𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖 - ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖 - ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 1

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Standing in front of the apartment building you let out a dramatic sigh. Carrying all of your stuff up the stairs all morning because the elevator was broken had proved to be quite stressful.

Your friend David had asked you to move in his apartment with him and two of his band mates since they were all quite broke and splitting the rent four ways would be cheaper on everyone. David had been a good friend of yours for years now, and you really needed a cheap place to live. You hadn’t met David’s band mates so all you knew about them were that their names were Roger, Nick and Rick but Rick wouldn’t be living with you.

“Roger’s a bit of an arse.” David explained.  “But Nick is easy to get along with so you don’t have to worry about him.”

You sighed again and picked up the heavy box you had been carrying through the parking lot. It had a variety of things that you thought would be necessary to bring.

“Ugh!” The box tumbled from your hands and fell to the asphalt.

“Let me help you with that!” A man with dark brown hair and a mustache to match ran over to where you had dropped your box.

“That’s quite a heavy box for just one person to be carrying.” He flashed you a cute smile and helped you pick up the box.

“I’m Nick by the way, Nick Mason.”

“Oh are you David’s band mate by any chance?” You remembered David saying that one of the guys you would be living with was named Nick.

“That’s right, you must be Y/N.” David was right, Nick was very friendly. The two of you carefully hauled the big box up the stairs to your apartment.

“It’s sort of a suite if you know what I mean. A living room and kitchen that connects with two bedrooms that have their own bathroom and two beds.” Nick tried his best to explain. “Well I guess I could just show you.” He took out a key and unlocked the door.

The apartment was exactly like what Nick had described. It was a bit sad looking but at least it came with a microwave and a small fridge. David and Roger had already arrived and started to unpack their stuff. They had chosen the room on the left side of the living room.

“Guess we’re sharing a room then.” Nick laughed awkwardly.

“That’s alright, David said Roger wasn’t all that friendly.” You said under your breath only loud enough for Nick to hear. Nick grinned and slid the box into your new room. It too was just as empty as the living room. There were two beds on either side of the room and a small bathroom.

“I call the bed near the window!” Nick said and flopped down on the bare mattress. You rolled your eyes and scooted the box near your bed. Opening it up you pulled out some blankets and sheets to put on the bed.

“Hey Y/N.” David said. He leaned in the doorway and watched you struggle to find the edges of the sheets.

“Hey David.” You turned to look at him. Behind him was a tall man with a rather interesting face.

“This is Roger, and I’m assuming you’ve already met Nick.”

“Yeah, he helped me carry some stuff in.” Nick smiled proudly to himself.

“Well I’m going to go get the rest of my stuff. I guess you can introduce yourself to these two.” You looked between Roger and Nick. They seemed alright, although Roger was a bit scary looking.

“So you guys are in a band.” You tried to make conversation.

“That’s right, it’s called Pink Floyd.” Roger informed you.

“David hadn’t told me a whole lot about you guys if I’m being honest.”

“Well he sort of uh…replaced our former lead singer, Syd.” Nick said.

“He was having a lot of issues with drug abuse and we were having a hard time working with him.”

“No hard feelings though.” Nick quickly added.

“Anyway, like David said I’m Roger the bassist. I also sing sometimes.” Roger struck you as a bit arrogant but you had expected that.

“I play the drums.” Nick said but he didn’t seem all that full of himself.

“Do you play any instruments Y/N?” Nick asked you. Roger had wandered off back to his room to unpack.

“I play piano but not much else.”

“Maybe I could teach you how to play the drums sometime.” You thought about it a moment.

“Maybe.” You giggled.

Nick had brought a suitcase but not much else. He had also packed a small box that he shoved under the bed.

“What’s that? If you don’t mind me asking.” Nick blushed a little and pulled the box out from under the bed.

“It’s um…..my hot wheels collection.” He opened the box to reveal a large collection of hot wheels.

“That’s so cool!” You plopped down on the floor next to him and looked at all of the cars.

