#camila rhodes

[nostalgc]

Mulholland Drive, (2001).

[neverscreens]

— MULHOLLAND DRIVE.

Focused on Naomi Watts and Laura Harring.

All in GALLERY. Like or reblog if it was useful, every interaction shows us that we should keep making screencaps for y'all ♡

[reasonsmandy]

this is so real, I'm not even kidding

[just1riqht]

WHERE IS THE DAISY JONES AND THE SIX FANFICTION

[dcsmdcsm]

I strongly believe Taylor Jenkins Reid IS a mf GENIUS

This four books are just fckng art.

[coneyislandbabey]

well, my boyfriend's in a band. -> e.roundtree

WARNINGS: maybe some profanities

SYNOPSIS: Nobody thinks the thing between you and Eddie can be as pure and real as you say it is. word count: 1,323

NOTES: written for this request!

A lot of people talked about you and Eddie, now that you were publicly together, but none of them knew what they were saying. They spun the story like it was as old as time, unchangeable, inevitable, as sure a disaster as whatever or whoever they were comparing you to in the moment. Him, a rockstar, high on the enormous tide of fame and cocaine, a man who could have anything in the world at the snap of his fingers. You, a couple of years younger, elusive writer from the Los Angeles scene, enigmatic partier– naïve, obviously getting taken for a ride.

It never occurred to any of them that a man like Eddie Roundtree could be truly, inescapably gone for you. Why devote yourself to one girl when you could have as many as you wanted at any time? People had been asking that question about Billy Dunne for the Six’s entire career, and they couldn’t believe another band member was making the same ‘mistake’. Fame should mean freedom. As if getting to give your all to someone and receive their all in return wasn’t a kind of freedom in of itself.  

Let them talk. What difference did it make to you? 

When you stepped onto the tour bus, the afterparty was already in full swing. You hadn’t been able to catch the show because your flight had gotten in too late, but it didn’t matter; you’d be joining Eddie on tour for the next few months, so you had plenty of shows in your future. All you cared about was getting to your man. You located him sitting on the far corner of the couch, squished in with Graham and Warren and Warren’s girl of the night. You had spotted him before he spotted you, and you took a moment to take in the face you hadn’t been able to see since the tour started. His warm brown eyes crinkled in laughter, the sweep of his burnt sugar hair over his forehead. He was so beautiful it made your breath catch every time you allowed yourself to drink him in like that. 

“(y/n)!” Warren shouted, being the one to notice you first in the fray of the party, pointing to you with one long finger as if the shout wasn’t enough. Eddie’s head whipped around, and his mouth stretched into the widest grin at the sight of you. You returned the smile with your own, squeezing through the small, packed crowd until you landed right in his lap. 

Eddie’s arms instantly went around your waist, hands settling warm and solid on your lower back. Yours went loosely around his shoulders, your head dipping down to a well-received kiss. His eyes were bloodshot and he was half gone to whatever booze and drugs he’d done already, but even through the haze of inebriation they were settled on you. 

“You’re here, I can breathe again,” he said, voice lazy. He was leaned all the way back, head resting on the window behind him, like it was the first time his body had been able to relax in weeks. You lifted your palm to his cheek, rubbing your thumb gently along his lower lip, curved up in that little smirk of his. 

You bent your face close to him so that only he could hear you. “Missed you, too, baby boy.”

Eddie leaned over the side of the couch, and when he came back up he was holding his lighter– red, engraved with his name in gold, a gift from you shortly after you had started dating– and a joint. He lifted the joint and you took it in your lips, he grabbed your chin and held your face gently with his guitar-calloused fingers as he lit it for you. You took a long drag, exhaling only after the joint was between Eddie’s lips. 

Eddie’s hands went back to your waist, skimming up beneath your shirt and skating across your spine. The whole time he’d been away and you’d been stuck in Los Angeles without him, you’d felt unmoored, but you hadn’t realized the extent of it until you were finally back in his arms, back with your anchor. This was where you were meant to be, and Eddie felt that just as much as you did. 

The next night, you stood in the wings with Rod watching the band play. They were all mesmerizing in their own ways, especially, of course, Daisy and Billy singing together, but your eyes never left Eddie. He always exuded confidence, but never more so than when he was onstage, and it was intoxicating to see. He wore that cocky smirk on his face, the one that either made you want to smack him or kiss him and nothing in between, his body moving as one with the bass. He’d never wanted to play the instrument, you knew, but god did he play it like it had been made specifically for him. 

Any chance he got, his eyes were on you, even onstage, even in the middle of a song. As the song came to an end, he caught your eye for the hundredth time that night, bringing his hand to his mouth and blowing a kiss into the wings for you. You laughed, pretending to catch it and press it to your heart, making him grin before he had to turn away and start playing the next song. 

“That guy’s got it fuckin’ bad for you, huh,” Rod observed, and you snorted. 

“Mm, he better,” you nodded. 

Eddie made a beeline for you as soon as the show was over, shedding his bass on the way and scooping you up in his arms. You squeezed him tightly, laughing as he picked you up off the floor and spun you around. When he set you back down on the ground, you grabbed his face and kissed him, skin warm from the lights and exertion everywhere you touched, hair sweaty where your fingers tangled with it at the nape of his neck. 

“You were enthralling,” you told him once you had pulled away. 

“That was my best show so far,” he said, “Had to pull out all the stops because I knew my girl was watching.”

“Well, you really blew me away,” you laughed. “But you blow me away every time, you always will.” 

You two skipped the afterparty that night, instead heading straight to Eddie’s hotel room. You needed just each other, alone, away from the hecticness of tour. You wanted Eddie all to yourself, you always did, and Eddie would give you as much of himself as he could at every chance, just as you did for him. That’s why you found him so easy to love; he knew what you needed from him, and was nearly tripping over himself to give it to you. 

The next morning, you were in a diner with Eddie catching a quick breakfast before the buses had to leave. Your eyes scanned the newspaper rack in boredom as you waited for your food, and your mouth drew up into a smirk as you spotted something familiar. 

You grabbed the tabloid and turned, showing it to Eddie. On the front was a photo of him on stage from the night before, eyes turned towards the wings, hand extended mid-gesture as he blew you a kiss. A smaller photo was superimposed in the corner, catching the two of you walking out of the venue later that night, your arm looped through the crook of his elbow as you walked back to the hotel. The headline was something invasive and completely false about your relationship, but you ignored it. 

“They love to talk about us,” you said, rolling your eyes. 

“These pictures are pretty good, actually,” Eddie said, grabbing the tabloid to get a better look. “I should get in touch with them and ask if I can have some copies of ‘em.”

tag list: @eonnyx

[darlingmarie3]

“Daisy Jones & The Six weren’t a real band stop crying over their break up.” Shut the fuck up they were real to me

[sukunasbow]

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄 - ( 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞 ! )

synopsis -> in which a milkshake in the summer heat helps eddie realize something !

warnings -> reader is in the band, not yet proof read !

