𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖 - ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖 - ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 4

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You woke up sometime around lunch in Nicks arms. He was warm and cuddly that you almost went back to sleep, but then Roger burst through the door.

”I see the two of you are awfully cozy.” He teased. You rolled your eyes and sat up.

“You better be glad that David hasn’t caught you two together yet.”

“Why would David have a problem with us being together?” I asked. Roger just shook his head vaguely.

”What did you come in here for anyway Roger?” Nick spat.

“I was just coming to tell you two lovebirds that David  and I are going grocery shopping and he wanted to know if you two wanted to come with us.” Roger hissed through clenched teeth. You looked at Nick and then told Roger that you would be done getting ready in a few minutes.

When you were done getting ready, you and Nick met the other two boys at the end of the staircase.

”Took you long enough.” Roger bitched.

”Shut your pie hole Rog!” You pushed past him.

“Morning David!” You hadn’t spoken to David since the movie as he had been asleep when Roger had thrown you and Nick out on the side of the road.

“Morning Y/N!” He said cheerily.

The four of you pilled back into the car. This time Roger sat in the backseat to prevent and “funny business”.  You sat next to him miserably. Of course he also just had to manspread his legs which took up all of the room.

”Ugh Roger. Do you have to sit with your pussy facing the world? Can’t you sit like a lady?” Roger glared at you and spread his legs out further.

When you finally got to the grocery store you practically fell out on to the asphalt and kissed the ground. It was awful sitting next to Roger in such a small car.

There wasn’t any shopping carts near the door so you all watched David duck under the plastic flaps and struggle to get a cart loose from the others. All of you cheered and welcomed him back when he finally emerged from the shopping cart cave.

Roger assumed the role of pushing the cart while you and David searched for the things on your list. Nick trailed behind looking a little sad.

”Are you okay Nick?” You asked him. He nodded and kept walking. You frowned and came up behind him to give him a hug.

Meanwhile David had found the cage full of stuffed animals and was happily poking them.

”You’ll never find a home looking like that.” He whispered to an ugly little mouse doll.

“That’s mean David!” You scolded. Nick reached his hand between the rubber wires that held the dolls in the cage and pulled out the mouse doll.

”For you M’lady.” He made the little doll kiss your cheek before putting it in the shopping cart.

”Oh come on Nick we haven’t got the money to be buying ugly rat dolls.” Roger whined.

”Well we didn’t have the money to go see the new Monty Python movie either.” Nick hissed. He then wrapped his arm around your waist.

”Besides, we’ll get rich soon and then I can buy whatever I want for Y/N.” You blushed.

”Wait are you two…” David stared at the two of you in confusion. You both just nodded in embarrassment.

”What did you expect David, they share a room. Besides you missed out on all of the snogging they were doing in the backseat last night.” David gave Roger a confused look.

”Yeah and he kicked us out on the side of the road!” Nick interjected.

”Roger! What if they got kidnapped!?” David looked as if her were about ready to hit Roger.

”Well they didn’t.” Roger huffed and pushed the cart down another aisle.

“It’s fine David, me and Nick were warned that there would be consequences but Nicks just too handsome to resist.” You giggled.

”Well I’m just glad that both of you made it home safely.” You followed Roger to the produce section, and then to the freezers with meat, and even to the aisle with all of the bread. It was terribly boring.

”Rogerrrrr,” you whined, “can I please ride in the buggy?” Roger shot you a dirty look over his shoulder.

“I didn’t know we brought a two year old with us.” You rolled your eyes at Roger.

“You can ride on my back if you’d like.” Nick offered. You gladly hopped on his back and giggled. Roger just glared at the two of you and pretended like he wasn’t with you while David had wandered off to the seafood section.

“Why don’t you get a room.” He spat.

”Why can’t you ever be happy Roger?”

The rest of the shopping trip was spent instigating arguments with Roger and riding on Nicks back.

“Ohhh Nick look at that cute baby over there!” You whisper-shouted.

”You can’t have one of those Y/N, not yet anyway.” Nick said.

”Well I know that. I haven’t even got a boyfriend yet.”

”Maybe I could be your boyfriend.” Nick whispered just loud enough for you to hear him. You smiled and buried your face in his beautiful hair.

”I’d love that Nick.”

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕄𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕣, ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 - ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 2

Roger had a bit of an odd fantasy. Over and over again, he’d imagine a young girl walking on the side of the road, her thumb held high in the air as sunbeams beat down on her skin as she hoped someone would stop and save her from the long walk in the summer heat. And he'd be the devil dressed as the good Samaritan who would pull over in his shiny red car with the top down and his arm resting on the back of the passenger seat. It excited him to think he could be there to save a girl like that, and in her desperation, she'd love him. 

