#daisy jones fanfiction

[madneedshelp]

See Me - Eddie Roundtree x FReader

Summary: You had spent your whole life trying to prove yourself, to be seen. Living in the shadows of your brothers was exhausting, but you fought to make a name for yourself. So, how could not fall for the only person who saw you no matter what?

You had always been Billy and Graham’s little sister to everyone. It didn’t even make sense because you and Graham were twins, but you were still always considered to just be somebody’s something. You were never known as just you.

When you were a kid, you were mildly annoyed by your afterthought status, but you expected the feeling to fade with age. It didn’t. It was only made worse when The Dunne Brothers formed.

Did Billy and Graham ever ask their own sister if she wanted to join the band? Of course not. You didn’t play any instruments, but you had talked about wanting to learn before. It kind of hurt how little attention they paid to you.

Instead of let it drive you crazy, you decided to use it. You were going to make them see you, and then maybe it would feel like they gave a shit. You were even lucky enough to have the perfect opportunity open up.

You could tell Chuck was flaking. He wasn’t serious about the band like the others. So, you took up bass guitar in secret. You were earning your spot in the band once he left, because you could very obviously tell he was leaving.

Sure enough, right before the band was leaving for LA, Chuck told them he was done. You walked out in the driveway to find the remaining band members looking absolutely pissed. 

“What’s going on?” You put a hand on Graham’s shoulder to catch his attention. 

Billy beat him to an answer. “Chuck quit. Now we’re out a bass player.” 

“The fuck are we going to do, man?” Graham looked over at him. 

“I don’t know, Eddie can switch to bass for us.” Billy spat out.

You glanced over in time to see a flash of anger in Eddie’s eyes. He didn’t want that, and frankly, neither did you.

It was now or never. “Let me do it.” 

“You play, little Dunne?” Warren asked. 

“Yes,” You assured him at the same time Billy and Graham let out a sure “no”. 

Your brothers turned to you in surprise the second the words left your mouth. 

“Since when do you play?” Graham gave you a suspicious look.

“Long enough to be better than Chuck.” You folded your arms and looked between him and Billy sternly. “Will you give me a chance to prove it?”

Everyone turned to Billy as he turned to you.

“Fine, yeah, let’s hear what you got.” 

You played one song for them and the vote to let you in was unanimous. 

————————

There was nothing quite as exciting as the feeling when you all arrived in LA. The night after you arrived, you all partied hard. Sure, you all didn’t know what you were doing or how you were going to make it, but you took a huge leap and that called for celebration in your eyes.

“Hey, I never got to thank you.” Eddie handed you a beer as he took the seat next to yours.

You thanked him and took a swig. “Thanked me for what?” 

“You saved my ass before we left. I like where I am, I never wanted to be a bass player. Besides, you’re way better at it than I am. You could kick anyone’s ass at bass.” 

You chuckled at him. “Well, I don’t know about that.”

“No, I’m serious. We should’ve kicked Chuck out when he started skipping practices ages ago.” 

A genuine smile grew on your face. No one has ever complimented you this much before. Especially not someone you barely knew. Eddie hung out with Graham, the most you’d really talked was small conversations in passing.

“Thanks, Eddie. I really appreciate that.” 

He gave you a smile in return and you felt a flutter, an honest-to-God, romance movie flutter. That was not good. You couldn’t fall for someone in the band, things would blow up if it didn’t work out. 

You excused yourself and went to find Camila. She might’ve been Billy’s girlfriend, but she had quickly become your best friend. 

“Hey Cam, come get another drink with me?” You put a hand on her arm.

She turned to you and nodded. “Yeah, sure.” You led her back inside and went immediately to the fridge. “More beer or should we open a bottle of wine? Fair warning, it’s super cheap and super shitty, but it’ll do the trick.”

“How about you tell me what happened with Eddie out there first?” She gave you a sly look.

You closed the fridge and whirled around. “What? Nothing happened!”

“Oh there was definitely a moment. I saw some looks over there.” She poked you. 

“He was just being nice about me joining the band. That’s it. Nothing more.” You held up your hands defensively. 

“Why not? Eddie’s a good guy.”

“I just got in the band, I’m not complicating things with that. Besides, we’ve barely ever talked before. I don’t even think you could call us friends yet. The most important thing right now is figuring out how to actually get famous out here.” 

Camila considered your words for a second and shrugged. “I guess you have a point there. And I wouldn’t worry about you all making it, I have faith in this.” She looped an arm through yours. “Now, let’s go get drunk off our asses on this cheap wine.”

————————

After that night, you found yourself acutely aware of everything Eddie did and it frustrated you to no end. Every time he glanced at you in practice, every compliment he gave you, every little gesture he did. The last thing you wanted to do was develop feelings for Eddie, but it looked like it was maybe too late for that.

Y/N: To make matters worse, Camila had definitely not done what I asked and liked to play the subtle matchmaker. She thought I didn’t notice, but she was pretty obvious about it. 

Camila: So maybe I tried to get them together, is that so bad? Y/N was skeptical, but I knew it wouldn’t blow up like she thought. Besides, I’ve known them almost my entire life, and they deserve to be happy. 

“Hey, would you mind grabbing some ice from the kitchen?” Camila called out as she arranged some plates of food on the table. 

It was Julia’s first birthday, and you and Cam decided to plan a little gathering for it. Just the band was there, it wasn’t anything huge. 

“Yeah, of course.” You dusted off your hands as you finished setting up a folding table. 

“Great! Eddie, go help her.” 

You didn’t even have time to shoot Camila a glare before he nodded and started toward you. Instead you mouthed not funny at her as soon as Eddie couldn’t see. She gave you a smug grin and mouthed you’re welcome. 

You followed Eddie into the kitchen, nervousness faintly tingling in your veins. This man had entirely too much power over you. You had tried everything to get him off your mind, and it would work for a little, but then he would tell you he liked that little riff you threw into that song or he’d bring you your favorite drink after you and Billy had an argument over some stupid thing at the studio and you would turn all mushy again. You had come to realize that he understood what it felt like to be overlooked and maybe that was why you felt a weird connection with him. 

“You seen the cooler?” Eddie asked, bringing your attention back to the moment. 

You glanced around. “Yeah, it’s up there on top of the fridge. One second.”

As you stood on your tiptoes to reach for the cooler, you were realizing that you weren’t going to be able to reach it. Then you felt the ghost of warmth behind you. 

“Here, I can help with that.” Eddie’s smooth voice murmured above you. 

Instantly, you felt your face flame. God, you hadn’t behaved like this since you were thirteen. It was more than a little embarrassing and you sure as hell weren’t about to let him see you like that. As soon as Eddie snatched the cooler and stepped away, you put distance between the two of you. 

“I’m going to go see if Cam needs any more help, you got this from here?” You blurted as you made for the back door. 

“Wait!” Eddie grabbed your wrist gently. You flinched out of surprise, but he immediately dropped your hand. “Sorry, sorry, I just wanted to talk.”

“No, it’s fine, uh, what’s up?” You put on an entirely forced smile. 

Eddie folded his arms and gave you an earnest look. “Did I do something?”

“No,” your brows furrowed. “Why?”

“You avoid me all the time. I don’t know if I pissed you off at some point, but you act like I’ve got the fucking plague or like you want nothing to do with me.”

It stung a little bit. He seemed genuinely hurt, and you never wanted to do that. “No! It’s not you, Eddie. You haven’t done anything wrong, I swear.”

“Then what’s wrong? It’s bad enough being in a band with one Dunne that can’t stand me, I don’t know if I can handle two Dunnes acting like that.” Eddie threw his hands up in frustration. 

You closed your eyes and sighed. “Eddie, I promise I don’t have a problem with you.”

He took a step closer to you. “Then why do you act like you do?”

His tone was becoming more and more irritated, and the insistence was starting to annoy you too. He was going to make you say it, wasn’t he? But honestly, maybe you should’ve just told him. It had been well over a year of pining. If continuing to act like this was going to cause a fight, maybe it would be less chaotic to tell him and see what happens. Things couldn’t keep going the way they were, regardless. 

“You really want to know why?” 

He nodded. “Please.”

You took a breath and looked him directly in the eyes. “I like you, okay? And I don’t want to like you because liking people in your band doesn’t usually work out well, but it’s been too fucking long and I can’t stop feeling like this so I avoid you.”

Eddie let out a dark chuckle. “That’s it? You’ve been ignoring me all this time because you like me?”

“Yeah, I have. And don’t act like that’s so wild. My reasons make sense. It’s not stupid.” You practically spat the words. 

There were lots of ways you had envisioned this possibly going, but you never thought he’d be this angry. You didn’t think he’d be angry at all. Awkward maybe, but not pissed. 

“It is stupid, actually.” 

Your head snapped toward him. “I’m sorry, what?”

Eddie stepped closer again. “I said that’s actually pretty fucking stupid.”

“Eddie, I swear to God, if you-”

Eddie crashed his lips against yours before you could say another word. Your shock wore off after a moment and you were able to kiss him back like you’d wanted to for so long. The two of you broke apart after what felt like a small eternity, panting and grinning.

“Graham owes me $20.” Warren chuckled from the doorway. 

Both of you jumped apart and were met with Warren’s pleased face. 

“How long have been there, Warren?” You stammered.

“Long enough, Little Dunne. Long enough.” 

You pointed a finger at him. “Keep it to yourself, or you lose nickname privileges.”

“We already know!” A voice called from outside. Karen. 

You rolled your eyes. You kind of hated your friends sometimes, but you also kind of loved the infuriating little shits. 

“Whatever, let’s just get the ice back out there.” You shook your head with a laugh.

Eddie grabbed the cooler with one hand and your hand with the other, and you had to admit, you felt way less scared of the possibility of dating a bandmate. 

————————

Y/N and Eddie Roundtree got married a year after Daisy Jones and The Six broke up. They currently work together producing music and are still located in LA. Their daughter and son already have a huge love of music, and are rumored to be starting a band of their own.

[birdiewriteslit]

“morning after”

eddie roundtree x fem!reader

part 2 to “driving me crazy”

little drabble but still fun

request by: @beckinator7

When you entered the kitchen that morning, Karen was already having breakfast at the table. You opened the fridge and ran a tired hand over your face while deciding what to eat.

She eyed your attire suspiciously. Boxers and a large t-shirt. “Sleep well?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, taking a loaf of bread from the fridge and sticking two slices in the toaster.

Of course, Karen knew what happened the night before, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with it. “So, whose clothes are those?”

“Mine,” you lied, keeping your back faced to her so she couldn’t see your face.

“You like Bay City Rollers and wearing men’s boxers?”

The toast popped out and you grabbed it hastily. “Jeez, that’s hot,” you said, purposely ignoring the question.

“You know, I have a distinct memory of you saying you hate Bay City Rollers. Funny thing about that, I also remember Eddie wearing that shirt while you yelled at him about it.”

“Well, maybe his laundry got mixed with mine in the wash.” You didn’t look at her, focused on buttering your toast.

She took a bite of her muffin. “Either that or you’re screwing him.”

You set the knife down and stared at her. “Jesus, Karen. We are at the breakfast table.”

She shrugged. “I think it’s important for us women to be open and comfortable with our sexualities.”

“I’m. . .comfortable. In other settings.” You took a nervous bite of toast.

“I also think it’s important to acknowledge that you didn’t deny that you’re screwing him.” She hid her laugh behind her coffee mug as you grimaced.

Eddie walked in just in time and stood behind Karen’s chair. “You’re screwing someone and I didn’t know?” His mouth curved into a teasing cheshire grin that only you could see.

He circled the table and brushed your shoulders with his hands as he slid behind your chair. An awkward silence overtook the room. Karen pressed her hand to her mouth to stop herself from laughing. You gestured for her to cut it out, but her body continued to shake with silent laughter.

Eddie looked over his shoulder from the pantry with one eyebrow raised. “You girls don’t have to stop talking now that I’m here.”

That was the breaking point. Karen bursted out in a hysterical fit of laughter while you covered your face with your hands, shaking your head in embarrassment.

Eddie stifled his laugh while pouring himself a bowl of cereal. He sat in the chair next to you. You peeked through your fingers and caught the proud look on his face. He thought this was so funny.

“Good morning, ladies,” Warren said cheerily as he strode into the room, Graham following close behind.

Graham nudged Eddie as he walked past him. “Fun night?” He smirked at him while pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, actually,” he replied, glancing at you with a sly smile.

Your face was feeling wildly hot with more people in the room commenting on your sex life. If there’s one thing you learned from this, it was to be quiet next time, or never do it in this house.

It didn’t help that Eddie wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed about this. He was cocky, really. When he looked at you, his smile suggested that you were doing something secret when, in reality, everyone was aware.

“Woah, Y/n. What’s that big ugly thing on your neck?” Warren said, sitting on your other side.

Your head jerked up in alarm. “What?”

Graham craned his neck to get a better look. “Actually, it looks like there’s more than one.” He snickered. Karen snorted and covered her mouth immediately.

“That’s real interesting, Y/n,” Warren said, feigning innocence. “Maybe you should get that checked out.” His laugh broke out mid sentence and caused a chain reaction of laughter from Graham and Karen.

Your face was hot to the touch. Eddie was laughing under his breath. “Would you stop? I’m gonna kill all of you.”

“Pretty sure you’ve said that to me before.” Eddie attempted to suppress his laugh while looking at you. “And obviously that didn’t happen.”

Karen slapped a hand on the table, full on cackling. You smacked Eddie’s shoulder and cursed at him. “I actually hate you.”

Warren was doing a mix of laughing and coughing. “Bet that’s not what you said last night.”

You gaped at him. “Oh, my God, Warren. There’s something wrong with you.”

“Y/n and Eddie sitting in a tree,” Graham sang.

“Shut up!” You pressed your head into your hands again, desperately trying to ignore the unanimous laughter throughout the room.