“Milkshake?” You smile, walking out of the house and onto the porch, offering one of the cups to Eddie. “Thanks.” He takes it from you, then taking a sip out of the colourful twisty straw. “This is disgusting.” He fake gags. “What?!” You gasp and take a sip of your own drink, the cold mixture of vanilla ice cream and strawberries immediately giving you brain freeze as it glides down your throat. You scrunch your nose before opening your mouth to protest his words, “This tastes good!” You huff, your lips forming into a slight pout, Eddie biting his lip to hold back his laughs. “It’s good, it’s good, I was kidding.” He puts his hands up in defence and you roll your eyes at his joke, playfully hitting his side. “Hey!” He gasps. You let out a faint laugh and sit down next to him on the knitted blanket that’s laid out on the wood floorboards, the paint starting to chip away from them. It’s a sunny and hot day, barely any wind to cool you off. “So, are you nervous about the tour?” Eddie asks. “No, are you?” Your expression falters. Truth is, you’re extremely nervous. After the last tour, you’re worried it could go wrong again, ending up with Billy relapsing. “No.” He replies, pausing for a moment and looking away from you. “Are you sure you’re not nervous?” He encourages you to be honest. “Eddie, I’m-“ Before you can finish your sentence, he looks back at you, giving you that certain look, that look he always does, that makes you crumble into a million pieces. “Yes, okay? I’m scared, is that what you want to hear?” You huff, placing your glass down. “Yeah, it is actually.” He starts, “It’s going to be okay, alright? We’re going to be okay. Billy is going to be okay.” He continues. Eddie looks nervous as well, but you don’t mention it, nodding instead, showing him that you’re partially convinced now. Eddie just has that affect on you, and he doesn’t realize it. Everyone else does. Sometimes, to you, he becomes the only person in the room. You don’t know that he feels the exact same way. Looking at you right now, he desperately wants to tell you how everything’s okay, how he loves you and never wants to let you go. But, he can’t, he can’t get himself to say any of it, he needs you to say it first, to give him a sign. He’s oblivious, as oblivious as you.

[kimpossibly]

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.

TAG LIST: @itsametaphorbriansblog @lcversrockk @yipyipmorals @chemicaldeathwish @greengarsstuff @karenfockingsirko @lilyhw1 @simmo04 @unsaiddaisy @simpswhore

Fill out the taglist form in my pinned post if you'd like to be tagged in the last part!

[iwritefandomimagines]

OKAY, ROMEO — GRAHAM DUNNE

masterlist

→ pairing: graham dunne x fem!reader

→ description: graham was certain you, in all of your shining y/n glory, could never reciprocate his feelings. you were best friends and he’d decided he’d have to settle for that. but of course he was wrong.

→ warnings: none, just a lil swearing — set pre meeting daisy ! hope this isn’t too sappy and fluffy but i got a lil carried away with it hahahahah

GRAHAM DUNNE (Lead guitarist, The Six): Y/N was just… Just like this breath of fresh air. The minute you met her, it was like you needed to be around her. And that never changed. But I mean, would I have thought she wanted to be with me?

“Why haven’t you just asked her out yet?”

Graham rolled his eyes at his brother, who was quirking his brow across at him as he strummed his guitar to figure out a melody.

He shook his head, “Because I don’t feel like getting my heart ripped out and stomped on by my best friend, maybe?”

He glanced over at where you sat on the couch at the other end of the room, Camila and Karen at your side looking through a photo album that Camila was grasping firmly in her hands as your hands toyed with the camera around your neck.

“Cami is way out of my league, and still somehow we’re here,” Billy smirked, catching her eye for a moment and sending her a jokey wink, to which she giggled as Billy returned his attention to his brother, “You may have a chance.”

You looked up now, following Camila’s gaze but finding your eyes drawn to Graham instead, whose eyes were fixed on you anyway.

Y/N Y/L/N (Friend of The Six): I mean, he never stopped looking at me. Karen used to say it was creepy, but I found it cute. Then again, I did find everything he did cute, I guess. Still do!

You had known The Six pretty much since their inception, and had always been fairly close to each and every one of them. In recent months you and Graham seemed to have gotten closest, though.

You’d spend hours in his room, listening to him practise new Six songs on his guitar, reminding him that he was just as talented as his brother (though if you were truly truthful you’d say he was more talented. Maybe you were biased, though.)

You may not have been in the band, but they all valued your opinion like you were; Like your word was gospel. But none more than Graham.

In the time you’d grown close, you’d found yourself growing increasingly attracted to him. How could you not? But he was the lead guitarist in a band about to hit the big time, so you hardly expected him to want to settle down with his best friend.

If anything, you imagined that seeing Billy settle down would make him want to rebel and do the complete opposite. And you didn’t fancy the heartbreak of getting left behind.

So you just settled for being his best friend — even if he did make it glaringly obvious he felt the same — because, to quote him, you didn’t want your heart ripped out and stomped on by your best friend, whenever it was that you figured he would realise you weren’t enough.

“She feels the same,” Billy put his guitar down for a moment, leaning in to nudge his brother, “Cami said she got it out of her the other day. Just thinks you don’t wanna settle down like me,” Graham noted the strain on his face when he said those words, “And that we’re all going to leave her behind when the album’s out… For some reason.”

Graham furrowed his brows.

He wasn’t sure whether he believed his brother.

GRAHAM DUNNE (Lead guitarist, The Six): Like I said… Why would I? This is Y/N we’re talking about!

Y/N Y/L/N (Friend of The Six): I heard that conversation. Heard Graham tell him he’d never leave me behind. And then I figured, if he’s not going to say anything to me then maybe I should just go ahead and do it.

GRAHAM DUNNE (Lead guitarist, The Six): I remember every fucking minute of the rest of that day.

“Graham,” you smiled over at him, bouncing out of your seat with a grin as you sauntered over to him and he tried desperately not to melt under your gaze, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He nodded, practically leaping out of his seat and following you into the next room.

“What’s up?” he asked, a shy smile on his face as his eyes scanned over your features to try and gauge what you wanted to talk about.

“God, this is so awkward,” you giggled, avoiding eye contact at first, “Suddenly regretting my life choices here.”

Graham’s face twisted in confusion for a moment, “You know you can tell— You can tell me anything.”

You bit your lip with a nod, silent for a moment before just fucking going for it, “How do you feel about me?”

“How do I— How do I feel? About you?”

“Like… Do you see me as just your friend?”

“Well, you’re—,” he sighed, looking down at his feet for a second before catching your gaze again and clearing his throat, “No, I don’t. I don’t want to, anyway.”

