#daisy jones and the six angst

[leviathanspain]

one night only

eddie roundtree x dunne!reader

synopsis: your entire adolescence was being in love with eddie, and now as an adult you have to learn that love is a cruel thing

a/n: i got carried away writing this so it’s way more than just an eddie fic? it’s very angsty and very much not your happy ending, at least with eddie because he’s an ass in this

you practically screamed as you and camila fell into the van that held your two brothers and their band mates.

you had fallen into eddie’s lap, his face soft surprise as he helped you up. “boys.” you greeted your brothers who’s surprise overtook their features.

y/n dunne: our parents weren’t so happy to be having their teenage daughter on the road with a bunch of guys. but it helped that two of them were her overly protective brothers.

billy dunne: was i concerned? not as much as i should’ve been. i was sort of focused on camila.

graham dunne: i guess you could say that i took responsibility of her. she wasn’t quite the kid anymore but she still had a lot to learn about life.

you had decided to take on the challenge on managing the band. so far, getting gigs wasn’t getting any easier and the band was only getting worse. but at the end of the day, there was always someone who put a smile on your face.

you had gone out back to smoke, hoping that it would clear your mind, but instead you found the bane of your existence and the main reason you even left town.

“eddie.” you didn’t expect to see him out there but there he was, in his shining nighttime glory.

“hey y/n,” the sound of a chair being dragged over dirt and sand was heard and in front of you, “have a seat.”

you sat down and watched eddie take out another cigarette from his pack and hand it to you. you took it gratefully and waited for him to light it.

as the lighter flickered in his hand, you leaned forward with the stick in your mouth. silently you waited, and eddie lit it, but you held burning eye contact with him, before inhaling and smiling at him.

silence met the action and you flicked the cigarette, “i managed to get us a good gig, no weddings this time.” you promised and eddie laughed, “are you sure? cus the last gig-“

“was a bust. but i’m learning as i go, same as you guys.” you defended yourself and eddie laughed, “good girl.” he encouraged you, but all it did was leave you with a hunger.

y/n dunne: i could’ve died with eddie roundtree i love you written on my forehead and he wouldn’t take the hint.

karen sirko: everyone but eddie knew it.

you didn’t know what had come over you. one moment, you were in your room trying to get some sleep after a long day of arguing with club owners on the phone to drinking until the sun came up with the band.

y/n dunne: i wanted his attention. took me years to admit why i did what i did that night.

your hands were entangled in the fabric of his shirt. the man dancing against you was nameless to you, just a man you couldn’t resist the feeling to push up on. you had looked around to find eddie but he was long gone.

disappointed filled your head and you felt like you wanted to cry, but that was the alcohol already taking over. the man you danced with noticed the drop in mood and grabbed your waist pulling you in, “wanna get out of here?” his gruff voice whispered in your ear and as you looked around once more, you had agreed, feeling him pick you up.

billy dunne: she didn’t come home for two weeks, and when she did, it was with a marriage license and a raging coke addiction.

y/n dunne: i like to call it my daisy jones days.

graham dunne: i guess after dealing with your sister like that, you learn a thing or two for whoever’s next.

you dragged your bags to the door and knocked loudly. the weight of the bracelets on your hand made for an even noisier knock. after a few more moments knocking, the doors finally opened, eddie standing on the other end.

y/n dunne: i had hoped that i wouldn’t have to see him so straight off the bat. but i guess things happen for a reason.

he was shocked, plain and terrible shock was on his face as he stepped out of the way to let you in, “y/n! where have you been?! we have all be worried sick.” it was a rushed embrace as he hugged you and you quickly pulled away. you ignored his question and instead changed the subject, “where are my brothers? are they home?”

y/n dunne: it was seven in the morning, of course they were. i just couldn’t do it. i couldn’t talk to him like nothing, even if he didn’t know that i loved him, i did.

the sound of more bags being dragged into the house tore eddie’s attention away from you. as you left to wander the house, eddie was left to greet your new husband.

y/n dunne: i had left them alone intentionally. kit wouldn’t like eddie, and i knew eddie wouldn’t like kit.

karen sirko: a little diabolical i would say.

warren rojas: lady killer.

kit stuck his hand out to eddie and smiled tightly, “christopher blackwell. but you can call me kit.” eddie shook his hand, a silence overtaking them.

eddie roundtree: y/n had brought home a greek god. i mean, he had to duck under door frames, he was so ripped you could see the muscles under his shirts, his hair was tossled impossibly good…

karen sirko: i was so jealous. he was practically etched in stone.

graham dunne: i was pissed.

shouting heard distantly had filled the awkward silence between the two of them. eddie turned to look at the incoming figures from the hallway, “i’m here now, billy! i refuse to believe you even noticed i was gone!”

billy dunne: sad thing was she was right. graham had told me a week later.

billy was already readying another argument when eddie stood up from his seat and cleared his throat. “billy, have you met kit, your sisters husband?”

eddie roundtree: billy was pink for the rest of the day. i had never seen him so mad.

graham dunne: it was definitely a day to remember.

billy dunne: that day she came home with him was the day i got my first gray hair.

you grabbed kit’s hand after billy’s outburst, “let’s go? i’ve got a friend who’s got a place for us to stay at.”

your husband nodded, “should i load the car up again?” you nodded quietly, clearly upset over billy and having to see eddie, you needed to be free of this house, at least for a little while.

as kit began to load the bags up again, you ventured down the hall to your bedroom, grabbing all the remaining belongings and stuffing them into bags you found all over your room.

as you turned to leave, giving the room one last look, you nearly fell over at seeing eddie, “how long you’ve been standing there?”

eddie shrugged, “long enough to get ask if you’re sure about what you’re doing?”

you laughed, “really, roundtree?”

eddie raised his eyebrow, “what?”

you shook your head, “you don’t get to say that. you don’t get to have an opinion on how i live my life, because u like you, i’m living it for me, not my bandmate’s girlfriend!”

karen sirko: having to hear that argument while you’re ‘sleeping’ in your bed was rough.

camila dunne: i didn’t even know she had come back, only saw the back of her dramatic escape.

silence filled the space, eddie because of pure shock and yours because of regret. but it was too late now. you pushed past him, dragging the bags full of your belongings, you didn’t even say goodbye to your brothers as you threw yourself into the car, kit’s foot already slamming the gas as the two of you disappeared.

graham dunne: that day still haunts me. there’s so much that i wished i could’ve done differently. but we were different people back then, and we had other priorities.

billy dunne: i was hard on her because i knew her, i knew that this was a life lesson she needed to learn.

it had been months since you’ve seen the band. you had heard their song on the radio and fought the urge to call them. you wanted to, congratulate them on the feat they achieved without you. but the way you left things always had you hanging the phone up.

y/n dunne: i didn’t know who i was. i suppose i never really did. i was so lost during those days.

kit blackwell: the drugs were killing her. i would come home to her passed out in the bathtub, the lines next to her on the toilet seat.

the final cry for help was when he couldn’t wake you up. the water wasn’t working, and slapping you awake wasn’t either. taking the chance, he grabbed you, tossing you into the car before speeding away for the hospital.

y/n dunne: he saved my life that day. he wasn’t even supposed to be home and he found me..

kit blackwell: i knew something wasn’t right. one of those days it would happen, and that day it did.

the band had to find out about your overdose from your husband, who had hesitated to even contact them.

graham’s knuckles were white as he hung the phone up, the rest of the band looking at him with raised eyebrows, “what happened?”

graham shook his head, using a hand to cover his mouth, he paused before speaking, “y/n overdosed. she’s being discharged into rehab today. kit just called.”

eddie roundtree: was i mad? of course i was. but i was even more mad because i never knew she had been doing drugs in the first place.

the recovery had been slow and hard. everyday was hard and your temper had worsened. your husband took most of the hits, constantly arguing with you, until you’d apologize and tell him what was really bothering you.

“i’m sorry.” you’d finally break, tears welling as he opened his arms, always ready to receive you.

kit would hug you tightly, kiss you and nod that it was okay, because to him this was sickness and in health.

y/n dunne: i was an awful wife. i didn’t know how to cook, i couldn’t clean very well..

kit blackwell: she was perfect. i didn’t care of her faults, because to me she was perfect.

more months passed and you had finally reached out. kit had begged you to, knowing it would help your final stage of recovery by reconciling with the people you had hurt.

so there you were, outside their doorstep with another secret.

y/n dunne: i guess being dramatic has become my thing over the years.

kit blackwell: i didn’t want to send her over alone. but i guess she wasn’t really alone.

you could see your bellybutton stick out from under the dress. you rubbed a hand down your belly as the door opened.

karen greeted you, a wide smile on her face as she pulled you in for a hug. she hadn’t even noticed the protruding belly that when she bumped against it, she had let out a gasp.

“oh my god!” she was practically jumping off the walls as she realized.

karen sirko: i had never been happier for someone. she was clean, she was healthy, color in her skin, i mean what more could we have asked for?

y/n dunne: i was around twenty or so weeks but i was showing by twelve weeks, so i looked farther along than i was.

billy and graham had mixed reactions. they were your big brothers, how could they not be upset? but slowly, after a long talk with them, they had come around.

“just picture it. uncle graham.” you had nudged your brother and he smiled, “i guess it’s not that bad.” he leaned down to your belly, “uncle graham here..”

you laughed and pushed him away gently, “graham!” and graham erupted into a laughing fit that had you and the rest of the band laughing as well.

billy dunne: to be honest i wasn’t happy. i didn’t think she was ready, but i wasn’t either when camila told me about the baby just a few weeks later.

y/n dunne: he called me to apologize for things he didn’t even say. i accepted it because it’s billy, hardly does he ever apologize.

eddie’s reaction was almost like a silent horror. your absence has filled him with an unknown feeling. he couldn’t fill it, no matter how much booze he tried or how many girls he fucked, it was still a huge aching hole.

eddie roundtree: i was blinded by camila. i didn’t see y/n right in front of me until it was too late. but i think in the back of my mind i always knew.

warren rojas: it was obvious. i’ve seen it all from the beginning anyway but basically, y/n had been in love with eddie since we had been practicing in their garage. eddie was in love with camila for god knows how long-

y/n dunne: i had stopped loving eddie the day we fought. i couldn’t do it anymore, i wouldn’t torture myself any longer.

warren rojas: then she got married and eddie was starting to get jealous and then she got pregnant and that’s when reckless eddie came out.

eddie was like a wound up matchbox car. all he wanted to do was sit and argue all day every day. during practice was when he would antagonize billy the most.

y/n dunne: i had stopped managing them when i left. so i hardly knew what was going on because i was too busy getting ready to raise my kid. so when i get the call…

warren rojas: it was like a car crash. you couldn’t help but keep watching.

eddie’s voice was shaky as he talked, “i’m sorry, i didn’t know and now i do and all i can do is sit and watch you two be happy and have your kid. that should be my kid, i should be married to you.”

kit blackwell: i would’ve killed eddie if she hadn’t begged me not to. i knew she loved him, but her love had changed and she didn’t love him like that anymore.

y/n dunne: i would’ve hung up but he would’ve just kept calling.

you saved yourself the trouble and made kit drive you down to the house. you didn’t even bother to greet the band, making way to the back porch.

eddie was slung out over one of the chairs, a cigarette lazily hanging out his mouth and beer bottles tipped over.

he looked up at you with a wide smile, “baby..”

y/n dunne: i would’ve punched him but i was also heavily pregnant so..

kit blackwell: i did it for her.

you had left the house crying, clutching your own arms as a way to comfort yourself as you made way to the car, “kit.” you sobbed, and he got out the car quickly, “what happened?”

warren rojas: he was an asshole to her man. i had never felt so disappointed than watching and hearing what he said to her. he had practically yelled at her for not waiting for him and for marrying some other man.

graham dunne: by that point, i had actually taken a liking to kit. he cared about her, like really cared. no man would stay after what happened with her and rehab. but he was a good man.

billy dunne: i liked kit, and i didn’t like eddie. kind of a no brainer on who’s side i was on.

karen sirko: of course i was on her side. she was my best friend, and i was the future godmother of her child.

camila dunne: i didn’t know what to believe.

eddie had hit the floor with almost no effort. he was a mess, the beer bottle spilling over with him. no one else made a move to help him, not even as kit continued to barrel through the house like a storm, did anyone move a muscle.

warren rojas: i was scared that if i moved i would get punched.

graham dunne: my sister had failed to mention that her husband had gotten into boxing so he knew what he was doing when eddie hit the floor.

kit blackwell: i was pulling my punches.

karen sirko: it was incredibly romantic.

you and your husband had sped away quickly after, still crying in the passenger seat, it had been a painful drive home.

y/n dunne: i guess i should mention that eddie and i had slept together the first month we were out there. we swore we would never tell anyone but considering we were fighting all the time, it was obvious.

warren rojas: of course i knew. i had caught them! but it was a drunk mistake, at least they said it was.

y/n dunne: it was. but he was drunk and i was stupid. i thought he loved me and that he had finally seen me for me.

eddie roundtree: it was my fault she got addicted to drugs. my rejection did that to her.

y/n dunne: he said that? oh god no, i got addicted because it was los angeles in the mid seventies.

kit blackwell: he also asked her if she was sure the baby was mine. but she didn’t tell me that until the day after because she knew what i would’ve done.

you had invited the band except eddie over to your house to meet the baby.

y/n dunne: everyone thought kit had asked for eddie not to be invited but i actually made that decision.

karen sirko: was i surprised? not really, but i was even more surprised that he had actually listened and stayed home.

warren rojas: i would’ve supported eddie except he was actually in the wrong this time so i let it go.

the baby in your arms gurgled as kit opened the door. cheers erupted as the band waltzed in, karen going to grab the little baby from your arms.

you shouted “be careful!” as she took the baby outside. graham grabbed your arm and gave you a tight hug, “baby sis, how’s your baby?”

you smiled brightly, “he’s doing good, karen took him out back.” graham nodded and made his way out back.

billy hugged you next and kissed your forehead, “god im so proud of you. i really am.”

y/n dunne: of course i noticed eddie wasn’t there. i just didn’t think he would actually listen and not show up. but was i upset he didn’t go? no. i have a happy memory of my family all together and he didn’t ruin it.

eddie knew staying back was a bad idea, especially when camila had volunteered herself to stay back with him. she was pregnant too, and eddie wondered if making all the women he loved married and pregnant with other people was a method of torture forced onto him by god.