[burnthoneydrops]

Luckiest Man on the Planet (g.d. x fem!reader)

pairing: graham dunne x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k (whoops, had fun with this one haha)

warnings: talk of having children, use of "she/her" pronouns, Billy (if he counts as his own warning)

a/n: I miss when djats was popular on here so I decided to hopefully help the revival by adding the to the graham fic collection! hope everyone enjoys, this one's just cute. also REQUESTS ARE OPEN

You wanted-no needed- this moment to be perfect. You were not going to be happy if the money you had spent on plane tickets was going towards a ruined surprise, so you absolutely needed this to be perfect. It felt weird complaining about your long distance relationship when it wasn’t long distance all of the time and you knew other couples had it worse, but you’d be damned if your heart didn’t sink a little every time you thought about how far away Graham was, and would continue to be, for the next few months. That distance wouldn’t last forever though, thank the universe, as the people at the gate’s front desk were announcing that your flight to New York would start boarding shortly. 

“Ok, they’re about to start boarding, but I’ll call you when I land ok?” You hugged the phone to your ear, peering over your shoulder to make sure you weren’t missing anything and twisting the spiral cord with your finger. 

“Yeah, sounds good. I told Rod that we’d need an extra car to be sent to the airport so you won’t need a cab or anything,” Eddie replied through the phone. 

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that,” you laughed, flattered by the effort. 

“Oh yes I did. I-We’re not having you come all the way out here just to get stuck in New York traffic”. 

“Anything that gets me to Graham faster. And you guys of course,” you quickly added before saying your goodbyes, noticing the boarding line was getting smaller. 

The plane was incredibly boring, and the baby two rows behind you did not shut up the entire time, but you realised you managed to make that about Graham too, wondering how you two would handle it differently if it was your child screaming in a crowded plane. Luckily you had brought a book with you to zone in on, but nothing holds more power than the lungs of an upset child. You couldn’t stop your knee from bouncing, meaning you accidentally bumped too hard and kicked the seat of the person in front of you, earning some not so polite stares from the elderly man who sat there. Relief flooded over you when you heard the pilot announce that you would soon be landing, so much so that you kicked the seat once again, gaining another dirty look. 

As you stood up to exit your row, you looked across the plane, making eye contact with the previously screaming child. The little girl stopped wriggling around in her mother’s arms, staring at nothing but you as you gave her a little wave with the hand not holding your carry on. You smiled before the man behind you got impatient and cleared his throat as an indication that he wanted to move forward, so you only widened your smile with one last wave before hearing the baby laugh as you left the area. You and Graham hadn’t even had the talk about whether you wanted kids, not to mention how you would raise them or what kind of life they would lead. You had no doubt he would be a great father, but with the band already raising Julia, you figured you could push that thought out of your head for a little longer. 

When you were able to escape the gaggle of people who were standing in the boarding area you had just entered, you visually located the nearest phone, putting your backpack and suitcase aside to call Eddie. You glanced at the hotel’s phone number you had scribbled on the back of your boarding pass when you called from L.A., and started tapping your foot once again as the phone rang aggressively in your ear. 

“Hey, you made it,” you sighed in relief when Eddie answered the phone. 

“The most boring cross country flight of my life, but yes I made it,” you chuckled. 

“The only cross country flight of your life if I’m not mistaken. You rode in the van with us from Pittsburg, remember?” 

“How could I forget the bumpy roads and almost running out of gas in the middle of nowhere Missouri?” 

“But it was more enjoyable than what you just went through?” 

“Well yeah. Anytime with you is more enjoyable than by myself,” you glanced out the window at the line of planes waiting to take off as there’s an awkward pause on the line. “I mean, the band makes everything more fun,” you continued, hoping the conversation hadn’t died. 

“Right, yeah for sure,” Eddie came back to life, informing you soon after that there’d be a taxi driver waiting for you. He shouldn’t be hard to spot, you had been promised, and with how much you just wanted to run into Graham’s arms right now, you hoped for everyone’s sake that that was true. The taxi driver was easy enough to spot, holding a white sign with your name scribbled on it and an uncomfortable look on his face in the crowded area. He reached out his arm to you, which made you chuckle in response before shaking his hand, trying to keep your backpack atop your shoulder. 

“Your bag, miss,” he gestured to the suitcase you currently were wheeling behind you, and you realised that he really didn’t want to shake your hand and now his sweaty palm was awkwardly entangled in yours. You quickly let go before clearing your throat in embarrassment and handing him your bag, after which he quickly made his way to the exit doors so you two could finish this journey as quickly as possible. You used the time in the taxi to take in all the sites of New York. You had been as a kid, but it felt different now, like there was something new in the air. The hotel crept into view as the traffic was touch and go, but soon enough you were informing the lady working the front desk that you had a reservation and picked up a spare key to Graham’s room. You and Eddie agreed that you could use the time the band would be soundchecking at the venue to settle into Graham’s room for after the surprise, and you had thanked him again profusely when you heard Billy yelling down the hallway that they were all going to be late. Billy’s yelling was not something you missed while they were on tour, but if it came as a side effect of being in Graham’s arms again, you would listen to it again and again. 

The buzz in the venue was palpable when you walked in through the side entrance, trying to keep yourself hidden as much as possible given your mission. The bar at the back of the venue seemed like a great place to hide, and you kept yourself occupied by browsing the alcohol choices and chatting with the bartender until you heard three familiar voices making their way over. Warren, Eddie and Graham had decided to come up to the bar and you quickly ducked down under the bar, hoping the bartender wouldn’t expose you while they were there. You kept your back against the main island, facing the wall of bottles and mirrors, just being able to see the top of the familiar head of curls from your angle. The thin bottles distorted him a little bit, but your heart swelled at the sight of Graham just as it did every other time. 

“Tonight’s gonna be great man,” Warren commented, the bartender sliding a glass over to him. 

“Yeah, the fans aren’t even outside yet and the energy is killer,” Eddie replied, and you thought of the line of people you had passed out front on your way around the building. Thankfully no one had recognized you, and it only filled you with pride to see everyone who was there to support them. 

“Yeah,” Graham nodded, sounding more sullen than usual. 

“Come on man, lighten up. You’ve been acting weird since we got in the van this morning,” Warren nudged him, and you heard a leg kick the supporting wall of the island. 

“He’s just upset that his usual good luck call didn’t go through,” Eddie added. 

Graham got in the habit of calling you before every show as a nervous tendency, as the sound of your voice usually calmed him down better than whatever cheesy peptalk Billy wanted to give. 

Warren whistled when Graham didn’t reply, and you figured he made a face of some kind, exposing that Eddie was right. “Man, she has got you hooked, lined and sinkered”. 

“And what if she does? She always answers, so I feel out of sorts I guess. When you guys find people to love, you’ll understand,” Graham replied, trying to keep it light hearted at the end. 

“Hey, that was personal”. 

“Woah dude, what was that for?” He had set the boys in a defensive spiral. 

“We get it, you think she’s the one or whatever,” Warren teased. 

Your cheeks heated up, and it took all of you to stay in your crouched position, hoping nothing was going to squeak or hiss and give you away. The boys finally decided to walk away when Karen called them, saying they had to clear out before they opened the doors. You let out a loud sigh of relief when the bartender gave you a thumbs up to say they were gone, as being able to move your legs from their cramped position was a god send. 

“That kid seems to really love you,” the bartender commented as he gave you his hand to help you up. 

“Yeah well, I really love him too,” you said, not looking at him but at the stage where your boyfriend and his band would soon be standing. 

As the crowd shuffled in, you tried to stay relatively in the middle, hoping that whatever part of the stage Graham stood on he would be able to see you eventually. There was a hushed sensation in the crowd as people chatted and got drinks, but as the lights dimmed, the excitement grew, and a few people started whooping and cheering prematurely. Pretty soon the band was running on stage to an enormous eruption of applause, and the smile on each of their faces made you smile even bigger. From Chuck’s garage in Pittsburg to selling out venues across the country, you could not be more proud of the people in front of you, and you hoped all your efforts today proved that. 

“Well hello there everybody,” the familiar redhead greeted the audience, gaining even more shouts and cheers of joy from the people in front of her. “We’ve got a very special performance for you tonight, so we hope you’re ready to rock just as much as we are. How’s everybody feeling tonight?!” She yelled into the microphone as people clapped and hollered back. “Alright well, let’s see what you’ve got!” She smiled as Warren counted everybody off from his spot on the back of the stage and it was like the gates were opened at the Kentucky Derby. The energy radiating off of the band members and the audience was infectious, but you had your sights set on one person. Graham always did look his happiest on stage, getting to do what he loved with people he loved, and you were always excited when you got to witness that pure, unbridled joy on his face. 

A few songs in, you noticed Karen scanning the crowd, and as she landed on your section, you gave her a small wave. Your hopes that she noticed you were answered as a large smile broke out on her face, glancing back at the keyboard in shock before looking back to make sure it was really you. You laughed and gave her a big thumbs up in confirmation, and she was quick to call Billy’s name, nodding her head in your direction. The second band member to notice you, Billy’s eyebrows went up in shock when he spotted you, a smirk and an eye roll being his secondary reaction before he turned back to the microphone. After you had confirmation that at least half of the stage knew you were there, you kept your attention on the other half, staring at Graham as he shredded the guitar. A light sheen of sweat had gathered on his forehead, and as he wiped his curls back with his sleeve, Billy took a few steps back to get his attention. You saw him whisper something in Graham’s ear before his eyes went manic, scanning the audience with intense feverency.

Once his eyes landed on yours, everything stopped. The people around you seemed to be dancing in slow motion, and the music sounded like blurred-together lines of nothing as you saw the biggest smile form on your boyfriend’s face. Everything might have stopped a little too abruptly, as you saw Daisy look back at him in confusion when there was suddenly no guitar part being played. He shook his head and started playing again, quickly making eye contact with you again; a state he would remain in the entire show. 

When the show was over, security scurried over to you as people filed out, informing you that you were to be taken backstage. You got a few odd looks from a couple of girls who had been standing around you during this invitation, but all you cared about was that the moment you had been waiting for was finally here. You followed behind them until you could see the group of familiar people chatting and packing up their equipment. Graham had his back turned to the door, but Eddie had spotted you first, shoving Graham’s shoulder and pointing to the door. It was then that you couldn’t contain your excitement anymore and you brushed past the security guards, breaking into a full sprint as Graham waited with open arms. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you jumped to wrap your legs around his, his grip tightening with every second as if you’d disappear when he’d let go. He laughed as he leaned his forehead on yours, the shock from your appearance having not quite worn off yet. 

“Oh my god I can’t believe you’re here,” he mutters, leaning his neck further back to actually see your whole face. 

“You didn’t think I’d miss seeing my favourite guitarist did you?” 

“I thought that was me?” Eddie teased from his spot against the wall, which earned him a slap on the bicep from Karen and a strict instruction to shut up. 

“How did you even? What? How are you-?” 

“Eddie and I arranged it all. I missed you too much to be stuck in L.A. all by myself”. 

“Oh my god, I’m so in love with you it’s not even funny,” Graham let out a breathy laugh and your heart almost stopped. Even though you two had been dating for a while, you had said that you wanted to take things slow, given that your last relationship didn’t end so well. This meant that even though you and Graham were both in agreement that you loved each other, this agreement had been almost exclusively nonverbal. Neither of you had said anything yet, partially in fear that you’d take things too quickly and someone would feel pressure (at least that’s what you felt when your ex wanted to take things at what felt like a million miles an hour). So, in an effort to keep things calm and relaxed, neither of you had said anything close to the L word, and this moment took you by surprise. 

Silence fell between the two of you, as Graham was waiting for you to say something and you were frozen. As if just realising what he said, Graham’s face fell into one of panic as he gingerly placed you down on the ground. “Oh no, I didn’t mean-. Please don’t take that to mean you have to say anything back I just-” 

“Graham?” You stopped him rambling as you saw Karen and Daisy corralling the boys out of the room. 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you,” you said without looking at him, mostly because you were scared he would bolt the other direction and you would fly back to L.A. in tears. 

You felt two fingers gently grab your chin, and Graham tilted your head up to look at him. “You sure? Cause I don’t want you to say it just because I said something”. 

You nodded, “I’m sure”. 

He smiled and let out another airy chuckle as he leaned down, grabbing both sides of your face before capturing your lips with his. The electricity between you started buzzing as it always did in moments like these, and he was quick to tap his fingers on your lower back, signalling you to jump up and wrap around him like you had previously. The two of you laughed in between kisses until you heard a gagging sound from down the hall. 

“Get a room!” Eddie yelled. 

“Where do you think we’re going?” Graham yelled back, causing you to laugh in embarrassment and bury your head in his shoulder. 

“I love you Graham,” you commented, though muffled from his shirt fabric. 

“What was that?” He teased. You knew damn well he heard you the first time. 

“I love you,” you said a bit louder, still in his shirt. 

“I’m sorry, one more time. I couldn’t hear you”. 

“God damn it Graham, I love you,” you finally lifted your head and said it while looking directly in his eyes. 

“I love you too, I just wanted to hear you say it again,” he laughed. “I’m the luckiest man on the planet!” He yelled for everyone to hear, gaining groans and yells of embarrassment and annoyance from his bandmates. Not that he cared though, he was just telling the truth.

[bi-bard]

You'll Always Be a Flower on my Skin and the Pain that I Am In - Daisy Jones Imagine [Daisy Jones & the Six]

Title: You'll Always Be a Flower on my Skin and the Pain that I Am In

Pairing: Daisy Jones X Reader

Based On: Your Needs, My Needs

Word Count: 1,812 words

Warning(s): LOOK HERE! addiction, unhealthy relationship, overdose, mention of sexual assault

Summary: (Y/n) and Daisy are two broken people that had learned to rely on each other. However, at what point does support become reliance? When does helping become enabling? What do you do when the person that probably saved you becomes the very reason that you haven't been able to save yourself?

Author's Note: THIS IS IMPORTANT! This is a story that I've been wanting to tell for a while, not specifically about this character, but in general. I've hesitated for a very long time out of fear of a variety of things. It is a heavy story and if you have any history with addiction (yourself or your friends/family/etc.), then I would advise that you skip this one. Thank you.

STICK SEASON (WE'll ALL BE HERE FOREVER) WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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When I first met Daisy, we were in the crowd at the same concert.

We were both young and stupid kids trying to escape whatever was waiting for us outside of the venue that night.

I felt as if we stuck to each other. Two eyes always meant to lock. Meant to dance together, sing together. No matter what had happened before each of us walked into that room and what happened once we left, we were always meant to be stuck together.

