm wrapped around Y/n's waist, pulling her back. She let out a shriek that melted into a laugh as Daisy pulled her back to the mic, saying, "Get back here and sing some harmonies with me!"

Moody watched with a quizzical look as Daisy and Y/n sang into the same microphone to test. Neither one of them could seem to really take it seriously; if their eyes met for even a second they'd laugh through the melody, effectively accomplishing nothing in the way of sound checking.

Eventually Y/n pulled herself away from the mic. She sang backup and harmonies on some of the songs off Aurora, but she never really liked having her own voice front and center. Besides, she was perfectly content to listen to Daisy sing. Daisy had a voice that demanded to be listened to. And Y/n loved it.

Billy passed by, impatiently shoving a guitar in Y/n's hand. "You gonna keep staring at Daisy, or are you gonna play?" he said in passing. Y/n stuck her tongue out at him and shouldered the guitar, still watching Daisy out of the corner of her eye as she plucked out the starting melody to Honeycomb.

Moody went to join the crowd when the first few concertgoers began to file in. From there it was a steady stream of fans, the chatter in the room growing louder and louder until thousands of people stood in the room, cheering and chanting for the band.

Moody had to admit it. He was impressed with what Y/n and the band had created for themselves.

The show began when Daisy walked onstage, red hair aglow in the pink and blue lights. There was glitter on her cheeks and dark makeup smudged around her eyes. And when Y/n walked onstage behind her, Moody noticed that she too had glitter on her face and lipstick smudged around her mouth.

The show was fantastic. When Daisy was at the mic (which, at that time, was always) she was electric, attracting light and eyes wherever she went. Whenever Billy stepped up to sing with her, it was like there was some instant kind of chemistry between them. They looked at each other, sang to each other, and it all made it feel like they were the only two in the room.

But there were times―few and far between, but still times―when Daisy would pick up the mic and go by Y/n as she played the guitar. In those moments, Daisy and Y/n would meet eyes, and the fits of laughter they'd had during soundcheck were nowhere in sight. They were focused on nothing but each other and the music. It seemed to suck all the air of the room in a single breath.

And during a particularly intricate guitar solo, Daisy got down on her knees in front of Y/n and sang up to her, setting the crowd ablaze with cheers and chatter.

Moody met back up with the band after the show, at which time Y/n leapt into his arms and stayed there, holding on and riding around as he greeted the other members of the band.

Daisy passed him last, and he gave her a short nod of his head. "Great show, Daisy."

"Why, thank you," she said in a very Daisy-way. As she passed, she gave a quick squeeze to Y/n's side, never taking her eyes off the girl until she was on the other side of them. It was an almost imperceptible gesture, but he saw.

Now, in that era of rock, shows didn't just stop after the set. The parties that followed were infamous for being the wildest place to be. Drugs and alcohol everywhere you looked, sex swimming in the air. If you wanted to dance a little too close to the devil, that was where you needed to be.

Moody got about as far as the entrance and tapped Y/n on the shoulder. "I'll meet you at your room."

She nodded, then bounced into the party without another word. I'll meet you at your room was code for their regular post-show routine. Y/n would go off to some party with Daisy and get shitfaced while Moody settled into Y/n's hotel room with a book. Around four or five in the morning, she'd stumble into her room, giggly and high, sometimes with Daisy at her side. Then Moody was in charge of sliding off her boots and making sure she sure got in bed and slept on her side. Then, he would go back to his own room for a few hours of well deserved sleep. Sometimes Daisy left, sometimes she didn't. Moody didn't put up much of a fight when it came to her.

Despite the fact that the party was nearly two floors above him, Moody could hear and feel the music through the ceiling. Hotel security never did much, mostly due to the hefty security deposit made by Rod and management. Hotels learned to expect this kind of thing when a rock band as famous as Daisy Jones & The Six came in town.