“i should’ve gone.” eddie muttered, as camila sat down next to him.

she shook her head, “she purposefully asked for you not to come. and you wanted to go?”

eddie shrugged, “i usually do that. i think-“

“that you need to get over her? she’s married to that real life ken doll and she’s got a baby. maybe you need to do the same and move on.”

eddie roundtree: none of that was what i wanted to hear. i wanted..

warren rojas: go get her back. steal her from him and run into the hills with the baby. blah blah blah, he had that all rehearsed and memorized and i had to hear his ‘plan’ constantly.

y/n dunne: i think at that point eddie loved me more than i had ever loved him. i was happy! and i think for a moment so was eddie.

the band was taking off. their success put a smile onto your face, especially as their fan base grew. but that still didn’t stop the last phone call you ever got from eddie roundtree.

eddie roundtree: everyone had been so focused on billy and his addiction that i thought of her. i called to tell her so she could talk some sense into him, after all she knew what he struggled with but..

warren rojas: it was a shitshow. i didn’t even know you argue like that through a pay phone.

y/n dunne: there’s nothing more i wish to ever say to him.

“you know, i loved you more than i ever loved anyone? not even camila, who i’ve spent years pining over. but you! you are the light of my life, you are the air that fills my lungs. y/n please don’t do this to me..” he pleaded, his voice was shaky and his hands were white as they gripped the phone.

“i don’t care, eddie. one night, it was one night and even then, it didn’t matter. why does it now? because i’m finally happy? don’t call me anymore.”

y/n dunne: it got worse after that but it doesn’t matter anymore.

kit blackwell: he had told her that he had slept with her because she was desperate.

eddie roundtree: it was so stupid. so stupid.

kit blackwell: that comment had only made things worse.

radio silence from eddie followed. you and kit had made the collective decision to move across the country, for the better of your marriage and your son.

y/n dunne: you think i wanted to stay in california after all that? no. i wanted a fresh start with my family and i got that.

ansel blackwell: new york is my home for me and my siblings. i think it was sort of a blessing in disguise that they moved out of california.

graham dunne: having her not there was definitely hard to get used to. but she was off being happy, and that made it easier for sure.

karen sirko: i had planned to move to new york anyway, so nothing changed for me.

eddie roundtree: are we done? because i don’t have anything else to say. it’s been twenty years.

kit blackwell: best twenty years spent.

y/n dunne: my heart has never been fuller.

[ama0310]

Silver Springs (S.R)

Character: Spencer Reid

Requested: No

Type: Angst

Summary: A chance encounter during a murder investigation forces Spencer to confront his past when he comes face-to-face with Y/N, his ex-girlfriend and new victim, rekindling old feelings and tensions.

AN: It's basically Daisy Jones & the Six meets Criminal Minds type of vibe.

"Another day, another case."

Spencer Reid had grown accustomed to the relentless pace of his work with the BAU. Evil, it seemed, never took a day off.

This explained why he now found himself en route to interview the latest victim, accompanied by Morgan.

Four murders in two weeks, and the body count showed no signs of slowing. All signs pointed to a disturbing connection within the music industry. The first two victims were singers, their vocal cords savagely ripped out. The third, a guitarist, had his hands severed. The most recent victim, a band manager, had his eyes gouged out in a grotesque display of violence.

As they walked briskly down the bustling Nashville street, Morgan voiced his frustration. "I can't wrap my head around why each murder was so different. It's like we're dealing with a completely new MO each time."

Reid's brilliant mind was already piecing together the puzzle. "Actually, there's a twisted logic to it," he explained, his words tumbling out rapidly. "Each mutilation corresponds to the victim's role in the industry. Singers silenced, a guitarist robbed of his ability to play, and a manager blinded, unable to oversee his clients. The unsub is targeting what makes each victim valuable in their profession."

"Do we know who we're meeting?" Reid inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Morgan nodded, consulting the notes from their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. "Her stage name is Y/S/N, twenty-six years old. She's the lead singer of a band called The Springs. The band's manager reported an attempted abduction last night. She fits our victim profile perfectly: female, location in Nashville, related to a band. This is our first witness, Reid. She could be our key to catching this guy."

As they entered the recording studio, a frazzled assistant greeted them. "Hi, I'm Cary, the manager's assistant. Thank you so much for coming! Jason has been a nervous wreck. Please, follow me."

Morgan took the lead, his FBI credentials at the ready. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Dr. Reid. We need to speak with Y/S/N as soon as possible."

Cary nodded, guiding them towards a red door. With each step, the muffled sound of music grew louder, and a hauntingly beautiful voice became clearer.

"The band is actually recording their latest song right now," Cary explained in a hushed tone. "You'll need to be quiet, but the manager will brief you further."

As they approached the studio, the lyrics washed over them:

Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me

A chill ran up Reid's spine. Something about that voice tugged at his memory, but before he could place it, he collided with Morgan's back.

A man stood before them, his face etched with worry. "Thank you for coming. I'm Jason, the band's manager. I wanted to take her straight to the police station, but she insisted on—" His eyes widened in recognition. "Spencer?"

Reid froze, suddenly face-to-face with a ghost from his past. "Uh, hi?" he managed, his usual social awkwardness winning again. How does one greet their ex-girlfriend's best friend after years of silence?

Morgan, sensing the tension, stepped between them. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Dr. Reid. We're here to speak with Y/S/N."

Jason's eyes darted between the two agents, his expression hardening. "Actually, I'd prefer if he wasn't here," he said, gesturing to Reid. "No offense, but I don't think it's wise for either of you to cross paths again."

Morgan, though confused by the unexpected connection, maintained his professional demeanor. "With all due respect, Dr. Reid and I work as a team. We both need to speak with Y/S/N to conduct a thorough investigation."

As the two men argued, Reid's gaze drifted to the recording booth. Through the glass, he caught sight of the band, and his breath caught in his throat. There, at the microphone, stood a face he thought he'd never see again—a face that to this day still haunts his most amazing dreams. 

I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you Give me just a chance

The lyrics pierced through Spencer Reid's carefully constructed walls, flooding his mind with memories he'd long tried to suppress. He was transported back to a time when life held more than just case files and criminal profiles—a time when he had someone to come home to, when he felt truly free rather than trapped within the labyrinth of his own brilliant mind. A time when he and Y/N L/N couldn't imagine a life without each other.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

Despite his best efforts, Spencer's heart threatened to burst from his chest, yearning to reunite with its other half. For that was what Y/N had been—his perfect complement. They had met when she was seventeen and he was nineteen, initially friends until, two years later, they could no longer deny the intensity of their feelings.

Their love had been a force of nature—intense, pure, raw, and undeniably real. Until life's cruel realities came knocking at their door.

Y/N was a free spirit, driven by her passion for music. She'd twirl until dizzy, her long hair a wild tangle, singing until her voice grew hoarse. Music moved her in a way nothing else could.

Meanwhile, Spencer was on the cusp of graduating from the FBI Academy, with whispers of a fast-track position in the prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Two paths diverging, leading to an impossible choice.

He did what he thought he had to do, breaking things off for both their sakes. He had run the probabilities, analyzed every scenario, and a happy outcome seemed frustratingly out of reach. They wanted different things, or so he had convinced himself.

That fateful night was seared into his memory. Y/N was about to leave for New York to meet with a record label—an opportunity that Jason, her best friend and now manager, had excitedly relayed during their date. Spencer saw the yearning in her eyes, the spark of a dream about to be realized. And so, he made the agonizing decision to end things.

Her tears, her desperate pleas, her hands clutching at him as he walked away—it all haunted him still.

Was I just a fool?

I'll follow you down 'till the sound of my voice will haunt you

Spencer watched, transfixed, as Y/N sang in the recording booth. She swayed to the rhythm, smiling at her bandmates, lost in the music. Everything about her still captivated him. Their relationship had been a bittersweet dream he never wanted to wake from.

Give me just a chance

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you

He stood rooted to the spot, oblivious to Derek's hand on his shoulder or the sudden silence as the band stopped playing. Then, Y/N turned towards the glass, and their eyes met for the first time in years. The world seemed to stop spinning.

Her gaze flicked to Jason, her expression morphing into a glare as she mouthed, "What the fuck?" The spell broken, she grabbed her bag and bolted through the back door.

Everyone sprang into action. Jason was the first to follow, with Derek close behind. Spencer remained frozen until his partner turned him around.

"Look, I don't know what history you have here," Derek said, his voice laced with concern and confusion, "but we have a job to do. If you can't handle this, go wait in the car. If you can, let's move." He pressed the car keys into Spencer's hand before chasing after Jason.

Against his better judgment, Spencer followed. A selfish part of him needed to be near her, even if it meant causing more chaos.

As he approached, he heard Y/N's voice, sharp with anger and pain. "I don't give a fuck if he's the president of the goddamn country. I'm not speaking to him. So you can either throw them out or let me leave."

Spencer rounded the corner to see Y/N already in her car, engine running, poised to flee.

"Look, Miss," Derek began, his voice firm but empathetic, "we can't let you go. You're the only survivor of this serial killer. If you don't talk to us, more people will die. Is that something you can live with?"

Jason, his arm still through the car window, pleaded with his client. "Come on, Y/N. You and I both know they're here to help. Let's get this over with, and then we can get you out of state within hours. This is for your safety and the safety of others."

Y/N's gaze flickered between her manager, the new agent, and Spencer, who was approaching hesitantly. With a heavy sigh and her heart in her throat, she turned off the ignition and moved to open the door, forcing Jason to step back.

"Get me a whiskey and a glass of milk," she demanded, grabbing her purse and striding back into the building without a glance at the agents.

Jason turned to Derek, his expression grave. "I strongly advise against having him there," he said, nodding towards Spencer. "As you can see, it won't end well if he's present."

Derek, still loyal to his partner, bristled at the suggestion. "And I advise you not to tell an FBI agent how to do his job. We've got it from here." He turned to Spencer, concern evident in his eyes. "Is he right? Should I listen to him?"

"No. I'm fine," Spencer insisted, though his tense posture suggested otherwise.

"And what about her?" Derek pressed, before noticing Carly, the assistant, anxiously tapping her foot nearby.

"She's in room 24, waiting for you," Carly informed them, pointing towards a door. "Um... good luck!"

As they entered the room, they found Y/N and Jason in the midst of a heated discussion.

"Everything alright?" Derek intervened, causing Y/N to roll her eyes dramatically.

"Yup, everything's perfect!" Jason's forced cheerfulness was palpable. "You guys can have a seat. I'll be right outside." He looked at Y/N sternly. "Be good. And tell them everything, please."

"Yes, Dad," Y/N replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she took a sip of whiskey. Once Jason left, she glanced between Derek and Spencer. "Well, are you going to sit down, or are we having a stand-up interview?"

Derek motioned for Spencer to sit beside him, both agents studying the woman before them. Y/N held a cigarette in one hand and whiskey in the other, while a glass of milk sat on the side table—an odd combination that spoke volumes about her state of mind.

"I'm Agent Morgan, and I believe you know Dr. Reid," Derek began cautiously. "We just have a few questions about what happened to you yesterday."

Y/N took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly before tapping it on the ashtray. "And what exactly do you want to know, Agent?"

Spencer cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "Jason mentioned you survived a failed abduction. Can you walk us through what happened?"

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze fixed on Spencer with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. "We finished recording one of our songs yesterday, and the band wanted to go out for drinks. I was still hungover from the night before, so I decided to sit that one out." She took a gulp of whiskey, chasing it with milk in a bizarre ritual. "I stayed in the studio for a few hours, just writing. Around three a.m., I decided to head back to my hotel. I'd parked two blocks away, and as I approached, I noticed someone loitering near the parking lot entrance."

"Did you engage with him?" Derek interjected, earning an eye roll from Y/N.

"I'm not fucking stupid," she snapped. "I walked past as quickly as possible. He tried to talk to me, but I ignored him. Guess he didn't appreciate that, because the next thing I knew, he was behind me, trying to force a plastic bag over my head."

The room fell silent as the gravity of her words sank in. Spencer leaned forward, his analytical mind already piecing together the details. "Can you describe the attacker? Any distinguishing features, voice, or mannerisms?"

Y/N's eyes locked with Spencer's, a flicker of their shared past evident in her gaze before she quickly looked away. "He was tall, probably six feet or so. Muscular build. I didn't get a good look at his face, but his voice..." She paused, taking another drag of her cigarette. "His voice was deep, with a slight Southern drawl. Not local, though. Maybe Texas or Oklahoma."