You fought back the smile threatening to take over your entire face, trying to take in his reply.

“Okay, good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Right, good.”

KAREN SIRKO (Keyboardist, The Six): And then he finally fucking got it and kissed her.

WARREN RHODES (Drummer, The Six): We were all listening through the door. Obviously.

Graham’s lips met yours like he feared that if he didn’t kiss you now, he might never again get the chance.

Within milliseconds you were kissing him back, your hands reaching up to tangle in his curly hair as his hands found the small of your back to pull you into him.

You pulled away briefly to shout, “Fuck off!” at your friends — who weren’t trying very hard to be quiet and pretend they weren’t listening in — before leaning back in to Graham’s kiss like it was the most natural action.

“I really like you, Y/N,” Graham panted when you finally parted, eyes raking over your face to search for your reaction, “Like, really like you.”

You smiled up slightly at him, suddenly feeling shy again under his gaze.

“Like I said, good,” you hummed, briefly pecking his lips again with a giggle, “I really like you too. I’ve been waiting for you to say something, but I got tired of waiting. I’ve liked you for fuckin’ ages.”

The smile on his face was a work of art, and you couldn’t help yourself — you clicked on your camera and lifted it to take a photo of the beaming man before you.

He rolled his eyes when you were done, raising his hands to take the camera from you and lift its strap off your neck. He copied you, lifting the camera to his eye and snapping a photo.

As he lowered it he smirked, “In my expert opinion, that’s a good one.”

“Mine’s better. Can’t wait to get it developed and hang it on my wall to stare at when you lot run off on tour, eh?”

Graham scoffed, “It’ll have to be pinned to the wall in your bunk. If you think I—we are going on tour without you, you’re nuts, Y/N.”

You grinned, kissing him again before pulling back shyly, “Are you sure?”

“Y/N, I’d want you there even if it wasn’t as my girl,” the pad of his thumb was on your jaw now, grazing your jawbone as his eyes never left yours for a second, “Buuut, if you’d come along as my girl that would be a hell of a bonus.”

“I’d love that, Dunne.”

“Perfect.”

You were silent for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes like lovelorn puppies.

“Billy said you were worried I didn’t want to settle down or something,” Graham looked nervous again now, his eyebrows drawing together as he briefly moved back to look at you less closely, “That’s not true. I mean, I’m not saying I’m in a rush to get like, married or anything. But I want to be with you, whatever happens with the band. And if in future…”

“Okay, Romeo,” you giggled, interrupting him and placing your hand on his chest, “I know what you’re saying. And I believe you, don’t worry. Let’s just see what happens, yeah?”

“Yeah. See what happens.”

GRAHAM DUNNE (Lead guitarist, The Six): We did get married.

Y/N Y/L/N (Friend of The Six): I didn’t take his last name. But just after Billy got out of rehab — we didn’t want to do it without him there — we got married. Everything worked out pretty perfect, really.

GRAHAM DUNNE (Lead guitarist, The Six): *Holding up the film photos you took the day you got together* Your Aunt Y/N is the love of my life, kid. Always has been.

———

i am such a fuckin sap !!!!!! anyway i hope you enjoyed, feel free to request imagines for anyone from djats or any of the other fandoms i write for.

i’m back, babyyyy

in the meantime, here is my masterlist :-)

[ch3rrywond3rland]

Hey could you do a story for Eddie where him and femreader preferably get into a fake relationship trying to make Camila and you can pick the band member reader has feelings for jealous and they end up realizing they like each other feel free to shape this however you want and be as creative as possible thank you sm!!!

hi darling, ofc!! i hope u enjoy 💌

ILLICIT AFFAIRS

"You're sleeping with Camila?!" My eyes widen as I ask a little too loud and Eddie's palm quickly meets my mouth.

We're both sitting on my bed, legs crossed, in front of each other. Eddie and I have been friends since before the band even started, so it only makes sense he would trust me enough to tell me this, and it makes even more sense he would ask me to do what he did before confessing his affair.

"Do you want to scream it a little louder?"

He removes his hand and I am quick to apologize. "I'm sorry, it's just I-" I cut myself off as I think what to say next "...She's married." I tell him as if it was breaking news.

"Yes, I know she's married. To an asshole. Don't tell me you're genuinely sorry for him."

I put my arms up in surrender. "I'm not. It's just I don't understand what even is the point in trying to make her jealous."

"You think I do? I have no ideia what the fuck is happening." He holds both of my hands and brings them to his lap, looking sincerely into my eyes. "Please."

I nod my head 'no' reluctantly and roll my eyes, knowing I'm going to agree to it eventually. As I open my mouth to answer, the door opens.

"Hey, sweetcak-" Warren's happy face falls when he meets our sight. He looks between Eddie and I, and his gaze lingers on our intertwined hand several times before Eddie clears his throat.

"Um..I was already leaving..." He scratches the back of his neck. "But..." He looks at me, questioning wether or not I'm up to follow his crazy plan.

I nod several times. "Yeah, yeah, um, yeah, of course." I offer him a knowing smile.

I watch as he closes the door behind him, leaving Warren and I in an uncomfortable silence. He lifts his face, looking into my eyes.

"So...you and Eddie?"

I gulp the truth. "Yeah, yeah. Um, it has been going on for a while, we just hadn't told anyone."

"Cool." His face remains nonchalant and his tone is almost aggressive.

"You needed anything?"

"No, no, it wasn't anything important."

"Alright." I nod repeatedly as I look at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing.

"Anyways, I'm just gonna head back to my room."

"O-okay, sure. Yeah, you do that." I manage out a half smile.

"Don't wanna keep the groupies waiting." He winks at me and grins. My face falls, but he doesn't seem to notice since he's already out the door.

—————————————

Warren Rojas: (Shrugs and smiles) I was an asshole when I wanted to. Not that I'm proud of it or anything. It's just, given how the story ended, it's funny to look back at it now. (Pause) Oh, and, for the record —there where no groupies.

—————————————

Eddie makes his way to me as I'm about to reach the diner, and his hand meets the small of my back.

"Hello, gorgeous."

I look up at him and smile. "Hi, boyfriend."

We share a laugh as the bell rings and we search for our friend's table. Karen waves once she finds us and we make our way to them.

As we arrive, I am quick to feel everyone's eyes on our hands that rest held between us.

"Oh."

"Well that's new."

"Not really unexpected, huh?" Daisy laughs.

"So you two a thing now?" Camila asks and Eddie turns to look at her, nodding while holding her gaze. "Yeah, yeah we are."

Camila only nods and slowly looks back at her hands that fiddle with each other beneath the table.

We sit down on the booth, which leaves me sandwiched between Warren and Eddie.

The dinner is going perfectly, that is until Eddie pokes my shoulder, making me turn at him. He's holding a fry, signaling me to open my mouth. I obligue with laughter and catch the food between my teeth.