We continued to grow through those concerts. We'd meet outside and find a way to sneak inside. We saw every show that we could get into.

Daisy was better at that than I was. She always had a charm about her. I would happily run in right behind her. Mostly because she usually had my hand clasped in hers anyway.

Being with Daisy was the first time that I felt truly accepted. I thought it had been the music and the crowds around me, but it was all her. She was this beacon of light for me. A lighthouse. I wasn't scared around her. I was more energetic. I was happier. For the time in my life, I had someone that I could truly find joy with.

We saw each other laugh and cry and go through these different moments and phases. I still remember when she told me her new name... her proper name. Daisy Jones.

I knew why she changed it, but she never talked about it. Neither one of us did. Our friendship was an escape from the shitty parts of the world, not a reminder.

And so, we continued. We continued going to shows and meeting these interesting people.

We were both in our late teens when Daisy came running up to me with a smile and a drink in her hand. We were at some party for some band that was admittedly shit.

She wrapped her arm around me as she excitedly yelled my name.

"Hi," I chuckled at her behavior.

"Try this," she held her cup out to me.

"Why," I asked.

"Because it's great," she explained simply.

"Are you..." I leaned forward, acting as if anyone here would truly care. "Are you drunk?"

"What? Nooo!" she shook her head. "Now, try this, please!"

That night, we both ended up stumbling onto my family's back patio. We laid on the wood and stared up at the sky. It was a new kind of escape for both of us. A true disconnect from all of the weight and fear and stress.

It was exactly what we needed.

"I wanna be a star," Daisy said quietly after a while.

I turned my head to her. "You will be."

She looked at me. "I know."

I chuckled.

"I'll bring you along with me," she promised. "Wherever I go, you go. Recording and performing. You can be backstage for every performance. All while you write that fancy book of yours."

"I'll write my book on you," I replied. "You'll be the main character. The star of the show. Just like you already are."

"I like the sound of that," she muttered. She reached over and grabbed my hand. "We are gonna do some great things, (Y/n) (Y/l/n)."

"Yes, we are, Daisy Jones."

We kept going. Going and going.

Drinking turned into experimenting with drugs that Daisy would score from some guy that she knew.

And no matter how out of control we ever got, we were doing great work. We were finding stories and words and sentences that neither one of us ever knew we were looking for.

It was perfect.

She kept her promise.

I was dragged to every party. Every concert she ever attended. I met everyone that she did. We became known as a duo. A reputation. We had a reputation. It was funny to think about even then.

I was there when we realized that her lyrics had been stolen. That guy was an absolute prick, by the way.

I was there when she performed at Simone Jackson's show.

I remember trying to talk her into taking Teddy Price's offer. She refused. She hated the idea of being put in some small box.

I got dragged to the studio when she recorded her first song with the Dunne Brothers.

I was there when they become Daisy Jones & the Six.

We were parts of every single major life event. We witnessed our personal histories. I knew her story like the back of my hand. She could probably recite mine in an album; a song dedicated to the

And I thought that it was a good thing. Daisy did too.

I didn't think about the true nature of our friendship before Daisy ran off before she ran off and got married before the tour started.

It was like being forced to look at old pictures of yourself. You could see the wrinkles that you didn't notice developing over the slow course of time. You could see the dramatic change in height. You could see how your face changed and sharpened.

I was suddenly forced to see how time had changed us. We still fit, but we were deteriorating. Crumbling. All that was truly holding either one of us together was the drinking and the drugs. And we both wanted to claim that it was art.

I continued claiming that it was all due to the art.

Through all of the tour dates and the messes. The fights and the yelling. God, it got so loud with both Daisy and Billy there.

And then, Daisy almost overdosed.

That was when it felt like everything suddenly stopped.

Nicky- Daisy's husband- had run for it. Billy found me in the bathroom trying to help her as I hyperventilated and shook and cried. He took her from me. I curled up against a different wall, just watching silently.

And I realized that I couldn't do it anymore.

I wasn't even thinking about getting myself treated. I didn't think that I could get better. But Daisy... she could do amazing things. I couldn't watch her fall apart anymore.

I packed the next day.

She didn't notice me packing my bags while she was ranting and pacing my room. She was still so angry and upset about Nicky. I understood that. I would have been pissed.

I was only scared of what happened when that anger was aimed at me.

"What are you doing," she finally asked.

"I... I'm leaving," I admitted, staring down at the bag.

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I need to."

She scoffed. "Does this really seem like the best time to do this?"

"Yes."

"I just almost fucking died-"

"That's why I have to do this now!"

I finally turned to look at her. We stood in complete silence for the longest time. Just staring at each other.

The worst part was that she was amazing. She was everything that I wanted to be. Confident and clever and funny and just... everything. But I could see that if I continued to see her that way, then I would never be able to help her.

"You're just gonna fucking abandon me?" she muttered. "After everything we've been through? All these years? All because I screwed up?"

"Daisy, we are both screwed up people," I corrected. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes as my voice started shaking. "Neither one of us is fucking healthy. For ourselves or for each other. And I know that you could be amazing. You can be so much better. But if I stay, then I will always be in the way of what you could become. You will never get better with me around."

"You don't know that-"

"But I do. I really do. I have watched both of us try to get better and be better and it has never worked. I am a weight on your back, Daisy. I am a constant reminder... I would always pull you back and we both know that. And I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to realize it. I'm sorry-"

"Stop acting like this is an act of fucking kindness!" she snapped at me. "You are selfish! You are running from the mess! What is it really? Tell me! Is it because of what I'm doing while you can't get a fucking word published? Is that it? Some weird, pent-up jealousy?"

"Daisy, no," I shook my head. "If I stay, then we will both continue on this fucking path. There are two ways that ends: we despise each other or one of us fucking dies!"

Her jaw clenched.

I felt sick to my stomach.

"Well, you don't have to wait," she forced a smirk. One of those angry smirks that would rest on her face to hide her anger or sadness. She had never pointed that smirk at me. "I already fucking despise you, so you can fucking go whenever your bags are packed. Have a nice life!"

She stormed out a few moments later. I flinched a bit as the door slammed shut behind her.

I put a hand over my mouth as I finally broke down sobbing.

I sat down next to my bag for a moment.

The weight of the moment sat on my shoulders and held me there.

I lost the one most constant thing in my life. I lost the person that I found the most joy with.

And it was my fault.

--

"What happened after you left?"

I blinked a few times and looked at Julia- the young woman that was interviewing me. She was Camila's daughter.

I hadn't kept much contact with everyone around the band, but Camila had tried. She sent me a letter after my book had been published. It felt wrong to reject her daughter's request.

"I... I went home," I replied. "To my parents' place. They helped me find treatment and get back on my feet. After that, I got my book published. I kind of just... forced myself to keep going."

"You never reached out to Daisy?"

"It felt like too much of a risk. And I never thought that she'd want to hear from me."

"Oh," she murmured.

"I always wanted to," I explained. "I did. I just... I couldn't."

She nodded, pausing for a moment before speaking up, "If it's any comfort at all... Daisy's the one that asked me to talk to you."

"Really?"

Julia nodded again, a grin spreading on her face. "She wanted me to mention how much she loved your books."

"Oh," I felt a smile pulling at my lips at the idea.

"I don't think she despises you as much as she used to."

I looked down at my lap for a moment. "I hope so."

If that were the case, it made everything feel like it was much more worth it.

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Author's Note: I cried while writing the last half of this. Just in case y'all were wondering about the toll that this story took on me.

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[mindofharry]

i love graham dunne . i need to write for him . right now !!! send in some requests!!!!!! smuttier the better :)

[sapphic-sasquatch]

Daisy Jones and The Six masterlist

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[billydunneapologist]

girlhood is starting and ending the day reading fanfics ab ur fictional crushes. i swear it’s apart of my routine now.

[kimpossibly]

THE CHAIN -> e. roundtree PART ONE: drummers' curse

PAIRING: eddie roundtree x fem!reader WARNINGS: mentions of minor injuries (NOTE: some warnings for this story include MAJOR spoilers for this series down the line, so I'll put those beneath the cut. If you don't want to get the story spoiled, then just ignore it ― but I did want to provide the chance for you to get an idea of how the story will go later down the line if you have any sensitive topics you'd like to avoid. please prioritize your mental wellbeing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies in advance for making Y/n the drummer and putting Warren on rhythmic guitar. I just loooooooove female drummers. Also can you tell that I love Karen and Camila? Because I love them with alllllll my heart and soul. Another sorry in advance because this one may break your heart a little ― it sure broke mine. NOTES ON THE WORK: I used the timeline from the book, mostly because I couldn't keep track of it in the show haha. I read the book twice before watching what episodes of the show were out, so the lines may blur between the two. For your convenience (and mine, tbh), I'll put the year all the characters were born underneath this note so you can reference it when you need to. I just couldn't keep track honestly. I think in the show they start the band when Graham is fourteen, but in the book he's around 18 when they add Warren on, so it's kind of confusing?? I decided to stick with the book because it was a more physical timeline. Anyways, enough talking, here's your guide! ― YEARS BORN (in order of age) Billy Dunne -> 1947 Camila Dunne -> 1949 Graham Dunne -> 1949 Warren Rhodes -> 1949 Eddie Roundtree -> 1949 Daisy Jones -> 1951 Y/n L/n -> 1951

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

It's no secret that the renowned 1970s band Daisy Jones & The Six went through its fair share of ups and downs. Until their inexplicable split on July 12, 1979, they were undeniably one of the biggest bands in the world. While a more detailed account of the band's history will be recounted in a more thorough transcript, this advanced edition will focus specifically on two of the band members: Eddie Roundtree and Y/n L/n. More specifically, it will focus on their individual and combined roles they played in the band's eventual downfall.

THE RISE OF THE SIX (1965 - 1972)

GRAHAM: Y/n grew up next door to us. She was a little younger, two years or so, so we never really gave her a second look. Until the day she wandered into our garage during band practice out of nowhere. She practically ripped the drum sticks out of Chuck's hand and just started...wailing on 'em. I mean, she could make your head spin. Here was this thirteen, fourteen year old girl next door, this kid, and she was the best fuckin' drummer we'd seen. I mean, in the neighborhood. She wasn't Mitch Mitchell, but she was the closest thing we had. And she was too good to be shoved in the back with a tambourine. But we couldn't just take Chuck's spot away and hand it over to the new girl.

CHUCK: I knew right then and there that they wanted to give my spot to the new girl. There was no doubt in my mind. And, you know what? I got it. This chick was good. Way too good. Did I feel threatened by her? Hell yeah, I did. And at the time I probably wanted to tell her to screw off, but now...now I get it.

EDDIE: She was good. Amazing, actually. Graham and I looked at each other and knew that she was something we'd be stupid to pass up on.

BILLY: When Chuck told us he wanted out, we were pissed, of course. We were heading off to open for Winters that week. It felt like things were going to look up, just like I always knew they would, and he was ditching. I know now that that wasn't really what it was ― he'd gotten into college, fan-fucking-tastic. It was a good opportunity for him, a sure thing. But right then it felt like a betrayal.

WARREN: So he ditched, and Billy just turned right to Eddie and said, "Go tell Y/n she's in." And he was just...terrified.

EDDIE: I said, "why me?" You know? It wasn't my band, it was Billy's. And here he was, ordering me to tell some new girl she was in. I was fifteen and could barely ask a waitress for ketchup. At the time, that was probably the last thing I wanted to do.

GRAHAM: He asked why it had to be him, and I told him the truth: he was the least intimidating. Billy, you know him. He had a tendency to get too focused on the task at hand and could get a little...harsh. And Warren? He had one of the biggest personalities you could find. He'd scare her off before we had a chance to offer her the spot...[Pauses] I probably could've done it, in all honesty. I just didn't want to screw it up. Eddie was better with words than I was, and we needed her in our band. Badly.

EDDIE: And I remember thinking, "Here goes fucking nothing."

The doorbell ringing was what got her attention. No one ever used the doorbell. It was always a knock ― that, or someone just walked in. The L/n's front door was hardly ever locked back then. Y/n's mom was a nurse, formerly a school nurse. She didn't want to risk the chance that some kid took a spill and had to limp home on an injured leg. So all the neighborhood knew, if you got hurt playing outside, you could march on over to Miss L/n's place to get yourself fixed up.

Y/n had her own share of walk-ins, too. By the time she was ten, she had seen her mom help out enough kids that she was practically a nurse herself. She could disinfect and bandage and stitch up any old case that walked through her front door. And if someone who was too busted up for first aid? She knew where the keys to the family Winnebago was and how to drive herself and them to the local hospital. She was only fourteen and didn't have a license, but it didn't matter. She was a safer driver than most everyone else on the road.

So when someone rang the doorbell, she assumed that it was someone too injured to knock. She grabbed the car keys and made sure her suture kit was within reach.

When she opened the door, she didn't see the blood and broken bones she was expecting. Instead, Eddie Roundtree stood on her front porch, hands shoved anxiously in his pockets. He looked all right, but that didn't stop her from asking: "You're not hurt, are you?"

"Um. No," Eddie said quickly, taking his hands out of his pockets.

"Okay," she said slowly, eyes narrowing. "Do you want to come in?"

"Yeah, sure."

Y/n turned and walked further into the house, prompting him to close the door and follow her. She led him to the kitchen. "Lemonade? I made it this morning," she offered, already opening the fridge.

EDDIE: That jug of lemonade was bigger than she was. [Laughs] I could barely watch her get it down. I was afraid she'd drop it on her foot. But she just took her time getting it from the fridge to the table. I found out later that her mom bought a pound of lemons a week because Y/n wanted something to offer every kid that came through their front door. [Pauses]. She was just like that.

He gave a nod. Y/n stood on her toes to grab two glasses from the cabinet. She poured one glass, hands shaking from the weight of the jug, and Eddie realized that this awkward silence was probably the best time to transition into his real reason for visiting.

"Chuck left the band."

"Oh," she said simply. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

She paused, looking confused. And Eddie, who's will to live was slowly draining from this conversation alone, raced to finish what he had (awkwardly) started.

"I just mean that...you're in. The band. If you want to be our drummer, you're in."

Y/n paused mid-pour, setting the pitcher down on the counter carefully. She turned around until her back pressed into the kitchen counter, arms crossed over her chest. "And you thought I'd jump at the chance to join?"