Good looks didn't get him girls, nor did a good personality, so he had to resort to the demented schemes in his head. Some would say that made him an asshole, and others would call what he did manipulation. But to Roger, he was just the hero who could pick up a girl and revel in her weakness, and when he got bored, he could take her to the next town and leave her for the next helpless girl he found hitchhiking. But it was only a fantasy; in reality, he was usually shut in his house, with days passing between the words he spoke out loud. Sometimes he'd practice speaking to himself, but he'd always get shy even though he knew no one was around. “Hi, I'm Roger.” He said it in his most charming voice, but then he quickly looked around in embarrassment as though he expected someone to hear him. The truth was that Roger was the insane drug addict that everyone hated. He wasn't the cool guy who could pick up pretty girls, and he wasn't the handsome and wild rockstar he had imagined he could be. He was just Roger, who was always fighting some inner demon rather than taming it and using that festering spite to his advantage. 

If anyone had known about Roger's inner thoughts or, heaven forbid, his deepest secrets, they might be curious to know what Roger's idea of a perfect girl was. Could he put a face to the girl he imagined picking up on the side of the road? He’d only ever closed his eyes and pictured her from behind. Maybe the way she always had her back to him in his mind somehow represented vulnerability. And she was always a younger woman, definitely shorter than him, but that wasn't hard to accomplish. He always pictured her body getting into his car but never her face, and when she lay in bed next to him, he could just feel the way her bare legs brushed against his but not the way her cheeks felt in his hands. It didn't matter anyway; whoever the girl was meant to be, she was disposable to the debonair star that Roger felt he was within his soul, and as he stood in the dark bar, he stared at the back of a woman who could fit his fantasy. She had long blond hair, and she had to have been a foot shorter than him. He took another swig of the vodka he had been cradling all night. It was getting hot, and he hated the way its usual burn was making him uncomfortable rather than relaxing him. He had to go talk to that girl, get her back to the band's hotel, and then tomorrow he could get back on the bus with a horrible hangover while being another notch on that girl's vanity if he was lucky.

One, maybe ten more gulps of alcohol later, Roger slid the bottle against the wooden table and stared at the clear liquid that clung to the bottom of the glass. It was as if that little bit of vodka was avoiding being consumed by Roger, as if his lips were something deadly from which there was no return. Was that what girls thought of him? Was that why no sweet girl ever skipped his way, ready to pour out all of her love and devotion freely? 

Shut the fuck up, Roger.

He stood up and walked over to the blond woman. He couldn't remember her face; he was way too drunk, but she had followed him to the hotel, and she had been there giggling as he fumbled with the lock on his room door. He didn't really feel excited about having her next to him, but fuck, was he mad when he opened the door to see Nick's sister lying on the small couch in his hotel room. She had the cord of the room phone woven around her fingers as she spoke softly into the receiver. God, he could have punched her. She annoyed him enough on the bus, but to have her in his room when he was trying to dive headfirst into some mindless sexual escapade made him want to slap her. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” He asked almost calmly. The girl from the bar had stopped her relentless giggling and was now awkwardly fidgeting with her purse. “S-sorry, I'll hic leave now.” The blonde mumbled as she turned to leave. Roger felt the urge to grab the woman's wrist and plead with her to stay, pleading with her to make him feel like the man he imagined he could be in his daydreams. But he just watched as she opened the door and walked away into the night, her back turned to him before he could even get a glimpse of her face.

You sat up fully on the couch and stared up at Roger. He looked defeated, which was the goal, right? It was step number one in your big plan to win the war against Roger. “Ruin his night” had been scrawled across the top of your notebook in angry black ink that smeared and bled on the old pages. It felt so good to write it, but now as you watch Roger walk to the bed and fall over onto the taut white sheets, it makes your chest burn with tension and a guilty feeling that reminds you of a small child getting in trouble. He didn't look comfortable or even endearingly sleepy on the bed; he just looked cold and out of place in the stuffy hotel room. 