Meanwhile, Y/n was two floors above, stuck to Daisy's side, greeting everyone she saw and doing any drug she stumbled across. Her glass kept getting refilled, though she wasn't sure quite how. She allowed Daisy to pull her from group to group, keeping themselves latched together by the hand. And, around two in the morning, everyone was too faded to notice them slip out of the front door together.

The knock at Moody's door came at around 4:58. It was one, single sharp rap, then the dull thud of Y/n's head hitting the door. A soft giggle floated through the wood, "Let me in, Michael," she said, and he could practically hear the smile on her face through it.

He opened the door to see her leaned on the door frame, shoes in her hand, makeup smudged, hair messed up, clothing askew. Even then he thought she looked so beautiful, standing there, looking like she had just been blown through a tornado. Even then, she seemed to glow.

"G'morning," she greeted with a nod, stumbling in through the entryway.

Sure enough, she tripped over her own feet and nearly collapsed within a few seconds, sending Moody lunging to catch her around the waist. "Okay," he groaned, "no more of...well, anything for you tonight."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, "If I had known you were going to be such a buzzkill, I woulda left you in Pittsburgh."

He guided her to the bed and sat her down. She slumped over, face half squished in the pillow. He held out a hand. "Give me all you got."

Y/n gave him a childish glare before digging in the pocket on her coat and pulling out half a dozen little baggies of pills and powders. She reluctantly smacked them into his hand, shifting further onto the bed to starting getting comfy.

"Thank you," he pocketed the drugs and started unlacing her boots. "You know, one of these days, all the parties are going to catch up to you, and you're either going to regret it, or you'll be passed out in the gutter. Just think about that."

"I've passed out in a gutter before. Not the best experience I've had, but not the worst."

He chuckled, sliding her coat off her arms. As he was pulling the covers over her, Y/n giggled. "I have a secret," she sang in a taunting voice.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, crouching down to her level. "Hit me."

"Nuh-uh. It doesn't work like that."

"Really? How does it work then?"

Y/n paused and thought for a moment. Then, she laughed again like she had just thought of something really dirty. "No!" she squealed. "No, no. I can't tell you. Nuh-uh."

Moody crossed his arms, giving her a pleading look, and then she sighed. "Fine," she relented with a grin, "Come here."

He leaned in, and she beckoned him even closer, until her lips were nearly pressed against his temple. Then, she spoke in a dreamy whisper, "I slept with the It Girl."

Moody pulled away, eyes wide. Y/n just giggled again like she couldn't believe it. She laid down on her side, eyes fluttering closed as she hummed the tune of Tiny Love. "Big eyes, big soul, big heart, no control, but all she got to give is Tiny Love."

She giggled like a maniac, seeming to find humor in those words then, and Moody went unnoticed as he stumbled out of the room, mind reeling at a million miles an hour. Y/n's giddy giggles floated up through the hallway after him, chasing him, until they finally came to a sudden stop.

The next morning she was awoken by Rod knocking at her door, yelling something about the bus leaving in ten. With a heavy pounding in her head, Y/n got up, and found she was unable to recall anything from the night before. Well, all except one thing―a thing that brought a little smile to her face when she recalled it.

After a sluggish bout of packing, the band was off to the next city―Sacramento, they told her. Good. She missed California.

All was normal for the drive. All except Moody. He hardly spoke to her, despite being a very talkative person normally. And when she did address him directly, he responded in as few words as possible. He was angry with her―they had been friends long enough for Y/n to be able to recognize that much. Eventually she gave up on trying to coax him to conversation and sat by Daisy, leaning her head on the girl's shoulder to try and get some sleep.

They made a stop before the hotel at some dinky dive bar to meet with Jonah Berg, a reporter for Rolling Stone. They sat around a table and drank, talking a little about the album and a lot about where they were headed next.

When things began to wind down and the band started to pack up, Jonah noticed Moody standing at the back of the room, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at no one in particular. Something about him looked like a story waiting to happen.