"No. No," Eddie said quickly. "We just wanted to offer you the spot if you still wanted it."

"Did I say that I wanted it?"

"No, but―"

"Okay, just making sure," she handed him a glass and hopped up onto the counter, crossing her legs underneath her. "So you need a drummer?"

"Yes. Badly."

She took a sip from her glass and paused, as if weighing her options in her mind. She swallowed. "Are there any other girls in the band yet?"

EDDIE: Yet. Like she knew it was going to happen. It was just a matter of time.

"No, not yet." he replied.

"Then be honest with me: are you guys sleazeballs?"

EDDIE: Sleazeballs. She didn't sugarcoat things. She wanted to know if we were creeps or if we'd let her play drums in peace. I get that, one hundred percent. but back then, it felt like she was trying to accuse us of something.

"No," he said quickly, "Well...Warren can be a little much, but he means well."

She took another slow sip, once again weighing her options in her mind. "When's your next gig?"

"We play pretty much every night, wherever we can find. It might take us a bit to teach you the songs, but―"

"I can learn them," she said confidently. "How soon do you need someone?"

"Soon as possible."

EDDIE: By then, I was terrified she'd say no. All these questions and never once did she seem really interested in joining. I was already trying to figure out which of us would be the least shit at the drums.

"Okay. I'm in."

EDDIE: And that was it. She said yes. I didn't appreciate how much she'd saved our asses right then, but I was relieved. That was for sure.

GRAHAM: Eddie came back, told us she said yes. She couldn't join practice until her mom got home ― she didn't want the house to be empty if some injured kid wandered by ― so we had about an hour and a half to teach her every song.

BILLY: She picked 'em up like [snaps] that. Never doubted it for a single second, either. Once she knew it, she knew it.

EDDIE: She showed up to the first gig in overalls and sneakers. She let Camila put a little makeup on her, too, but we could all tell she hated it.

CAMILA: She was sweet. And, surprisingly, a little shy. I could tell she was a little scared of the boys. That's why she was a little cold to them at first. But she was just the coolest kid. I mean, fourteen years old and joining a rock band? She was a little rockstar, right off the bat. She asked me to put some makeup on her before her first gig with the band. When I gave her a mirror after and asked her what she thought, she said, "I like it, but it makes me feel like a doll. Not a drummer." She liked the glitter the most, though. It became her trademark. She put it on her cheeks, in her hair, everywhere that would catch the light. She'd come off stage and you'd see a little pile of sparkles behind the drum set.

EDDIE: Right off the bat, first gig. It was enough to freak anyone out. She joined the band six hours ago, learned the songs three hours ago, and now she was playing in a club to a couple dozen people. It seems so small now, but back then? It was like starting at Wembley.

Y/n shook out her hands for the eighth time. It wasn't about loosening up for the gig anymore, she just needed something to do that didn't involve throwing a punch or screaming at the top of her lungs. She looked up at Billy, standing at the front of the group, cool and calm as ever, and she had the distinct urge to kick him in the shin. Why did he get to be so calm when she was right behind him, on the verge of throwing up?

She turned to anxiously twisting a single drum stick between her fingers, around and around, faster and faster. Eventually it became so mindless that she barely noticed as the stick slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor. She bent to retrieve it quickly, hoping no one had noticed.

But, of course, someone did.

"Hey," Eddie said, looking back at her.

"Warren knocked it out of my hands." she said quickly.

Eddie glanced over at Warren, who was a solid two feet ahead of her, physically unable to have knocked a drum stick out of her hands. Y/n knew from that glance that he could see right through her lie. Now she really wasn't in the mood to talk.

EDDIE: She was terrified. And she was lying her ass off about it. I didn't want to run the risk that she choked up in the middle of the show and screwed up our set. So I figured I'd just, talk. And if she wanted me to screw off, she'd tell me. She had a way of saying exactly what she wanted.

"You've heard of the Drummer's Curse, right?" he asked.

She frowned in a way that told him no, she did not.

"First, there's the obvious stuff: drummers have to lug around the most shit out of anyone in the band. Drums sets are heavy and expensive, so there's that. But the worst part is that they're easy to overlook, you know? They're at the back of the stage behind all this shit, everyone stands in front of 'em. Drummers can fade into the background real easy. The best drummers can outshine anyone else onstage. You'll do that one day, but if you're freaked out now, just let yourself fade a little. You'll play better than anyone up there and the crowd'll know it, but you can let them focus on someone else if you want. You get what I'm saying?"

EDDIE: For a second, I thought she was going to punch me.

But then she nodded, wiped off some of the pink lipstick Camila had put on her with the back of her hand, and pushed her bangs to the side. "Drummers' Curse, huh?"

"Some people believe in it, some don't."

"And you?" she asked, turning to him. "Do you believe in that kind of stuff?"

Eddie paused. Shrugged. "Sure. Seems true enough to me."

Y/n nodded. "I don't. It sounds like bullshit to me."

Eddie frowned. She looked up at him. "I'm not going to let myself fade because I'm scared. I signed up for this, you know. The least I can do is own my place. If I outshine you, it's just because I'm that good," she said matter-of-factly. "I will need help carrying the stuff, though."

EDDIE: I didn't know what to say. I mean, [laughs] what the hell do you say to that?

He felt like he'd had the rug pulled out from under him. And then, he surprised himself: he laughed.

And Y/n surprised herself then, too ― she smiled.

EDDIE: That was just...[Shakes head. Smiles.] I don't know.

"I think we can manage that." he said with a smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen...The Dunne Brothers!"

WARREN: If I were still the guy I was back then, I would completely undersell her to you right now. I'd tell you she was an average drummer who was more in it for the thrill than the craft. But that wasn't it at all. She got up there and she just...shined.

GRAHAM: We all knew she'd be scared before the first gig. In fact, she looked about ready to throw up when they announced us on stage. But the second she hit those lights, it was like she was a different person. She waved and smiled like she'd done it a hundred times. The only other person I'd seen do that ― I mean really become another person on stage ― is Billy.

BILLY: That first show with Y/n was a little bit of a trainwreck. We were at least a half beat behind the entire show. And I'm not saying I blame her, but she was new and shiny. We got through it just fine, but I think we all felt it wasn't our best show.

WARREN: That show was bitchin'.

GRAHAM: It was a great show.

WARREN: Back in those days, we'd get off stage and start cheering for ourselves like we'd just won the goddamn lottery. Somewhere along the way, that stopped. We'd just pat each other on the back, say 'good job,' and that was that. But when Y/n got backstage? She was screaming and yelling like it was the best night of her life. And all of us joined in without a second thought ― well, maybe all of us except Billy. He was kind of a hard ass, even then. None of us had ever heard this girl talk louder than a glorified whisper, and then she came out of nowhere with this full-body scream. And who did she run to? Well, I think you can guess.

CAMILA: She just about jumped into Eddie's arms.

Adrenaline is a funny thing. For one, the effect is had on different people can be vastly different depending on who it was. Some people mellowed out, some people amped up. Y/n fell into the second category.

The second she got off the stage, a giddy laugh ripped from her chest, turning more into a scream of triumph halfway through. She was buzzing. Literally. Her hands felt numb ― or, more accurately, they felt like they felt more. Everything she touched was sharp and blinding.

The next person to join in on the screaming and jumping around was Warren. Then Graham. Then Eddie. And then, reluctantly, Billy. Eddie was the last to come off stage, slinging his guitar off his shoulders, and Y/n, without thinking much about it, ran straight to him, leaping directly into his unsuspecting arms.

The others were too hyped up on their own adrenaline rushes to notice that anything out of the ordinary had happened. She wrapped her legs around his waist hanging onto him like a koala. And Eddie, who couldn't deny adrenaline, held onto her back without a second thought.

After a moment, she leaned back, arms still wrapped around his neck, faces inches apart. "Drummers' curse, huh?"

EDDIE: She didn't fade. She couldn't, not even if she tried.

Eddie just smiled and shook his head. "Sounds like bullshit to me."

[its-vannah]

Rojas | Warren Rojas x Reader

A/N: This is TV storyline, not book storyline.

Warnings: Mentions of drugs and alcohol

Eddie: As much as we'd all like to think that Warren was this laid-back, freespirit, there's a part of him that had been broken and taped back together so many times that he never really showed anybody. He just hid it with drugs.

Graham: It really hurt him when Y/N stayed back.

Warren: God, I haven't heard that name in years. Y/N? Y/N L/N? 28 Birchwood avenue, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania? Yeah, I remember her.

Graham: He was infatuated with her.

Eddie: He meant everything to her.

Warren: She meant a lot to me. I mean, of course she did, I almost married her.

Camila: Warren made me stand in the bushes by his house with a camcorder in my hand so I could get the proposal on tape. It turned out good, except for the part when he forgot I was there and started making out with her.

Warren: I picked out a ring and everything. The band didn't know this, but I worked odd jobs on the side. One week I was cleaning someone's gutters and the next I was mowing a lawn, another I was dog sitting. It took me months to save up for a decent ring.

Y/N L/N: Of course I remember Warren. He was the first man I ever loved. I still love him.

Warren: She came to every gig we ever played. Every single one. That is, until we left for LA. I asked her to come with me, but she was still in school.

Graham: We were so proud of her for getting into college. We still are, honestly. Look, I'm happy that I pursued music. Nothing will ever change that. But there's something about going to college that just... I don't know, it sounds right.

Warren: She said she'd meet up with me after she graduated. That was another three years away. But I was willing to wait, and so was she. I promised to call every day and visit when I could.

Y/N: Warren knew how to say all of the right things. And it's not like he was lying, he believed what he was saying. He just didn't always follow through, even if he intended to.

Warren: I called her at the same time every day. Four o'clock. Before we had a gig and after she had school.

Y/N: Everything was fine at first. Then he started going a day or two without calling. That was okay, I knew he was busy. But those days turned into four, then six, then a week. The longest it went was two, three weeks without a single call.

Eddie: I answered the phone one time. She called at the same time every day, so I knew who it was. Warren was on his ass, high and drunk. He couldn't make it to the phone.

Y/N: I asked Eddie to tell Warren to call me when he got the chance. That I needed to talk to him.

Warren: I did call the next day, with a bad hangover. I had a lot of explaining to do.

Y/N: I was not happy when I found out how he had been spending his time.

Warren: She wasn't happy when she found out I was getting high and drinking myself to sleep every night.

Y/N: Drugs, alcohol, you name it, he probably did it or tried it. He knew better than to get into another woman's pants. I would've come up there myself.

Warren: Never cheated though. Point for Warren, I never stooped that low.

Y/N: I told him to get his shit together. Just because two people are apart doesn't mean they can make reckless decisions.

Warren: I thought she hated me. I felt like shit. She was the love of my life.

Y/N: I told him that if he didn't watch it, he'd lose himself, the band, and me.

Warren: I cut back on everything after that. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoyed weed. I just did it in moderation. Same with the beer.

Y/N: I was proud of him.

Warren: I finally got to see her again when we started going on tour.

Y/N: He got to see me and a positive pregnancy test.

Warren: Turns out, we weren't as careful as we thought.

Y/N: You would've thought he had won the lottery when I told him.

Warren: Warren Rojas Jr...

Y/N: I chose the name. And it was a girl.

Warren: Emilia Warren Rojas...

Y/N: Emilia Lynn Rojas. Everyone called her Em, except for Graham, Eddie, and Warren. Graham and Eddie called her Emi, and Warren called her Warren. My dumbass of a fiance.

Warren: We went everywhere together. The store, backstage, front row of concerts, up the stairs to Y/N's house. She was my little best friend.

Y/N: It was love at first sight. But by the time I moved to LA, the band had split up.

Warren: I missed the music, but I spent my time on boats. It's where I was happy. With my wife and my daughter.

Y/N: We did get married, eventually. I just kept my last name for business reasons, and for privacy. But I guess that's all out the window now. Marry a hall of Fame inductee and your privacy is a window. You have none.

Warren: Warren Jr loved being the center of attention.

Y/N: Em was her father's daughter, she still is. Took up the drums. Back in the day, it wasn't common to see a woman on the drums. They usually stuck to vocals or the keyboard, sometimes the guitar. But not our Em.

Warren: Our son was born a few years later.

Y/N: I was high on pain killers when Warren named our son Theodore Graham. I had agreed to the names separately, not together. Because I knew what was going to happen.

Warren: My little Teddy Graham. She liked the names, just hated the fact that everyone called him the nickname I picked out. Said it reminded her of the cracker. That was the point, though.

Y/N: "C'mon, hot stuff, I want to honor my friends legacies" my ass. It was for that damn nickname.

Warren: She loves it, she just doesn't admit it.

Y/N: Horrible taste in names, but he's all mine.

Warren: Teddy Graham wound up being just like his mama.

Y/N: He likes to try and make me feel better by saying that Teddy is just like me. But I'm an honest person. Both of them are their father made over. It made vacations fun.

Warren: I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Y/N: He's a good husband, always has been. He's an even better dad.

Theodore "Teddy Graham" Rojas, son of Warren and Y/N Rojas: My parents made me into who I am today. My mom definitely did the disciplining and made sure we stayed in school, while dad was letting us sneak into the kitchen at two in the morning to make cookies.

Y/N: I knew everything they did. Playing guitar at midnight when I was in bed on a school night, baking at two, eating junk while I was away on business trips. I just let it slide. They were kids, they deserved to have fun and let loose. It just blows my mind to think I have one out of the house and another a year away from graduating high school.

Emilia Rojas, daughter of Warren and Y/N Rojas and lead drummer of Shortcircut: I was a daddy's girl growing up, still am. But the older I get, the more I appreciate my mom. I've always loved her, but being in her shoes today, I'm unbelievably grateful for her. We talk almost every day now.

Y/N: I'm proud of Warren and the kids. They pushed the limits. I realize they that were privileged to have a father who was in the industry, but they really did this all on their own. We got them lessons, they put themselves out there. Em is touring right now, and Teddy is at home playing his heart out. I'm telling you, just like their father.

Warren: Em and Teddy both have that fire in them like their mother, something I don't think she realizes. They're a lot more like her than she knows.

Y/N: Oh, to be with a Rojas.

Warren: I'll be kissing the ground she walks on for as long as I live—I'm never letting that one go.