You sit the phone back down on the coffee table and stand up slowly as you debate apologizing to the empty lump of a man in the other room. You had expected him to yell at you and call you all sorts of names, but he didn't; instead, he just lay there silently, which somehow echoed louder in your ears than any of his yelling would have.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the dimly lit room, half a wall separating you from Roger's unmoving body for what feels like forever. Had you been standing in the doorway for five minutes? Ten? Maybe a hundred years for all you knew. The words “I’m sorry” were stuck in your throat as you watched his chest slowly rise and fall. He was alive at least, drunk and probably angry with the sexual frustration you had dried up just by sitting in the same room as him. You had only gone in there to make a phone call because the line in your room was messed up, but you had succeeded in the first stage of your plan nevertheless, despite it being an accident.

“Roger….” You whispered as you stepped closer. He didn't make a sound, so you reached out a shaky hand to his shoulder. “Roger, I'm sorry, okay?” He still did not stir; you almost felt like kissing his forehead and just getting this whole “war” over with, but there was still one more step in between that you couldn't skip, otherwise you wouldn't be winning the war, you would just be surrendering, and what did it matter if you planned on making Roger cry? He was just an asshole loser anyway, right?

⫘READ MORE⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

1 CHAPTER 1

2 YOU ARE HERE

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 CHAPTER 5 

6 CHAPTER 6

𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕆𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔸𝕚𝕣 - 𝔻𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕕 𝔾𝕚𝕝𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 1

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David’s fingers were begining to grow numb from pressing down on the thin metal strings over and over again as he tried to make the old acustic guitar sing the way he wanted it to. It just wasn’t working no matter how he changed it and played each chord backwards and forwards like turning the song inside out and then back again.

Normally he could pick up his guitar and play the way he wanted. After all, he was THE David Gilmour, one of the four members of Pink Floyd. So why the hell wasn’t his fingers and mind connecting to play in that beautiful, fluid way that they always did? Maybe he was distracted by the recent chaos that had been happening in his life the past few days. Well, to say it had started a few days ago is a bit of an understatement. It had really been happening since he was a teenager. He just felt as if his whole life he had been laser focused on his music. Sure, it was fun and had made him wealthier than he had ever imagined he would be. But at the same time all of the touring and practicing had filled his schedule to the point of having little to no time to relax. And by relax he really meant talk to women.

It had been years since he had been comitted to a relationship and now that he was getting older he found himself enjoying the money and fame less and less, and feeling even more lonely with every passing day.

He was still pretty voung, but getting far too old to be running around at all hours and partying like he was in college. He wanted to settle down and have a family and be loved truly instead of felling like he was alwavs putting his love on the air.

Thousands, maybe millions of people were screaming from the crowd as David was blinded by the stage lights. Nick was thumping out an introduction to the song as Rick was playing a nearly silent tune on his keyboard. David glanced to Roger who was gripping his bass waiting, anticipating the moment that the song would begin and his harsh voice would ring out with his calloused english accent echoing throughout the crowd. David loved this, he loved the praise and adrinaline that he got from performing. It was incedible how good he could feel letting his soul bleed out on stage. People loved Pink Floyed, they loved the messages behind the songs and everyone was chomping at the bit to see them on tour. And that was what David meant by love on the air, people would hear their songs on the radio and see them in interviews and claim to love them or even understand them. David felt as if he was transmitting but the reception was hazy. Every woman he met cared about who he was but not who HE was. He would try and try again knowing how crazy he felt putting himself out there just to get his heart broken.

Y/N hadn’t ever really had trouble charming men. Ever since she was a little girl she could scope out any boy she wanted and walk right up to him. But none of it was ever real, or at least it didn’t feel real. While she had an easy time entertaining men for a night or even a few weeks, long term relationships were completely foreign to her. After years and years of being loved and then tossed aside she vowed that no one would hurt her again, no one would cause her to lie, no one would control her by pain, no one would cause her to cry, at least not if she could help it. She wrote all of this down between tear stains in her diary. She then reread what she had wrote and scratched off the part about not crying. Maybe she could work on that part later. One little goal at a time right? Well tonight would be the perfect opportunity to test herself and see if she would fall into her habits or persevere as the new woman that she wanted to be.

The room was heavy with smoke and the general hot aura that a large crowd brings. Y/N did her best to squeeze through the roomful of people as she hurriedly made her way to the restroom. The hot, sticky feel of the room was made worse by the tears that stung her eyes. No one seemed to notice that she was crying, or at least it seemed that she wasn’t being watched. In her frenzy she had actually caught the eye of a man in his early thirties. Y/N herself was no longer in her prime so it wasn’t all that odd that she was being noticed by David.