“I use to love hot wheels cars.” You said excitedly.

“Really!?” Nick had the biggest smile on his face.

“Yeah, but I lost them all. You know moving around and all.”

“Well Ive been collecting them for years. It’s just embarrassing to have toys at my age don’t you think?”

“No not at all.” You gave him a reassuring smile.

“I think we’re going to be very good friends Y/N.”

After you and Nick had put all of the toy cars back, David burst in.

“Let’s go out and do something!” He exclaimed.

“Like what?” Nick asked.

“Let’s go see the new Monty Python movie!” Roger yelled from across the living room.

You all excitedly climbed into David’s car and drove to the theater. David and Roger were in the front and you and Nick sat in the back.

“Should we pick up Rick?” Nick asked.

“Nahhh.” Roger said.

So poor Rick didn’t get to go.

Meanwhile Nick admired the night sky through the car window. And you found yourself admiring Nick. He had the cutest nose and his hair looked so soft in the moonlight.

Wait! Why were you looking at Nick like that!? You had just met him. But…he was really cute you had to admit. Not to mention that he had been so sweet to you today. You thought back to what he had said earlier, “I think we’re going to be very good friends Y/N.” Right, just friends.

𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥, 𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖 - ℝ𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕆𝕣𝕫𝕒𝕓𝕒𝕝 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 2

TW!: child death / miscarriage / blood

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Blood. The sheets are covered in blood and so are my legs but I can’t get up. I’m in a strangers bed, five months pregnant and there’s a pool of blood around me. All I had done was agreed to let Roland take me home and sleep in a warm apartment for the first time in days and now my baby was gone. Was it because I betrayed Steven? Is this what I deserved? How would Roland, a man I barely knew and trusted on a whim, react to finding my bloody body lying next to him? I knew I should cry for my now dead child but instead all I could think about was the ruined sheets. I must be in shock but those damn sheets…he would have to burn them and I would have to buy him new ones and I barely had enough money to eat.

Roland began to stir on the other side of the bed and I forced myself to sit up and fall out of the bed. The falling part was an accident but what did it matter? Baby was dead and I deserved to be in pain.

“SALEM WHAT HAPPENED?!” Roland yelled in horror when he discovered the pool of blood next to him. At that point I was gone, so fucking gone.

“I-I’m so sorry Roland, I’ll buy you new sheets. I’ll clean it up and then leave. I’m so so so sorry.” Sorry, that’s all I could say, overs and over again. The sheets. I felt so bad about the sheets. And I felt like such and idiot for messing them up. And the mattress was probably ruined by now too. I would have to buy him another mattress which would be far more expensive than the sheets.

Roland jumped up and instantly wrapped his arms around me trying to get me to calm down and explain what happened.

“I-I think I had a miscarriage.” It was the first time I had said that vile word out load since I had woken up and dipped my fingers into my daughters blood.

“I’m so sorry Roland I feel like this is just some awful nightmare. I’m so sorry about the bed.” I again turned to see the messy sheets.

“Don’t you dare apologize. I don’t care about these sheets. This isn’t your fault. I’m here with you every step of the way.” Roland hugged me in a way that felt so genuine. A sort of warm hug I had never felt but had dreamed of since I was a young girl.

Roland had introduced himself and sat down beside me in the library. I felt so nervous being next to such a pretty man that I almost forgot to tell him my name.

“Oh I’m Salem.” I giggled nervously.

“Come here often Salem?” Roland rested his hand on his cheek and smiled at me. His deep brown eyes seemed to shine with the reflection of myself staring back at him. I felt so unattractive and yet I wanted him so bad. I had always jumped into the arms of any man that would have me and that’s probably how I ended up pregnant and homeless. But then as I began to talk to Roland I noticed a faint blush beginning to get redder on his cheeks. He was wearing the cutest sweater with a scarf and a long overcoat that made him look like a cute little schoolboy.