Derek nodded, jotting down notes. "How did you manage to escape?"

They could see Y/N physically reliving the traumatic experience, her leg bouncing with increasing anxiety. The calm facade she had maintained began to crack under the weight of her memories.

"Hey, it's okay," Derek said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Take your time."

For a moment, Y/N seemed to relax, but just as quickly, her emotional walls snapped back into place. She crushed out her cigarette and downed the rest of her whiskey in one swift motion.

"I'd heard about the murders before," she began, her voice steadier than her trembling hands. "Even before that, I always carried a pocket knife and pepper spray. Call it paranoia or just good sense in this industry." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "I managed to scratch his left arm before kicking him. When he loosened his grip, I turned and pepper-sprayed him. Then I just... ran. Got to my car and drove straight hotel. That's when I called Jason."

Derek leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "And you didn't think to call the police?"

Y/N's eyes flashed with anger. "I wanted to forget about it," she snapped. "I was planning to leave anyway. Sometimes denial feels safer than facing reality."

"Yet you still came in to record a song right after that?" Spencer's quiet question drew her attention, earning him a look that was equal parts resentment and something harder to define.

"I have a job," Y/N replied, her tone clipped as she turned back to Derek. "We have an album coming out soon, and we needed to finish recording. We love working in Nashville, so yes, I wanted to get it over with and then leave. Music... it's always been my escape."

Spencer cleared his throat, treading carefully. "Can you describe anything else about him? Any details you remember?"

Y/N's gaze softened almost imperceptibly as she looked at Spencer. "I think he was wearing a blue sweater, but I'm not certain." She paused, her brow furrowing in concentration. "What I do remember clearly is his smell. It was... odd. Like scented candles, the kind you'd find at Bath & Body Works. It was strangely out of place, but unmistakable."

Derek nodded, jotting down notes. "Alright, thank you for your time, Y/N. Here's our contact information if you remember anything else or need assistance." He stood, extending his hand, which Y/N shook briefly. As he walked to the door, he noticed Spencer hadn't moved. "Spencer?"

Spencer glanced between Derek and Y/N, who was now staring at him intently. "Give me a second," he said quietly. "I'll meet you at the car."

Derek hesitated, giving Spencer a questioning look. The younger agent's eyes pleaded for understanding, for a moment alone with the woman who had once meant everything to him. With a slight nod, Derek acquiesced and left the room.

As the door closed, the air grew thick with unspoken words and years of regret. Spencer and Y/N sat in tense silence, neither quite ready to bridge the chasm between them.

Finally, Spencer spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y/N, I... I'm sorry. For everything. I know it doesn't change anything, but I need you to know that."

Y/N's carefully constructed mask slipped, revealing a glimpse of the pain she'd been carrying for years. "Why now, Spencer? After all this time?"

"Because I never stopped caring," he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "And seeing you in danger..." He couldn't even finish that sentence. "Please, promise me you'll be careful. 

Y/N studied him for a long moment, conflict evident in her eyes so she does what she does best. Ignore it.  "Congratulations are in order, Mr. FBI," Y/N said sardonically, reaching for another cigarette. The acrid smell of tobacco filled the air, a scent that brought back a flood of memories for Spencer.

"Smoking causes about 90% of all lung cancer deaths," he recited, unable to stop himself. "More women die from lung cancer each year than from breast cancer." It was an old argument, one they'd had countless times before.

Y/N took a long, deliberate drag, exhaling slowly as if to challenge his statistics. "We're all meant to die one day, Spence," she said, her voice tinged with a familiar fatalism. "I always told you that."

Indeed, she had. It was her motto, her way of justifying living life to the fullest, consequences be damned.

"I thought you quit," Spencer said softly, his eyes fixed on the glowing ember of her cigarette. "When did you start again?"

"A few months after my twentieth birthday," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. "The record label signed us, and suddenly we went from doing a few covers a week to churning out originals every month. Needed a stress reliever."

Spencer studied her, noting the way she avoided his eyes. There was more to the story, he was certain. "Y/N/N," he said gently, using the old nickname that once came so easily to his lips, "are you okay?"

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Why would you assume I'm not?"

"Well," Spencer began, slipping into his analytical mode, "you drank that whiskey rather quickly. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you're flushed—signs of prolonged alcohol consumption. The fact that you're willing to record and drive in this state suggests it's become a habit. And then there's the cigarette addiction. So, naturally, I'm concerned about your well-being."

Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken words and years of separation. Y/N broke first, standing abruptly and grabbing her purse. "I've told you what you needed to know," she said, her voice brittle. "I have to leave. Hopefully, Jason's already arranged my flight out of here."

As she turned to go, Spencer's hand shot out, catching her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through both of them—a spark of electricity, familiar yet now terrifyingly foreign.

Y/N's eyes traveled from his hand to his face. "Let go, Spencer," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

He couldn't. Not yet. Not when he'd finally found her again, when there was so much to explain, so much unfinished between them. But he also knew that Derek would come bursting through the door at any moment.

With reluctance, he released her wrist and pulled out a post-it note and pen from his bag. Hastily scribbling his number, he held it out to her. "Take it. Please. If you need anything—and I mean anything—call me, okay?"

Skepticism clouded Y/N's features. Did he really expect her to take his number, to even consider calling him after everything?

Seeing her hesitation, Spencer pressed on. "Look, Y/N, I know you have every reason not to trust me, to want me out of your life. But please, give me a chance to prove that I'll be there for you. We'll catch the guy who attacked you, and if you need help with anything else, anything at all, come to me. Please."

Y/N stared into his pleading eyes. A part of her recognized his sincerity, but the wounded 20-year-old inside her still ached from old betrayals.

With a resigned eye roll, she snatched the note from his hand and left without a word, leaving Spencer rooted to the spot.

As she passed a trash can in the hallway, Y/N paused, the note burning a hole in her hand. For a moment, she hovered on the brink of tossing it away. But something—sentiment, curiosity, or perhaps a stubborn refusal to let go—made her slip it into the back pocket of her jeans instead.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

The lyrics of her song echoed in Spencer's mind as he watched her go. And in that moment, he realized with startling clarity that he didn't want to get away. Not anymore. Not ever again.

As Y/N disappeared from view, Spencer was left alone with the lingering scent of her perfume and cigarette smoke, and the weight of years of regret. He knew that solving this case was now about more than just catching a killer—it was about second chances, redemption, and the possibility of healing old wounds.

With a deep breath, he steeled himself to face Derek and the investigation ahead, all while knowing that the most challenging case of his life might just be winning back the trust of the woman he'd never stopped loving.

Author's Note: I absolutely love Silver Springs. I belt it out all the time lol. I also was obsessed with Daisy Jones & The Six when it came out. Used to read a lot of those fanfics.

Also let me know if y'all want a part 2.

Thank for reading!

[meganegatari]

super famous rock band au...enemies to lovers....fake dating....love triangle?....guitarist ellie....drummer abby....singer reader?.....tensionnnn....manager dina....bassist jesse(or we kick him out make a girls only team)..............THE PARASITES IN ME

walk with me WALK WITH ME. any other ideas i can add into this are veeeeeery much welcome THANK UUUUUU bye

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Wait for your love.

content warnings (for the whole series): mentions of drugs and alcohol, age gap, gaslighting, billy being TOXICCCCC, mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts, mental health issues

↳ currently playing ;

Midnight's Regrets - 1978

1:56 ——————•———— 3:24

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In July of 1978 Y/N made her reappearance.

Y/N: "I was gone for about a year." "And for the first 6 months, I was focusing on getting myself together. I got clean and started writing again." "I was slowly putting together a small album. I had told myself that if I wrote about change and forgiveness, I could heal." "I had heard...rumblings that the band was preparing to release a new album, but I had tried to stay away from the media." "That was until this...one interview came out." "I forgot...who was interviewing the band, I just- I remember being on the phone with one of my friends and I had the radio on. It was just playing in the background, but then I heard a familiar voice." "I told my friend that I would give her a call back. So I hung up the phone and turned up the volume on the radio." "It was Billy. He sounded...drunk. Really drunk. And- I wanted to stop listening, but the minute he brought up my name, I couldn't." "He called me selfish. Said I used him. That I didn’t care about the band, that I just wanted to be bigger than all of them." "He said it- he said it so cruelly. And the worst part was that some of the fans believed it." "I- I didn't know how to react. I was just- angry." "Here he was calling me selfish and say that I used him, while in reality, he put me through so much."

Her voice shakes, and she takes a deep breath before continuing.

"And then, as if that wasn’t enough, a month later, I see pictures of him in a magazine with some girl who looked like me. Like, exactly like me." "It hurt. It really hurt. All those times that he told me I was replaceable, that he told me that I was just another pretty face and that he could have any girl he wants, it all felt- it all felt real when I saw those pictures."

Karen: "Oh, the lookalike? Yeah, we all noticed it. It was... unsettling, to say the least."

Graham: "We told him it was weird, but Billy being Billy, he brushed us off. Said we were imagining things."

Warren: "Nah. That wasn’t imagination. That was some next-level shit."

Y/N: "At that point, the album I was working on? It wasn’t about forgiveness anymore. It wasn’t about love or hope. It was about him. About the anger, the betrayal, the heartbreak. About every time he let me down and every time I let myself believe he wouldn’t." "I didn’t want to make an album that just said, ‘This is what you did to me.’ I wanted to make one that screamed, ‘This is what you’ll never do to me again.’" "The funny thing is, I didn’t write it for him. I wrote it for me. But I knew he’d hear it. I knew he’d know. And I wanted him to feel every single word."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

You were at a radio station to make your first step back into the spotlight, everything was ready to go. You just hoped that he would be listening.

You watched the show host stop the music to speak into the mic, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special guest with us tonight. This guest has been out of the spotlight for about a year, and now she's back to tell us what's been going on in her life" "Please, give it up for Y/N L/N!"

The sound of applause fills the studio as you slide into the chair across from the host, offering a small, nervous smile

"Y/N, welcome back! I have to say, a lot of people have been wondering where you’ve been and what you’ve been up to. So, let’s start there. How are you feeling?"

"I feel..good. I’ve been focusing on myself, my health, and really just trying to find myself again."

"Well, you’ve certainly been missed. Your fans have been waiting for this moment for a while now. What made you decide to step back into the spotlight?"

"Honestly, I think it was time. I needed to disappear for a bit to figure out who I was outside of everything else. But I missed making music, missed connecting with people. It’s why I started in the first place. So, here I am."

"So...I hear that you have a special announcement for us, something you've been working on while you were gone."

You laugh, "Ah yes! Um...this is something very special to me. And I'm so excited to everyone to listen to it. So my brand new album, Midnight's Regrets will be in stores...tomorrow at midnight."

"An album? Wow you must've been busy while you were gone! Is there anything you can tell us about it?"

"Midnight’s Regrets is…probably the most honest thing I’ve ever written. It wasn’t the album I originally set out to make....but sometimes life takes you in a different direction. It’s raw, it’s vulnerable, and it’s everything I needed to say."

"Now is there....anything or anyone that inspired this album?"

"It's...really just about the past few years."

"Well, I can’t wait to hear it, and I’m sure your fans feel the same. Y/N, thank you for joining us tonight. It’s so good to have you back!"

"Thank you! It feels good to be back."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Karen: "We were in the studio just hanging out and we heard her voice. Billy told Graham to turn up the volume and everything just went quiet."

Graham: "Billy tensed up when she said she was releasing a new album. Like visibly tensed up."

Warren: "Nobody said anything for a while. It wasn't until the lookalike came in...."

Eddie: "No one liked the lookalike. She was rude, entitled, and just nothing like Y/N. Honestly I don't even think Billy liked her. He was just using her to fill Y/N's spot. Which was still fucked up."

Daisy: "Billy left with the lookalike for a while. This was normal he'd leave with her, they go and probably hook up and then she'd come back attached to him. Warren bet Eddie 20 bucks that he was gonna break up with her. Eddie bet 40 against it." "When he came back this time...the lookalike was nowhere to be seen."

Warren: "I asked him where she was...And then he mumbled something like 'she's gone'." "Eddie slipped me my 40 a little while after."

Y/N: "I walked out the the interview with my stomach in knots. I was so nervous for the release, I really was. I was nervous about how people you react to it, I was nervous about what the press would say..." "And I was nervous about what Billy would think of it." "I remembered how I felt listening to Aurora. I was just...in shock and in awe because it was the best album that the band created." "I was just hoping Billy would have a similar reaction to my album."

Eddie: "We all stayed late at the studio that night. We ordered pizza, Warren ran out to get beers and soda, and then at exactly midnight on the dot, Teddy came in with two vinyls." "He placed them both on the table and said 'Listen to the one on the right first' and then he left."

Karen: "Billy was just, staring at them, he didn't move. So I grabbed the first one and opened it."

Y/N: "I wrote a sort of prologue to be put on the inside." "Midnight is the hour where everything feels raw. The highs, the lows, the moments you wish you could forget but never do—they all come alive under the quiet of the moon. This album wasn’t supposed to exist the way it does now. It was going to be a story of forgiveness, love, and second chances. But life has a way of rewriting your narrative for you." "These songs are a reflection of everything I’ve carried: the heartbreak, the betrayal, the anger, and, most importantly, the resilience. They’re not just about what happened to me—they’re about what I refused to let define me." "I wrote this for anyone who’s ever felt shattered and wondered if they could ever put themselves back together. I promise, you can. I promise, you will." "And to the one who broke me: I hope you’re listening. Because I always have."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

As Karen finished reading the prologue, a haunting silence took over the room. She carefully placed the record on the player, the soft hum of the start up began to play. Taking the tracklist in her hand, Karen read from it, "First one is...How to disappear."