David himself felt a slight rise in his heart rate that he acreddited to mere lust. She was beautiful, she looked to be around his age, and she was only a few feet away from him. He could talk to her, he could get her name, he could take her on a date, but then what? What did he really want? Sex? Company? He didn’t want to have such empy feelings for a woman he knew nothing about. He was always glancing around parties with wandering eyes like a ship trying to fix on a beacon. And so far that had proven a fruitless strategy when it came to attracting women.

Y/N’s red, puffy eyes had clealy gone unnoticed by David as well as the rest of the people at the party. She slipped into the restroom and locked herself inside immediently letting her hands fly to her face and posture slump. Here she was again falling into old habits and letting her heart be broken so freely. It wouldn’t kill her to go home alone for just one night, but she couldn’t seem to resist being flirtatious whenever anyone was friendly to her. And now she was in someone’s bathroom crying all because she had let herself get interested in a man she met at the party, but as it would turn out he was married. She hadn’t even been all that upset that he had more or less led her on by offering her drinks and complimenting her, she was more upset by the fact that she had been publically humiliated by the mans wife who called her an array of different derogatory terms and shunned her from the party. To add to the bad situation, Y/N would have to call a taxi becasue the girl that she had come here to see, her so called friend, hadn’t even been there. It was all just so messy and Y/N had hoped that tonight she would find someone who was genuinly interested in her or even leave the party happy without a man.

Her shaky hands dug around in her purse as she tried to reapply makeup around her puffy eyes. Someone was knocking on the door and she didn’t want to walk out looking a mess. Another gentle tap made her jump a little and she shoved everything back in her purse. What did it matter if she looked bad? She didn’t know any of these people anyway. They had all embarassed her and she just wanted to go home.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” She said, exhasperated as yet another knock at the door echoed througn the tiny bathroom. It must have been a man outside since she heard him huff in sort of a lover voice.

Y/N swung open the door and expected to find an annoyed man in a suit who would make fun off her for taking so long in the bathroom. Perhaps he would even comment on how selfish he thought women were for caring about their appearences all while Y/N would stare at his overgrown nose hairs and wish that he would look in the mirror more often. This was what she had expected, but what she got was a handsome man with a slight beard framing his chin and the most beautiful lips Y/N had ever seen. He had somewhat long brown hair and gorgeous eyes that dully gazed down at her.

“I’m sorry sir.” Y/N realized that she had been blocking the doorway and he must have been annoyed. But instead of snapping at her, he gave her a sympathetic look

"Were vou crying?" He moved back and examined her red face. Y/N felt even more hot tears roll down her face she must have been an absolute wreak with her hair disheveled hair and all but gone makeup. she shifted her weight from her right foot to the left and then back again

“I-its nothing. I’m sorry for taking so long in the bathroom. Here, let me move out of your way.” The man had reached a hand out to her, almost as if he was asking to wipe her tears, but when she shuffled past him he let his hand fall to his side. She seemed to disapear back into the dimly lit room before David could even get her name.

As his mind did its best to process all of what had just happened, he slowly walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

Inside the bathroom was a rather ugly maroon shower curtain that covered a yellowing apartment style bathtub. The toilet was in the same shape of distress as the tub, but with a wooded lid that made it all the more depressing. The once white ceiling was yellow from cigarette smoke and there was a cute little hand painted sign that read, “Jesus loves you”.

David sat on the edge of the tub and sighed. He had come in here to just take a break from the party. It was someone’s house, but it was also a good way to nework since David was working on a few solo projects. The light reflecting from the small window on to the poorly placed mirror caught Davids eye for a brief moment and he looked up to see his refelction. He wasn’t who he used to be. That was all he could think, well that and the fact that by putting his love out there again and againt he had essencially learned how to sigh on the ribbon and wires, but it was a habit that was so hard to weaken.

And to make it worse he didn’t even know her name. Wait. Was that her drivers license on the floor? David reached his leg over to the small plastic card and slid it over to him with the tip of his shoe. In the tiny picture he could see those same sad eyes gazing at him the way they had just a few minutes prior. Only they had been red and slightly more piercing then.

David stood up and slowly made his way to the bathroom door. Here was his chance to do one of three things. Either he could make a friend, find the love of his life, or it would end as a one night experience that would only make him even more lonely. Either way she needed her license so he opened the door and floated through the crowded room. He looked around for her silhouette in the dim lights but didn’t see her. After a few minutes of looking and walking between groups of people he decided that she had probably left. He slipped the ID into his pocket and walked over to a group of women.

It’s funny how women were the very people he couldn’t seem to understand or gain the confidence to talk to. But when he felt empty he knew he could strike up a conversation about his work or play a few chords and everyone would go crazy if only for a minute. And then again, that was the only way he knew how to communicate, was to put his love on the air.