I explained most of my situation to him and the crazy thing was, he actually sat and listened to every word of it. He didn’t interrupt or tell me I got what I deserved, he just sat and nodded and occasionally gave me words of encouragement.

After several hours of rambling on about my miserable childhood, my poor taste in men and my current state of having no where to stay, Roland suggested that I stay at least one night in his apartment since he “couldn’t bare the thought of letting a young girl in your condition sleep on the street again tonight.” He promised that he had no ill intentions and I felt that his eyes seemed to reflect his honesty. So I walked with him, arms full of books, to my car where he drove me to his apartment. The whole night was spent laughing and eating a tray of left over lasagna that Roland had made. Never once had he tried to touch me or even so much as kiss me. He just hugged me cautiously goodnight as I climbed in his bed next to him.

That was when I was happy. But now I sat on his bedroom floor crying hysterically.

“I-I’m sorry Roland I barely know you and I just…I don’t know what to do” I sobbed. He gently placed his hand on my shoulder and brushed some hair away from my face.

“Please don’t apologize. We’re going to get through this together.” I looked down at my stomach and felt like vomiting. My thoughts were starting to become clearer and my mind turned its attention away from the bloody sheets I had been desperately grasping on to and now to the thoughts of the little baby I had lost. For months now I had been dreaming of holding her for the first time and playing with her as she happily waved her little fingers in the air.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” I whisper softly. “Just let it out. Let all the sadness and pain come out. Cry as much as you need to.” His words seemed to mix together with the loud voices in my head screaming at me.

“I’m going to take you to the doctor okay.” He said and gently picked me up. I was a mess, blood stained clothes and legs that felt disgusting. I felt like a murderer. I did this to my daughter and anyway she deserved better.

The doctor only told me what I already knew and so I spent the car ride back to Roland’s apartment feeling numb. I should call Steven, the voices in my head kept whispering. He deserves to know that his daughter is dead. But did he even care? I had likely lost the baby due to stress and lack of nourishment. Maybe if Steven hadn’t kicked me out I wouldn’t have been stressed or starving. Maybe if I had been with a better man I wouldn’t have been in this situation.

Roland stopped at the library so I could call Steven. After a few rings he picked up.

“Hello?” He said in that rough voice that had once given me butterflies.

“Steven? It’s me Salem.” I chocked back a sob.

“Didnt I tell you to never speak to me or show your face her again you fucking whore.” I couldn’t hold back, I let out a strangled sob as Steven continued to list all of the reasons as to why I was the problem and how I ruined his life.

“Steven….I had a miscarriage.” I said despite the fact that he was still talking. He couldn’t hit me here. The distance and the fact that Roland was sitting in his car waiting for me made me feel safe.

“Good riddance to you and that kid, would’ve turned out just as ugly and probably twice the slut you are.” He then slammed the phone down on the receiver and the line went silent.

It was over. Steven had made it clear that he didn’t want me. And now I was not only single I was also no longer pregnant. I slowly walked back to Roland’s car and tried not to start crying.

“You okay?” He asked cautiously.

“N-no”, I wiped away the tears that were forming, “he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I hate to say it Salem, but isn’t that a good thing? You can start over now.” I looked at him and he weakly smiled back at me.

“I guess.” I whispered.

“Tell you what”, Roland said in his deep English accent, “me and you could be roommates and I’ll help you find a job.” I knew he was trying to help me and that I couldn’t just sit around and pity myself all day so I agreed.

As he drove out of the parking lot I whispered, “I was going to name her Mia.”

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.

⫘READ MORE⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 YOU ARE HERE

6 CHAPTER 6

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕄𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕣, ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 - ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 6

His right hand had yellow nicotine stains from years of smoking and calluses on most all of his fingers from playing bass. What had you expected? Soft, warm hands of a model? He had short nails that he had chewed down to the skin because he couldn't stand them messing with the strings of his guitar. It made sense, but still his hands seemed to age him a bit. People say the eyes are a window to the soul, but Roger's hands gave away something that he had never dared to say out loud: his life was a lonely, drug-fueled wreck. You wanted to judge him and tell him to get a grip, but unfortunately you couldn't speak at that moment because his hands were gripped around an all too familiar piece of paper. 