The soft beat of the song filled the room, then her vocals came in.

"It sounds like her older stuff" Graham says.

A hum of agreement went through the room.

Then the next track began to play.

"Happier Than Ever," Karen says.

The soft strumming of guitar filled the room, it was angelic sounding. Billy didn't say anything, your voice sounded gentle, almost a whisper, as sing about being happy alone, about finally finding yourself. But then the shift happens.

"You call me again, drunk in your Benz. Driving home under the influence. You scared me to death, but I'm wasting my breath. 'Cause you only listen to your fucking friends."

Everyone went quiet.

"She fucking went there" Warren whispers to Eddie.

They all looked over to Billy who was looking down, his hands balled into fists.

"'Cause I'd never treat me this shitty. You made me hate this city. And I don't talk shit about you. Never told anyone anything bad. 'Cause that shit's embarrassing, you were my everything. And all that you did was make me fucking sad."

Billy's thoughts were swirling, he felt a mess of regret and anger, not towards you, but towards himself. He treated you like shit, and now he was hearing how you truly felt.

 The track ended with the sound of crashing drums and a wailing guitar, leaving the room in a tense, suffocating silence. Before anyone could speak, the next track started, immediately shifting the mood.

The upbeat melody of 'love is embarrassing' filled the room.

"Loser who's not worth mentioning. My God, love's embarrassing as hell"

"It's catchy" Warren says, smirking drumming his fingers to the beat.

Before the group could fully process the last track, the next one began. The smooth, upbeat sound of 'Read your Mind' filled the room. 'Feather' had the same effect.

Karen tilted her head, listening closely. "She’s experimenting. This is different from anything she’s done before."

"I bet you those two will be the ones that the radios pick up." Eddie says.

Graham looks over at Billy, "Billy, you good?"

He doesn't say anything, he just grunts and nods.

As the next track begins to play, everyone had expected it to be another pop song, but nothing would prepare them for the whiplash of what was about to play.

The track opened with a slow, deliberate rhythm, a distant, echoing sound that seems to pull everyone’s attention into the quiet before your voice cut through the tension. It’s raw, soft, yet layered with emotion.

Karen’s face tightens as she listens, and she glances around at the rest of the group. Eddie's usual smirk is gone, replaced with a furrowed brow.

"Fell in love for the first time. With a friend, it's a good sign. Feelin' off when I feel fine. 21 took a lifetime. People say I look happy. Just because I got skinny. But the old me is still me and maybe the real me. And I think she's pretty."

Warren, who had been tapping his foot along to the previous tracks, suddenly stops and sits up straighter, the weight of the song sinking in. "Shit…" he mutters, his voice barely audible. "This one’s…heavy."

The song continues, and the production swirls around your voice, adding layers of echoing distortion, mirroring the chaos and confusion in the lyrics.

"I never did you wrong. And my, my patience is gone. And I, I never did you wrong. I loved you for so long"

The song begins to fade out, leaving an unsettling quiet in its wake. No one speaks immediately. Everyone is still processing the shift, the unexpected vulnerability.

The next 5 tracks, vampire, pretty isn't pretty, making the bed, the grudge, and logical, are like a punch to the gut for Billy.

"You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart"

"I could change up my body and change up my face. I could try every lipstick in every shade. But I'd always feel the same. 'Cause pretty isn't pretty enough"

"Another day pretendin' I'm older than I am. Another perfect moment that doesn't feel like mine. Another thing I forced to be a sign."

"And I doubt you ever think about the damage that you did. But I hold onto every detail like my life depends on it. My undying love, now I hold it like a grudge. And I hear your voice every time that I think I'm not enough"

"'Cause loving you is loving every, Argument you held over my head. Brought up the girls you could have instead. Said I was too young, I was too soft. Can't take a joke, can't get you off"

Every word, every line, every lyric, it hit Billy. He hurt you, badly. And now everyone would know how badly he did.

The room was silent.

Graham moved to the record player and stopped it. "Maybe we should take a break." he murmurs.

Billy shakes his head, "No- no let it keep playing," he says as his voice cracks.

The opening notes of 'Clean' began to play. It was vulnerable like the last few tracks, but it felt more hopeful.

"It sounds clean...does that make sense?" Warren says, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Ten months sober, I must admit. Just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it. Ten months older, I won't give in. Now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it."

The words strike a chord in Billy. He knows there's a double meaning. You're sober, you're clean of drugs, but you're also clean of him.

The sparkling beat of 'Bejeweled' then filled the room, everyone’s heads snaped up, and for the first time in a while, there’s a slight tension breaking in the air.

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Karen: "While we were listening to the album...I think we were all just a bit worried with how Billy would react to Better Than Revenge."

Warren: Laughing "Yeah, I mean, I knew it was coming. You can't hide something like that forever."

Daisy: "Y/N asked for our help. She needed something that felt raw, something real. We couldn't say no to her."

Eddie: "I think we would've gotten away with it if Billy didn't have such a good ear."

Graham: "The minute it started playing, I knew he knew. I mean open a song with Warren playing drums? That's a giveaway automatically."

Warren: "What can I say? I didn’t hold back." he grins "If she needed something to match the fire, we gave it to her."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

As the song blasts through the speakers, the energy in the room shifts. The aggressive drums hit, then the guitar riff, and Billy’s jaw clenches as he hears your voice.

"He’s not a saint and he’s not what you think. He’s an actress, He’s better known for the things that he does, On the mattress."

Billy’s eyes narrow, his fists tightening at his sides. The words feel like daggers. But it’s not just the lyrics. The way the song sounds, the drums, the guitar, the bass, everything. He knows that sound.

He grabs the lyric book and flips it open.

Track 14- Better Than Revenge.

His eyes scan the page, and there on the bottom of the page Graham, Warren, Eddie, Karen and Daisy are credited as part of the production of the song.

"What the hell is this?" he says, throwing the booklet onto the table. "You guys helped her with this?"

The room goes quiet, the song continuing to play in the background.

"She came to us Billy. She asked for our help." Karen says.

Billy's voice rises, sharp, accusatory and a little hurt. "And none of you thought to tell me?"

Eddie steps forward, arms crossed defensively. "We promised not to."

Billy scoffs, "You all took her side. You didn’t even think about how this would make me look."

"This wasn’t about sides, Billy. It was about making sure she didn’t feel alone in this. You had your chance to make things right, and you didn’t." Karen says, glaring at him.

"I didn’t-" Billy starts, but Warren cuts him off.

"You didn’t do anything, man. That’s the problem. You're getting mad over what? The fact that she come to you?" Warren says, "You hurt her, you can't expect her to come to you for help."

The song fades out, leaving a tense silence in its place. Billy was fuming. But he couldn't find it in himself to leave.

The final song on the first vinyl began to play.

Billy sat back down and took the lyric booklet back into his hands, track 15- Out Of The Woods.

The sound was different, everything about this whole album was different.

"The rest of the world was black and white. But we were in screaming color."

Billy began to really listen to the lyrics, the way you described everything was so...perfect. Like he could really picture everything.

Graham speaks up. "She’s not pulling punches Billy, she’s not out to destroy you. She’s trying to make sense of it all. Of you. Of herself."

"To move the furniture so we could dance. Baby, like we stood a chance. Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying. And I remember thinking."

"It’s not just about the bad, is it?" Billy murmurs, his words just loud enough so they could hear him.

Daisy shakes her head, "No, it’s not. It's about the good, the bad, the messy in-between. She's just telling what you guys had."

The final chorus plays, "Are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet?" echoing over and over again, sounding haunting and hopeful all at once.

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Daisy: "When we finished the first record...it was just quiet." "We were all feeling different emotions." "But I have to say, I was fucking proud of her. She- she took something so horrible and turned it into a masterpiece."

Karen: "We were confused why there were two different vinyls, but after Graham took a closer look at the jacket of it, we realized the second one was the deluxe version of it."

Graham: "On the inside of it, it said there were 4 additional tracks. So I took the first one off and then put the second one on." "I sat back down and read the song titles...and I knew we were in for another ride."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Nobody speaks, they only listen. And the lyrics, once again, hit Billy like a fucking bus.

"Cause you kiss me and it stops time. And I'm yours, but you're not mine…"

Billy rubs his face with both hands, his fingers tugging at his hair. Everything rushes back, the whispered promises, the unspoken words, and all the ways he let her down. He slams his hand against the armrest of the chair, his frustration barely contained. "Jesus Christ."

"Why'd you have to make me love you? I said, 'I love you.' You say nothin' back."

This hits Billy like a freight train.

"She's- She's making me seem like the bad guy!" he scoffs, "After I wrote Aurora for her- after I poured out my entire heart on a fucking album for her!"

"Billy, shut up and listen to the lyrics!" Daisy shouts, "You fucking hurt her! You only wrote Aurora because of the fact you hurt her! She's allowed to feel how she wants to! She's allowed to feel angry! She's allowed to feel sad! So just- listen to her lyrics!"

Billy finally shuts up. He leans back in his chair and the next song starts up.

The echoes of 'Is It Over Now?' fill the room. And then...

"You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor. You search in every maiden's bed for something greater"

"When you lost control. Red blood, white snow. Blue dress on a boat. Your new girl is my clone"

"If she's got (y/c) eyes, I will surmise that you'll probably date her. You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor. You search in every model's bed for something greater"

"I was hoping you'd be there. And say the one thing. I've been wanting. But no."

Billy's head was now in his hands again. His heart feels like it's sinking to the bottom of his chest, his mind spiraling with thoughts of all the mistakes he made. And then before he could fully collect his thoughts, the next song starts playing.

While the opening notes of 'I Wish You Would' started to play, Billy's heart skipped a beat.

"I wish you would come back. Wish I'd never hung up the phone like I did. I wish you knew that. I'd never forget you as long as I'd live. And I wish you were right here, right now. It's all good. I wish you would"

"I wish we could go back. And remember what we were fighting for. Wish you knew that. I miss you too much to be mad anymore. And I wish you were right here, right now. It's all good. I wish you would"

"We're a crooked love. In a straight line down. Makes you wanna run and hide. Then it makes you turn right back around"

"You always knew how to push my buttons. You gave me everything and nothing. This mad, mad love makes you come rushing. Stand back where you stood. I wish you would, I wish you would"

Billy’s chest tightens as the final line rings in his ears. He wishes, too. He wishes he could take it all back, wishes he could undo the damage he caused. But hearing the lyrics, hearing your regret, he knows it’s too late for that. You're not coming back, not in the way he wants. The realization washes over him, leaving him feeling hollow inside.

But then the sparkly distorted intro of 'Karma' starts playing.

"This is the last one" Graham says as he reads off the vinyl jacket.

It was a catchy song, similar to 'Bejeweled', it had that glittery sound.

Billy knew it was another song directed towards him, but when he heard "Cause karma is my boyfriend" his heart sunk.

Boyfriend.

Boyfriend?

A wave of jealousy, mixed with deep regret, crashes over him, had you moved on?

The song keeps going, and with every line, Billy’s heart breaks a little more.

“Karma is the guy on the screen. Coming straight home to me.”

He could hear the smile in your voice, he could hear how happy you were. He was happy you were happy, but he wanted you to be happy with him.

The song ends, and Billy looks at everyone.

"So...guess she's moved on." he says.

"We don't know that Billy" Graham says, "She could've just- written it because it rhymed or something..."

Billy shakes his head, "No...that's not like her. She doesn't just write out lyrics for nothing."

Graham looks over at Billy, his expression filled with a mixture of concern and frustration. "I’m just saying, man, we don’t know for sure. We don’t know what’s going on in her head. She could be trying to move on, or she could just be putting her feelings into music. You can’t take everything in her songs at face value."

Billy scoffs, rubbing his hands over his face, trying to scrub away the frustration that’s been building up for hours. "No, Graham. I’ve been around long enough to know when she’s really saying something. And she’s saying something. She’s telling me, loud and clear, that she’s moved on."

"She’s telling you that she’s moved forward, not necessarily on. There's a difference." Daisy says in a defensive tone.

"Moved on- moved forward- same shit. What difference does it make?" Billy says, getting up and pacing the room. "I wrote Aurora for her. It was for her. All of it. I thought- I thought it was going to be enough."

"You can't just expect one album to fix everything Billy" Karen says, "You hurt her, badly. An album won't fix that."

Billy remains silent for a moment, processing everything they’re saying.

But then his attention went back to the record player as it started to play this awful sounding static.

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

Y/N: "On the jacket of the vinyl for the deluxe version of Midnight's Regrets there were only four new tracks listed."

"There was really five."

  🎶 .·:*¨🎶💋🎶¨*:·. 🎶

"Graham, why didn't you turn the player off?"

Graham walks over to the player, "There's still grooves, there's another song."

Not even a second later, the room is filled with the haunting opening notes of a new song.

Everyone stands in silence and confusion as the song plays.

"You were born bluer than a butterfly. Beautiful and so deprived of oxygen. Colder than your father's eyes. He never learned to sympathize with anyone."

"I don't blame you. But I can't change you. Don't hate you. But we can't save you."