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕄𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕣, ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 - ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 5

Life is an ebb and flow of frustration and pleasure, or at least according to Sigmund Freud. Now Freud was an absolute FREAK, a creep, a weirdo, and a man with an Oedipus complex, but his theories on psychosexual development through childhood were the closest thing Roger had to understanding what went wrong in his formative years. According to the theory, conflicts arise in childhood that require the release of sexual energy, though the term “sexual” is used loosely to describe anything pleasurable. Roger sometimes wondered where in the five stages he had fallen short and why that had been. He felt that he knew that he should naturally be attracted to a woman or at least another person who would be an outlet for the frustration he felt, but he never seemed to be able to fully release that frustration in full. It was almost as if he were too aware, too conscious of his own existence and being, to experience pleasure. He seemed to be reaching the same nihilistic conclusions about love and sex as when he thought about religion. It meant nothing; relationships as a whole were distractions that he didn't buy into because only fools buy pleasure. Had he stopped developing at the phallic stage? It was likely, considering he was raised by his mother. He didn't feel an attraction for her, of course, but it was likely he had developed a bit of his own Oedipus complex, even if it had formed into seeking a mother figure in every girlfriend he’d had. Maybe he hadn’t developed to the genital stage where he would have found attraction to women outside of his mother, and that was why he couldn't seem to find a partner to, in a crude and almost primitive way, release the tension that had been building in him since childhood. 

Roger sat in his living room with his little black leather notebook and a pen, using it to carve the lyrics to his new poem into the pages. It wasn't quite a song yet, but maybe with a few simple chords and another verse, it could be something special. Right now, it was just a few thoughts he had scribbled down late at night when his inner turmoil had gotten too loud to sleep. 

"Mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb? / Mother, do you think they'll like this song? Mother, do you think they'll try to break my balls?"

Roger rubbed his eyes and stared down at the words that seemed to be swimming in his state of exhaustion. The last word looked especially untrustworthy, like a snake that might slither right off the page and out into the world to whisper Roger's deepest secrets into the ears of the people he feared would hear it most. That line would be the serpent in the Garden of Eden that would tell the world the truth and emasculate Roger before his peers. But on the page it stayed, and onto some album it would go as a polished song where everyone would giggle about the word “balls,” and no one would put the pieces together to realize the insecurity Roger felt in his psychosexual development.

-

Your head was starting to hurt from thinking about your brother's friend. Even just saying that made you want to snap out of your growing obsession and just enjoy the trip. Who fucking cared if some English bassist shed a tear or kissed a girl? They did that all the time, and no one lived or died because of it. Rogers' tears weren't the fountain of youth, and his lips weren't the pearly gates, and you could almost bet his dick wasn't the holy grail, so why couldn't you just let it go? 

David sat across from you on the bus next to his wife, Ginger. God, she was gorgeous; her blond curly hair looked like a halo around her sweet cherub face. The two had only married a year prior, but they seemed so happy and far more mature than Roger. You let your mind wander to thoughts of giving up on your stupid crush; he had nothing to offer you, you could be just as successful as he was, and you could find a man who was far sweeter than he could ever hope to be. 

You reached into your bag and pulled out the notebook you had written your “plans” on, carefully ripping the page out and tearing it into four smaller pieces. You weren't going to throw it away here where Roger could find it, so you placed the pieces back into your bag to hopefully be forgotten about. Fuck Roger and this immature hatred between the two of you.

–

If Roger had stayed married to Judy, he would have had a beautiful woman to sit next to him on the bus as it sped to their next destination. He could have had intellectual talks with her about the economy and the weather and all of the other stupid things he used to say to her to sound smart and well-rounded, but in reality, there was so much left unsaid between the two. Still, she was a pretty woman he could wrap his arm around proudly. Unfortunately, those days were gone, and now Roger had to sit next to you since his other bandmates all had wives occupying the other seats on the bus. He didn't want to admit it, but he looked forward to it in a way. He liked it when the bus tilted a bit and he'd have no choice but to lean his thigh closer to yours, or when you'd get up and have to squeeze past him when you wanted to get off the bus and he didn't. Of course, he'd pretend to be unnecessarily annoyed by this and let out some exasperated sigh with a comment about you not being able to fit between the back of the seat and his legs. He also LOVED to manspread just to bother you. 

“Get your leg off of me, Roger; you don't have to air out your balls next to me.” You groaned.

