#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!

[hypnagogics]

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

[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

[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?

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[horrorxxsapphic]

Breath of life

D.J Masterlist

Summary: Daisy is struggling with having to deal with Billy and being sober, but you give her a breath of life

Warnings: mentions of drugs, drug usage/ex addiction, Billy Dunne being Billy Dunne

a/n: Not thoroughly proofread, pls reblog

wc: 1.1k

“From the top Daisy,” Billy calls out through the speakers, they’ve been recording a new song Billy wrote called “More fun to miss”. It’s a gag song he made to spite her, and Daisy knows it. She's been tight-lipped singing for the past hour, completely over Billy and his antics.

“Can’t we just call it a day? I’m not feeling it” she mumbles with an attitude into her mic, adjusting her bulky headset to hear better. “Not feeling it? Daisy get it together we have an album to make no one cares about your little attitude” Billy’s voice turns cold and stern like a father yelling at his child for not obeying him. Daisy feels her body begin to get warm with anger, she hates how he feels like he can order anyone around.

“I’m not your fucking kid, I said I’m not feeling it. It’s a wrap” Daisy pulls her chunky headphones from over her head, slamming them down on the music stand in front of her. Looking Billy sternly in the eyes as she rips her way out of the dim brown studio.

“Fucking dickhead” she says under her breath, walking briskly with her thick heels echoing through the corridor to the nearest closet-sized bathroom slamming its door behind her. The fluorescent light in there gives off a light blue hue in the gray-toned space, Daisy looks at herself up close in the somewhat dirty mirror with the sink gently digging into her lower stomach pulling at her dull eye bags and softly stretching the dry skin on her cheeks upwards.

She sighs to herself putting both hands on the corresponding edge of the sink and hanging her head down in defeat, she can feel the urge to dig back into her hiding place under the sink where her secret stash of coke is. Her left-hand slides under the sink where she feels the small yellow packet still taped where she left it, Daisy pulls the packet from under the sink and stares at the small bag that makes such a big impact on her life, feeling her chest start to get tight and her nose beginning to burn.

---

“Daisy you’re home” y/n calls out, greeting Daisy with open arms nestling her face in Daisy’s neck.

Y/n and Daisy have been dating for a little while before she was dryly welcomed (On Billy’s part) into what is now known as Daisy Jones and the six, y/n used to attend her small bar shows and cheer her secret lover on even when no one in the room was watching.

But let's be real, who wouldn’t have their eyes on Daisy? Y/n and Daisy met at Daisy’s family’s weekly house parties, Daisy’s parents know y/n parents through mutual friends. Everyone knew of Daisy’s parents or known by old family and friends, Margaret Jones.

Daisy Jones was born out of her own deadly loneliness.

At one of the first and last cocktail parties the Jones invited y/n and her family too, y/n was lucky enough to run into Daisy who was held up in her hippy-themed bedroom. Y/n too wanted to escape the snobbiness of downstairs events and wanted to locate the quietest room she could find, which led her to find the doe-eyed face of the love of her life.

Daisy didn’t shoo away the slightly flushed face of her future love, and instead saw the desperation on her face and told her to sit by her. This led to small talk, which turned into deep conversations, which then turned into them slick with sweat and handfuls of each other's hair.

“How was today?” y/n asked softly with her face still laying on the warm crook of Daisy’s neck. Daisy doesn’t say anything In return but instead tightens her arms around y/n waist putting her head on top of her shorter girlfriend's head. Y/n took that as bad news and sigh softly before answering, “What did Billy do now?”, “Just him being him as always” Daisy answers with a quick response. And with that she pulled away furrowing her brows, covering her face with her hand.

“But that’s not all….. this time” she pauses, avoiding my eyes which makes me nervous. I remember the last time she acted like this, it wasn't something good.

“Daisy… what’s wrong?” Y/n says nervously as she pulls away from their slightly intimate moment but still holds both her hands between them. Daisy doesn’t say anything as she sits down on the seat behind her, slouching down with her face in her hands. “Baby you can talk to me” y/n whispers, squatting down in front of the redhead. “I was…” Daisy said, pausing as she dropped her hands that were covering her face, her eyes filled with tears, and her cheeks turning a cotton candy pink shade. “I was so close today, SO close,” she said with her words caught in her throat, Y/n doesn’t say anything back. Waiting for Daisy to get all her words out.