“Now I have no proof that this has anything to do with me, at least not yet, but based on your reaction, I’m assuming this was something I wasn’t supposed to find?” Roger hummed. His eyes were lit up with a sick excitement as he watched you shift uncomfortably. 

“Wow, a piece of trash. I didn't know you were the trashman now.” You huffed, pretending to be unimpressed despite the heartbeat that was slamming against your ribs.

“Where’s the rest of it?” He was already pushing his way into your hotel room before you could protest.

“Roger, this is my room! Get out!” You did your best to block him from getting any further than the doorway.

“Oh, but don’t you remember how you let yourself into my room? I guess privacy is something the rest of us don't deserve.” His hands were already in your bag and around your notebook before you could stop him.

“ROGER!” Your voice was pleading, almost like a child hiding things from its parents. 

“What’s the matter, Ms. Mason? Am I not supposed to read this? Is there something you're hiding from me? Something you're planning?” He opened the notebook and flipped through the pages that were just notes about your trip, equations you had scribbled down in college, and a few tickets you had glued onto the thin notebook paper. He hardly looked at those entries; the page he was most interested in, he knew, was in shreds at the bottom of your bag.

“Roger, if you don't stop, I'll tell Nick.” Roger looked up and smiled as he leaned against the wall. 

“He won’t do a thing, sweetheart. I’m not hurting you, and besides, your brother wouldn’t risk his job in the band for some whiny little girl.” He was right, unfortunately. Nick had it made as the drummer of Pink Floyd, and with Syd gone, Roger was slowly becoming the unofficial leader of the band. If he was in here attacking you, then Nick would be upset, but if you ran to him complaining that Roger was going through your stuff, he wouldn't care. Nick was closer to Roger anyway; it was as if they were siblings and you were the outsider.

“Kiss me.” Roger said as he knelt down by your bag and pulled out the paper scraps.

“What?” You hissed.

“Kiss me, prove that you're just some weird little attention whore, and this war will be over with. It's just your ego that's making you act out like this.” You stared at him in shock as he laid the torn-up page on the hotel bed and pieced them together.

"THIS MEANS WAR, ROGER," the page said, though it was all crumpled and dirty. Step 1: ruin his night. Step 2, make him cry. Step 3, kiss him.” You stared down at the page and then shook your head with embarrassment. 

“Fuck you, Roger.” You tried to snatch the papers off the bed, but he just grabbed your wrist.

“It says right here you want to kiss me, though it does also say you want to make me cry, which isn't happening, but I appreciate the effort so much I'll let you have one kiss.” Struggling, you pulled your wrist away and backed away from him. 

“I won't force you to, but either way you lose.” He said softly. You heard his words, and you assumed his tone was meant to soothe you and keep you from telling anyone that he was bothering you, but you were torn by the loud thoughts screaming in your ears. On one hand, you could kiss him and get it over with and admit that you did this to get his attention like some obsessed fan, but on the other hand, if you didn't kiss him, that would be you admitting defeat, and you weren't sure which one was more embarrassing. 

–

Roger fell back onto the grass in a fit of laughter as a rush of light and color consumed him. There was no way to describe the way the drugs made him feel or the places they pulled him to. He felt like he was dying but at the same time as though he was melting with the flow of energy that was all around him. The colors of the field were just light traveling on wavelengths that could lift him off the ground and set him on fire so that he too became one with the light and, furthermore, one with the energy of all existence. It was a heavenly feeling until he began to feel a strange sense of dread. Where had he come from? Where was the god that was supposed to carry him to the afterlife now? Where were the angels and joy, and more importantly, where were his answers? The answers to the universe and all of the torment that it allowed for the sake of the greater good. Where was the being of almighty justice and morality that was supposed to be there to reunite him with his father?