“What? Can't handle the smell of a real man?” He smiled and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I never doubted you were a ‘real man,’ but if not, then congrats on your transition.” You softly pushed his thigh away. He almost couldn't respond to your teasing as he relished the way your hand grabbed his leg. You were shorter than him, but because he was 6’3”, most girls were shorter than him. Still, he liked how he towered over you even as he sat next to you. If he wanted to, he could trap you in the seat next to him just by refusing to move his legs. It was a weird thought, probably made weirder by the age gap, but it was almost as if he enjoyed seeing weakness in someone else for a change.

“Move, Roger; this is probably the last time we’re stopping to pee.” You huffed as you pushed on his thigh a little harder. 

“Whatever.” Roger muttered as he moved his legs to let you pass. It was fun teasing you, but it was annoying that you didn't just sit by the walkway if you were always going to be getting up. 

He watched you walk off the bus and out of sight before he grabbed his bag and sat in the seat by the window so that when you came back, there wouldn't be another argument about you being stuck. The sound of fabric shifting against the floor made him look down to see that your bag had been pushed further under the seat. “Shit.” Roger mumbled to himself as he reached for the bag, knowing that when you came back, you'd whine about not being able to reach it. Roger leaned down and reached his hand under the seat, grabbing the bag by its open pouch and pulling it toward him. However, when he finally had it pulled to the bus floor between his feet, he noticed that a small piece of notebook paper had fallen out. He rolled his eyes, thinking you were just keeping trash in your bag, but as he picked the shredded page up, he noticed the words that were written on the back.

“This means… Step 1. Ruin his…” It was just the start of two sentences, so Roger had no idea what the first one was meant to say, but the second one caught his attention. Was it supposed to say ruin his…night? It was almost word for word what he would have hypothetically written in his diary if it hadn't been at home under his drawer; only he would have said “Ruin her night” as part of his plan to get revenge on you. 

Looking down at the scrap paper, he smirked and put it in his bag before sitting yours under the seat next to him as if nothing had happened.

—

Needless to say, you were pissed when you got back to the bus to find Roger sitting in your seat.

“Would you rather sit in my lap, sweet blue?” He whispered so the other boys couldn't hear him. 

“Roger, you’ve got me fucked up, stressed out, and pissed off.” You whispered back as you collapsed onto the seat beside him.

“Aww, you’re just all sorts of discombobulated, aren’t you? I could help with that if you'd like some parts rearranged.” As the words left his mouth, so did his soul.

“Uh, s-shut up.” You shook your head and turned to Ginger to strike up a conversation that would get your mind off your current bus buddy.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Roger thought over and over until the short syllable of the word bled together and made him question the structure of the letters completely. Messed up a platonic relationship with your best friend's younger sister? Just put a good old S-H together and hammer the nail in the coffin with an I-T. 

“What conditioner do you use, Ginger?” Your hair is like a cloud.” You gushed to the left of Roger. Look at you, making friends while he sat here looking stupid as usual. You had been successful in ruining his night if that was your plan, but fuck it, he was going to make you cry and then be there to kiss the tears off your cheeks if it meant he could finally solidify your place as just an annoying little girl who could never dream of being with him.

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1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 YOU ARE HERE

6 CHAPTER 6

John Deacon!

𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖 - ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 3

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You stood there in the dark, on the side of the interstate and drunk no less. You watched as Roger sped away into the night.

“What should we do?” You asked the equally lost and drunk Nick.

“Our best bet would probably be to hitchhike home.” You nodded and clung to his arm. This was not a good situation, you could get run over or worse yet, get kidnapped. At least you would be with Nick.

Nick walked to the edge of the road and stuck out his thumb. After a while a truck driver pulled over. The driver was a large man who looked like he didn’t shower often. Nick gave him one of his award winning smiles.

”We’re hoping to get a ride to the next exit.” Nick said to the driver. He grunted and pointed to the sleeping area of the truck.

“You and your wife can sit back there. But no funny business!” Nick glanced at you but didn’t correct the man.

”Alright, we really appreciate it.” Nick helped you into the truck and you both sat down. It smelled rancid in the truck and you couldn’t help but feel bad for the little hula dancing girl on the dashboard.

The next exit wasn’t far off but you and Nick couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. What started as a playful kiss on the cheek quickly turned more heated and the next thing you knew both you and Nick were being thrown out of yet another vehicle.

“Well that went south quick.” Nick began to laugh.

”It’s not funny!” You scolded but you were laughing too.