Suddenly, Camila gets up. "I need to grab some air." She walks towards the door and exists, while —almost— everyone else goes back to their food.

"Uh, yeah, I actually might go too. I need a cig." Eddie follows her trail and no one questions it.

I smile to myself while taking another sip out of my coke.

—————————————

Camila Álvarez: I don't think keeping secrets and hiding the truth are the same thing. (Pause) That we decided not to talk about our secrets didn't mean we didn't knew what was actually going on. It just meant we were willing to act oblivious to what we knew was the truth. For the sake of it all, I guess.

Graham Dunne: Now that I think about it (Pause) they never came back into the diner that night.

—————————————

The night goes on and the band starts making their way back to their houses. That suddenly left Warren and I alone.

"Cute relationship you got going on with Roundtree" Warren drunkenly mentions and laughs to himself.

"Fuck off"

"Or what? You'll call your boyfriend to fuck me up?" His sarcastic remark is followed by a long swing of the beer he's holding by the neck with two fingers.

"Oh, screw you, Warren. Seriously, what is your problem?"

"You are."

"Excuse me?"

"I-" he pauses and takes a deep breath. His hands meet the sides of my face, inching it closer to his'. "It's just I have this weird feeling inside my chest whenever I see you with him. Like I'm choking or something."

"Are you jealous?" I ask with a bit of mockery.

"What, me? Jealous? Of course not. I don't have feelings for you, why would I be jealous?"

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

"So if I kiss you, that won't change anything?"

—————————————

Warren: Your auntie did not play games. Ever.

Y/N L/N: Well, what can I say? It's not like he hadn't had a thing for me for the longest time. (Pause) I also had a thing for him, but never tell him I told you that. To this day, he won't forget that time he signed a fan's chest. That man's ego is still off the roof, even after all this time.

—————————————

"If you ki-" I cut him of, pressing our lips together in a quick kiss. As I pull apart, he grabs the back of my head and smashes our lips together once again, this time more intensely.

We pull apart, and his eyes remain closed, like he was taking in the moment.

"So... everything still the same?"

He looks up at me, squinting his eyes in a playful manner. "Fuck you, sweetcakes. I don't think that boyfriend of yours is gonna be happy with what just happened, is he now?"

"Well, that boyfriend of mine is in no place to complain about it."

"There's something else going on, isn't it?"

"Well, I can tell you all about it back at your boat."

He eagerly gets up and holds his arm out for me. I intertwine them as he rapidly leads us out the diner to his car.

[deatwithdignity]

finally watched the first one of djats and i'm kinda emotional i love them so much can't believe that now they really exist as a person

[meropegaaunt]

WEST COAST

Billy Dunne x reader

Implied eventual Graham Dunne x reader

Summary: The love between two best friends toes the line between platonic and romantic.

Warnings: Kid on kid violence, fighting, angst, alcohol, and attempted kissing

Word Count: 2,359 words

© Meropegaaunt 2023

GRAHAM DUNNE (lead guitar, The Six): Growing up, Y/N and Billy were, like, best friends. I mean, God, they were close, so close you never saw one without the other.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

You, Y/N L/N, grew up in a small suburb outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Said suburb was small, quaint, filled with red-brick houses and white picket fences. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone. The rich thrived, having two or three properties in their name and far too many zeros in their checking accounts, but the majority struggled to make ends meet, to even keep a roof over their heads. You were part of the majority, but your father, F/N L/N, did everything in his power to ensure that you lived in blissful ignorance, unaware of the struggles that weighed so heavily upon his shoulders. He had two jobs, one as a music teacher and one as a bar manager. Endless hours had been spent slaving away at those jobs in an attempt to ensure you were given every opportunity to succeed, and luckily, you were.

Truth be told, you had not the faintest idea of your dire living circumstances, because your father showered you in love and affection, making everything, even the most mundane tasks, seem like an adventure. He had a way with people, a way that he passed on to you, which was why at school, you got on well with your classmates. You got on best with Billy and Graham Dunne, though, two brothers that shared your true love: music.

(Your friendship did not have an easy beginning, though. Not by a long shot, because even at a young age, Billy had trouble letting people close. Your first encounter with him was in passing. Names had been exchanged, but there was no inkling of what would bloom between the two of you. That inkling did not come until a boy two years older than you and Billy and four years older than Graham came around looking to give Billy a hard time. He found Graham instead, who became his victim of circumstance. You happened upon the scene just in time to see the boy deliver a harsh kick to Graham’s ribs, and that sight alone was enough for you to see red and abandon all common sense. It mattered not that he was your superior in both age and size. All that mattered was that Graham, who had only ever shown you kindness and civility, was frightened and bleeding and needed help, which was why you threw caution to the wind, ran forward, and thundered, “Hey, that’s my friend you’re kicking!” In an instant, you two were on the ground, grappling violently atop the dirt path. The boy pawed at your face, pulling at your locks while you pressed on his throat. His efforts broke your skin and knocked your nose askew, yet your hold stayed firm, just as F/N had shown you. You hunched forward, pale with rage as he writhed about, trying futilely to get free. Each action made his throat tighter, though, so his attempts hastily slowed down. He gasped, his eyes growing hazy from the wild thrumming of the blood in his head. It was only after oxygen escaped him for a beat that you lessened your grip and retreated with Graham, though, your feet flying over the earth until you found Billy. That day, covered in blood and dirt, he deemed you all right.)

Seeing your love for music, your father found and salvaged an old guitar for you, a Gibson Les Paul that had seen far better days. It had suffered much hurt and misuse, but he searched out alternatives for each decaying piece, eventually returning it to its former glory. You basked in its glory, showing it off to the Dunne brothers with stars in your eyes and a smile that rivaled the sun in intensity. They had an old Silvertone guitar, so the three of you began learning how to play, going through much trial and error before discovering what worked and what did not.

Your musical range evolved as you entered your teenage years, especially when Billy and Graham’s mother, Marlene, bought them an old Strat. Armed with three guitars, you delved into songwriting, thus laying the foundation for what eventually became one of the world’s most beloved rock bands.

You were there at the nanscene of the Dunne Brothers band, long before its first additions — drummer Warren Rhodes, bassist Chuck Williams, and rhythm guitarist Eddie Roundtree — were brought on. You did not have a designated title, though. Instead, you played whatever part was needed, whether that be a singer, guitarist, or keyboardist. The band worked whatever gig it could, whether that be at house parties, seedy bars, or dance clubs.

Around that time, you had noticed that you had physically changed, had grown into your own. Your friends had, too, but you did not realize until one of the nights when the band had played at a seedy bar. There had been various acts of violence committed at said bar, but this particular night, a man who was out of his mind on drugs had started swinging. Hands had been thrown, landing hits upon bar attendants, but then, he had come for you . . . You had not seen it coming, too engrossed in your music, which was why there was no time for you to react, to defend yourself. Your eyes snapped up, catching sight of the fist flying your way, but it never made contact with your face. Before it could, Billy collided with the man, hitting him with enough force that he was sent crashing to the ground.