[shieldofiron]

Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977

Part 1/3 Also on Ao3 here

For @harringrove-relay-race. Very happy with how part 1 turned out, and there will be more to come. Thanks to @foxxtastic for the intro and next up will be something stunning from our fearless Relay Race leader @half-oz-eddie

Rated M / 5k words / Part 1/3

Part 1: Into Hades

Rolling Stone Magazine - May 2002

Billy Hargrove arrived after I did, in his lovingly maintained blue Camaro, the subject of his song, “Lady Blue.” “Lady Blue” was recently named #93 on Rolling Stone’s Top Love Songs of the Century.

“I wrote, ‘She’s the wind in my hair, the rumble in my soul.’ I thought it was so obvious,” He laughed, his blue eyes still boyish. “My niece made it her wedding song, I said ‘Really? It’s about a fuckin’ car!’”

He showed me several pictures of his niece, the supermodel Tyler Sinclair. It seems good looks run in the family. He suggested the diner and he ordered waffles, winking when I mentioned that we’ll be here a long time.

The decades have been kind to him, maybe a few more lines. It’s not hard to imagine him stepping right back onto the stage, as if no time has passed at all.

“A little extra glitter on the eyes,” He said with a smile, “to hide my crows feet. That’s all I need.”

I ask what he’s going to wear to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony for Kaleidoscope's induction and his smile dims only for a moment.

“I think I should pull out some old costumes. You know, the butterfly still fits.”

He was referring, of course, to the sheer butterfly cape costume that nearly had him thrown off the stage in Houston Texas in December 1976. He caved to putting on a pair of silvery shorts rather than the nude underwear it was designed with. He later wore it with the nude underwear on the inside cover of Kaleidoscope, the album that will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in just a few short weeks. Kaleidoscope was his last album with the iconic Glam Rock band Pretty Boy, which famously broke up at the height of their career while touring for the album, onstage.

It’s not often that a band is inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and there’s a question if all of them will even show up.

“I’ll be there,” Hargrove said, fiddling with the silver band on his middle finger. “I have no problem with seeing him.”

The him is, of course, the lead guitarist and other lead singer of Pretty Boy, Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington invites me to his oceanfront house in Malibu later that afternoon.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to go,” He said thoughtfully, his brown eyes darting around the room.

When I mention that Billy is going to go, he seems surprised.

“He didn’t say he was going to punch me, did he?” Harrington smiled, but it doesn’t seem like much of a joke.

For one of the most famous rock stars of the 70s, Harrington is shockingly low key. He wears a t-shirt and slouchy linen pants, and he jokes that he ought to have shaved when I take out my camera. The house is stunning but empty, with miles of blank white walls and overstuffed white furniture.

“I’m looking for a little peace,” He shrugs, “I used to have all these pictures up, all this furniture… It was too much.”

It was hard not to see him as an artist without a muse. He drifted listlessly, picking things up and putting them down as we talked. So it was a surprise to me to hear that he’s been recording.

“I may never release it but… Yeah,” He laughed, “Music. After all this time. Bet you didn’t know.”

He picks up a rare photo from the piano. It’s from the early days of Pretty Boy, before Billy Hargrove. Harrington has his arm around his bandmate, Eddie Munson. Their drummer Chrissy Cunningham is balanced precariously across their shoulders, laughing and cringing at the same time. Bassist Robin Buckley smirks from the corner of the frame, messy bangs in her eyes.

“Who knew, right?” He asked no one, shaking the frame a little.

There are no pictures of Billy Hargrove.

“That’s a… a long story,” He said, when I asked.

But I have time. I tell him Rolling Stone will pay for it. At least that makes him laugh.

It was just by chance that Pretty Boy’s last concert was filmed.

“We were meant to just film in Vegas,” The director, Argyle Molina-Zapata, sat down with me after a private screening of Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977, “But there was a freak rainstorm, and I couldn’t get my camera’s out of the back. The crowd was digging it, refused to leave. I remember when Billy hit the high note for ‘Mother Make Me,’ there was this lightning crack… brilliant.”

Molina-Zapata shook his head, “But the footage, what I got of it, was awful. Awful! So I begged Murray to let me come with them to Santa Fe.”

Murray was Murray Bauman, famed tour manager, who handled the Boys, later Pretty Boy from their first album Starfire, all the way to Kaleidoscope.

“And I was lucky,” Argyle nodded, “They had that extra tour bus.”

The tour busses are featured in the first few minutes of the film. They roll around the corner, one reading Billy Blue (Billy’s original stage name was  Billy Blue before he dropped the Blue), and the other, Steve’s Six (Named after Steve’s best friends from his hometown.)

“They were nightmares,” Murray Bauman’s voice crackled over the phone, “Nightmares on tour. Separate buses. Separate hotels. Fuck me, I swear to god at one point they wanted separate stages. And the label caved on almost all of it. Fucking nightmare.”

It’s almost impossible to imagine it when you see them on stage together. There’s something electric that passed between Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington, something that drove crowds wild. They gravitate towards each other on the stage, orbiting like planets until they can share the same mic. They can’t seem to stay apart.

It’s hard to see exactly what happened that night.

“I’ve watched it a million times,” Argyle laughed, “But the only two people who can really say what happened are Billy and Steve.”

What you can see is this: Steve tearing into “Pride & Prejudice”, the lead off Kaleidoscope and the last song of the night.

Billy was trembling, visibly shaking as he sang and Steve harmonized along.

What can I say, if you ask me to walk away?

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Billy danced closer, joining Steve, his handheld mic loose at his side.

Can you ever put away your pride?

Is it worth it to not have me at your side?

I guess it must be, because I’m yours,

Regretfully,

Baby.

Billy leans in, sharing Steve’s mic for the bridge.

Is it really a mystery?

What I mean to you, and you mean to me?

Is it really, baby?

Billy shook his head, curls bouncing. He looked into Steve's eyes. He smiled. Steve looks at Billy, and Billy looks at him. It almost looks like Billy mouths something, but bootleg footage also has appeared where it looks like Billy just nodded. Steve goes a little shell shocked, hand freezing on his guitar, falling out of sync.

And then Steve turned away and left the stage, handing his guitar to a stagehand. Billy turned to the crowd, his expression strangely triumphant. He was always magnetic on stage, but this moment transcends that. It somehow feels like he’s getting everything he wants.

So I guess I’m losing you,

You promised me you would and it’s true.

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Steve Harrington hasn’t performed in public since 1977.

“None of us knew what was going to happen that night,” Chrissy Cunningham curled up next to her husband, Eddie Munson, on the large white couch of their Seattle home.

They’re a handsome couple still, draped in rock and roll finery. He toyed with the edge of her scarf, and she curled his long hair around her long fingers.

“We had some of our own shit going on at the time so…” Munson shrugged, “Maybe we were distracted.”

Their living room was crowded and verdant, every spare flat surface covered in plants. Their partner, former record executive Jason Carver, puttered in the kitchen in an apron that read Plant Papa.

“Yeah,” Chrissy smiled, “We had some stuff going on at the same time. But still… It seemed like they were getting better. Didn’t it seem like they were getting better?”

Munson shrugged, “The thing about Billy and Steve… they were soulmates. You don’t write music like that and not… it was like they had a second language, just for them. They were soulmates, I really believe that. Everything they did, everything that happened… they could only hurt each other that badly if… yeah.”

When I ask what they did to each other, Eddie and Chrissy just scooted closer together, like teenagers in a slasher, hiding from the killer. She laid a hand over his leg, her two stone diamond ring catching the sunlight.

“Steve never wanted Billy to be in the band,” Eddie shook his head, “but Jim had a soft spot for Billy. And Steve had… I mean Jim was…”

“Jim was like a father. To all of us.” Chrissy’s knee jiggled.

“We were this little tiny band from Nowhere, Indiana,” Eddie nodded, “And Jim believed in us.”

“I was just a junior exec at the time. I was put on the Kaleidoscope tour in case of catastrophic failure, which by the way it was,” Jason Carver is making risotto while we speak, the steam curling the lock of hair that falls over his face. “But it wasn’t my fault although I was high as hell on coke half the time. I guess I deserved to get fired. But Jim was the real deal. Gold records out the ass, best wife in the world, and his daughter, I mean… she was something else.”

They’re referring, of course, to Jim Hopper, producer on Kaleidoscope as well as Billy Blue and The Boys’ records, and the father of pop superstar Eleven aka Jane Hopper.

“Jim was…” Steve Harrington’s eyes always got a little misty talking about Jim, staring out over the ocean. “Yeah, I guess he was a little like my dad. My own parents were always gone. Which is like… I grew up so privileged so like I’m not saying… I just mean I grew up mostly by myself. And we were just so lucky he even agreed to listen to us when we got to LA.”

“I remember that night,” Joyce Hopper’s voice was raspy, cigarette-y in the way only old movie stars are. She’s a gorgeous woman in jeans and a gardening hat, speaking to me while she tends to her garden at her home in Castellammare. “He came home and said, ‘I have the next ones, the next big ones. Fuck, Joyce, they’re brilliant. Unpolished, but brilliant.’”

When I ask about when Jim discovered Billy Hargrove she just laughed.

“If Steve and the rest of The Boys were unpolished, Billy Hargrove was a fucking ten carat diamond,” She said. “But Steve’s band was Jim’s, and he could polish them up how he wanted. And then when he thought they were just right for it… he set the diamond.”

Jim Hopper was a big man, larger than life both in appearance and in personality. His fingerprints are all over some of the best hits of the decade.

Watching him on old interviews, there’s an immediacy to his presence that leaps off the screen.

“My daughter is the one who really found him. She snuck out with her sister and wandered God knows where. And she just… found him. Called me the next morning, saying ‘Dad, you have to hear this guy.’ He was playing in this… terrible club,” Jim said, tapping his cigar on the table of Merv Griffin’s set. “Absolute shithole, pardon my french. And he’s got a great voice, you’ve heard his voice, right?”

“I have,” Merv said.

“I had to get him out of there. He was a star.”

Billy Hargrove was a teenage runaway from San Diego when he came to LA in 1971.

“I had a girl’s backpack from my stepsister, eight dollars, and an extra pair of underwear. By the end of the next week? I had two more dollars,” Billy laughed. “But I got lucky. I met Heather.”

Heather Holloway was a showgirl at Wildwoods, a nightly revue. She found Billy at the backdoor, and took him to her apartment.

“She saved me,” He frowned. “Whenever I needed her most.”

Heather Holloway, Billy Hargrove’s first and only wife, died in 1979. 

“I got a job singing at Sugar, this great gay club downtown. It was in the late afternoons, so I had a crowd of about… two. But those two brought two more,” Billy smiled, “Heather would talk me up to all the promoters. He’s a singer, he’s great, you’ll love him, he’s so cute.”

“He was an instant hit,” Sugar’s manager, Bob Newby, tells me by phone as well. “I did have to keep a couple of creeps off him, when he just started he was only nineteen. But even if you closed your eyes… he was a hit.”

“Guys used to think that because I was a part of the entertainment, I was fair game. And let me tell you, the novelty of that wears off mighty quick,” Billy shakes his head.

He shares a diary entry from his late wife of a night in April 1972. He came to her home with blood all over his face.

“Some guy thought because I was a fag…” Billy’s mouth twisted, but he went on, cradling the little marble notebook in his hand. “He could do whatever he wanted to me. When I fought back… he cracked a bottle over my head.”

He’s not just a piece of meat. He’s a person. I don’t understand these people. I just don’t understand, Heather Holloway wrote. I cleaned him up and he’s sleeping now.

The next diary entry is from a day later. April 12. Billy and I drove to Vegas and got married. When we spoke in the morning he said he was afraid for me too, even though I’m careful with the girls. He’s afraid of the cops trying to bust up the Wildwoods and picking me up. At least this way, he says. He and I can come home to each other. Look out for each other. Always. The groom wore band aids and his great velvet pants. The bride wore lavender. It was perfect.

“And lucky too. Because within a month… I met Jim,” Billy smiled. “And my whole life changed.”

Upside Down Records signed Billy Blue, unagented, in1972 and he spent the next year working on his debut album with Jim Hopper.

“I didn’t even realize, when it happened,” Billy shook his head. “A couple of girls came by after a show, wanting to talk to me, wanting to meet me. That wasn’t that unusual. But they were young, far too young to get into the club. And the little one, she was asking all these weird questions. Did I have an agent? Did I know if I had enough songs for an album? Weird fuckin’ questions. And then she said I have to meet someone. To be honest, I thought she was coked out of her mind when she said, ‘You have to meet my dad.’”

“I was not,” Eleven promised me, “coked out of my mind. But that’s just Billy.”

Eleven aka Jane Hopper, meets me backstage at one of her shows. She’s dressed in slouchy leather pants, to match her sister and drummer Kali Hopper.

“I knew he was something special. My dad was always talking about the IT factor. That thing that made a person something special. But I didn’t get it until I saw Billy Blue singing on that tiny stage,” She smiled. “He didn’t just have the IT factor. He was IT.”

It’s odd then, that Billy Blue’s first album had a surprisingly tepid response. His first single, in 1973, “Let Alone,” came in at only 26th for the month of April on the pop charts.

“People liked it,” Billy shrugs, “But I don’t think they knew what to do with it. You have my songs, these like… little pop love songs and ballads. I wasn’t that strong of a writer at the time. It was like half my songs, half covers. And so they’d book me, expecting fucking… Peter Frampton. And here comes this big queer with glitter on his nipples.”

But the lyrics of “Let Alone” would hint at his later songs, a hallmark simplicity that shone off his raw voice and poetry that hinted at a troubled past.

And if you were meant to care for me

You would, and that’s how it has to be

You said I couldn’t go on without you

Ha, look at me, looking brand new

At the same time, The Boys’ song “Paper Girl,” penned by Harrington, was number one.

She’s my paper girl

She’s my paper girl

Wakes me up every morning, right on time

She got me smiling, got my head in a whirl

Picture perfect, paper girl

“Billy didn’t have much commercial appeal. Sex appeal, yes,” Jason laughed, toying with Chrissy’s hair. “But for sales? That’s where The Boys came in.”

“I hated that name,” Eddie said, “To start with we were half girls.”