”I’m gonna kill Roger when we get home!” You both went to the edge of the road again and got another vehicle to pull over. This time it was a small grey car with an old man and an old woman.

”We were hoping you could take us to the Serene Meadows apartment complex.” You cringed at the name. It sounded like a retirement home.

“Oh Darrel,” the old woman nearly cried,” we have to help this nice couple!” Darrel raised a very bushy eyebrow at the two of you.

”The’re probably a bunch of crackhead hippies Martha.” Well he wasn’t exactly wrong but you still gave Martha a hopeful glance.

“We were once young and in love Derral.” The old woman reminded her husband.

“Alright. Get in the fucking car. But no funny business!” You and Nick eagerly climbed into the backseat of the car, making sure to leave room for Jesus this time.

The car smelled better. A little like cats and cigarette smoke but that was to be expected.

The old man drove you to the apartment complex and you and Nick scrambled out before he could ask for any money. Both of you were now sober, awake and ready to gorge out Rogers eyes. You unlocked the door and found Roger drunk on the couch.

“Roger! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I WANT TO HURT YOU RIGHT NOW!” You yelled at him. Roger just rolled his eyes.

”I told the both of you not to be making out in the car. It’s your own fault you got stranded on the interstate.” Roger said without ever looking at you. He just sat on the sad little couch and wrote in his black book of poems.

“Both of you are just bricks in the wall.” He mumbled.

”What?” You asked but Roger got up and went to his room.

”He’s full of it.” Nick whispered in you ear. Now come on we’ve had an eventful night and I think it’s time we go to bed.” You both took turns using the shower and you brushed your teeth together.

”Goodnight.” Nick said and kissed your forehead. He had insisted on tucking you in so that the blankets were wrapped tightly around you. “Just like my mum used to do it.” He had said.

”Goodnight Nick.”

You tried your best to sleep but you were woken up by the sound of thunder. You hated thunder because it made you feel vulnerable and well scared. Quickly untangling yourself from the blankets, you rushed to Nicks bed.

“Nick wake up!” You shook him a little.

”Wha-?” Nick groaned and rubbed his eyes. “What’s wrong Y/N?” You looked down at your feet in shame.

”I-I’m scarred of thunder and I was hoping I could sleep with you in your bed.” Way to go Y/N, now he thinks you’re some helpless child.

”Sure you can.” Nick said you your surprise. You grinned and got under the blankets with him.

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕄𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕣, ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 - ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 3

Roger hardly called you by your name; he avoided referring to you in conversation at all if he could. Your name was like a drop of poison on the tip of a snake's forked tongue. He’d call you Miss Mason when you were being bitchy, and he'd call you Missy when he teased you, but never would he choke up your first name. He only called girls by their first name when he knew he didn't have to remember it any longer than a few days because, in his mind, you only name a dog to tell it what to do. If he met a girl and her name was Helen, he’d call her Helen because that was what got her to act right, to obey him until the fever of lust had broken. Getting too attached to a name and putting it to a pretty face would make him attach that face to a body, and then that body had to have a mind that would want dopamine and commitment and all sorts of other pure things that would burn a devil like him. He didn’t want to love any woman, and to him you weren't a woman; you were just a girl, old enough to be an adult, of course, but calling you a girl was another cemented block in the wall he had built between you and him. He liked it that way, his back to the cold metaphorical wall where he didn't have to acknowledge your maturity or your name or anything to do with your individuality. You were just another brick in the wall of his life, even if your brick was starting to crack.

As he lay on the white sheets of the dark hotel room he could have been angry if he weren’t so drunk and tired. He could have been frustrated with the way his jeans felt strained and the way his face burned with shame, knowing he could ease his discomfort on his own, but then he'd be alone with just his thoughts as usual. 

“Roger…. I just needed to use the phone; I didn't mean to interrupt.” Your weak voice drifted out into the room, but Roger couldn't bring himself to acknowledge that he had heard you or that he had heard the other two apologies you had already offered as you stood in the doorway. He felt his body tense slightly at the childish way you walked over to the bed and sat down on the corner. You were like a hurt dog with your tail between your legs. And that was a perfect example of why Roger refused to call you by your name. You were like that stupid dog Old Yeller. That little boy in the movie had guarded his heart against some mangy dog that he didn't even want at first, and then after a while he began to love the stupid thing, just to have to look into its eyes as he shot it. You were like that in a way, as awful as it may be to compare you to a dog in a western that Roger had seen in the 60s. Still, you followed him around like a puppy, and he shoved you away because he knew if he let himself get too close, he would have to look into your eyes when he inevitably hurt you. 