“I was so close to using today” Daisy finally gets out, and y/n softly grabs Daisy’s hands and kisses both of them firmly while making eye contact with her. Daisy gets off her chair and knees in front of Y/n on their fluffy green rug and Y/n does the same, nearly matching Daisy in height. “It’s never gonna be easy is it?” Daisy cries out grabbing onto her long-term girlfriend's frame, clinging onto her as her own body shakes as she weeps.

“It might not be easy now, but you're stronger than it is, Dais, You are,” Y/n says in Daisy’s ear, slowly rocking the two.

“Then why doesn’t it feel like it?”

“It will get better, I promise”

Daisy pulls back to stare at Y/n who meets her puffy-eyed glare. Daisy makes the first move, putting her forehead on Y/n’s sighing softly as Y/n matches her movement inching closer, with barely any space between the two lovers. Y/n can her girlfriend's breath on the top of her lips and smiles.

“Everything is gonna be okay Daisy…. I promise”.

[justice4daisyjohnson]

Studio Time

Daisy Jones x Reader

Summary: Daisy decides to stay behind with you while you work.

warnings: none, pure fluff.

(a/n: trying to normalize random daisy fluff)

masterlist | taglist | requests: open

You first met Daisy when Simone introduced you to her at a party. It was really dark but you remember noticing her eyes first, then her hair, then her smile. She couldn't look more gorgeous.

You had known Simone through Teddy, one of the best guys you work with. He's like your best friend and father figure trapped in one and plus you make music together so you've had a bond that's like no other.

You knew Daisy because you heard "Look At Us Now" on the radio and fell in love with her voice, you have been begging Teddy to let you meet her.

Daisy was absolutely love-struck when first meeting you, but didn't show it. She hadn't heard of you before meeting you but she couldn't get enough of you when she first met you.

Daisy didn't leave you alone for the rest of the party. She sat with you and talked from music to what she had to eat last night, she felt like an open book with you and that's something she felt like she couldn't get from anyone else.

She left with you in the middle of the party, you couldn't help it. Daisy woke up in the middle of your soft king-sized bed, the sun shining through the hills of your neighborhood.

She found you making breakfast and watching the news and couldn't get enough of you.

You two ended up skinny dipping in your pool while on acid.

Now it's been eight months since you and Daisy have been dating, publicly. Everyone knows if they see you, they should see Daisy wandering around behind you.

Daisy has, for the most part, moved into your home. She spends all weekend from Friday to Monday morning when she goes for studio time for Daisy Jones and the Six.

And you couldn't get enough of her during work either, because she would be in the same building as you while you were recording with another artist. Daisy would visit you for a little while you work or you would join the band with her.

The band also loved you, you got along really well with Warren, Camila (even if she isn't in the band), and Karen. Billy respected you the way he respected Teddy, and you wanted nothing to do with him. 

Daisy was obsessed with your artistic point of view so she would always try to get you to listen to the bands' music. She would want your opinion on every song she wrote and loved to hear everything you would work on.

That's why, when you stayed behind an artist and were fixing some of the recordings, Daisy stayed behind with you.

"Daisy, it's late, you should go home and rest," you say to her, moving the headset from only one ear.

"But... I wanted to stay at your place tonight" Daisy said, you realized she planned this after she couldn't stay over at your house the past weekend because of a little show she performed.

Daisy was currently laying on a couch on the side of the recording booth, reasonably close to you so you were able to see her cute tired face smooshed up. You knew all this haze was the after-effect of the pills you gave her an hour ago and the lines you snorted off the booth.

You got to work for a little before you felt a hand on your shoulder. You look up and see Daisy, "Can I sit with you?"

You move the chair back and she sits in your lap and you take off your headphones.

"You okay?" you asked, worried she didn't feel good.

"Just wanted to be with you"

You nod and get back to work, you let the music run through the studio so Daisy could hear.

You smile as you feel her breath on your skin, happy with just her here as you play music. You knew Daisy when she felt safe, and this was her.

This wasn't her when she was with Billy when she would pick at everything and was impossible to be with. She has no worries when she's with you and you knew this.

Her arms were wrapped around you and you were rubbing her back with your non-dominant hand, as your dominant hand was working the booth.

"That sounds really good" Daisy whispers to you. If she wasn't sitting on top of you, you wouldn't have heard her.

You smile harder, then lean down to kiss Daisy's head.

It was a few minutes later when you heard the door open quietly. You look over and see Teddy at the door, he smiles at you and dims the lights for Daisy.

Daisy pushes her head further into you and breathes in your scent.