You blinked once, twice, thrice, pure, unfettered shock keeping you rooted in place. It was only when a warm, familiar hand landed upon your shoulder that you snapped out of it, the shock wearing off. “Thanks, Billy,” you breathed, your eyes rising to meet his emerald ones. “I owe you one.”

“It’s nothing,” he shrugged, a mischievous look flitting across his face. “Couldn’t let him take you out before I do.”

“Ah, that’s not happening,” you remarked, unable to conceal your amusement. He had tried to sweet talk you before, had even gone as far to use his go-to pick-up line: If you let me take you out I’ll write a song about you. The pick-up line had not worked, though, for you had shot back: No, thanks, Dunne. If I want there to be a song about me, I’ll write it myself. “The day we start dating bandmates is the day the Dunne Brothers is over.”

Perhaps if he was being serious, you would consider going on a date with him, but you truly believed that he was not, that he was simply being his typical coquettish self. Despite this, in the future, you will think that this perhaps was the moment when you first realized that you loved him, that you were in love with him . . .

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

BILLY DUNNE (lead singer, The Six): We got hired for this wedding. It was a big deal. A wedding meant we were gonna be heard by, you know, a hundred people. I think I was nineteen.

We had auditioned for this couple with our best song. It was this slower, folkier song Y/N and I had written called “Nevermore.” Just thinking about it makes me cringe. Truly. I was writing about the Catonsville Nine and things like that. I thought I was Dylan. But we got this gig.

And about halfway through our show at this wedding, this fifty-something guy catches Y/N on a water break and pulls them onto the dance floor. I see and think, Does this guy know what a creep he looks like? And then I realize it’s my dad.

GRAHAM: Our father was there, all over Y/N, completely unaware he was making them uncomfortable. I realized it before Billy, I think. Recognized him from the pictures our mom kept in the shoe box under her bed.

Y/N L/N (singer, The Six): I didn’t originally know it was Mr. Dunne that had pulled me onto the dance floor that night. I mean, plenty of older men go after younger people. It’s not great, it’s just how it is. Not wanting to start a scene, I danced with him until Billy came down off the stage and pulled me away. Afterward, he told me who he was, and it just . . . made me sick. Mr. Dunne looked right at Billy, his son, and didn’t recognize him. How is that possible? How is that fair?

BILLY: I couldn’t believe it. He’d been gone ten years by that point. And he was supposed to be in Georgia. The asshole was just standing in the middle of the dance floor, no idea his sons were up onstage or that he was dancing with their best friend. I put an end to that. I got off stage and pulled them apart. Y/N was confused as hell, but I explained who he was.

GRAHAM: Billy asked a few people at the wedding about him. Turns out our father had been living a few towns over. Friends with the bride or something. Y/N was furious, saying, “You know what, fuck him. You guys are the best. If he can’t see that, that’s his problem, not yours.” They were right. He was a drunk asshole anyway. So good riddance to him.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Seeing the response — or lack thereof — from Mr. Dunne infuriated you. He had laid eyes upon his sons for the first time in a decade, and there had been no recognition, no remorse. He had helped bring them into the world, had raised them for five and seven years respectively, but then, when given the opportunity to reconnect, he treated them like strangers, like they meant nothing.

Your father had loved you dearly, had done everything in his power to protect you, which was why such a poor excuse of a man was hard to wrap your head around. You tried, though, even going as far as to snag a bottle of whiskey in an attempt to lessen your inhibitions, to think outside of the box. Unfortunately, the whiskey did not offer any answers about Mr. Dunne, but it did cause your budding feelings for Billy to spill out, to make themselves known.

He too had taken in alcohol, had consumed beer after beer, but Billy, for a reason you did not know, held his alcohol better. That was why when you took a seat next to him with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in hand, he looked relatively put together. You, on the other hand, looked simultaneously attractive and disheveled. It was paradoxical, but the sight of you, with your warm cheeks and wild hair, lit a fire within him, a fire whose flames threatened to consume him, to devour him whole.

“Billy,” you breathed his name, leaning through the dark so that your faces were mere millimeters apart, causing your breaths to mingle. “Your dad is a real prick, but I’m — I’m glad you’re not like him. You’re a real great guy. The best.”

“I’m not,” he refuted, knowing that your tongue had been loosened by the alcohol. When sober, you were generous with your words, but not like this. Not to this degree. “I’ve made some dumbass decisions. You know that better than anyone—“

“And yet, I still love you,” you cut him off, leaning impossibly closer. You had contemplated kissing him a handful of times since that night in the bar, but had yet to work up enough nerve to do so. Now, when you were feeling brazen, it would be so quick, so easy. All you had to do was bridge the gap between your faces . . . You made to do so, to press your lips to his, but he pulled away, moving out of your range. A mixture of hurt and confusion crossed your features then, followed by uncertainty. “Do you not want to—“

“Not like this,” he shook his head, because even though the flirtatious comments sent your way held truth, he would not allow you to make such a drastic move when drunk. Not with him. “If you remember this tomorrow, we can figure things out, Y/N.”

In a perfect world, you would remember this conversation the next day. You and Billy would communicate and sort out your feelings together, but this world was not perfect. In this world, you did not remember your advances on Billy, which was why when he met the foxy, dark-haired Camila Martinez, he pursued her . . .

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

WARREN RHODES (drummer, The Six): In the summer and fall of ‘69, we were all really starting to get laid, man. And Billy was taking himself off the market. We’d all be with chicks and he’d be sitting there, smoking a joint, having a beer to keep himself busy. I came out of a girl’s room one time, zipping my pants up, and Billy was sitting on the sofa, watching Dick Cavett. I knew Y/N loved Billy. Hell, by that point, I think everyone except Billy knew. So I said, “Man, you gotta ditch that girlfriend.” Don’t get me wrong; we all liked Camila, she was foxy and she’d tell you your business right to your face, which I liked. But c’mon. Y/N isn’t the sort of person you want to miss out on an opportunity with.

Y/N: I wanted to hate Camila. It would have been easier that way, if she was terrible to Billy, if she made him unhappy, but she didn’t. She grounded him, made him a better version of himself, so there really was no choice but for me to take a step back, to put some distance between Billy and I.

GRAHAM: It killed Y/N to give Billy and Camila space, but they did. Because they loved him, and that . . . that took a lot of selflessness. I think, maybe, that might have been when I started falling in love with them.