“Sweet Madame Blue, Gaze at your looking glass. You're not a child anymore, Sweet Madame Blue. The future is all but past.” Roger sang under his breath the next morning; his skull felt like it was full of hot coals that were burning the back of his eyeballs, but he couldn't look miserable now and let you see the toll the night had taken on him. Despite refusing to call you by your actual name, Roger liked to sing “Sweet Madame Blue” by Styx to mess with you and he'd call you “sweet blue” when the other boys weren't around. It was a bit ironic, a British man singing about the dying light of American and blind patriotism, but you knew Roger liked to sing it and tease you with the nickname as a very round about way of calling you a whore. 

“Got your bicentennial panties this morning, sweet blue?” He asked as he drank a cup of coffee in the hotel lobby. You rolled your eyes; you had felt so horrible last night about ruining his rendezvous with the girl he had picked up from the bar, but if anyone was a whore here, it was him. 

“Roger, what does that even mean?” You groaned as you made your own cup of coffee. 

“It means you're a nice young girl with a free and independent spirit who is being corrupted by the various indulgent greeds of society. Or, in simpler terms so you can understand, it means you're a slut.” 

“You used to be creative with your insults, Roger; what happened?” You shake your head with mock disappointment. Roger tried to hide his smirk as he brought the porcelain cup to his lips. 

“You're only mad because you know it's true.” He retorted, and without thinking, you protested with a remark about the girl he had brought to the hotel last night.

“Well, why the fuck were you in my room?” He asked coolly after a long moment of silence.

“I needed to use the phone.” You mumbled as the other band members began to file into the lobby with you. Roger just glared at you, your wide eyes reminding him of that damn rabid dog. If you had known what was good for you, then you wouldn't be messing with him; you wouldn’t be waging this silly “war.” You were a kid with toy soldiers, and Roger was a tyrannical warlord with psychological weapons of mass destruction you couldn't even fathom yet. He had brushed you off as a stupid girl, but now Roger was starting to think of his own ways of getting revenge.

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1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 YOU ARE HERE

4 CHAPTER 4

5 CHAPTER 5 

6 CHAPTER 6

OCCULTSTARR MASTERLIST

·:༺ ♱✮♱ ༻:·

ℙ𝕀ℕ𝕂 𝔽𝕃𝕆𝕐𝔻

★ Divine - Nick Mason x reader

⌞ Nick Mason is the cute drummer of Pink Floyd. Unfortunately, the whole band is bankrupt, so Nick, David, and Roger move into an apartment with David’s friend. ⌝

1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 CHAPTER 5

★ Love on the Air - David Gilmour x reader

⌞David was looking for love / Like the very first time /Didn't realize love never left him. ⌝

1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

★ Take It Back - David Gilmour x Reader

⌞He’s lied to her, he’s spied on her, and made promises he couldn’t keep. But then she finally breaks, and David isn’t sure where to go from here, but through the uncertainty, he always knew deep down that she’d take it back someday. ⌝

1 ONESHOT

★ This Means War, Roger - Roger Waters x Reader

⌞“You love me.” You teased. You hadn’t really meant anything by it but as soon as you said it you blushed. Roger glanced at you and shook his head. “What’s it like being a delusional bitch?” Roger asked just loud enough for you to hear him. You glared at him. That was the relationship between you and Roger, arch enemies from the moment you laid eyes on each other. But what if secretly Roger finds himself falling in love with you even if he says he hates you?⌝

1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 CHAPTER 5 

6 CHAPTER 6

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ℚ𝕌𝔼𝔼ℕ

★ Don't Take Me for Granted - Roger Taylor x reader

⌞S*x with Roger is so.... boring? It's just that you've come to expect it almost nightly, and that's not any fun, or that's what you thought a month ago, now you'd do anything for him to touch you. ⌝

1 ONESHOT - NSFW!

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𝕋𝔼𝔸ℝ𝕊 𝔽𝕆ℝ 𝔽𝔼𝔸ℝ𝕊

★ Just, Just Wasting Time - Roland Orzabal x Reader

⌞Salem Morove is in need of a knight in shining armor or perhaps an English boy destined to become a star? Either way, she’s desperate to get out of an abusive relationship and finally find her soulmate even in the midst of loss and chaos. ⌝

1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

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𝕄𝔼𝔾𝔸𝔻𝔼𝕋ℍ

★ Had Enough of Me Yet? - Dave Mustaine

1 ONESHOT - NSFW!