You knew Daisy would rather be here than anywhere else on the world right now, and it comforted you to have her. Daisy knew you grew up alone like her, no siblings and no family, so she understood you and you understood her.

“Are we actually going to stay the night here or are we going home?” Daisy grumbles into your neck and you laugh lightly.

Home, you think.

[nomorespahgetti]

Okay I’ve been so lazy recently with my writing and putting my thoughts into words this month, but I’ve been thinking about Sitting next to Billy after making up from another fight when he notices a hickey. You’d be sitting together with his arm around you in front of the band, and he’d be enjoying himself as he laughs next to you. He’d notice it as he’s playing with your hair and immediately get cheeky, mistaking it as one of his own when it dawns on him that it’s not. He goes from grinning at a joke Graham was making to biting his cheek as he continues to play with the hair around your neck.

He’d be nonverbal the rest of the conversation, playing cool in front of the band. Him being fairly calm about it seems out of character for him but seeing as Eddie would definitely be the one to give it to you, he wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction or anything. I think he’d take it as more of a wake up call that Eddie makes you feel good when he doesn’t. He wouldn’t say anything about it to you, but he’d definitely cover it with his own marks and do his best to make you feel good just for the validation. He wouldn’t stop until you’re telling him much you love him and a bunch of whispered praises in his ear. He definitely stays up for the rest of the night just thinking about it. He doesn’t care who you sleep with so long as your his at the end of the night.

[swiftgreatest]

August | Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

a/n: hii my peoplee!! how are you? this is the eddie roundtree one shot based on taylor song i talking about on one of my last notes, i hope u like. my requets are open!

inspired on taylor swift song August

words: 1.7k

tw: angst, heart breaking, eddie being stupid, it's not revised so grammatical mistakes

You and Eddie are a thing.

You and Eddie are a complicated thing.

Is complicated the right word? You're sure about this, in fact, in relation to Eddie, you never have sure about nothing. A relationship full of false hope and questions. But how do you get here?

Salt air and the rust on your door, I never needed anything more,

Whispers of: Are you sure?

Never have I ever before.

Eddie and you meet for the first time at an infamous party of Daisy on the Chateau Marmont, you know Daisy since her adventures in Strip and she never forgets you. You get a friendship with her, since that time you and her still partying together. After she joined The Six, the parties only increased and you were in all of them.

In one of these parties, Daisy shows you to one of her bandmates. Eddie Roundtree. You know his existence, but never noticed him since that night. What you didn't know is he had noticed you before, he got his eyes on you for a long time and he asked Daisy to introduce you.

On that night you talk the whole night, while the people round on the dance floor, you learn about each other, Eddie tells stories about his life, how he got his first guitar, stories of the band, past loves, his past life in Pittsburgh. And you tell your story too and confess your whole life to him.

Is a new thing for you, you never had opened up with a guy from "Strip" like you had with Eddie. You've a serious rule for "Sunset Strip" guys, you don't get them to come close to you, because you know most of them just want to get in your pants. But Eddie, oh he's different, he sounds different. He's like sapphires in the middle of false diamonds. .

But is he really so different from the others?

But I can see us lost in the memory,

August slipped away into a moment in time,

'Cause it was never mine,

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets,

August sipped away like a bottle of wine,

'Cause you were never mine.

Salt air, the weather was strange, but who cares about it? You and Eddie were together, so who cares? You were twisted in bedsheets, hidden from the world in your bedroom, just you and him. Everything makes sense now, it's all about that, share a bottle of wine, listen to Eddie play new songs to you.

Hiding is the most thing you did together. Hidden in parties, after shows, in your house, every place is a new place to hide. Eddie had a list of places you could stand together and act like a couple. For some reason, he didn't want the people to think that you are a couple. Especially his bandmates. No one in the band knew about you two.

You never questioned him about that, you thinking this is happing because you're not dating, so it's a good reason. It's a good reason? You make questions to yourself everyday about it, but it's Eddie! He's different and you have connection, making memories daily, you knew him, you belong to him and he belongs to you.

Your back beneath the Sun,

Wishing I could write my name on it,

Will you call when you're back at school?,

I remember thinking I had you.

For the first time, Eddie took you for the band house, nobody was there, but it's a good first step, isn't? You're together in the terrace, the sun shines on you and reflect to world, is a good felling in side, be with the person you love and should love you too.

You and Eddie was in your world when listen a voice echoed in the house.