Roger lay there in silence, not just silence on the outside, but silence in his head where the voice of his conscience usually was. He felt paralyzed as he lay on the grass, too afraid to look around without the guidance of his soul. He was blind without the voice that told him to look around and question the world before him, so instead he lay completely still as his mind looked down on him from above. 

“Roger,” it whispered, but not in a sweet way like a mother waking her child from a dream, but like a demon calling to him from the void. “Roger, you have to get up…. You have to go home and hide….you know you're just a coward with a rotting brain.” Roger sat up and looked around; the cold sweat on his face made him want to claw at his skin and pull his organs out just to rinse them off. 

“Roger…… You know you sit at home when you can and let the worms eat you from the inside out…. It’s just a metaphor today… but tomorrow they’ll have your bones licked clean.” Just when it felt like the tension would pull his soul all the way up through the atmosphere, he came crashing back down to reality. Or was what the voice had whispered his reality? 

⫘READ MORE⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 CHAPTER 5 

6 YOU ARE HERE

𝔻𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕄𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 - ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕒𝕪𝕝𝕠𝕣 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

ONESHOT - NSFW!

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“Please, Roger.” You softly begged, pulling yourself closer to him on the bed in desperation.

He smiled cruelly and moved away from you. He had been pushing you to your limits for four weeks. Four. fucking. Weeks. He hardly let you kiss him, much less relieve even the slightest bit of sexual frustration that he had been building up for a month now. This sort of odd sexual starvation was something you had both agreed on, so you couldn't blame Roger for the agony you were currently in.

“Roger….IT HAS BEEN A MONTH, PLEASE!” You whined. You wanted to grab him by the shirt and kiss him until he was the one begging you for relief. But you needed him to say yes, and if he wasn't in the mood, there was nothing you could do but sulk. Normally, the next logical thought is to touch yourself, but of course, Roger wasn't about to let you have any opportunity to stop the burning between your legs. He was always there, always watching you, and if you calmed down at all, he'd notice that you had broken the rules, so you just had to deal with it.

“Awww, I don't think that's been long enough,” Roger smirks, half of his face pressed into his pillow as he looks at you. You groan and flop back onto the bed.

“Roger, I don't even care about your ‘rules’ I will start doing some crazy shit.” You huff half-jokingly. Rogers's face fades from a smile, and he sits up.

“Like hell, you will.” He pins you down and scowls at you. “What did we agree on, honey? No touching yourself or me sexually. You're the one who wanted to be desperate, remember?” Fuck, he was right in a way, you had mentioned that you were tired of how routine having sex was starting to feel. It was starting to get so predictable and boring, and you missed the feeling of desire that you used to feel when you had first met Roger.

“Well, a month is ridiculous.” You mumble.

“You should have been more specific then,” Roger says as he opens the drawer on his bedside table. You look over in hopes that he’ll pull out something, ANYTHING, that will make you feel better. He pulls out a tie that looks like it's been shoved in the back of that drawer for years.

“What is that for?” Roger still has one hand pinning down both of your wrists, which is sadly the most physical attention he has shown you for the past month.

“Do you think that this month hasn't been difficult for me, baby?” Roger closes the drawer and looks back at you. Now that he mentions it, you hadn't thought about how this had affected him. Maybe that was selfish, but he wasn't the one whose body was built with the instinct to get pregnant and then destroy itself every month. Your eyes widen as he starts wrapping the silk tie around your wrists. Yes! He was finally going to fuck you, and it would be over, and you could go back to the routine sex that you had taken for granted.

“Oh, I'm not giving in if that's what you think.” Roger laughs. “I'm going to make you watch me get off to the sight of you begging under me, and then I'm going to bed.” He gently kisses your cheek as he pulls his pajama pants off his hips.