The Boys had already had a somewhat successful tour under their belt by the time Jim suggested a collaboration with Billy Hargrove.

“It was a nice, short tour,” Steve Harrington glances away when I ask about the first tour.

“It was a nightmare. Balls to the wall nightmare,” Robin Buckley’s voice is a warm crackle over the phone. “Steve went on like thirty overlapping benders at once.”

Her partner, soap actress Vickie Carmichael cackles behind her, at their home in Salt Lake City.

“The thing about Steve is… well… he’s never found a good way of coping with himself,” Robin huffs. “Music was about as close as he ever got. But in those early days, he just kept looking for more and more.”

“You don’t think it was about-” Vickie asked, just barely into the phone.

“No.”

“It was about Nancy,” Eddie said confidently when I mentioned their first tour. “Nancy, Nancy, Nancy.”

The Boys got their start in the late sixties, beginning with Eddie and Steve. Eddie gave Steve guitar lessons, which turned into some talent show performances. They used to practice at Eddie’s Uncle’s trailer.

“That’s where we got the name,” Eddie nodded, “My uncle used to just call us that, and it stuck.”

“I don’t even remember,” Chrissy said.

“That’s not how we got the name,” Steve shook his head, when I mention Eddie. “It was our first gig, after we got Chrissy and Robin. Robin put it down after the headliner kept asking when ‘you boys’ would go on, and kept addressing it to Chrissy’s chest. She blew him out of the fucking water.”

Nancy Wheeler was there that night, writing about local bands for a tiny column in the school paper.

“She was beautiful. Smart. So smart. Could hear her talk forever,” Steve said, eyes falling.

Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler were married in 1972 after they graduated high school.

“Steve made his own choices,” Chrissy shook her head.

That summer, the Boys plus one drove to LA and Nancy Wheeler took a job at Women’s Day Magazine and later, Rolling Stone. Steve Harrington and The Boys got a “steady gig” at La Bonita Rosa on the strip, playing for drunks every night from seven to eight.

“I really liked playing at La Bonita,” Steve said. “The audience, right there. You could smell the sweat. You could see on their faces if you were bombing. And we used to bomb. A lot. But it was a great place to try things. Experiment. We played there for about a year but… it felt too short.”

Within the year they had met Jim Hopper, who got them into the recording studio and sold their demo nearly on the spot to Upside Down Records.

“They had a great sound. They had got this way of playing. Smooth like a polished stone. Everything sounds good sitting in a frame like that,” Jim said in an interview with Rolling Stone in 1981. “Their songs were… catchy, but basic. But they had the sound.”

Upside Down records set the Boys on a US tour after “Paper Girl,” and “Joy to Love You,” both charted.

“It was like… overnight. One day we’re in a studio, messing around. Kid stuff. I was nineteen,” Steve Harrington shookhis head. “But…”

“That tour,” Chrissy trails off, playing with her ring again.

“I…” Steve Harrington scratched his nose. “I was losing it. Majorly losing it. It felt like we had just moved to LA and we were already neck deep. I mean, I had a number one fucking song. And for some reason I got it in my head to call my mom. She told the maid she wasn’t home. And I could hear her over the phone. My mom. So yeah. I lost it. Lost about half my damn mind on that tour. And people will say it was because of Nancy, because we got married just out of high school, and she wasn’t supportive… but that wasn’t true. Nancy saved me.”

“Nancy never wanted him to be in the band. But… she also didn’t seem to care that much either,” Eddie shook his head, “It’s… complicated. Love is supposed to be. Simple. Like the chords of a song. 1-3-5.”

Jason Carver rolled his eyes at that, “Then what are we?”

Eddie grinned, “We’re a band.”

Nancy Wheeler met me on a Thursday in New York City, slim sunglasses dominating her small porcelain face. We get lunch at her favorite deli shop, and she perches at the counter, loafers dangling. She’s an editor at The New Yorker now, but she still has a soft spot for rock and roll, as evidenced by the Grateful Dead t-shirt under her blazer.

“That tour. I didn’t even know anything was wrong. He just came home with a funny look on his face, saying, ‘We’re headlining.’ So I said, ‘That’s great, Steve.’ He just kept… saying it. It was starting to piss me off, if I’m being honest,” She shook her head. “I should have known something was wrong.”

“I wish she had stopped me. But how could you know right? Hindsight is always 2020,” Steve Harrington said. “I mean, she was my wife. How could she not want me home? But that’s just… sorry. That’s not fair to put on her. I chose to go.”

“I flew out to meet them when they were in Indianapolis, visited my family, and I came a day early to see him,” She smiled warmly, and then it fell. “He was… Well, first, Eddie Munson tried to intercept me at the hotel, so I wouldn’t see him. I told him, ‘I’m here to see my fucking husband.’”

Steve Harrington didn’t add any more details about the tour, just shrugged when I asked.

“He was coked up like you wouldn’t believe,” Robin scoffed. “She walked in on him with two girls and coke all over his… well.”

“I just asked him. Do you want to come home? Do you want to get help? Or not?” She purses her lips. “And so he came home and we found a rehab place near Hawkins.”

“The tour kind of… fell apart. Obviously. We had lost our lead singer and guitarist to fucking… Hawkins, Indiana,” 

Everything stopped for the Boys. Upside Down offered to let them out of their two album contract, but Steve couldn’t afford to pay it down.

“Rehab,” He shrugged. “Is expensive.”

Right as it seemed that everything would be over for the Boys, things were looking up for Billy Blue.

“Jim was always saying, ‘the record is selling alright, the songs are getting there but he needs a… push,’” Joyce said. “‘He’s so close. So close. He’s a star.’”

“He always believed in me,” Billy smiled, toying with his ring again. “Always. Even when I threw a jug of milk at his head.”

Joyce laughed when I asked about that moment, “He came home saying, ‘He milked me, Joyce. But he’ll fix the song tonight.’”

“And I did,” Billy said. “And the album was going alright. I did a little tour, socal and the southwest. And then one night, Jim brings me this song. He said, ‘I want you to tell me what’s missing from this.’”

The song was, of course, the Boys’ biggest hit, “Hades.” Steve Harrington’s first version was called, “To Orpheus” and the chorus goes:

Don’t turn back don’t look behind you baby

I’m close, I’m right behind

The future's so bright, and I want you to take me

Wanna be holding your hand when I make it across the line.

“It was fine, but just kind of… nothing. It was supposed to be about Eurydice, but it was so… nothing. She just loved Orpheus and that was it. There were no insides to her. She was going to follow him to her doom,” Billy shook his head. “That’s not right.”

This was not the version that made it to the recording booth, of course. The Boys’ single, “Hades featuring Billy Blue,” came out in 1975. The actual chorus goes: 

Turn back on me and I won’t forgive you baby

Don’t want you to see me like this

Up ahead is bright, and I want you to take me

If you’re strong enough to cross that finish line

“‘Hades,’ was a real step forward for the Boys. Gone were the teenybopper tunes,” Steve Harrington’s biographer and personal friend Dustin Henderson wrote in his book The Pretty Boy. “Their first album got the kids dancing. But the second proved that they actually had something to say.”

“Still hate it,” Steve Harrington said. “I wrote that song in rehab. It was deeply, deeply personal to me.”

“He came out, all ready. He wanted to start recording right away,” Robin sighed. “Like I mean the next day. All these songs, just pouring out of him. But the label had lost faith in us. And they certainly weren’t going to let us start recording with a guy who had only just earned his thirty day sober chip.”

“The song wasn’t ready,” Billy shook his head. “But I guess he was. Jim said he needed this. So Jim asked if I would come and like… pitch some stuff as a personal favor. Songwriting credit, that’s all it was supposed to be. Get the songs moving, get them going.”

Steve Harrington takes a long time to continue speaking about it. 

“I felt it, writing for that album. I felt proud of those songs. They didn’t belong to anyone else but me,” He toyed with some piano keys while we talked, and then finally sat down and began to play something tuneless and half formed.

“That album was all about Nancy,” Chrissy said. “I mean. I know it. You know it. Nancy knew it. And she kind of hated it. But-”

“You can’t leave your husband right as he gets out of rehab,” Nancy said to me, toying with her wedding ring. “When he writes all these songs about how you’re the only thing… Steve was always like that. Heart wide open. That’s why when he met Billy. I almost thought… it would all be okay. That sounds fucked up but. I thought they could save each other. That the music could save him.”

“It was just a songwriting credit,” Billy raised his hands. “Jim swore up and down. I was just gonna come in there and sit down with this guy Steve. But when I walk into the studio, there’s two mics set up.”

“I was the Boys’ only singer,” Steve Harrington shook his head. “And to be absolutely honest, I was kind of a jackass about it. So to have some guy come in and say he’s gonna sing me my song… well…”

“Steve was the only one who would ever argue with Jim, And he let him have it that day,” Eddie laughed. “He called him the most low down, dirty, rat bitten bastard in California, and that he would die rather than give up his band to someone else.”

“I did not want his band. I did not know his band. And I did not care. And his song sucked. And I told him so. And then I sang it. Better.” Billy smiled.

“Billy was…” Chrissy shook her head. “Incredible.”

I ask Steve what Billy was like that first day in the studio.

“He was,” Something passed over his face. “Alright. He has a great voice, alright.”

“I was good. Better. Best.” Billy smiled.

“But he didn’t understand the song. He wanted Eurydice to… doubt. To think she wasn’t going to get out,” Steve slammed his hands on the keys. “It’s been… almost twenty years. I still don’t understand it.”

I asked why he let Billy stay. But Steve doesn’t have an answer.

“They were like oil and water, right away,” Chrissy said.

“Yeah, but oil on the water can catch fire,” Eddie shrugged.

“Jim asked me to stay,” Billy looked away from me, down at his waffles. “It was a favor to the label.”

“If Billy said louder, Steve said mute,” Robin snickered. “It was kind of great, actually. Finally someone called King Steve on his shit. One day I came in and they were arguing over how close the microphone should be to your throat. Almost got in a physical fight over a fucking microphone. I mean, I love Steve. But he always thinks he’s like… the babysitter. It’s his job to do everything for everybody.”

“Like who was this guy? Really? He came into my studio with no shirt on, most of the time still half smashed from the night before, and he thinks he can make all these changes. But Jim keeps telling me it’s just business, the label thinks it’s good business.” Steve frowned, and then smiled, and then frowned again.

“Yeah, I never wore shirts back then. Or underwear,” Billy said with a grin. “I was a rockstar!”

“Steve fought for every song on that album,” Nancy Wheeler patted her lips primly with a napkin. “He only lost on one.”

“Billy Hargove has songwriting credit and lead vocals on “Hades.” Dustin Henderson wrote.

“Billy was all over that album. He’d make some minor suggestion, maybe this chord instead of that, this word is better. And Steve would flip out, yell at him, yell at Jim, threaten to storm out… and then two days later quietly tell me to change the chord, he’d start singing the new words. Billy was there with us about every single day,” Eddie said.

“Of course, it was our biggest hit,” Chrissy laughed. “Everything but that song, Steve did what he wanted. Oh we had Billy in the studio, making suggestions. But Steve did what he wanted except for ‘Hades.’ Jim said that song is the album, and he wouldn’t cut it.”

“Jim was always right,” Steve closed the piano. “The bastard.”

Hades exploded onto the radio in late 1975. They didn’t have the same distribution as their first record, but the Boys had another hit.

“Billy had this way of singing it. Still does. He broke four mics when we recorded it. Singing so loud I had to keep an eye on the cymbals to stop them from shaking. You can feel him, right in your chest.” Chrissy giggled. “Like he was trying to wake all the dead from Hades. If anyone could, he could.”

“It’s a really, really great song,” Robin said.

This song belongs to Billy Blue, Rolling Stone wrote in 1976. The only question now is, what will The Boys do next?

“I remember that article. Fucking… Harrington said that he basically wrote the whole song. But he said, ‘the label thought bringing Billy in was a good idea,’” Billy gets tense for the first time. “I’m not saying I was like… I just mean. It would have been nice. To treat me like an equal. I’m more than just a singer. I’m not just… a piece of meat.”

“Billy was really pissed about that article. I remember, the day after the article came out, we were getting breakfast at this tiny place off La Cienega. Steve had this car back then, a big maroon BMW, and Eddie had got him a vanity plate when he bought it. Stupid thing it said, ‘BIGBOY.’ Anyway, We’re having breakfast, and we hear this screech outside, like an accident,” Robin Buckley gets uncharacteristically quiet as she goes on through this story. “Billy’s car is parked halfway out of the parking lot, and he comes in like a bull in a charge. Billy… he wasn’t some wimpy guy. He was small, but he was strong as hell… He came right over and grabbed Steve by his collar and lifted him right off the counter. And he said, I’ll never forget it because Steve used to recite it from memory, yell it at me, ‘Tell me I’m not dreaming. Is that Steve fucking Harrington? The lead singer of the Boys. Hey man, I love your song ‘Hades.’ How’d you get your voice to sound halfway decent for once?’”

“I don’t remember that,” Steve Harrington said flatly when I asked.

“And Steve used to be a fucking dick in high school. So he starts getting real bitchy, shoving Billy off him, asking what his problem is, why he’s such a dick all the fucking time, when it’s not even his band. And Billy said something like, ‘No one wants your shit band. Not with you in it,’” Robin paused for a moment. “And they just. Stare at each other. Like… daring each other to do something.”

Billy just shrugs when I ask, “I was pissed. I gave this guy a number one hit, and he still wanted to treat me like some… airhead singer the label brought in as a stunt. I’m not just a singer. I’m not a piece of meat. I’m a person.”

When I ask Steve about that day he’s pretty quiet, deflated at his piano. He only wants to talk about the song. The music. Can’t seem to talk about Billy any other way.

“He sang it like he not only knows Orpheus can’t save him, but that he won’t. It was supposed to be hopeful. A happy ending.” Steve said.

“So you still hate the song?” I asked.

“No, I don’t. It’s brilliant. And that’s the whole problem.”

To be continued...

Next up is Half-Oz-Eddie's piece at 7:00 pm. GET HYPE!

[leclercstarrs]

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄 - ( 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞 ! )

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

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

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

[madneedshelp]

Always Choose You - Eddie Roundtree x Female Reader

Summary: You and Eddie were never meant to be more than a fling. So, why did you both keep coming back?