"Hey everybody? Is someone there?" You recognize that voice. Is Camilla Dunne, Eddie's childhood friend. You're enchanted with her, she's so kind, sweet and beautiful and takes care of everyone around her, you fall for her and who wouldn't fall in love with her.

"Go to my bedroom" The bassist said and left you before you could say anything. Since you and Eddie had this "thing", you become too good to hide. In the midway for his bedroom you start thinking better, why Eddie wants to hide you from his friends? They're his family. What's the problem with you?

You heard the talk between them and felt a strong urge to go downstairs and introduce yourself to Camilla. It could be a new step for you and Roundtree, you stood in front of the ladder and went down a few steps. But before you could do something, Eddie shows up on the front of the stairs.

"Go back upstairs, she can't see you"

"Why not?"

Eddie takes a deep sigh "We will talk late" Liar. You know it's a lie, always when you come close to starting a fight he says "late" and it ends.

"No! I want to know right now! Why can't I talk with your friends?"

"What? Hell no! Of course you can talk to my friends, but Camilla is different"

" Why she's different? What's she mean to you?"

"Eddie, you've someone with you?" Camilla said and you can hear her footsteps coming closer.

"You need to come up, we'll talk later" He walked off leaving you on the stairs. It wasn't something new, Eddie leaving you in a pit of hope and disappointment. Hope that you would become something, that you would make plans for the future together, that you would be enough for him.

That day you had your big fight.

Remember when I pulled up and said: Get in the car

And then canceled my plans just in case you'd call?

Back when I was livin' for the hope of it all, for the hope of it all

Meet me behind the mall

"What asswhole! I'll kill that dickhead" Daisy said she's got furious after you tell your story with Roundtree for her.

"Please Daisy, don't make it worse than it is" You had your arms around your body trying to protect yourself from something you didn't know what it was.

Since what happened at The Six's house, you and Eddie have stopped talking to each other, no calls, no meetings, no hiding out at your house. After that fight you haven't spoken to each other. You tried several times, God knows you tried, going to their parties, calling his number. God damn it! You even asked Daisy to take you to one of the shows.

But nothing worked, you met him every time, but he didn't talk to you, in fact he didn't even look at you, it was as if you were nothing to him, as if you had never spoken those beautiful words to each other, exchanged secrets and kisses, it's like you're just a moment in time.

"You can't let him use you like this and just ignore you now, S/n!"

"He didn't use me Daisy! I was there because I wanted it, I wanted him. And I lost him"

"But he can't act like this with you, say nice words and gone, you need to talk with him. I'll fix it" Daisy walked away from you leaving you alone in the living room of her hotel room.

You're tired of fighting for something you aren't sure about anymore, making hopes for something that will never happen. Oh, how did you get here? Lies, dreams, delusions, insecurity coming from words that once made sense. You can't save something that doesn't belong to you.

Back when we were still changing for the better

Wanting was enough

For me, it was enough

To live for the hope of it all

Cancel plans just in case you'd call

And say: Meet me behind the mall,

So much for summer love and saying us

You had forgotten how good Daisy's parties could be since getting involved with the bass player from the Six's, it was something that changed your days for a moment and made you realize how fast life can change.

Falling in love and breaking up was something new for you. Dealing with disappointment and embarrassment was something you needed to learn.

"Why did you tell her? I thought we had fixed it out" Your thoughts were interrupted by Roundtree.

"Fixed what? I don't remember that we had a talk. We don't had nothing"

"That fight means a lot, don't you think so?"

"What I think? You care about what I think? Or is it just another lie?" You took all your courage and aren't coming back now. "Don't lie anymore, I know I didn't mean nothing to you"

"I always cared about you, it was a good time. I really enjoyed being with you."

"But not enough to make us something real, right? He stared at you in silence, you were quiet with your thoughts for a long time but now it would be different. "What are you running from, what are you so afraid of?"

"I know it is late to try to fix it, but I will be honest with you" For the first time in a long time he looks deep into your eyes and you've slips of past memories "There's another person…"

Oh of course it is, someone else, someone better, someone enough for him. It hurts you and for a few minutes you feel down, as if you were sinking in a drilled boat and water was in your lungs.

You get all the courage left inside you and ask "Who?" Eddie didn't answer. He never answered your question, in fact he didn't need to, his eyes following the black-haired woman dancing on the dance floor with her husband the Six's frontman said it all. She was the reason. And how could you never imagine this? The two of them grew up together and God! She was perfect, how could you look at her and not be on your knees for her in the same minute, it's impossible.