"You were born reaching for your mother's hands. Victim of your father's plans to rule the world. Too afraid to step outside. Paranoid and petrified of what you've heard"

The words pierce Billy's already broken heart, he can't hold it in anymore. He feels the tears trickling down his face, and when he looks around, everyone else has tears too.

Your voice is so hauntingly beautiful, they've never heard you like this.

As the song fades out, they can hear what sounds like crying under all the instrumentals.

The silence afterward is deafening.

"Billy…" Graham says, his voice breaking the stillness.

"I fucked up," Billy whispers, the words barely audible. "I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if I even can anymore."

A/N: HOLY FUCK THIS WAS A LONG CHAPTER 😭 anyways I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED!!!! this was honestly so like stressful to work on cause of the lyrics BUT I PULLED IT OFF I THINK! anyways next chapter will probably be out sometime next week and hopefully the next chapter of GOU will be out by sunday night or monday night!!

heres all the songs from readers album (IN ORDER) -> 1978 album

[kaldurahms-lover]

i need a long angsty daisy jones and the six fanfic where the reader is like billy’s tour girlfriend and she’s so hopelessly in love with him, looking at him through rose colored glasses and just seeing this perfect guy, having no idea about camila.

until she does.

and obviously she has to break it off immediately because she doesn’t want to be the other woman. she didn’t ever want to be in this position.

and so she goes to graham, and she gets camila’s address to write her letter, and it has to be a letter because she knows if she calls then camila will just hang up

because that what she would do.

and the letter is so heartfelt and warm and apologetic and very obviously tear stained when camila gets it that she just can't bring herself to be mad at this poor girl who got just as cheated as she did. at this poor girl who broke i up with billy when she found out bc she knew what he did was wrong

and so camila writes back, and a friendship forms. an unexpected friendship, but a friendship nonetheless

and soon enough, once the baby is born, the reader finds herself driving across states to come see camila and julia because dammit billy is in rehab and she wants more help than just her mom and she wants to meet her friend she’s been calling and writing and sending photos to and from this whole time

and you know, the reader stays longer than she means to

long enough that something more than friendship is buzzing between them

long enough that the reader has taken billy’s place in bed next to camila

long enough that when billy comes home from rehab, she’s holding julia while camila buzzes her lips against the baby’s stomach.

obviously he’s flabbergasted because what the FUCK is his affair partner doing in his house with his wife and baby and why does his mother in law look totally unphased….

reader simply kissing cami’s temple and handing her julia, saying she’ll give them some time alone because she understands that they need it

GOD having to have the talk about what that means for the relationship and everything i’d lose my mind

both of you eventually coming to the decision you’ll give billy one more chance

and once he gets over that fear he’s a good dad. a good husband, a good boyfriend.

and then daisy fucking jones shows up.

that’s all i’ve thought out so far

[nomorespahgetti]

[mrsnancywheeler]

𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗌 & 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍

billy dunne x f. reader, eddie roundtree x f. reader

1.9k words

summary: you know the cycle with billy, the heartbreak, and you love him too much to leave. and eddie makes it so much harder.

part of the billy, eddie, muse universe

warnings: billy and reader's relationship is inherently toxic, cheating (emotional and physical) from both sides, cigarette smoking, brief mention of oral male receiving, language, angst, jealousy, brief mention of parent death, unedited

masterlist

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As a little girl you could remember sitting on your father’s lap when he told you so softly, “There are some loves you live and die for.” You were too little to really understand, still all these years later you had no idea why he’d even told you that, probably trying to explain your mother’s death. You understood it now though. Now that you’d given your heart to Billy Dunne and let him crush it over and over and over again. Part of you wonders if you were given the option if you’d take it back, let it repair itself, maybe in a rash moment, but not in the long run. It’s a love that you let burn you up. A love that you let destroy you inside out.

That’s how you felt now when you were walking back into the recording studio to grab your purse and cigarettes. Everyone was supposed to be meeting to listen to some of that day’s recordings, go over notes, and even if you weren’t technically a member you still cared. It was there that you found Billy, and one of the groupies that had been hanging around since the last gig, sucking him off. As much as it hurts, you’re used to this, and today a fight isn’t what you need. What you need is a cigarette.

“Sorry,” You’re muttering, going to grab your bag anyways, and the girl is scrambling up. You somewhat feel bad for her, she probably doesn’t want the drama, the fight, but at the same time she knows about you. Probably even thought you were the bitch stunting her chances, but you understood wanting someone that bad all the same. “No, you’re fine. Don’t stop on my account.” It’s too late though, she’s embarrassed, running out of the room. That’s how you know she’s new to this, and you feel so much sympathy for her then. Finally, the cigarette is in your hand, “Do you have a lighter?” There’s no response and you look up, Billy’s just staring at you before he shakes his head in some sort of disbelief, and pulls one out of his pocket. You take it from him, light it up, and hand it back just as quick, “Thanks.”

There’s a long, awkward silence where you’re both just standing there. You know you should leave if you don’t want a fight, but that doesn’t feel right either. You’re not going to run away from it either. So you stand there, smoking your cigarette, until finally Billy is giving a curt nod, and trying to leave the room himself.

“What do you want from me, Billy?” You finally cut through the stagnant air, but your voice is so eerily calm. Almost like it’s dead. Like, dealing with Billy for the past couple of weeks when he’s been like this has zapped all of your usual energy out of you.

He’s turning back around and is already on defense, “You’re not fucking spec-” A spiel you know all too well.

“That’s not what I said.” You take another drag off your cigarette, and sit down on the closest stool. “I get it, I’m not special, the whole you could have anyone you want, Billy doesn’t want to feel tied down Dunne act, I understand. You could write songs about anyone else. If there’s nothing important about me, Billy, then why am I here? What’s the point?” He’s opening his mouth to say something and you’re not letting him yet, “And don’t fucking tell me to just leave then if I don’t want it anymore because you’re the one who keeps calling me up or showing up at my front door. I understand you’re trying to write a great fucking album, and change the world of music, or some shit. But, Billy, I would do anything you told me to, give you anything you asked for to support you, and I don’t even think you know. I could be great on my own, but I’ve chosen you since I was 19!”

“Then go be great on your own!” Billy pulls at the end of his denim shirt and you stand up from the stool.

“You don’t hear me, you’re never gonna hear me.” You think you might partly be saying that to yourself, but there’s a silence where the two of you are just staring into each other’s eyes, before you’re on the move. Trying to slip past him, out the door, go put your facade again for everyone else and pretend everything is fine, even though they’ll know it’s not. You think you’ve passed him successfully when he’s ever so gently grabbing your arm, pulling you back towards him. He almost looks like he might cry when he’s pulling your forehead to his.

“Don’t ever give up your dreams for me.”

“Billy, we’re long past that point.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

In everyone’s house there are remnants of every person they have ever loved. So, even if you and Billy are stuck in an endless push and pull, the band will always have pieces of you scattered about. As far as they’re concerned you basically live there. You’ve infested every corner, and the very essence of you is obvious from the dried flowers hanging about in the house and on the porch. You’re constantly adding more, little splashes of color in the desert. It’s one of those hot days where you’ve got a cup of iced tea on the porch and are doing exactly that, stringing up another bouquet.

“Eddie, can you give me a hand?” You peak your head inside of the equally hot house.

“Yeah, of course, sunshine.” He’s quickly abandoning whatever conversation he was having with Warren to follow you back out.

“Great, thanks, nice talk, man.” Warren is shouting sarcastically behind him.

“How can I help?” Eddie asks, closing the door behind him.

You give him a smile that he has memorized in the depths of his soul, a look that he sees when he closes his eyes at night. In your hands you’ve got a string with bundles of dried flowers tied across it, “Can you get the nails in up there and tie these to them, please? I’ll owe you one.” He knows you don’t need his help with that, you know you don’t need his help with that, you’ve done this yourself plenty of times, but why would he ever say no?

“Of course, and don’t worry about it, you don’t owe me a thing.” He can’t do it for you fast enough it seems, he’s got the hammer and nail in his hands before you can blink. “Where’s Billy?” He’s not asking because he cares, but it’s not like you asked Billy for help, who can be quite the handyman.

“Writing something, working on something new. I’m just keeping busy.” You lean up against the railing as you watch him, hammering in the nail, before moving onto to do the next one.

“What’s going on?” Eddie says softly.

“What?”

“You’ve been acting weird since yesterday in the studio, I mean for the past few weeks, but it got worse at the studio yesterday,” He hammers in the second nail, “What’d he do now?” When he’s done he turns back around, and you’re staring off into the yard.

“Eddie, don’t.”

He gets closer, his aura is so immensely comforting that it puts you more on edge, this is a road you’ve been down before. “You can tell me, I know he’s a dick, and I care.”

Finally you look back at him, “And we both know where that leads.”

He knows you’re right, but he doesn’t care. Why should he? It leads exactly where he wants. It gives him hope. “What did he do?”

You’ve never been a stick in the mud, “It’s really nothing, I should be used to it by now, it’s not a big deal, Eddie” Now you’re averting his eyes, rubbing at your neck.

“The groupie?”

You just bite at your lower lip, and slowly nod. Suddenly any weak defenses you did have are completely demolished without another word, “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, Eddie. Why can’t I be enough? I mean, it makes me feel bad about every part of me, if he just told me, I’d change it in an instant.”

“You don’t need to change, you’re fucking perfect, sunshine. If he can’t see that, they should pluck his goddamn eyes out since he’s not using them anyways. You are more than enough.”

You snort at that, “She’s gorgeous, I guess I should expect him to pick her, who wouldn’t?”

“The right man would pick you every single time.” This is exactly the tension you didn’t want because the way Eddie’s eyes look into yours makes you want to melt into him. Not in the same way you’d fall apart for Billy, but in a way that you know Eddie would build your esteem back up, raise you from the ashes, put the puzzle back together every time the pieces get thrown, and that feels so nice. Yet it feels so wrong, it doesn’t matter how many times Billy wrongs you, doing the same is a guilt that will eat you alive forever.

“Eddie-” His hand ever so slightly grazes over yours and your breath hitches in your throat.

“He’s never gonna see you, like I do-”

“What’s going on?” Billy’s voice is interjecting the tension and you jump the tiniest bit, and much to your surprise Eddie doesn’t step away. He stays so close, just giving a glance over his shoulder.

“None of your business, man.” Eddie the endless antagonizer, for someone who says he wants what’s best for you, he sure knows how to push buttons that can make this situation hell.

“He’s just helping me hang this up, was struggling with it.” You chime in, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding in.

“I’ve got it.” Billy grabs the string from you, every so slightly pushing Eddie out of the way as he does so, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Thanks.” You smile even though you can still feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest, Eddie is glaring at Billy as if dirty looks could make the other man drop dead. “Did you finish the song you were working on?”

“Yeah.” Billy nods, finishing up tying the knots to each nail. He comes back over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, “Why don’t you come give it a listen for me, baby.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you nod, and shoots an equally venomous glare back to Eddie. So the two of you do go back in the house to listen to whatever new song Billy has prepared.

Yet, no amount of songs can end a cycle as deeply entrenched into the bloodstreams of each and every one of you. When things start to feel too good, too peaceful, Billy will be ready to tear the dream up into pieces, and you’ll always know exactly who to run to, and Eddie will always be waiting. Being the second option isn’t that bad when the rush is so good.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

thank you so much for reading and all the support! as always asks, comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated. this is my first official writing now thet I'm back, so hopefully it helps me get back into it so I can start getting through requests. lots of love 💋

[its-vannah]

All I want | Another Love Part Two | Eddie Roundtree x Reader

Request from anonymous: I don't know if this can be considered a request, is more so that I will die if you don't to a part 2 of the Another Love story, where Eddie offers to help Y/N get over Graham, shoot his shot with the girl now that she decided to move on. She starts to realize his feelings for her and decides to give him a chance. Or maybe like they start a friends with benefits kinda thing, but eventually she falls in love with him as well? idk, just throwing ideas out there....

A/N: So, I started writing... And I've decided this is going to be a three part mini series. This one's mainly just a filler. Building, really.

Warnings: None

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

The night Graham broke your heart was the night you thought you had lost everything. But you didn't, not in the slightest. There was one person who never left your side, hadn't even considered it. Eddie.

He had held you in the back seat of your car as you cried into his chest. Once you had fallen asleep, he debated waking you up and taking you home. But that posed a few problems: you would either drive back on your own (he didn't want to leave you by yourself in your state) or he would drive you but wouldn't be able to drive himself back since it was your car.

In the end, he wound up with the back of his head against the window, his back at an awkward angle with one food planted on the seat and the other hanging over the side of the leather seat.

You were nestled in his side, your breaths now steady.

But his back was killing him and there was barely enough room for the two of you. So he went to his next option.

Sitting up, he pulled you with him, lifting you out of the car as gently as he could without waking you.

Eddie got a few looks from people passing by on the street, but he payed them no attention. He just focused on getting you comfortable.

He readjusted you in his arms to make sure you were fully supported before entering the elevator, using his knee to press the button to his floor.

Looking down at you, he couldn't help but smile. When he looked at you, he didn't see your puffy eyes or tear stained face. Eddie just saw how truly beautiful you were, how at peace you had found yourself.

When the elevator doors opened, he stepped out, rounded a corner, and began making his way to his room.

What he didn't expect to see was Karen sneaking out of Graham's room. She looked at him, eyes wide.

"Not a word to Billy?"

He shook his head, "Not a word."

Karen smiled, "She alright?"

"Exhausted, it was a long day."