Includes: implied sex, alcohol and drug use, adult language

Note: The bolded names followed by a colon represent interview dialogue like from in the book.

The first time you met Eddie was at some gig he played with The Six. It was before Look At Us Now had blown up and they’d flown to stardom. No, you met him back in the days of small clubs on the Strip.

The band had just finished playing, you’d had a few drinks (and therefore some liquid courage in your blood), and you went for it. As soon as the cute bassist headed to the bar himself, you sauntered over.

“You were great up there. I’ve always wanted to play music like that.” You smiled and slid into the seat next to him.

He returned your grin and took a sip of his drink. “Ah thanks, we’ve been at it for a while now. I’m Eddie, by the way.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, Eddie. I’m Y/N. Have you all been in town long, I can’t say I’ve seen you play before.”

He shook his head. “We’re from Pittsburgh. Kind of took a leap of faith coming down here, but I think we’re all happy we did it.” 

You noticed as he glanced quickly over at the side of the bar. The singer of his band was talking with a beautiful brunette, but you could tell he was more focused on the girl than his friend. He looked back to you after almost a split second though, and you were almost convinced you made it up.

“Well, cheers to your success, I’m glad it’s working out for you guys.” You chuckled and clinked your glass with his.

You and Eddie flirted a bit more, drank a bit more, and at the end of the night he climbed into a taxi with you. Your roommate was out for the weekend, so you had an empty apartment and a hot guy at the ready. A nice one night stand could be just what you needed.  

————————

It never occurred to you that you’d see him again. Hell, you’d practically forgotten him after all that time had passed. Not that the two of you didn’t have a great night together, you were just both a little drunk and it was just once, so it never really crossed your mind. 

But then here you were, at a party for your roommate’s friend. She hadn’t told you much detail about the party, just that her friend Camila was hosting a housewarming party of sorts and she wanted you to come along as her guest. It gave you an excuse to get dressed up and it sounded fun, so you agreed without much thought. 

Your roommate, Sarah, introduced you to Camila and her husband Billy when you first arrived. Something seemed vaguely familiar about them, but you figured it was just because Billy’s band was famous and there was buzz about them everywhere. Still, you felt like maybe there was something else about them. As Camila and Sarah got caught up in conversation, you politely excused yourself to go grab a drink.

The house was full of people and you felt slightly like you were in a maze. Luckily, you wove your way to the bar area and were able to acquire a beer. 

You decided the next stop should be the patio out back. It was getting a little stuffy and some fresh air sounded perfect. You were on your way to the back door when someone stumbled into you from behind.

“Oh shit, my bad.” The man said immediately.

You turned and gave him a small smile. “It’s all good, no worries.” 

“Jesus Warren, I leave you alone for like five minutes and you’re already stumbling around aimlessly,” a familiar voice chuckled as another man strolled up beside him. 

Holy fuck. As you glanced over at his friend, you realized you knew this guy. This was that bar guy from God knows how long ago. 

It looked like said guy was having the same realization, or at least some kind of epiphany. His eyes narrowed slightly as he turned to really look at you.

“I think I know you from somewhere.” He muttered.

Eddie: Okay, I know it sounds bad, but I promise I didn’t forget about her. It had been a long time. Besides, apparently she couldn’t even remember my name, so we were both a little drunk that night.

Warren: I was high as shit, and I could definitely tell he didn’t recognize her. It’s funny to think about that now, God I can’t even imagine.

His friend-Warren- elbowed him with a laugh. “You can’t pick up chicks with that cheesy ass line, brother. No one is gonna fall for that shit.” 

You kind of wished you had some of whatever this guy was on because he was clearly high as a kite and having a grand old time. 

“Oh, I don’t know.” You let out a quiet, nervous laugh. You weren’t about to explain that you two had fucked and never spoken again once like a year or so ago.

“No, we have met before…” He trailed off in thought, but then his eyebrows shot up as it clicked. “Did you hang around the Sunset Strip by any chance?”

You downed what was left of your drink and nodded. “Yeah, I used to. I think you’ve put that together, though. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab another of these.” You held up the empty bottle and spun on your heel. 

Thankfully, the house had several exits, so you were able to grab your beer and slip out back unnoticed. Well, at least you thought you were. 

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

Bar guy came up beside you and gestured to the empty seat beside you. You felt like shit for this, but you couldn’t remember his name. Fred, maybe? God, you didn’t sleep around that much, you should be able to keep track of this. 

“Sure,” You shrugged. You do remember him being a nice guy, so you weren’t opposed to hearing him out. 

He hesitantly sat down. “Listen, I feel like I should apologize. I’m sorry it took me a minute to recognize you, and…well, I’m sorry I kind of disappeared from your place right after we…” His voice started trailing off when you started chuckling. “What’s funny?”

You felt your face flush and you waved a hand. “No, no, it’s not you, I promise. You really don’t have to apologize for anything, that’s why I was laughing. We slept together after I met you at a bar, I didn’t exactly expect us to grow old together.”

He was chuckling now too. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just didn’t want you to think I was an ass or something. Can we start over?”

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled and held out your hand for him to shake. 

“Eddie, and likewise.” 

Eddie! So you were kind of close earlier. Truth be told though, this was one of the weirdest encounters with a hookup that you’d ever had. Normally, you wouldn’t dream of interacting with someone afterwards, but something about this guy was different. You kind of liked talking to him, and you remember feeling like that the first time you met him too. 

———————— 

You woke up in a room that was definitely not yours, which caused a little bolt of panic to shoot through you. It only took a second for it to all come flooding, thankfully. 

Somehow, you had decided it was a good idea to go home with Eddie last night. Again. That definitely was not in your plan. You weren’t in the habit of dragging out one night stands, but it looks like you had a repeat. You two wound up hanging out for most of the party last night, and you were talking, then you were kissing, and now you were here. But God, was he a good repeat. To be honest, when you snuck a glance down at his sleeping face beside you, all you could think about was that he was kind of beautiful. 

A knocking came from the door and it nearly startled you out of bed. 

“Eddie! We gotta leave for the studio, man! Billy wants us there in an hour!” 

You looked down and realized you were bare ass naked, and immediately lunged for your clothes. You weren’t sure if Eddie’s roommate would just barge in, but you were not about to be caught naked if he did. Immediate relief flooded through you as you pulled on your dress and heard footsteps as the guy walked away from the door, but you were mostly amazed by the fact that none of this had actually woken Eddie. 

This was actually kind of worse. Now you had to make a choice. Did you leave unnoticed or did you wake him up and face the morning after conversation. You really didn’t want to talk. You hooked up once and then again, it was a weird string of events that you couldn’t hash out right now. Unfortunately, he showed no signs of waking up and you’d feel really bad if he was late to his band thing. 

With a sigh you stepped over to the bed and shook his shoulder gently. Then you shook it a little less gently. This man could sleep through a fucking tornado. 

Finally, he sat up and rubbed his face. “Hmm? Oh, mornin’...”

You quickly wiped off the tiny smile that threatened to overtake your face. Thinking he looked cute, all sleepy in the morning, was not a road you needed to go down. “Hey, your friend just knocked and said Billy wants you at the studio in an hour. You seemed pretty out of it, so I just wanted to let you know before I left.”

He muttered something about “he’s such an asshole” under his breath before looking back up at you. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” You nodded as nonchalantly as possible. “Well, I’m going to head out now. Um, thanks…for last night.”

The second the words left your mouth, you knew how stupid it all sounded. You used to be pretty smooth, but apparently that was temporary. You had to get out of there before you made it worse. You grabbed your purse and strode hurriedly for the door, but before you were outside, Eddie shouted. 

“Hey, wait!”

You looked back over your shoulder at him as he pulled on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and started over to you. “Yeah?”

“Listen, um, I had fun last night. And I like you.” He combed a hand through his wild hair.

He looked like he wanted to keep going, but you cut him off first. “I’m not really looking for a relationship.” You blurted the words before you could think, and they left a curiously bitter taste in your mouth.

He looked mildly surprised at the outburst, but then shook his head. “I’m not either, actually. Honestly, I’m kind of getting over someone else right now. Stop me if I’m out of line here, but I was wondering if you might want to do this again sometime. All I’m saying is I had fun, and if you had fun too, then could I get your number? I promise I’m not proposing we grow old together here.” 

You chuckled at his reference to your conversation last night. You had to agree with him. Last night was good, and the thought of seeing him again was something you didn’t hate. 

Y/N: I can’t believe I’m actually admitting to this, but yes he became my, oh what is it people say now? My sneaky link? Friends with benefits? Whatever, the point is we kept seeing each other. Just having fun. We were in our 20s and carefree, you know?

————————

You and Eddie kept things casual for a long time. He grew to be one of your closest friends during that time. Yes, it was mainly about the sex for the two of you, but you actually got to know each other well. 

Eddie knew things about you that not even your roommate Sarah did. One night he opened up to you about Camila, about how he’d been in love with her for years and that was why he wasn’t looking for something serious. He seemed really vulnerable about it, and you decided to tell him about your cheating ex and why you didn’t want to date either. The two of you formed an odd sort of bond over that, over loving people that had chosen someone else. 

Eddie: If I’m being honest, I was lying when I told her about Camila. I told her I was still in love with her, but I hadn’t been for a while. I was just too afraid to admit that maybe I moved on. 

Y/N: I was done with it just being a fling at that point. Sure, I was still hurt by what happened, but I think Eddie helped heal that untrusting part of me. I felt ready for a relationship, but I didn’t know where he stood on the matter. I didn’t fess up because it almost felt better to have him in that way, than to not have him in my life anymore.

Karen: They were so obviously in love with each other, I’ll never know how they couldn’t see it in each other. The rest of us definitely could. 

Graham: Y/N and Eddie? Yeah, I think the rest of us knew about them before they knew themselves. It was annoying as hell to live with them, I mean especially sharing a wall with Eddie. Warren and I took bets on how long it would take them to actually figure out their shit, and that son of a bitch beat me. 

You and Eddie were lovers for almost a year. 

Everything changed on a night that seemed so typical. Eddie had showed up at your place, absolutely livid.

“He cut my fucking part from the song! He’s such a fucking asshole!” Eddie slammed the door behind him and flung his coat over the back of the kitchen chair.

You put your book down and hopped up from the couch. “Again? Shit, Eddie, I hate that he keeps doing that to you.” The moment you placed a calming hand to his chest and leaned against his shoulder, you felt him relax beneath your touch. 

He sighed and wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry I keep showing up here like this. I just get so pissed at him, and it’s like the only place I can think of to go is here.”

“Yeah?” You laughed softly.

He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he said with such finality that you could feel a shift in the room. 

The way he was looking at you…like you were something special. Like you were something valuable. 

“And why is that, Ed? Why here?” You whispered.

In answer, he leaned down and kissed you. You too had kissed obviously, but this one felt like it meant something different. “Y/N, I’m so fucking in love with you that it’s all I can think about. Even when I’m not thinking about you, I still am. I was so mad at Billy and had to get out of there, and somehow I drove here without even thinking about it. So, yeah, I’m in love with you. I know that wasn’t in the agreement, but I can’t keep going and not tell you this once.”

You could tell he was going to keep rambling, so you decided to muster up the courage and do what you were dying to do. “Eddie!” He stopped and looked at you, visibly anxious. “Eddie, I love you too. I have for so long, and screw the agreement. I want to be with you.”

Eddie’s face lit up and he kissed you again. And again. And then he stopped to why the tears off your cheeks, which you assured him were happy tears. 

“God, I should’ve told you sooner.” You chuckled and leaned your head against his chest. 

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. “Warren would definitely call you a chicken right now, but I wouldn’t stoop that low.”

Even though he couldn’t see it, you rolled your eyes. “You know, I feel like you kind of did by mentioning it, but I’ll let it slide. Besides, I still thought you had feelings for Camila. I didn’t really think it would ever be me.”

Eddie pulled away slightly so he could look you in the eye. “You know I would always choose you, right? You’re it for me, baby. If you’ll have me, anyways.”

“Always, Eddie, always.” 

Y/N Roundtree: We got married like six months after that. 

Eddie: I would’ve married her that night, to be honest.

[birdiewriteslit]

“the sunset strip”

warren rhodes x fem!reader

warren’s band might actually have a shot at fame, but where does that leave you? a high conversation confronts the issue.

word count: 1k

Warren passed the blunt to you. The two of you were laying on the floor of his band, staring up at the beige ceiling.

“We’re going to California, man,” he said casually, laughing with a slight cough.

You turned your head to the side and furrowed your brows. “The fuck are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.”

He shook his head, his curls shaking with it. “I didn’t mean you. I mean the band.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

He flicks his sunglasses on top of his head and met your eyes where they were. “You wanna come? We’re gonna be something.”

You laughed. “You’re nothing here, no offense. What are you gonna be in the sunshine state?”

He took the blunt back. “Pretty sure that’s Florida, girl.” He took a long drag from it.

“Is it?”

He shrugged. “I dunno geography. I’m in a band. I don’t need to.” He grinned.

“If you’re touring you do,” you pointed out.

He propped himself up on his elbow. “Billy’s serious about this. We’re going to Cali, and we’re gonna be big. We know this guy.”

A snort escaped your lips, a belly laugh following. “Gimme that shit.” You gestured to the weed, and he handed it to you. You took a drag and sang, “California, California dreaming on such a winter’s day,” dragging out the last word.

“Y/n, listen to me, girl,” Warren pleaded. You gave him a skeptical look. “There’s no winter in California.”

You scoffed. “Oh, sure there is. Way up North it gets cold.”

“We won’t be way up north. We’re gonna be performing on the sunset strip. People from all over are gonna be coming to see us.” He brought his other hand up to play with your sprawled out hair. “You could come with us,” he suggested quietly, looking at the strand of hair he twisted between his fingers.

“I thought you didn’t mean me.”

“I mean us and you. Billy’s girlfriend is coming. You’d like her.” He proposed this looking you straight in the eyes, the hair he held falling back to the carpet.

“But I’m not your girlfriend,” you whispered. Your heartbeat was picking up and you got the feeling this wasn’t a good conversation to have high on marijuana.