And in this moment you realize that you never could lose Eddie, because he never is yours to lose.

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

You weren't mine to lose, oh

———

heyyy everybodyyyy!! how are you today? i hope u ok!! if u like, reblog and like this means a lot to me, my requets is open ❤️

daisy jones & the six masterlist

[cherievol6]

California Dreamin'

summer nights as an up and coming seventies rock band

word count: <1000

warnings: swearing, moustaches

.

"Marco, if you don't stop messing with that needle-"

"I'm not!" Marco screeches in defence from behind his new porn stache, lifting his hands up in a surrendered position when Harry saunters over to his new record player and stands in front of it protectively. You giggle quietly at their behaviour, squinting as you watch the boys squabble from the patio doors. Harry had saved money from his first released record to buy this Technics player, so he was feeling precious about it. He'd only really let you fiddle with it, but you always saw him monitoring you over your shoulder.

Melanie stalks down the rich oak stairs in her new bootleg jeans she found in a small charity shop back home, her worn down guitar in hand and a notebook. She wrote the best songs on her oldest guitar. You'd said to Harry a few years ago that you believed everyone's instrument is supernaturally bound to them in some way. You were both pretty high at time.

"God, Melanie. I miss my jeans so much." You whine.

"As if you're not looking unbelievably sexy on that garden chair over there. Marco, here, come and get the gorgeous pregnant woman a drink, would you?" Melanie replies, leaning to kiss you on the cheek and propping her things on the cream sofas. She snatches her scarf from over the lamp in the living room and ties it around her neck.

"Is this gorgeous pregnant woman in the room with us?- Ow! I'm messing, you miserable old sod." Marco sends you a wink but is quickly reprimanded by a swat to the head by your man, who was intensely inspecting his Bowie vinyl for scratches. You quietly giggle, knowing yours and Marco's relationship was playful and unserious, though you really liked Harry's protectiveness.

"Talk bad about my missus again and I'll rip that monstrosity clean off." Harry points to Marco's moustache before patting his cheek heavily, looking over at you with a glint in his eye. You grin, pretending that didn't make you slightly turned on. You were pregnant, it was hard not to be turned on by anything Harry did. Especially when he was wearing his maroon corduroy trousers and just a tank top, cigarette hanging from his lips and a glass of whiskey in the other. Your hand rests over your bump covered by an airy white summer dress, and Harry looks at you from across the room like you hung every star in the sky.

Marco appears by your side with a cloudy lemonade and you smile, grabbing his hand in a thank you and shifting on your garden chair to feel more comfortable. Harry had rented this place for your stay in Malibu whilst you, him and the rest of the band wrote their new album, but sometimes you secretly wished you could live here forever. Large veranda doors that open wide to let the setting sun in, beautiful oak walls and avocado coloured marble on the kitchen floor. You could sit and write every day here.

"What's on your mind, my pretty lady?" Harry's deep voice is smooth like treacle in your ears. You glance over to where he's situating himself on the other outdoor chair, stubbing out his cigarette now that he's next to you. Opal coloured sunglasses cover his eyes, and his hair remains slightly more grown out than usual. He always looked like this when he wasn't doing shows, kind of rugged, rockstar-ish. You loved it.

"I love this house, so much." You breathe. He grasps your hand and kisses it softly, holding it there as he sighs contentedly, glancing over at the skyline and the sun creeping behind. An orange glow sets over the small house and you smile, observing Marco and Melanie trying to light the old barbecue that must have been at least ten years old. Harry's hand creeps up your leg under your white summer dress, slipping it over his knee so he can run his hand up and down - brushing over your ankles every so often.

"How the fuck do you where these when you're pregnant?" He fiddles with the strap of your brown wedged heels.

"Just 'cause I'm pregnant doesn't mean I can't still dress nicely. You know, I found a column in the paper back home by this young'un called Sophie Clark. She writes little fashion pieces at college. She's dedicated a section to me every week. 'The stylish lead starlet of The Saffron'. I need to keep up appearances." You muse, fiddling with the large thin hoop earrings that Harry had gifted you just the day before.

He leans down and kisses your shin, before travelling his hand to your bump unconsciously. "I know. I read it sometimes when you're away at your writing sessions back home and I can't see you. Need to know what you're wearing so I can picture taking it off you--"

You give him a knowing look, and he closes his mouth immediately with a mischievous look. His hand moves in gentle circles over your stomach and you revel in the feeling. It quite literally could not get any better than this. A warm, summer evening in California, the smell of incense coming from inside the house. The hum of The Mamas and Papas travelling from the turntable speakers.