“R-Roger, please, this has gone on long enough.” You plead, but he just shakes his head. “I suggest that you close your mouth unless you want me to cum in there when I'm done.” You close your mouth immediately and blush. “Fuck you.” You mutter through gritted teeth, but Roger ignores you. His pretty blue eyes gaze at you everywhere but your face, making you feel a bit exposed despite being fully clothed. You look around to avoid his gaze but notice him pulling his dick out in your peripheral vision. It had been weeks since it had made an appearance, and you found yourself oddly desperate to even see Roger naked.

“You can watch if you want, staring wasn't against the rules, and I know damn well I've been staring at you.”

“Really?” You ask softly as you look up at him. One hand is placed beside your head to hold himself up and the other is gently stoking his dick above you. “What have you been staring at?”

Roger groans and sits back on his knees. “I've been staring at those pretty lips every time you pout about how I won't fuck you.” His voice has always been soft but the way he whispers it makes you moan.

“Are you that desperate? Are you going to cum just from me talking about your lips?” He teases, making his free hand move to gently run his thumb over your lips.

“Please just fuck me Roger, it would feel so much better for both of us.” You whine, but Roger doesn't give in.

“That won't work but I do enjoy watching you squirm under me.” His words make you pout but then you remember that that's what he's getting off on, so you bite back your bottom lip.

“You know that only makes it worse when you bite your lip.” He laughs cruelly. “But it's making it easier for me, so don't stop. Matter of fact why don't you beg me to fuck your throat since you want to feel something so bad.”

“Roger-” Your face is bright red, and your breathing is shaky. “Please fuck my throat, please, even just letting me suck on the tip would be enough or sliding it over my lips even for a second would be better than laying here watching.” Your words start to become a bit jumbled as you fight through the fog of desire.

“Shit, you'd do all of that just for the tip? What else would you do just to feel a little bit of me?” Roger asks, though his breathing is becoming heavy.

“Id let you fuck my ass…raw…with no lube just to feel your dick.” You say and immediately regret it as Roger flips you over.

“WAIT, NOT REALLY!” You yelp, making him laugh.

“But you said you were that desperate.” He says as he pulls down your pants and underwear in one movement. You try to move away from him, but he grabs your hips.

“Relax baby, I'm not going to do that, but you shouldn't say things you don't mean.” He pulls your right leg up to expose your pussy from behind. “Wow, you are soaking wet.” He whispers to himself, a single finger slips between your legs, and you gasp.

“Has it been this swollen all month?” Roger asks, half concerned and half amused.

“Yes.” You groan into the pillow

“Poor baby, I bet it's uncomfortable when you wear those tight pants you always have on. And I won't be too vulgar, but I may have stared at your ass more times than Id like to admit this month.” You blush and smile a little bit since Roger can't see your face. But your smile doesn't stay long as Roger replaces his finger with his dick. He doesn't push in though it would be very easy with how wet you are, instead, he roughly grinds against the sensitive area effectively covering his dick on your mess.

“Rog- Please.” You whimper. You've given up hope that you'll ever feel okay again, and it almost makes you want to cry in agony with the way you stupidly took Rogers's affections for granted. This was the man who gave you everything, and you had the audacity to get bored.

“Fuck I can't hold back anymore I want you so bad but please promise me that we’ll never take each other for granted again,” Roger says between heavy breaths.

“I promise, Roger.” You say and he takes that as a sign to shove his dick in.

“Ahhhhhhh shit Rog.” You moan at how good it feels. His hands find themselves on your hips as he wastes no time fucking you harder than he ever has. A month's worth of tension erupts between both of you. A hand moves to the crown of your head, sliding over your scalp and pulling harshly at any hair that Roger can blindly grab.

“I've missed this so much, you have no idea Roger whimpers as he pulls out and rolls you over.

“I can imagine,” you moan as he instantly slides back in and moves his hips a bit slower but in just the right spot that makes you grip onto the bars of the headboard with your still-bound hands.

“I'm going to cum Roger.” You huff, your chest struggling to keep up with how fast your heart is beating.