[rhiannswork]

w. rojas || have you ever thought about it?

warnings: talk of pregnancy, julia 🥹🥹, a mockery of the scene where cami asks daisy if she wants kids, let’s act like mr. rojas has a bed in the house, fluff, camila just being tired :((

“so, if im correct, you began dating warren around the beginning of the aurora sessions?”

“ahh yes i was…” you nodded. a smile grew on your face as you heard your husbands name.

back then, it was easy to get into studios, wear something a little flashy and boom you’re in. after seeing the reoccurrence of the group ‘the six’ alongside daisy jones, you took it upon yourself to hang around them more often.

you lingered at the door, listening for instruments. you didn’t want to walk in on a take.

“hey babe,” you heard warrens voice from behind you. “hi warren.” you turned around quickly, you were faced with a tall, fit man, with a wife beater and slightly tight pants. “we’re not recording a take, don’t worry.” he walked in front of you to open the door for you. “after you.” he smiled.

you walked into the room and seeing a soft atmosphere. eddie creating a bass riff, julia dancing to the riff with her mother, billy and daisy revising lyrics, karen and graham were no where to be found.

“this was way before we knew they were screwing to be honest.”

“warren, ‘bout time.” eddie smirked with cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. he rolled his eyes as he walked closer to julia and camila. “hi mija.” he picked julia up in his arms.

you watched as he bounced her up and down to eddie’s riff. “she loves this riff…” camila laughed as she brushed her hair behind her head. “i can tell.” you smiled.

“you always used to find something that could hold you up, your knees would be just a’going.”

camila watched the way you adored warrens careful touch with julia. “do you want one y/n?” she spoke softly before placing her chin on your shoulder. “wha- huh? you mean now?!” you turned around with a panicked look.

“no! no… don’t be like me,” she sighed as her eyes glanced over to billy entranced by daisy, as if they were the only people in the room. “in time… you think warren would want one?” she looked over to him taking julia to his drum set. you watched as he carefully placed the big headphones on her and placed her on his lap. he handed her two drumsticks and cupped her hands and slowly starting playing a rhythm.

“i don’t think he’d want a baby with me.” you shook your head with a chuckle to follow. “why would you think that y/n.”

“i’m not fit for it cam. i don’t want to bring a kid out in this world… it’s cruel. what if i’m not a good mother!” you quietly yelled to her. “what? you’d be an amazing mother. i thought i wouldn’t be able to handle jules. believe it or not, i was crying almost every night. it’s natural but you know what else is natural? you becoming a good mother.”

you smiled at her words. “this may sound weird but i wish you were my mother.” you chuckled as you looked down. “i’ll be your faux mom.” camila lifted your head up by your chin as she glanced in your eyes.

you could depict the hurt in her eyes, this conversation was more complex than it sounded to anyone else. all you could do was telepathically apologize to camila. she sent back an ‘it’s okay.’ with her eyes.

“your mother… she was a strong woman. an extremely strong woman.” you sniffled as you put a smile back on your face.

you stayed at the house where the band (minus cami and billy) lived. it was late when everyone got back, everyone had a quick bite of chinese food and headed off to bed.

you finished up your shower and headed to warrens room. “hey, i feel like i haven’t talked to you all day.” warren watched you walk to the bed. “sorry, just… thinking.” you nodded as you wrapped up under the covers.

“what about, my love?” he turned to you, propping his head up. “do you ever… in the future, maybe… want a baby?” you looked over to him. “of course i do. i’ve gotta carry this drumming legacy on somehow!” he joked. you scoffed as you rolled your eyes. “alright ringo. camila had asked me when i came to the studio.”

“oh yeah?” he grabbed your hand and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles. you hummed as you nodded your head. “i just want to be ready for him or her. i want to be a good mother.” your eyes stayed on his hand.

“and you will be. right now, we’re gonna be young and in love. we can worry about that later alright? don’t stress yourself out.” he muttered before placing one last kiss on your forehead and a lingering hand rubbing your cheek.

“i feel like i’ve done this mothering thing right. i mean, i’ve done it three times.”

[reasonsmandy]

With love, Eddie Roundtree

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — saw you're taking requests for eddie roundtree x reader so i wanted to ask if you could do something inspired by either tear in my heart (twenty one pilots) or lets fall in love for the night (finneas)!! love ur writing btw!!

✧.* you're reading part one, here's the sequel — Dear Eddie Roundtree

✧.* summary — Your life in the acting business has been very stressful, but in one night Eddie makes you forget about it all.

✧.* warnings — Extremely fluffy content, mentions of drinking and drugs.

✧.* word count — 2.2k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I tried to mix a little bit of the two songs, I don't know if I managed to do something very good. but i hope you like it 🫶🏾

"We'll send Harold to your set more often, the gossip magazines will start planting the idea that you two are together." Your manager said excitedly, he insisted on the idea that you should fake a relationship with actor Harold Schmidt. "I can already see the headlines: Y/N L/N and Harold Schmidt the Hollywood lovebirds"

"That would be the most ridiculous thing I've ever read!" You say rolling your eyes with a glass of water in hand.

"Well, I don't care!" Your manager says, getting a little mad. "You know you need these rumors to boost your name, and you're lucky that Harold agreed to fake this relationship with you."

"I don't need anyone to get my name to boost Adam!" You say irritably. "And besides, no one will believe I have something with this guy, we never talked before!"

"Stop making things more complicated Y/N." He says. "You know it's going to be the best for your career, now rest … tomorrow we have recording early"

He leaves you alone in your apartment, you put your face to the pillow and let out a scream in it. Being an actress was amazing, but there were things that frustrated you a lot in the profession like what you were experiencing now, you had never exchanged a word with this Harold guy and now you had to pretend to be madly in love with him for everyone. Just thinking about it sounded crazy.

Despite all this fake dating mess Adam wanted to shove you down into, you couldn't stop thinking about what happened a few days ago. You received an invitation to attend the party of the band Daisy Jones and the six. It was a really fun night where you finally managed to distract yourself a little and it was also the night you met Eddie Roundtree, one of the nicest people you've come in contact with in such a long time.

Let's say you had gotten along quite well…

You weren't really in the mood to leave your apartment, but you felt that if you stayed another two hours listening to your manager talk about absurd things about how you should fake a scandal for your name to go up you would go crazy. So when Daisy Jones' invitation reached you, you thought: Why not?

Which was exactly why you were now in Billy Dunne's backyard, having a beer and smoking a joint. Nothing very interesting seemed to happen around you and there wasn't anyone very interesting to talk to.

Well, at least the music is good... You thought.

As you traveled in your thoughts and watched the unknown people around you, Eddie Roundtree watched you too, he stared at you trying to remember where he knew you from.

"I'm telling you man, she must have stopped by the studio sometime." Warren says to the bassist.

"I'm sure that's not it, otherwise I wouldn't remember her" Eddie says frustrated.