"We're gonna write some good shit here, guys." You inhale. Harry hums and reaches for his notepad on the ground next to the chair, flipping it open and writing something down pensively.

"You found a muse already?" You try and peek and he laughs, slamming the leather bound book shut and grabbing your hand to plant a kiss.

"Just feeling inspired. Entranced. In love." He murmurs and closes his eyes, "I've got all of my muse right here in my hand."

.

heyyyyy!!! so i've kind of created a new lil universe after watching daisy jones and falling into a hole of 70s obsessions again. lmk if you'd like more little blurbs from these characters. I introduce you to The Saffron. my own little seventies rock band.

[its-vannah]

Along For The Ride | Graham Dunne x Reader

A/N: Y'all need to prepare yourselves, this is as devastating as it gets. Also the CHOKEHOLD this man has over me. I'm posting an alternate version of the same prompt sometime later today, I had two ideas that I just couldn't merge.

Warnings: Groupie lifestyle, angst, implied sex, drug use, alcohol consumption, smoking, OD

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

Warren: Being on the road was fun, and it wasn't just because of the drugs and cheap booze. We had girls from thirty different directions coming at us. That had never happened before.

Eddie: The groupie scene was enjoyable, but I never really got into it. I'd see some of them, but I didn't take it to the level Warren or Graham did. One slept with every girl in a fifty mile radius and the other fell for one he couldn't have.

Warren: We had a few girls go to almost all of our concerts, at least the ones in the states. They couldn't all afford going overseas and we sure as hell weren't going to pay for it. There's no shortage of women who love a guy that can play the guitar, sing, or in my case, play the drums.

Eddie: Graham became infatuated with this one girl, Y/N, while we were touring. It was nice to see him actually get a girl, but he never shut up about it. It was enough to drive you crazy.

Graham: Y/N wasn't just a groupie. Not to me, at least. She was different.

Warren: The thing about groupies is that they only care about one thing: sex. I know from experience. That's not a complaint, by the way.

Graham: Y/N was only seventeen when I met her, and she had ready been through so much. I just wanted to help her.

Eddie: Graham thought he could "fix broken women". He was convinced. None of us had the heart to tell him that some women just don't want to be fixed.

Graham: She'd grown up loving music. In that way, she was just like us. The only difference is that she followed bands around. She got taken advantage of.

Warren: Y/N was a sweet girl. Easy on the eyes, had a fire to her. But she was sad. You could see it. Something wasn't right.

Graham: She sort of just melded right into the band. Started going on tours with us. She'd sit in the backseat with me, laying her head on my chest. It was a good feeling, being with a woman who saw you. Really saw you.

Eddie: Graham was caught up in his feelings for her. He didn't realize how self-destructive she was.

Graham: I found out she was addicted to coke not long after meeting her. She was doing lines in the bathroom while I slept in one of the hotels we were staying at. I begged her to stop, to think it through. I told her I'd be there to help her. She walked out.

Eddie: When I heard she had left, I wasn't surprised. That's what girls like her did. And when Graham told me what happened, I knew why she did.

Graham: I don't think anyone had ever told her they'd help her. It scared her.

Warren: It was quiet without her. Graham wasn't as chatty as he usually was, which was great for Billy, but it made tours boring.

Eddie: Graham started seeing Karen after Y/N left, something we didn't find out until much later. I think he was trying to heal from losing her. Not that he didn't love Karen, he did, but he was so lost. He really wanted to help her.

Graham: I found out she overdosed a few months after she left. I was devestated. The band had already split up, and music couldn't pull me out of that sinking feeling in my chest anymore.

Warren: I don't think he ever really got over her. Even now, she's in the back of his mind.

Graham: I started a foundation to help women struggling with addiction. We get them in counseling, room and board until they get a job that can support them, teach them life skills they may not have been taught when they were younger. It's all to prepare them for adulthood, even if theyre already in it.

Billy: One thing about Graham is that he's got a heart of gold. A part of me always knew it, but I never really acknowledged it. I'm proud of him, being able to turn something that overtook his mind into something that can help other women.

Graham: I don't want another girl's life lost to overdose or addiction. I don't think I could handle seeing it happen again. The band will always be an important part of my life, but I think the foundation is where my heart is.