She raised her brows, a smirk appearing on her face, "Are the two of you—"

"No, no it's not like that. I'm her—We're friends. It's just too late for her to drive home," He said, his voice just above a whisper.

"Hope the two of you sleep well," The keyboardist said, slipping back into her room.

Eddie kept one arm behind your back, his other replaced with his knee as he dug for his room key with his now free hand.

Finding it deep in his pockets, he pulled it out and stuck it in the lock, twisting it gently before placing it back in his pocket and stelping inside.

He set you down on his bed, carefully slipping your shoes off and placing them at the food of the bed. Then he moved to your hair, running his fingers through it to get some of the knots out.

Draping the sheets over you, he stepped away and headed for the bathroom to get changed into his pajamas.

Once he was done, he made his way over to a small couch in the corner of the room, taking a spare blanket from the end of the bed on his way there.

Checking on you one last time, he turned out the beside lamp and went to sleep.

---------

The sunlight filtered through the hotel room the next morning, waking you from a dead sleep.

You could tell that something was off before you even opened your eyes. You weren't at home, this wasn't your bed.

Slowly opening your eyes, you took in your surroundings. No one else was in the bed with you, the room was empty. Where were you?

That's when the bathroom door opened. Eddie poked his head out, his face softening when he saw you, "Morning."

Confused, you took off the covers from on top of you, "Morning..."

There was silence for a moment, "Eddie?"

He hummed in response, pulling a long sleeve shirt over his white tank top.

"I didn't make it back home last night?"

"You passed out in the back seat. I figured you'd be more comfortable up here than there, so I brought you up."

You furrowed your brows, "Where did you sleep?

He nodded towards the couch, causing you to groan.

"I kicked you out of your own bed?"

He let out a soft laugh, "It's alright, Y/N. The couch was fine. Plus, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," He said, teasingly adding, "You can pay my chiropractor another day."

You sighed, falling back onto the bed.

Eddie sat down on the edge of the mattress by your legs, "How are you holding up?"

"I feel like shit," You admitted, sitting up. You got a glance of yourself in a mirror, groaning, "I look like shit, too."

He shook his head, "No, you don't."

Smiling at him, you leaned into him for a hug, your chin resting on his shoulder, "I don't know what I would've done without you last night. How can I make it up to you, I'm sure you barely got any sleep."

His hand found your back, returning the embrace, "Don't worry about it. Just take care of yourself."

"I should probably get going if I'm going to make it to the show later."

Eddie pulled away, "You're still going?"

"I owe it to you, Ed."

"You don't have to, you know."

You placed a hand atop his, "I want to."

--------

The day after the concert, your head was spinning. You wanted to say goodbye to Eddie and Camila, the girls, too, but it made you sick to think you'd see Graham there again.

You made the decision to go anyway, getting to the hotel to bid your farewells just after sunrise. Their next stop was Chicago.

Julia saw you first, standing hand in hand with her mother. She pointed at you, pulling Camila's hand and running towards you as fast as her little legs could carry her.

You scooped her up in your arms, peppering her face with kisses, "I got you something."

She clapped excitedly, kicking her feet as you held up a stuffed tiger from the zoo you had gotten for her when she was first born. You had meant to send it to her ages ago, but had never gotten the chancs.

Camila shook her head, smiling, "You spoil her too much. She's going to expect something everytime she sees you, you know."

You shrugged, handing the toddler over to her mother, "There are worse things in the world."

"Y/N?" A voice called out from behind you.

Turning towards the direction of the voice, you were glad to see Eddie walking towards you with a suitcase. He walked a little faster when he spotted you, not wanting to waste the little time he had before he left.

You met him halfway, throwing your arms around him. It took him a moment before he returned the hug, pulling you close to him, "I didn't think you'd come."

You pulled away a bit to look at him, "And miss seeing my favorite people off? What kind of girl do you think I am?"

He didn't know how to answer, so he just pulled you back into another embrace.

Warren honked the horn, "Come on, ladies and gentlemen!"

Camila shot him a threatening look for interrupting your goodbyes.

The two of you finally broke away from each other as the rest of the band piled into the van. Camila pulled you in for a brief hug, practically an arms length away because of her bump.

"I'll call you when we get back, alright?"

You nodded, "I look forward to hearing from you. Let me know how the delivery goes, alright?"

She nodded happily, "I will."

Getting into the van, she and Eddie waved at you one last time before pulliny away. In the blink of an eye, they were gone. But you had this new feeling sinking into your heart, and you couldn't quite put a finger on it.

[miserablebl00d]

yk what I need,I need someone to recreate every single rom-com ever made and replace the main actors with me and Sam claflin 😁

[flowerhrt]

the end of love | daisy jones.

pairing: daisy jones x fem!reader

summary: two weeks after your break up, daisy decides to confront you and ask what's wrong.

warnings: it's the 70s, internalized homophobia, eddie being a bit of a dick, daisy is clean and the band is still together, reader is a lesbian.

a/n: i interpret daisy as a lesbian who deals with compulsive heterosexuality.

word count: 2.4k

breathe in. breathe out. it's just one song. record it all in one go, ignore billy's stupid complaints, and then go home. 

well, what used to be home.

 “daisy, you ready to go?” she heard teddy ask from the other side of the recording booth. “yeah, i'm fine. let's get this over with.” the redhead said before taking a sip of the glass of cold water she had next to her. she closed her eyes as she felt the liquid make its way through her throat.

 breathe in. breathe out. she opened her eyes to find the band and camila next to teddy, all smiling encouragingly at her. daisy was about to smile back when the door to the recording studio opened abruptly. “holy shit, tell me i'm not late.” 

oh fuck.

 daisy felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest. why is she here? she was supposed to be in new york, not los angeles.

 “y/n! you are kind of late.. hope it was for a good reason.” warren said with a wink “tell me the guy at least fucks good.” the drummer added while wiggling his eyebrows.

 the blue-eyed singer wanted to disappear. she tried to distract herself by playing with the hems of her long-sleeved white shirt. huh, funny. daisy thought. she always loved it when i wore this one.

 “yeah, warren. he fucked better than you ever will.” y/n answered, not before rolling her eyes at their friend.

 they didn't know y/n didn't fuck any guy last night.

 they didn't know y/n would never fuck a guy. ever. they didn't know y/n was late because she didn't know if she could face her ex girlfriend after she told her she was leaving for good. they hadn't seen each other for two weeks, and it was fucking torture for both of them. they had grown so used to always waking up next to each other, cooking together, and doing pretty much everything together, and god did it feel weird to not see each other for longer than a day. 

daisy felt like she couldn't breathe when y/n left. she always had to remind herself to breathe in and breathe out. it was as if the girl before her took all the oxygen in the world when she walked out of daisy's front door. right. she remembered bitterly as she felt the fabric of the shirt in her hands.

 daisy's front door. daisy's home. 

because she refused to move in with her even after three years of secretly seeing each other. she refused to let anyone know about their relationship. not even simone, who is like… them. and daisy understood, she obviously did.

 it was dangerous to be one of the world's most famous singers and openly date a woman. openly love a woman. openly say the word lesbian. people would crucify you in the street if they knew you were a homosexual. that was the main reason y/n was scared, she was just a tour photographer who happened to become close with the band and fall in love with daisy on the way. if the world knew she was into women, she would never get another job.

 daisy tried to tell her they would be okay, to screw the rest of the world. they loved each other. how could that ever be bad? as far as she knew, love wasn't a bad thing. but maybe she only thought that because she didn't have much experience with it. her parents hated her. men used her. she only has the band, simone, and y/n. had y/n. not anymore. 

“daisy!” her name being yelled at her got her out of the trance she was in. “are you going deaf or are you just high as shit?” eddie asked from the microphone. 

“she's in recovery, eddie. stop joking about that.” she heard a soft voice she could recognize anywhere snap back at him. “right, sorry.” the bassist said with his hands held up high as a way of showing surrender.

 y/n looked at her and they made eye contact for a solid second. daisy gave her a small smile and looked down. “alright, let's get this party started!” warren hollered as daisy put her headphones on to start recording. “okay, the end of love, take one.” 

the redhead remembered to breathe as she heard the first notes of the song.

 i feel nervous in a way that can't be named.

i dreamt last night of a sign that read, the end of love. 

she looked up and saw y/n drumming her fingers against her waist. she obviously knew the song was about her. ever since daisy met the photographer, almost every song she has written has been about her. the singer wrote the end of love the day after y/n walked out of her new york apartment. 

it's pitiful, she thinks. even when they're not romantically together anymore, she still writes about her.

 and i remember thinking even in my dreaming.

 it was a good line for a song. 

daisy tried to steady her breathing but when she looked at y/n she felt like she was about to pass out.

 breathe in. breathe out.

 breathe in. i can't fucking do this. 

the flower-named girl placed her headphones down and said a quick “i need some fresh air.” before storming out of the recording booth. daisy walked through god knows how many rooms, until she found an empty one in the back of the building, she sat on the floor and leaned against the door she had just walked through.

 you dumb fucking idiot, she thought. now they're all going to think you´re singing about someone in the room, or even worse, that you've relapsed and can't record a damn song. she can't go through this again.

 if the band thinking she was in love with billy dunne, when she's not even into men, was bad enough, them seeing her overreact this way is going to make them figure out she has been seeing someone. 

there was a minute of silence while she tried to think of an excuse to say when she gets back into the studio, but it was all interrupted by a soft knock coming from the other side of the wooden door she has been leaning against.

 “i'm fine, karen. just give me a second.” the blue-eyed girl said while running a hand through her long red hair. 

“i'm not karen, but if you want me to go get her, i can do that.” her heart sank as she heard y/n's voice.

 “no!” she heard her own voice answer in a quick desperate way. she grimaced at how pathetic she sounded.

 “well, is it okay if i come in?”

 one beat. two beats. daisy unlocked the door.

 the photographer walked into the room and sat on the opposite side of the singer, facing her. “do you want to talk about it?”

 “talk about what?” 

the girl sighed and leaned her face against the palm of her right hand. “about what just happened. you don't normally walk out of a recording session, daisy. not ever. are you okay?” she asked as she looked straight into daisy's big blue eyes.

 the singer stared back and bit her lip as she felt her eyes start to water. “i miss you.” 

“daisy-” 

“no.” she interrupted. “you say you love me but then decide to break up with me.” she says with a scoff. “without even letting me ask you what i did wrong. without even letting me try and fight for you. for us.” a tear streamed down her right cheek.

 it took everything in the girl before her to not wipe it, the way she always did. 

“listen, i understand being scared. do you think i'm not frightened of how the boys will react if they ever find out we are the way we are? but i didn't care as long as i had you. i know you have your doubts. but why did we have to hide from everyone? simone would never treat us differently. we both know she's a lesbian. just like you and i.” she pointed a finger at herself and the girl who now wouldn't dare to look her in the eye. 

“karen wouldn't either, she's too busy minding her own fucking business to be disgusted by us. even camila wouldn't care, she'd be delighted to know i've never felt an ounce of love for her husband” daisy was fully crying now. god, she loved her girlfriend so much. why wasn't that enough for her?

 “i left for that exact reason.” 

“what?” she asked.

 “you deserve someone who isn't afraid to love you. who isn't afraid of who she is.” y/n continued. “you know, billy and graham saw simone kiss her girlfriend at your birthday party” she said with a sarcastic laugh. “and they didn't give a single shit.” daisy was silent as she listened intently to her ex-girlfriend's voice.

 “when simone realized they saw her, she told them they'd been together for over five years. and shit, they truly didn't care. even warren said it wasn't fair simone found a girlfriend way before he met lisa.” y/n played with the rings placed around her fingers to avoid eye contact. “the entire band knows about simone, and they think it's normal.” 

daisy's heart was racing, she didn't know if it was excitement for simone, because her best friend was able to love her girlfriend without a care. or if it was happiness, because the rest accepting simone could only mean one thing. if the six don't care about simone and her girlfriend, then that means they won't care about her and y/n.

 the photographer was silent for a while, so daisy decided to speak first. “i don't really understand. you left me because you're afraid of them knowing about us. but, you also know they wouldn't care if they find out?” the singer´s eyes scanned her ex girlfriend´s face, trying to find an answer. 

“yeah… it's stupid.”

 “damn right, it fucking is!” daisy sighed. “i love you. you love me. we can at least tell them and simone about our relationship.”

 y/n was the one holding back tears now. “i want to. i truly do.” 

“then what's stopping you?” her voice softened at the sight of the girl she loves the most crying in front of her.

 “I can't openly love you, not when i can't even say… well, you know what.”

 “god, y/n. you didn't tell me you were still struggling with that. i could've helped you.”

 “i know you would've, but i didn't want to be a burden.” daisy slowly raised her arm and caressed y/n's cheek in the soft, loving way she always does. “you're not a burden. not ever. not to me.” the flower-named girl tucked the girl's hair behind her ear. 

“i love you. i love you so fucking much, i can't breathe when i'm without you.” she continued. “you helped me when i was trying to recover from my addiction. you were there when i got out of rehab. you've helped me stay clean.” 

“that was all you, daisy.” 

“yeah, but you were next to me the entire time. the least i can do is be next to you, while you learn to accept yourself.”  “it took me a while to come to terms with being a lesbian, too.” daisy said as she twirled a piece of y/n's hair around her finger. 

“i used to think the only way i could make it into the industry was by not caring about men stealing my music because at least people would hear them. fuck, i forced myself to want them, the same way they wanted me. because that was the closest i thought i'd ever get to being loved.” “but that's not what love is. love is what you and i have.”

 y/n placed her hand over daisy's. “i want to be brave, for you.”