"Are you with the band?" he asked.

"Sure, you could say that."

Jonah lowered his voice. "Then what's got you looking all stormy?"

Moody paused, grappling with his next decision. He could either say it was nothing and tell Jonah Berg to buzz off, which, in all respects, would be the better choice. Or, he could tell the truth. And that, of course, would be disastrous. But people often made the disastrous choice when their feelings were involved.

Then he looked back at Y/n and Daisy, swaying together as Karen played a bluesy tune on the piano, and his heart constricted in his chest.

And then he made his decision.

DAISY: February 12, 1976. The day I almost committed murder.

Y/N: Okay, it wasn't that dramatic.

DAISY: [silence]

Y/N: Okay, maybe it was.

When Daisy walked into sound check that day, an hour and a half late, she did not find the band playing their instruments and practicing songs. Instead they all sat around atop their amps and chairs, with Rod standing at the back. All eyes turned to her the second she walked in. Well, all except Y/n's. She was sitting on the stage, legs tucked to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Karen and Warren sat behind her, each holding a comforting hand on Y/n's shoulder. And even though she had no idea what was going on, Daisy could only think about how it should be her comforting Y/n before anyone else.

"Are you just going to keep on staring, or am I allowed to know what's going on?"

And then Billy held out The Rolling Stone. "See for yourself."

KAREN: When Y/n read through that article, it was like watching a car crash in slow motion. She got all teary and quiet, and then she just shut down. She wouldn't talk to anyone. But Daisy? Daisy got mad. So mad it looked like she was going to burn the world down.

Daisy gripped The Rolling Stone with white knuckles. It had everything. From the time they met, to that night in Henderson. It was like they had ghosts following them everywhere, whispering in Jonah Berg's ear. Daisy didn't dare look at Y/n now, mostly because she couldn't quite be sure yet that this wasn't her own fault.

After she had finished reading, she threw down the article and stomped towards the phone in the corner. "That son of a bitch."

Rod stepped in. "Daisy, hold on―"

"No! If that bastard thinks he can just ruin my career for the sake of his own, then he can hear it from me exactly what kind of hell his life is about to become."

"Look, Daisy, if it's not true, we can call Jonah and work this all out."

Daisy stopped, the receiver floating in her hand, her chest heaving.

"Daisy?" Rod said, "It's not true, is it?"

The band went silent, looking towards Daisy. Her head was dropped, red hair shielding her face from them. Slowly, the hand holding the receiver dropped, and Daisy turned to them, her pale face flushed red. And instead of angry, she just looked hopeless. That was all it took to make them understand.

After a moment of silence, Y/n finally spoke up, "Who would do this?"

"Whoever it is, they know everything," Billy said, "that's a pretty short list."

Graham frowned. "Hang on, you're not saying that one of us did this, are you?"

"No, I'm just saying that it's not like we have a very long suspect list."

"Oh! So we're suspects now!"

"Graham―"

The door opened and the band looked over to see Moody walk in. All at once they fell silent. And as Y/n watched him walk in, it all clicked. A gasp ripped through her throat and she covered her mouth, sickness swirling in her stomach.

Moody seemed to understand too. "Guys, hang on―"

Daisy muttered something under her breath and ditched the phone, stomping towards Moody with her hands curled into fists. Rod and Billy just about leaped off the stage to hold her back. None of them wanted to witness the bloodbath that was sure to occur if Daisy got her hands on Moody.

"Did you do this?" Daisy demanded. Moody stayed silent and she laughed. "Come on, you might as well own up to it now!"

"Guys!" Karen shouted. Daisy turned, ready to scream for everyone to stay the hell out of this, but her words died on her tongue when she saw Y/n run backstage, followed by the deft slamming of a door. Everybody looked back at Daisy. She looked back at Moody, fury blazing in her chest like a dozen white hot suns. She wanted to throttle him and stomp on his head.