"Eddie, man!" Warren changed his expression, he looked amazed at something. "Rollerball!!! She was in the Rollerball movie!"

"Holy shit, that was it! I knew I knew her somewhere." Eddie beams, overjoyed that he finally remembered. "I didn't remember she was so beautiful, man…"

"Go talk to her!" The drummer says, pushing his friend towards the actress.

You notice the two best friends laughing and pointing in your direction, not understanding you turn to look behind you but no one was there. You arch your eyebrows hoping they'll notice that you saw them, which takes a few minutes to happen.

The blonde approaches you, with a smile on his face and two beers in his hand. He sits down next to you, handing you the drink.

"I have a challenge for you." he says, catching your attention. "Tell me a song you like and if I get a part of the lyrics right, you spend the night talking to me."

"Look, I didn't even need the challenge, I really would have talked to you without a problem" You say laughing. "But since you offered…"

Eddie Roundtree: I was so lucky that Camila showed me this song *chuckled*

Y/N L/N: He had changed 50% of the words in the song but he seemed like a nice guy, so I pretended he got it right.

"Y/N that's my name" you say while taking a sip of beer "You are?"

"I'm Eddie" he smiles, taking a closer look at your face.

You spent a few hours talking about everything, it was impressive how he managed to talk about any subject you proposed. He really seemed to be interested in what you had to say, something you missed. You told him that since you moved to Los Angeles you haven't been to any of the tourist spots in the area, which he found absurd, and that's why you were in Roundtree's car going through the city streets with no final destination.

"I can't believe we're doing this" you laugh at the situation, probably the beers you had had made you a little happy. "I don't even know you well and I'm in your car going to unknown places."

"Ouch!" He pretends to be offended. "I told you my whole life tonight, what do you mean you don't know me?"

"Oh yes, of course I apologize" You laugh looking deep into his eyes, something inside you wanted to be closer to him.

"Wanna get a swim?" he says, parking the car close to the beach, you could hear the waves from afar.

"That's a terrible idea..." You say getting out of the car, alarmed he gets out too. "I'm in!"

You take off your shoes leaving them near the car, running wildly towards the dark sea. Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, taking his shoes off and chasing after you, or at least trying to.

You wait for him where you could just feel the water on your feet, he approaches holding you by the waist and going with you into the sea. Would it be crazy to feel so connected to someone in one night? You didn't know, and you didn't care! When the icy water came into contact with your body and his body heat kept that feeling more intense, nothing else mattered.

Trying to fix the locks of your hair, you looked at him in disbelief with everything you were experiencing that night, it's been so long since you've felt alive like this, free from any pressure.

"I feel like I've known you since forever, Eddie Roundtree." You whisper, kissing the blonde's lips intensely.

He holds you tighter, as if he wants to remember this moment forever, the fear of forgetting what he was experiencing in the morning was intense. After all, with all that they had both smoked and drunk, it was probably that the passion, that love, would fade from their memories during their rest until tomorrow.

The early morning wind hits your bodies making you shiver with cold. You soon decided it was better to get back in the car and go somewhere else. Eddie didn't care that the car would be wet because of your clothes, nothing else mattered to him, that night was so intense and wonderful that he just wanted to stop time to have you there with him a little more.

And logically, after smoking so much, the munchies hit, so nothing more plausible than changing your destination to the nearest bar. It was hard to find anything open at that hour, but after several turns you finally managed to spot one.

There were just the two of you and one other man who was clearly begging for you two to leave as soon as possible, so he could get to sleep.

"I don't think I'll remember anything tomorrow, my head is already exploding" You say, drinking some of the juice you ordered.

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, stroking your hand across the table.

"Uhum" You mumbled, and he could tell that you were getting tired and needed some sleep. "But don't worry, I promise you that if I forget about you tomorrow I at least fell in love with you tonight."

Your words made him feel butterflies in his stomach, he looked at you with affection and without containing the smile that grew on his face. He didn't want to settle for the idea that he wouldn't see you anymore.

"Did you fall in love with me too Eddie Roundtree?" You say sleepily, slurring your words as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

"I for sure did, Y/N L/N." He says, getting up to pay the bill. A few seconds later he comes back. "Can you tell me where you live? I will drop you off at home."

"No please, I want to spend more time with you." You whisper, closing your eyes with long blinks.

"I promise you will see me again" He says, stroking your hair. "Now tell me pretty girl, where can I drop you off?"

You tell the bassist the address of your apartment, so soon after he takes you to the car trying his best to avoid making you feel the wind with wet clothes, afraid you might catch the flu or something.

As the sun slowly rose, you fell asleep in the passenger seat. Roundtree slowed the car down so as not to wake you up with the potholes in the road leading to your house. Admiring you in the moments when he didn't have to keep his eyes on the road, a smile appears on the blonde's face as he observes how much prettier you look with the sunlight on you.

He wakes you up when he arrives at the scene, you mumble something he doesn't understand and you hide your face in his neck, he feels butterflies in his stomach with the contact and already misses you when he finally has to say goodbye.

"So I think that's it…" Eddie said, holding your hands. "Take care, pretty girl".

"You too baby." You place a peck on the blonde's lips, then hug him for a few seconds. "You better not forget me huh."

"How could I?" He smiles, letting go of your hands. "I'll see you."

"I hope so." you say, walking into your apartment and soon falling asleep on the couch.

…

The sun was already setting and you were ready to spend the rest of the night watching anything on television. When Adam shows up opening your door like he has an emergency going on.

"Adam what the fuck!" You exclaim, trying to calm down from the fright, he came in with a box in his hands and a magazine in the other. "What the hell is going on?"

"Y/N L/N you naughty girl, if you were dating you should just have told me!" He says sitting next to you, handing you the magazine. "Now it makes sense why you rejected my fake dating idea"

The magazine had a picture of you in a bar, an orange juice in front of you. You had the straw between your teeth smiling at the man in front of you. Your hair was wet and your clothes looked soaked too, as did the man in front of you in the photo, Eddie. He was looking at you with a smile, his eyes were closed if you looked fast, but as you knew that smile very well you knew that when he smiles his eyes shrink. The headline read: Y/N L/N and Eddie Roundtree the romance of the Stars.

You quickly open to the indicated page to read what it said.

Sub Rosa

AUGUST 9, 1977

Eddie Roundtree and Y/N L/N! they are the definition of a star couple

No, your eyes are not deceiving you! Last night after one of the parties given by rock star Billy Dunne, our Hollywood star Y/N L/N was seen with the bassist of Daisy Jones and the six: Eddie Roundtree, leaving the party.

The charming bassist was rumored to have been with L/N throughout the event and he was even seen with our favorite actress in a bar a few hours after the party. Although this is the first time we've seen these lovebirds in public together, you must agree that they make a great couple.

Would that be the end of Y/N's single life?