He sighed and laid down on his back. “I know.” The silence that followed was excruciating. The blood was rushing to your face, and it felt warm to the touch. You were still staring at him while he looked straight up. You put the blunt out and sat up, feeling a sudden confidence within you.

“Warren, what are you saying?” You crossed your arms, and gave him a firm stare, which was really just a facade.

You’d never seen him look so serious. Hell, you’d never send him so much as act serious in the six years you’d known him. He didn’t face you. “You know what I’m saying,” he mumbled.

“Tell me what you really feel.”

He turned his head and showed you his infectious smile. “I feel like you know what I’m feeling.”

You bit back the smile that he always knew how to bring out of you. “Warren, I’m not kidding.”

“Neither am I.” He sat up, his glasses falling off of his head. He didn’t spare them a glance as he crawled toward you.

You fought hard to keep the smile off your face. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he said innocently, but you knew he knew exactly what you meant. He came closer until he hovered above your legs and his arms boxed you against the wall.

“Warren, be serious.” You were basically laughing at this point, his nose coming to nudge yours.

“I’m serious about you, girl.” The shit had the nerve to grin at you while you gave up all hope of holding a straight face. “Loved you forever, but we got nothing here. Come to the sunset strip with us.”

You couldn’t hold back you laugh. “That’s some poetic shit, man, you should take that up with Billy.”

“Hell, I’ll write a song about you myself.” He leaned in and kissed you then, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you up against him. You kissed back feverishly, slinging your arms loosely around his next.

He pulled away and gave you a toothy smile. “So, my girl, what do you say?”

You bit your lip, fighting the smile once again. “I guess I could tag along.”

He said, “That’s what I like to hear,” before leaning back in.

[reasonsmandy]

As long as I'm here

Graham Dunne x Fem!Reader x Eddie Roundtree

✧.* requested by anon — hey, i was wondering if you can write one where the reader and graham were best friends growing up, (she in the band) and the reader slowly started to develop feelings for him. but then karen came into the picture and the reader saw them kiss at a party so the reader drank too much but eddie was there to bring her home and comfort her. also love your work!! and so so happy you are active ❤️❤️

✧.* summary — you were in love, but things don't seem to work the way your heart wants

✧.* warnings — full angst!

✧.* word count — 2.1k

✧.* 🪕 — Graham's masterlist

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I'm sorry for all the time it took me to come back, hope you have a great reading! 🫶🏾

“Was that before or after I spent all my money on that van?” Rojas' voice came out in a muffled laugh, with the coexistence you knew how to tell that he was in disbelief.

“Come on Chuck, you can't do that!” You interfere, hoping he understands that you all need him. “We have a big gig tonight.”

Billy turns around irritably, running both hands through his hair, Graham is staring at the ground and the thought of seeing him sad causes a knot in your stomach. You try to hold it together, that's what you used to do since you joined the band.

You had heard the conversation between Graham, Warren, Chuck and Eddie that day when the creation of the band was proposed. They knew you were a good vocalist, they had heard you sing on a few occasions and they knew that losing you as a member would be stupid, even if the band went nowhere.

Even though he thought he was the protagonist, Billy wasn't so reluctant to share his attention with you, seeing you more as an addition to something that would be very good. Everything was on track, you were actually gaining a lot of visibility and opportunities lately and the thought of Chuck giving up was a catastrophe.

You come back from your thought when you hear Chuck's low voice say “You're out of your fucking mind”

“So now what do we do?” Rojas asks, lighting a cigarette.

“Eddie you switch over to bass” Billy orders, you can feel how tense Roundtree turns in a second.

“No.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Please Eddie, just this time.” You ask affectionately, a little desperately.

“Fine.” He throws the unlit cigarette on the ground, heading towards the van that had brought you here.

…

“You ready Y/N?” Eddie asks through your door, you quickly grab your jacket and fix your hair before opening it.

“Let's do this.” You were nervous, it was the first time you had to do a big change for a gig and besides it was a big opportunity. All you wanted was things to go well. “Hey, I know you didn't want this but, thank you for doing it.”

Eddie smiles small, nodding before you are interrupted by some horns outside your house, you hurried towards Rojas' van where you saw him accompanied.

“New girl?” You ask Eddie before you reach the van.

“Yeah, Warren is kinda dating her right now. I guess.” Roundtree offers you a cigarette and you take it in his hand. “Hm, talking about love…”

He looks at you with a smirk, you immediately roll your eyes.

“Don't even start.” You ask, feeling your cheeks hot.

“You should tell him, you know.” As you two sit in the back of the van he “starts” even though you asked him not to. “I think you guys look cute together.”

“Y'all talking about y/n+graham’s?” Warren turns from the driver's seat with a smirk.

“What the fuck is y/n+graham's?” You ask with the cigarette between your lips, confused.

“Your couple name, we talk about you two a lot.” Eddie teases you, as Rojas nods starting the van.

“I don't know where you guys got the idea that we are something.” You lay your head against the window, feeling the breeze as you try not to smile with the thought of Graham and You as something.

The truth is that you were in love with him for years now, since before you guys were a band, you always felt amazed by him and little by little you noticed that it had become a passion. You fell in love with him deeply since you started to hang out more together, you tried to hide it but things got impossible when Eddie found your lyrics to a song that well… was pretty clear about your feelings.

You barely noticed when Warren parked in front of the place where they were going to perform, you could hear ‘The Winters’ checking the sound to make sure everything was okay. By coincidence, you had also arrived with Billy, Camila and Graham, who were getting out of the car with their instruments at the same time as you were doing the same.

You enter the place admiring the environment, happy and shocked by the different size than what you had expected. Camila hugs Eddie and then wraps her arms around Billy, Warren and his girlfriend walk hand in hand with Graham beside them when the younger Dunne stops, his eyes fixed on the stage.

His eyes follow in search of what made him stop, the figure of the blonde keyboardist singing along with the band is what your eyes see, instantly your body withers, feeling vulnerable as your feelings were completely exposed.

“Keep dreaming Peaches.” Warren teases his friend, and then turns around to show the place to his girl.

…

You were trying your best to understand how you got here, standing next to the payphone you were trying to hide how upset you were with all of this. You were silent since everyone had agreed to call Karen into the band, you weren't against her at all, but there was something that made you sad about all of this.

“I'll be right back” You mutter, retreating out of the diner with a cigarette in hand. It selfish to think that you were being replaced, you knew it, but the pain on your chest made you want to scream with this situation.

“Are you okay sweetie?” You jump in fright at Camila's voice behind you, coughing from smoke.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” Between coughs you ask, trying to hide your nuisance and overcome the burning sensation in your lungs.

“You just left and please don't get me wrong but you look upset” Out of nowhere Warren's girlfriend joins you, and you get scared once again.

“Could you guys stop scaring me?” You laugh small with your hand on your chest. "I'm fine, let's go back inside.”

And next thing you know, there was a big change for you to handle.

…

Karen wasn't the problem itself, but the way Graham's eyes lighted up everytime she opened her mouth or the way he can't stop the smile on his face when she enters the room. The problem was the ache growing on your chest when you witnessed those moments, the way your brain knew how that would never be you no matter how hard you tried.

Things were going great, you had an amazing hit and gradually you felt the band finally going the way you stopped when Billy left for rehab. But somehow even when you put all your efforts to see things on the bright side the feeling came back, it was eating you alive second by second.

You made your way downstairs to grab something to eat when you see Graham and Karen ready for something, desperately you check the clock thinking you somehow lost track of time.

“I thought Billy's housewarming party was at eight…” Eddie let out the question you were repeating in your mind, you gladly thank him in thought.

“And it is, she just asked us to come early and help them get ready.” Graham explains.

“And also take care of Julia.” Sirko adds, you hold the urge to scream in frustration.

“So I'll see you guys later.” The younger Dunne says goodbye to Roundtree with a handshake and smiles at you before leaving.

You rest your body on the sofa, exhausted, resting your head on the shoulder of the bassist next to you. He doesn't dare move,

Knowing what kind of comfort you would like at the moment, he's content to be by your side.

“Is exhausting, I know…” He says under a breath, his eyes fixed on the wall in front of you.

You don't answer, and he takes that opportunity to go on. “It feels like it won't ever stop hurting but eventually, you get used to it.” He lets out with a chuckle, getting a small smile from you.

“I don't even know if I can handle this party anymore.” You complain, covering your face with both hands.

“Don't worry, Warren and I will have you back.” He nudges you with one of his elbows, and you feel lighter with them.

“Like Warren will give me attention after his girlfriend arrived from that job trip.” Eddie laughs, knowing this is very likely.

“You know I've been in love before, with someone pretty impossible…”

“Camila” I say, he suddenly stops.

“What? No.” His cheeks flush.

“It's Camila!” You say arching your eyebrows

“It doesn't matter, okay?” He rolls his eyes. “The thing is, it passes… you'll be fine.”

This time you stay in silence

…

The party was great, even though you didn't find a specific group to join and spend time with, your company was enough for you. Suddenly you are taken by surprise as the lights go out, every room is filled with small conversations while some look for the root of the problem. You search in the darkness for Camila or anyone else in the band, trying to understand what was happening.

Your eyes see Eddie and Camila lighting some candles, you smile and leave them be. You hear crying coming from the rooms above, and worried you go towards the sound.

You find Julia crying in her crib, you take her with you downstairs trying to find Billy somewhere. Turning down some corridors you come across Graham and Karen kissing, Your body freezes and your eyes widen, you feel your heart break into mine in your chest as if a rope is tying a knot around it.

All you can think about is running away, but the child in your lap is something that holds you there. You take a deep breath, desperately looking for Billy and when you find him it's a matter of time before the tears escape your eyes. The older Dunne doesn't ask, he just picks up his daughter and watches you make your way through the crowd.

You struggle to find a corner quiet and private enough to let it all go, you open the beer you had picked up and drink it all in a few sips, feeling the alcohol rip through your throat as you open another one.There was nothing more frustrating than this feeling of incapacity, vulnerability and, above all, rejection. You feel the air leave your lungs as the crying begins, you try your best to keep your crying down but it becomes more and more difficult.

“Hey, what happened? Are you okay?” Eddie finds you, “I saw you running” He waits for your answer, but you just cry. “Everything will be fine, I'm here with you” He holds you, you let him hold you as you fall apart.

“I can't deal with this.” You bury your face on his chest, upset and feeling ashamed.

“Let me take you home.” He asks, holding your hand as he helps you up. “I'm sure Camila will understand why we're leaving.”

“Don't! Please don't tell her.” The tears fall slowly on your face. “The fact that you see me like this is already too humiliating."

“Humiliating?” He seems confused, a little bit hurt as he guides you to the car. “You don't have to be always strong with me. I'm here for you, you can cry all you want.”

As his car makes its way to your house you watch the street in silence, your eyes filling with tears every time you remembered what you had seen.

“I just.” You begin to say, crying a little. “I can't help but feel this way.”

“I know what it looks like.” He whispers, turning the car to another direction.

“Where are you going?”

“I think you don't want to stay at the house with them, what about we spend the night on the beach?” You look at him, your teary eyes curious.

“What?”

“Just walk around, swim and talk.” He knows you feel pretty comfortable at the beach, so he's looking for something that will make you feel okay.

“That sounds fun, thank you.” You try your best to smile, the car parks at the beach.

Eddie helps you walk up some rocks so you can watch the waves better, you feel the cold breeze against your body and it makes you feel a little more alive, of course, things weren't fine and far from feeling better… but not impossible to go through.

“Thank you for this.” You say in a whisper, closing your eyes as you rest your head on Roundtree's shoulder.

“Just like I always told you, you will never be alone as long as I'm here”

...

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

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Graham's taglist:@lantsovcolors @ariianelle @jaidaschampagneproblems @warrenrojaswife @hopelessromantic727 @eddiesaurora @number1chonie @scenesofobx

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[bi-bard]

Stick Season [We'll All Be Here Forever] Writing Challenge Masterlist

Here's the stories written for the deluxe tracks that were released on Noah Kahan's "Stick Season (We'll All Be Here Forever)".

If you want to see the writing challenge for the original album, then you can click here

I hope you all enjoy these stories because I've had fun making them.

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Your Needs, My Needs

You'll Always Be a Flower on my Skin and the Pain that I Am In Daisy Jones X Reader [Daisy Jones & the Six] Summary: (Y/n) and Daisy are two broken people that had learned to rely on each other. However, at what point does support become reliance? When does helping become enabling? What do you do when the person that probably saved you becomes the very reason that you haven't been able to save yourself?

Dial Drunk

I Dial Drunk, I'll Die a Drunk, I'd Die for You Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto X Reader [The Bear] Summary: A night of drunken grief lands Carmy in more trouble than he thought it would. He calls the one person that he remembers being able to rely on. His night of calls brings up old memories of the person that seems to be hellbent on ignoring him.

Paul Revere

If I Could Leave, I Would've Already Left Luca X Reader [The Bear] Summary: When Luca left for Copenhagen, he didn't mean to leave (Y/n) completely on their own. After years of not talking, he finally finds that nerve to reconnect with them, deciding to invite them out to visit. At first, all seems well, but something is clearly off... Luca just has to get (Y/n) to admit that.

No Complaints

I Saw the End, it Looks Just Like the Middle Tommy Shelby X Reader [Peaky Blinders] Summary: A face from Tommy's past comes home. When he tries to reconnect, he's quickly dismissed. If only his stubbornness would vanish long enough for him to accept it.

Call Your Mom

Throw a Punch, Fall in Love, Give Yourself a Reason Aziraphale & Crowley X Platonic!Reader [Good Omens] Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are left on a hunt for something... well, someone quite important. When they find who they were looking for, they are confronted with questions that they have no answer to.

You're Gonna Go Far

We Ain't Angry at You, Love, You're the Greatest Thing We've Lost Morpheus X Dream!Reader [The Sandman] Summary: After the events with the Corinthian and the Dream Vortex, many thought that Morpheus may have run out of any remaining kindness and leniency. However, they were gravely mistaken. It simply took a well-intentioned dream to prove it.

The View Between Villages - Extended [PART ONE HERE]

I'm Back Between Villages, and Everything's Still Tenth Doctor X Reader [Doctor Who] Summary: A further look into the trip that the Doctor and (Y/n) took to (Y/n)'s hometown. The one place that (Y/n) never wanted to walk into again.

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Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[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.