 “you already are. you just need to be brave for yourself. because you deserve it.”

 “thank you, for everything.”  y/n gave her a soft small smile. “you don't have to thank me for anything, seeing you smile is good enough for me.” 

 the two women locked eyes, and they just stared at each other for a small moment. y/n's hands began to shake with desperation, she craved the feeling of daisy against her. and suddenly, she felt a force pulling her towards the redhead girl, daisy placed her hands on both sides of y/n's waist, and instinctively, as if her body was made to be next to her's, y/n placed her hands behind daisy's neck, the same way she has done for the past few years, their bodies were pieces of a puzzle made to be together.

 they both leaned into each other, they were so close, they could feel each other's noses rubbing together, daisy smiled at the sensation. “can i-” daisy started “you don't even have to ask.” the girl interrupted, before smashing her lips into the singer's.

 their lips locked, the two women having been in the exact same position hundreds of times, but this was different. this kiss was about understanding, about forgiveness, about acceptance, about moving forward. it lasted a few more moments until they were out of breath and had to pull away. 

“i love you, daisy jones.” the girl whispered against daisy's lips. “i love you, y/n l/n.” she answered with glossy, vibrant eyes. before getting back into her usual cocky self.

 “well, not to spoil my amazing new song, which is going to be a hit, but there's a specific lyric i think you're going to like.” she said, trying to fight back a smile. y/n rolled her eyes at her girlfriend's antics.

 “oh yeah? what is it?” daisy cupped y/n's cheeks and stared lovingly into her lover's eyes. “i've always been in love with you. could you tell it from the moment that i met you?” the redhead sang before kissing her beautiful girlfriend again, and again, and again.

 daisy still had to finish recording her song, and they still had to explain what took the photographer so long to find her, but luckily, this time y/n wasn't afraid to tell them the truth. 

we were reaching in the dark

that summer in new york

and it was so far to fall

but it didn't hurt at all.

[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.

[princessleprechaunnn]

The Other Woman

eddie roundtree x Reader, slight daisy jones x reader

warnings: drug use, eddie is kind of an asshole, arguing

notes: hi! this is my first fic, i hope you like it!

Part 1, Part 2

2 days. 2 days since he went to that LA pool lounge. Ever since then, Eddie has been nothing but cruel. You knew when you got with Eddie that he was hopelessly in love with his bandmate's wife, but you thought that your love would dim his feelings for Camilla.

Breaking you out of your thoughts, Daisy Jones walked into the lobby.

"Hey baby, are you alright? You seem stressed." You blushed at the nickname, but turned your head so she couldn't see.

"Yeah, I'm all good, Daisy. Do you know where Eddie is?" Her face turns to a sour expression, but she points outside.

You find your boyfriend smoking a blunt outside. His hair is disheveled, and he appears as if he hasn't gotten sleep in weeks.

"Eddie, we need to talk." He turns his head and chuckles to himself.

"Now what?" You feel your blood boil.

"I am done with you. I feel used and, honestly, tired. Tired of you acting like you aren't pining over fucking Camila Dunne. Every time I think I am getting somewhere with you, she bats her eyelashes, and you are instantly drawn to her again." He looks at you and starts seething.

"Well, sorry if I don't want you; she has always been my priority. She is the one I picture myself marrying, raising kids with, and growing old with. Not you! If I am being honest, baby, it will never be you. In the first couple of months, I tried so hard to love you, but I couldn't. Not when she is right there. I know she will leave Billy this time, and once she does, I need to be there for her." His words sting like hell, and you feel tears brim your eyes.

"You know damn well she is never going to leave him. Not when Julia is around. I am tired of feeling like the other woman in my own relationship! It's humiliating, don't you get it? I have tried everything to get you to choose me over her. I see Camila's nails are done, so I get mine done too. I bought that fucking perfume from France that she is always wearing, but it never works! The more I change myself, the more you resist. I don't understand how you would choose her over a sure thing like me; I really don't. Hell, even when we fuck, I know you pretend I'm her, it makes me feel dirty. If you love her that much, then why even be with me?"

"I needed a distraction, ok?" You look at him with tears running down your face.

"Well, guess what, Eddie? Consider yourself not distracted, because we are through." With that, you walk aimlessly through the recording studio, hoping to find at least someone to talk to.

To your surprise, Daisy hears you walking and walks out of whatever room she was in to see you.

"Baby, what's wrong? You look like you got hit by a bus-" You cut her off by sobbing on her chest.

"I broke up with Eddie; I know I will never be better than Camila Dunne." She lifts your face off her chest and looks you in the eye.

"Honey, you are so much better than her; why can't you see that?" You look into her eyes, and for a split second, you think you saw something. Pity? Sadness? Love?

[horrorxxsapphic]

MILK - DAISY JONES x Fem!READER

Summary: Based of the song "MILK" by the 1975, Daisy is strung out of her mind in the nights of New York City looking for a hit and gets hooked on something or someone else....

minors dni

Warnings: active addiction, use of drugs, angst, fingering (r receiving), oral (D receiving), multiple orgasms, car sex, scissoring, squirting (r), lesbian sex!!

-Ignore the logistics of hooking up in a van and just enjoy the vibes :)

Wc: 2k

[ The straight lines, they unwind you, She does a little thing with her eyes that says, "We're off soon". She says the bleeding's incidental 'cause she's so cool. She said, "I'm no fun if you've only a bottle of wine” And now she's doing it all the time ]

Daisy had impulsively relapsed a few days ago and had been on a faded streak of getting high on whatever was handed to her and coming down to nothing but a weak sweating pile of skin and bones swearing she wasn’t gonna touch that stuff again, she was in a desperate cycle of pleading and feining.

She ditched her friends and her band, really anyone who knew her trying to get lost in herself. She wanted to fall off the map completely, she wanted to melt into the powdery crystals of her drug of choice. Waining in and out of her mind for days on end as she’s grown comfortable with this unstable state. It’s her inside pleading that puts the fear of god into her, which prompts her to keep going on with her high.

She’s almost out of coke and has to scourge around dingy places of her hideout city to try and score, Daisy completely disregards her safety in this situation as only one thing matters to her at this moment. She puts on a skimpy outfit that consists of a tight black mini-skirt with sheer laced thigh-high stockings that have small holes in them, a thin black sports bra, and thick wedged heels. She didn’t look like herself and this puts her at ease. 

She incoherently stumbles out the front of her busy-bodied hotel already high on the last bits of blow she had, already on a hungry hunt for more with the thick red carpeted floor shifting beneath her feet making her feel a little nauseous. Daisy’s too out of her mind to take in the welts appearing on her milky long legs caused by the whipping wind around her.

“Taxi!” she wails out with her painted ring-clad hands waving through the City’s night to the yellow vehicle slowing down in front of her in front of her, she pulls on the rough handle before slamming herself down on the uncomfortable clear plastic seat cover closing the heavy car door.

“Where to?” The husky voice on the other side of the divider calls out, Daisy can’t really see his face with how dark it is. But has a slight chance of making out his features when a slow and brightly lit bus passes by, the old man has weak brown eyebags and a gray-trimmed beard. She sticks her tongue in her cheek giving a troublesome look to the eyes of her driver in the rearview mirror, “Wherever the music and booze is flowing sir”. The car starts to slowly drive off as she winds the window in taking in the lucid view of how alive the city is at night.

 ‘This is where I’m meant to be’ she thinks to herself letting the chopping wind dance through her red stands as the cold touches her numb nose.

…..

Daisy finds herself in front of a lively “Dyke bar” The laminating sign reads out, she shakingly steps in looking around to fulfill a “one stone two birds” kind of situation. Scoring some blow and having a good fuck, one of those things was needed more than the other right now. She could feel the stares of warm-bodied women eyeing her but none looked like they could give her what she needed, Daisy pushed her way into the pink interior bathroom when she was met with a beautiful surprise.��

“Fuck sorry” the girl stuttered out, wiping the white substance from her nose, Daisy looked at her, then looked through her taking her all in. Her big brown eyes, full plushy pink lips, and shiny black hair. The girl stood frozen staring into Daisy’s wondering eyes with a smirk, she held out the rolled-up dollar bills peacefully offering Daisy a hit.

“I’m Camila by the way” she so innocently stated, Daisy liked how perverse this situation looked. Camila looked too perfect to be sniffing coke off the dirty sink at dyke bar, too pure. “Thanks, and I’m Daisy by the way” the redhead slurs, gently taking the dollar from Camila as their fingers gently brush against each other. Camila softly gasps at this interaction as Daisy lines the used bill up at her nostril and takes a quick inhale. 

“Fuck” she mumbles to herself as she picks her head back up to meet the welcoming eyes of the beauty before her, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” the black-haired girl quizzes, leaning her hips to the pink and white tiles of the quiet bathroom. “I don’t exist so… probably not” Daisy sarcastically spits out before handing the bill back to Camila.

“You’re Daisy Jones aren’t you, I love your voice, and your lyri-” Before Camiia could even finish, Daisy put her lips on Camila’s soft ones not wanting to be reminded of her past self that would dreadfully be forced back into her if caught by her friends. Camila pulls away and is greeted by the swollen pupils of her green-eyed partner, she knows this isn’t a good idea but she wants this so bad - she wants her so bad.

……

They couldn’t even make it to Daisy’s hotel before they started grabbing and whining at each other, Camila’s back was currently pressed against the cold seats of her old van with Daisy on top of her with her knee lightly pressed against Camila’s throbbing clit. “Please touch me” The black-haired girl could barely get out, Daisy’s eyes full of arousal with her now darkened pupils glaring down at Camila as she softly rolled her hips against her knee.

Daisy lifted her knees causing Camila's breath to get caught in her throat as Daisy's fingers danced across her chest, the tips of her breasts hardening in response. The gentle rocking of the van seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of their heartbeats, the only sound was the soft rustle of clothing and the heavy breathing that filled the air.

Daisy's hands slid beneath Camila's shirt, her palms cupping the soft mounds of her breasts. Camila's eyes fluttered closed as Daisy's thumbs teased her nipples, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through her entire body. The rockstar's touch was like a symphony, every note, every stroke, every caress a masterpiece of pleasure.

With a gentle tug, Daisy freed Camila's breasts from the confines of her bra, her nipples springing free with a slight bounce. The air was heavy with desire, the scent of sweat and perfume hanging like a mist around them. Daisy's tongue darted out, tracing the curve of Camila's breast before centering on one pert nipple. The sensation was like nothing Camila had ever experienced – a vortex of pleasure that threatened to consume her entire being.

As Daisy's mouth closed around her nipple, Camila's back arched, her body bowing to the sensation. The rockstar's suction increases slightly, "Oh yes..." Camila's voice trailed off as Daisy's tongue flicked against the sensitive skin, her teeth nipping gently. Daisy's eyes locked onto Camila's, the connection between them crackling with electricity. Building in intensity, each pull of her mouth was a tiny explosion of pleasure. Camila's hands tangled in Daisy's hair, holding her close as the world outside melted away, leaving only the two of them, lost in a sea of desire.

A thin string of saliva trailed from Daisy’s mouth to Camila’s nipples as she pulled away, Camila pinched at her pointed tips rubbing Daisy’s residue around while slowly thrusting up - begging for attention on her dripping cunt. Daisy worked her way down Camila's body, her hands sliding up her thighs, her fingers dancing across the edge of her shorts. Camila's hips bucked, her body begging for more. Daisy obliged, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric, stroking the wet heat within.

Camila's back arched, her body trembling on the cusp of release, and without breaking eye contact Daisy slid her middle finger between Camila's legs, the softness of Camila's folds like silk beneath her touch. Camila's hips bucked upward, a soft gasp escaping her lips as Daisy's finger began to circle, teasing the sensitive skin. 

The air was electric, the tension between them a palpable, living thing causing a soft whine out her the girl underneath her, "Shh, baby," Daisy cooed, her touch feather-light as she explored the warm, wet folds of Camila's pussy. "Let me take care of you" the teasing eyes of Daisy practically scream as they rake over the girl's body. Camila's response was a moan, her body arching upwards as Daisy's fingers began to move, slow, deliberate strokes that left her gasping for air. Camila's world narrowed down to the touch of Daisy's fingers as her pussy clenched around her fingers as Daisy continued to tease her sopping wet hole. 

Daisy's thumb joined the fray, applying gentle pressure to Camila's swollen clit. Camila's eyes rolled back, her body arching upward as Daisy's fingers danced in tandem, the rhythm building and building."Oh, fuck Daisy," Camila breathed, her voice ringing in Daisy’s ear. Daisy's response was to lean in, her lips brushing against Camila's ear as she whispered, "You're so wet, Camila. So good to me." 

Camila's hips seemed to move of their own accord, pushing against Daisy's fingers as they slid deeper, exploring every inch of her. The van's interior was a blur, a haze of sweat and smoke and desire that seemed to pulse with every beat of Camila's heart. As Daisy's fingers worked their magic, Camila felt herself building, her orgasm coiling tight in her warm stomach, waiting to be released. 

The wet sloshing of Camila’s greedy cunt filling the silence of the car as she begins to drip onto the seats, Daisy’s arousal grows at the sight. The red-haired girl added another finger stretching out Camila, her left hand gripping the hand grip above her as her other hand replaced Daisy’s as she began to frantically rub on her raised bud. Daisy spreads Camila’s legs wider trying to get a more perverted look at the view of three of her fingers inside of the weeping girl underneath her. In a flash of heat and color, it was upon her, her body shuddering as Daisy's fingers brought her to the edge and over, sending her tumbling into a sea of pleasure.