You finish reading in disbelief, bursting out with a hearty laugh at the last sentence.

"They basically called me a spinster!" You say when you're done laughing, taking a breath to compose yourself. "Look, me and Eddie we-"

You are interrupted by Adam again, who hands you the box he had in his hands when he entered. Curious you take it, seeing a note on top that you decide to read later, inside the box there was a cassette tape, a rose and a napkin with a phone number.

You are still confused and decide to read the note.

Hey pretty girl, I hope you're doing well.

As I promised you, through these things I decided to earnestly ask you to let me have more wonderful nights by your side.

On the tape you'll find my attempt to sing that song you told me you loved, the rose is for pure chivalry and the phone number, well... I think that's clear.

I hope to hear your voice soon…

With love, Eddie Roundtree.

...

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

Want to be tagged when new stories come out? REASONSMANDY'S TAG LIST

[bumblesimagines]

Karen Sirko

it was just for fun.

did you tell anyone we hooked up?

i've moved on, and so should you.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical DJATS warnings, mentions of Billy addictions, mentions of drug usage, angst?, sad ending?, suggestive/BRIEF sexual content

Sorry for lack of activity! I got lost in the sauce of Stardew Valley 😔

As much as Karen desired to get hammered and dance the night away, her nerves jittered with anxiety, rendering her uncomfortable and almost irritable as she nursed a beer and remained seated on a couch pushed up against the corner of the room. She desperately wanted to get up and enjoy the party Camilla had so lovingly created in celebration of Warren's birthday but she simply couldn't. Not when he had yet to arrive. 

Long before joining any sort of band, Karen had made a very clear rule for herself: never date a fellow bandmate under any circumstances. She refused to be known as 'the girlfriend' in any band, let alone to the whole world; but of course, nothing could ever go according to plan. Especially after Daisy Jones and (Y/N) (L/N) joined them, filling the spot of the last sixth member and adding 'Daisy Jones and' to their band name. 

The two had been whirlwinds from the get-go if Karen had to be honest. Daisy Jones was a gorgeous girl full of spirit and a stubborn attitude that oft' clashed with Billy but she was sweet and Karen could see the fragility behind her big doe eyes, always at the edge of a cliff just as Billy had once been.

(Y/N) was a handsome young man with a talent for playing bass and a love for mischief, something that had him and Warren gravitating toward each other the second they met (though Karen assumed doing shrooms together fully cemented their friendship). The idea of another guy joining the band unnerved Karen but after watching how (Y/N) handled Daisy, comfortability settled on her bones fairly quickly. 

And that comfortability- annoyingly enough- turned into attraction over the next few weeks, leading to a tipsy make-out by the side of the house where (Y/N)'s hand found its way down her pants. The image of (Y/N) popping his slick, wet fingers into his mouth to clean them while giving her a lazy yet cheeky smirk had imprinted in her mind for days to come, leaving her to mess up during practice when she'd been too busy staring at his hands. She should've taken it as a warning, some sort of sign from God or the universe to leave the hurricane of a man alone, but she ignored it. 

The second time Karen found herself giving in to her attraction, it'd been after Warren invited (Y/N) over while Daisy and Billy battled out their differences elsewhere under Teddy's urging. She'd managed to convince Warren and Graham to give them some time alone under the guise of sending them out to the store for some essentials, allowing for the two to have another make-out on the couch and subsequent hookup in her nearby bedroom. She found herself surprised when she realized she hardly minded the love marks scattered across her skin, noting with flushed cheeks and a racing heart he'd done them in places she could easily hide. 

After the third time, the ever-observant Camila teasingly noted how much Karen seemed to enjoy (Y/N)'s presence. Karen laughed it off and gave her a playful shove but once inside her room and forced alone with her thoughts, the suffocating thought of commitment and the expectations surrounding relationships consumed her. She'd seen how broken Camila had been the day she discovered his infidelities, the hollowness in her typically vibrant eyes when he'd gone off to rehab and left her to temporarily be a single mother. The thought of dealing with that kind of heartbreak and betrayal nauseated her. 

It led to Karen sitting on that damn couch with a cool beer in hand and darting eyes searching for (Y/N) in the crowd. She had to clear things up, even if her late-night contemplation had left her realizing the thought of dating him made her skin tingle with delight. She refused to be anything other than Karen Sirko; not girlfriend, not wife, absolutely nothing other than the keyboardist for Daisy Jones and The Six. Karen had been free for years, free to do whatever she wished and whomever she desired. All her dreams and goals and hopes for the future never included someone else, yet part of her wanted to change that. 

"(Y/N)! My man!" Warren's gleeful voice reached her ears and she stood up from the coach so quickly she nearly stumbled over her shoes. She set her beer aside and walked through the crowd in the living room until she reached the front door, watching Warren and (Y/N) exchange a tight embrace. "Glad you could make it!"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." (Y/N) laughed, a sound so warm and bright it briefly calmed her constricting heart. He handed his gift off to Warren and greeted the Dunne's with an easy-going smile, his attention ultimately falling to her last after patting Eddie's shoulder. 

"We need to talk." She told him, leaning in for a quick embrace before she grasped his wrist and led him further into the house, ensuring they were far from nosy ears and Graham's lingering eyes. The first secluded spot she found was a dimly lit hallway coincidentally leading outside to the very spot they'd first locked lips. She tried forgetting that night.

"What is it?"

"Did you tell anyone we hooked up?" Karen asked him, voice sounding more accusatory than necessary. "Camila... Camila knows something, I guess. I trust her but I don't want the guys to look at me differently."

"I don't kiss and tell." (Y/N) responded, his hands sliding into his pockets and head tilting to the side. "It was just for fun, anyway. Besides, Warren's been begging me to meet his girlfriend's friend for a double date, or something like that. I don't think it'd look good if she knew I hooked up with a bandmate." 

"What?" The word fell from her lips immediately, her eyes widening and her heart squeezing even tighter. Of course, she'd pulled him aside to at least make a half-hearted promise of never doing it again, but hearing he'd been planning on doing the same sucked the air right out of her lungs. 

(Y/N) pursed his lips, only sparing her a sympathetic grimace. "Yeah, I meant to tell you sooner but it slipped my mind. Listen, Karen," He raised his hand and pressed his palm to her cheek, the sympathy on his features making her want to tear her hair out. "You're more talented than the idiots we play with, and I think you're an amazing girl. That said, I've moved on, and so should you. Maybe give Graham a chance? He's got it bad for you." 

Karen remained still as he pressed a fleeting kiss to her forehead and stepped out of the hallway, her eyes blankly staring into the wall before her whilst she tried processing everything that'd been dumped on her in a matter of a couple minutes. In the end, she'd gotten what she wanted in the first place, yet her lips quivered and her eyes flooded with tears she refused to shed.