But she didn't know where Y/n was going. And she'd rather know that before she killed her best friend.

Daisy turned on her heel, stomping away in the direction that Y/n left. Moody let out a sigh of relief when she disappeared, the door slamming behind her. "Crazy..." he muttered, looking back at the group. He was met with six steely glares, and that's when he realized he was in a room full of people who probably hated him now.

Daisy saw her at the hotel bar, sitting alone. She was so quiet and still that it almost made her want to cry. Y/n was hurt. And worst of all, she was hurt by one of her best friends. That had to sting like hell.

Daisy quietly sidled up beside her, taking the seat next to her. "Whatcha got there?"

"A cherry coke," Y/n responded. Daisy gave her a look and she just shook her head. "Believe me, I'd rather be drinking something that would make me forget. But it's not even noon and I've been thinking about quitting."

That was a lie. The quitting part, not the part about it not being noon yet.

"So that's what it is then, huh?" Daisy asked with a wry grin, but there was something behind it. Something a little sadder. "Just a stupid news article?"

Y/n turned to her immediately, eyes softening. "Daisy," she said softly, "of course not. You know that."

"Well, now so does everybody in the world."

She quieted, nodding and taking a sip from the glass. She sat it back down, sighing. "So, do we..."

Y/n trailed off, her eyes drifting behind Daisy. Daisy turned her head and saw Moody leaving the theater. He stopped in place, looking at them as though he were watching open heart surgery. Y/n murmured something quick to Daisy and let her go, heading in towards Moody.

For a moment he thought she might slap him, and for a moment so did she. But instead she stared him dead in the face with the same eyes he'd seen on every birthday, every holiday, every good memory. And right then, they looked so hardened that he could barely recognize them.

"Is this what you wanted?" she asked, her voice laced with warning. He gave no response. She continued. "I have spent my entire life trying to figure out who I am―you know that better than anyone. For the first time...I think I did. I think I finally understand."

She glanced back at Daisy, then back to Moody. "And you had to fuck that up for me."

He again said nothing.

"I think it's best if you go home," she said. "If you try and get on that bus tomorrow, I'll have Rod call the cops. Better yet, if I get back to my hotel room tonight and you're there, I might just throw you out the window. And I'm on the tenth floor, so I wouldn't take that chance."

Daisy couldn't hear a word she was saying, but the look of horror on Moody's face told her all she needed to know. And with it she felt some sense of pride.

Y/n walked away, leaving him frozen in place. She held out a hand to Daisy. "Come on."

And Daisy just grinned, taking Y/n's hand and letting her pull her out of her seat and guide her away. She cast one last fiery glare at Moody before he disappeared from sight, immediately melting into a smile while Y/n drew her to the elevators.

He had been her best friend for over two decades. And right then she couldn't bear to be around him.

DAISY: I was ready to burn him at the stake. Unfortunately, my wife is a little more forgiving than I am.

Y/N: He was in our wedding party, on my side behind Karen and Eddie. I knew he felt bad for what he'd done, and he apologized about a million times. He'd been one of my best friends since I was little. It would've been hard to cut him out of my life, and it was hard to keep him in it. But time healed the shallower wounds, society warmed up to some things, and life got easier. I just feel glad that I got to a point in my life where I could find it in myself to forgive him.

Less than twenty minutes later, the pair were in Daisy's hotel room, arms wrapped around each other, each lying comfortably on the spacious king-sized bed. They'd talked for a while, then lapsed into a comfortable silence, where they just held each other. That was all they felt they could do.

But they were happy. As Daisy ran fingers through Y/n's hair, it occurred to her that right then, she felt less complicated than she ever had in the past. It felt like the sun had finally peeked out from behind the clouds to shed some life on her life and who she was. So Daisy, finally feeling like she was bathed in spotlight, smiled. "Fuck Rolling Stone."

And Y/n, who felt like decades-old wounds were healing, laughed. "Fuck Rolling Stone."