“FUCK right there, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I'm cumming” The younger girl yelped which turned into nonsense as her swollen cunt begins to spasm around the rockstars tight digits. Her eyes show all white as her fingers on her clit don’t ease up just yet. “Cum all over my fingers, fuck you’re so hot” Daisy whines watching Camila ride out her orgasm on her fingers.

Camila's body began to float back down to reality, she felt like she was melting into the seat underneath her, her muscles liquefying like warm honey. The echoes of her orgasm still resonated through her body, leaving her breathless and wanting. Daisy slowly removed her fingers as her gaze wandered up Camila's body, taking in the rise and fall of her chest, the gentle curve of her breasts, and the soft, golden glow of her skin

Camila’s legs trembled still feeling the waves of her intense orgasm, but not shakey enough as she turned to take control. She gently pushed Daisy's legs apart fumbling with her skirt under the dim car light above them, her eyes locked on the glistening wetness between them. "I want to taste you, I'm not letting go until you come all over my face,” she whispers, Daisy's eyes fluttered closed, a sly smile spreading across her face as Camila's hot breath danced across her skin.

Camila buried her face in Daisy's drenched pussy, her tongue working its magic as Daisy's cries of pleasure filled the air, her hips bucking wildly as Camila's tongue worked its way deeper into her core. Daisy's hips arched upward, her fingers tangling in Camila's hair as she moaned softly undeniably getting pussy drunk of Daisy’s sweet cunt. The sound sent shivers down Camila's spine, and she plunged her tongue even deeper, lapping up Daisy's juices hungrily. "Oh, God, yes," she moaned, her hips already beginning to squirm.

Daisy's legs began to quiver, her body trembling beneath Camila's touch as she lapped and sucked, her mouth moving in time with Daisy's ragged breathing. Daisy's moans grew louder, more insistent. Camila's arousal spiked as her clit throbbed once more, she could feel the wetness spreading between her legs, her body responding to the erotic symphony playing out in the back of the van.

Camila's fingers slid higher, her thumbs parting Daisy's folds, exposing her to the warm, golden light of the room. Daisy's eyes fluttered closed, her head falling back as Camila's mouth continuously sucked on her clit. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, lost in a sea of pleasure.

"Camila.." Daisy whined, her voice trembling. Daisy's body tensed, her back arching off the seat as she came hard. Camila's tongue rode the wave of her orgasm, drinking in every drop of her release. As the last shudders subsided, Daisy's body began to shudder and convulse, Camila's tongue never faltered, lapping up every drop of her juices as she came hard against her face. And when Daisy finally collapsed back against the seat exhausted and spent, Camila smiled, her chin glistening with Daisy's cum as she promised.

As Daisy slowly descended from the euphoric high of her orgasm, she felt Camila's warm breath on her inner thighs, her gentle licks and nuzzles a soothing balm to her sensitive skin. The room was a haze of sweat and desire, the air thick with the scent of their passion. Camila gazed up at Daisy with adoring eyes, her lips curled into a sly smile as she savored the taste of Daisy's climax.

Daisy's chest heaved with each ragged breath, her eyes fluttering open to meet Camila's. For a moment, they simply locked gazes as Daisy reached down to tangle her fingers in Camila's hair, gently tugging her up for a deep, languid kiss.

The kiss was a slow burn, a sensual exploration of lips and tongues that left them both breathless. As they broke apart, Daisy's eyes flashed with a newfound intensity, her dominance awakening - coming back to her senses. She grasped Camila's shoulders, her fingers digging into the tender skin as she pulled her in for another kiss, this one fierce and demanding.

"I want you, Camila," Daisy growled, her voice low and husky. "I want to feel you cum, beneath me,"

Camila's eyes sparkled with excitement, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she nodded eagerly. "I'm yours, Daisy. Take me."

Without another word, Daisy spun Camila around, fumbling to get into positions. Daisy sunk down on Camila making their bodies align in perfect sync as they began to line each other's hungry pussies to one another and begin rubbing with lust, their legs intertwining like snakes. The air was filled with the wet slap of skin on skin, the sound echoing through the room like a primal drumbeat.

"Oh, fuck, Camila," Daisy moaned, her hips pistoning against Camila's as they blend together. "You feel so good, so tight and hot."

Camila's responses were fragmented, her words dissolving into incoherent gasps and whimpers as Daisy's fingers dug into her hips, holding her in place. "Daisy, oh God...harder...please..."

Daisy obliged, her movements becoming more intense, more frenzied, as she drove them both toward the edge of oblivion. The room was a blur of sweat-drenched skin and tangled hair, the only sound was the relentless rhythm of the slapping of their wet cunts together.

Daisy's hands roamed Camila's body, her fingers pinched Camila's nipples, teasing them to stiff peaks, "Oh, fuck, yes," Camila panted, her voice rising to a shriek as Daisy's thigh ground against her clit.

Daisy's response was a dirty, husky laugh, her eyes flashing with dominance. "You're going to come for me?” She teases in a moan. Daisy's grip tightened, her body pistoning against Camila's, their hips slamming together in a blur of motion. "Daisy, oh God, I'm...I'm going to..." Camila's voice trailed off, her body tensing as she teetered on the edge. "I think I’m - gonna squirt" Camila cried.  "Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum too. Fucking do it” Daisy growled, her voice low and menacing as she rocked harder. And with a strangled cry, Camila's body gave in, a gush of liquid heat spilling out as she came, her body shuddering against Daisy as she came too. Both released drawled cries as their rocking calmed to a sweaty halt. 

"Oh fuck." Camila breathed, her voice shaking with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. She looked down at the mess she had made, her face burning with heat. The back of her van, once a tidy and organized space, was now touched with her juices.

Daisy, still wrapped around her, chuckled and kissed the side of Camila's neck. "I take it that was a first?" she whispered, her voice husky with amusement. Camila nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. "Yeah... I didn't know I could do that." Daisy's fingers danced across Camila's stomach, tracing the curves of her abdomen. "You're full of surprises, Cami.”

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[ssweeterthanfiction]

teenage dream.

content warning: ANGST billy dunne/the six x fem “traitor” pop-star reader

The lights were dimmed. You could hear the excited cheers come from the crowd.

You were being touched up by your hair and makeup team, they made sure that not a single hair was out of place. When they were done, you adjusted your ear piece, smoothed out your skirt, and nervously played with your hands as you waited for your cue. You were having a good show, but for some reason, you felt….nervous. You always felt a little nervous performing, but tonight you felt it even more.

Something felt different. You felt like something— or someone was in the crowd for you, waiting, watching.

You shook your head, brushing the feeling aside.

“You’re on” you hear a stagehand say.

Smoothing out your skirt one last time, you step out onto the stage. A soft purple glow fills the arena as you walked out. You smile and wave to the crowd, blowing a few kisses out as you sit at your piano.

“Are we having fun yet?” you say into the microphone. You’re met with a loud roar of cheers and applause which makes you smile. “Good…good” you say, idly playing a few notes on the piano.

“So…this next song, I wrote with my younger self in mind…” you say softly into the microphone, “Now she…was full of hope and energy…but she was also…had insecurities, she was afraid she wasn’t good enough and that she was just good for her age. She was afraid to grow up, because she thought that nobody would want her around anymore.”

You pause for a moment, “For a long time, she couldn’t picture a future. But…she’s come a long way from then. I think she’d be proud of how far we’ve come.” you say, smiling as the crowd cheers. “So to anyone who’s afraid…this is for you.”

As you started playing, the empty screen behind you flickered to life, pulling the audience’s attention as a series of home videos started playing.

You fought back tears as you sang. Memories of the past flooded your mind.

"Will I spend all the rest of my years wishing I could go back?"

Messing around with Warren and Graham during rehearsals in the garage.

Talking with Karen about life during late night studio sessions.

Eddie teaching you how to play the bass.

And Billy....

Having every first with him. Your first crush, your date, your first kiss. All with the boy that you grew up next door neighbors with, with the boy that introduced you to music, with the boy that you've liked since you were 12.

"Got your whole life ahead of you, you're only 19...But I fear that they already got all the best parts of me... And I'm sorry that I couldn't always be your teenage dream.."

You wondered what they were doing right now. You wondered if they were messing around in the studio. You wondered if they were having pizza and beers. "Of course they are," you thought, it was a Friday night afterall, that was their time to unwind.

You wondered if Karen and Graham were still denying their feelings for eachother. You wondered if Warren still told those ridiculous stories that made everyone laugh so hard they cried, You wondered if Eddie still tried to hide the fact that he loves the chaos of the band.

You wondered if Billy was taking care of himself.

You wondered if they wondered about you.

"They all say that it gets better, it gets better the more you grow. Yeah, they all say that it gets better, it gets better, but what if I don't? Oh, they all say that it gets better, it gets better the more you grow"

Unbeknownst to you, the band wasn’t in the studio tonight. They weren't eating pizza and drinking beers.

They were here.

Sitting quietly near the back of the arena, watching as you poured your heart out on stage.

Karen had bought the tickets last minute. When she told the band, they weren't keen on going, but they changed their minds fairly quickly.

None of them wanted to admit that they wanted to desperately see you perform on stage again. Even if it wasn't with them.

Their eyes were glued to the stage and the screen. Watching as old clips from your old camcorder played.

"I can't believe she has all these old tapes.." Karen says in a quiet tone.

"I didn't even know she filmed this much stuff" Graham murmurs.

"I can...that camera was practically glued to her hand" Eddie says, crossing his arms across his chest.

They all kept watching the screen, clips of their rehearsals, their hangouts, of them backstage, of them preparing for photoshoots and interviews.

"She’s still her, you know," Warren says softly, his gaze fixed on you. "No matter what, that’s still our girl up there."

Everyone nodded and let out a soft hum of agreement. Everyone, except Billy.

He had been quiet the whole time, his jaw clenched, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. He was trying not to breakdown. But the way you sang, the way that your emotions could be heard through your voice, it made it so hard for him.

Your voice got more powerful, more emotional. You played your piano with more urgency, as if you were letting your anger and sadness out.

"Yeah, they all say that it gets better, it gets better, but what if I don't?"

Your playing went back to a softer sound, and then everything went dark. Everything but the screen.

When the band saw what was playing, it felt like a stab to the heart.

It was a clip of you all seeing your names up on the marquee of Whiskey a Go Go.

It showed as you all excitedly walked down the street, Warren and Graham bolting the moment they could make out what the sign said.

"Guys slow down!" you say as you and the others run towards them.

"Look at that! That's us!" Warren shouts happily, pointing at the sign.

You all laugh and talk over each other. Suddenly, Billy grabs the camera from your hand.

"Billy- Billy! What are you doing?" you say as you laugh.

"You're always filming us...now it's your turn to be in front of it!" he says as he points the camera towards you.

You laugh and playfully swat the camera away as you cover your face.

"So, come on. Tell the camera what's next for us" he says laughing behind the camera.

You smile widely and laugh, "First...Whiskey a Go Go. Next a world tour and then...a grammy!"

The tape then faded, your laughter still ringing through the speakers.

The crowd erupted into applause.

You were now crying, not full out, but tears did fall from your eyes. You took out your ear pieces and stood in shock as you heard the volume of how loudly the crowd was cheering for you.

You wiped at your tears, laughing softly into the microphone. "Wow," you say, your voice breaking a little "You guys are amazing..." You stood back for a moment, just to take everything in.

As the lights shifted, your eyes instinctively scanned the seats, smiling as you saw all your fans cheering. For a brief moment, you thought you saw familiar faces near the back.

The lights shifted again, and the faces became indistinct shadows, leaving you wondering if your imagination had gotten the better of you.

But deep down, you had a feeling that those familiar faces were in fact real.

A/N: "traitor" popstar reader, you will always be my favorite.

[allisluv]

daisy jones being enamoured with you while she is drunk or high

pairing: daisy jones x ex!fem!reader

content warnings: angsty fluff, daisy being stoned out of her god-damn mind. mentions of past established relationship but both daisy and reader still have feelings for each other. loosely based off the song "why'd you only call me when you're high" by arctic monkeys

word count: 240

it's early in the morning when the landline to your hotel room starts ringing. you roll over onto your side, the numbers 03:56 flashing in red letters on the digital clock. you rub your knuckles into your eyes to rid them of sleep and blindly fumble for the black phone, holding the receiver up against your ear. "hello?"

"hi, baby!"

you blink once, then twice, then three times for good measure. "daisy?"

"yeah, it's me, baby."

"why are you calling me? it's nearly four in the damn morning!" you snap as tiredness gets the better of you.

you hear daisy sigh on the other end of the phone. "jus' wanted to hear your voice, 's all. i missed you and your pretty face. like, you know i'm in love with you, right? like so in love."

you exhale a breath and run a trembling hand through your hair. "why are you still up, daisy? we have a show in eight hours."

"can't sleep without you here," daisy admits shakily. "like i said, i miss you."

now it's your turn to sigh. after a beat of silence, you finally break and say, "well, are you gonna keep me on the phone all night or come over?"

"really?" daisy yawns through the line.

"yeah, well, i don't want you falling asleep on stage. just don't make a habit out of this, alright? we're still over."

daisy chuckles. "whatever you say, sweetheart."