“No, you're not.” Roger grins. “WHAT?!?” You groan, expecting him to pull out and continue the month-long torment, but he just laughs.

“Not on your back, come here.” He pulls you into his lap and pulls the loosened tie off with his teeth, his hands grab at your ass as you move your hips on his dick until you cum. You dig your nails into his shoulders as he continues to fuck you.

“Roger, I'm so sensitive.” You moan, whining in pain.

“Aw, come on, I haven't gotten to fill you up in a month.” Roger buries his face in your shoulder and moves your hips a few more times before he shakily whines your name as he cums.

“I'm never taking that for granted again.” You groan as you climb off of Roger.

“Good because next time it'll be two months.”

My first digital art drawing in almost a year. Please accept my offering tlb fandom

I had a dream that the members of Korn were donating clothes but in order to get them they made people fight in a mosh pit, and Johnathan Davis got really mad at me for being too aggressive and beating people up (you would be too for some free Tripp pants).

𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖 - ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 2

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In all honesty none of you really had the money to be wasting on movie tickets, but all of the boys were huge fans of Monty Python so they were willing to splurge a little.

”Hey Y/N.” David whispered to you as you got out of the car. “Can I put some beers and candy in your purse?” He held up a few drinks and bags of candy. Nick and Roger were already stuffing some stuff into their coats.

”Sure.” You took the snacks and emptied out most of your purse into the backseat to make room for the beer cans.

“You sure have a lot of stuff in your bag.” Nick commented. He sifted through the contents that now laid on the seat.

“What’s that?” Nick asked, pointing to a little pink package that was neatly folded. You blushed and snatched it away from him.

”It’s uhhh tissues!” Roger saw what happened and started laughing. You could tell by the grin on Nicks face that he had also just been teasing you.

”It’s not nice to go through a lady’s purse!” You scolded.

”Well all of your stuff isn’t in your purse now is it?” Roger snapped. He really was an ass, just like David said.

Once all of you had stuffed food into your clothes and bags you headed into the theater and bought tickets. It was surprisingly empty but you and the three boys decided to sit in the seats that were assigned to you on your tickets.

“At least no one is around to tattle on us for sneaking beer in the theater.” David commented as he pulled a can out of his pants leg.

You sat down between Nick and Roger. It was kind of like in the cartoons when the little devil and the little angle sit on either side of you. Nick being the angel of course.

The movie started and all of you settled into a silence. About halfway through you felt something lightly grab your leg. You nearly jumped out of your seat but then you realized it was on my Nick. Your face instantly began to turn red. Why was he grabbing your leg? Was he making a move? Did he like you?! The internal screaming and confusion was quickly put to rest when Nick asked, “could I have a beer from your purse?”

You squeaked out a yes and handed one to him. He smiled and turned his attention back to the movie. However, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was just so….cute and nice. You hoped that no one could tell that you were blushing.

When the movie was over Roger cheered and clapped. All of you left the theater with Roger being the only sober one since the rest of you had deemed him the designated driver.

”It’s alright, I need to be sober to enjoy this movie.” He had said.

You all piled back into the car. You and Nick were once again in the dark backseat and David was asleep in the front seat. Roger turned on the radio band drove home. You stared out the window and tried to keep your mind off Nick.

”That was a really good movie huh.” Nick said. Scooting closer to you in the backseat.

”Y-yeah it was.” You hoped he didn’t notice your nervousness.

“I’m sorry if I scared you when I asked for a beer.” He laughed a little.

“Oh it’s fine.” You felt your face getting closer to Nicks. You were both so close to each other that you could feel the warmth of his body.

”Could I uh…kiss you?” Nick whispered so Roger wouldn’t hear.

”S-sure.” You leaned in closer and kissed him. You were both drunk so you weren’t really sure if he would remember this tomorrow morning, but it felt good.

You both pulled away before Roger could notice and tease you about it.

“That was nice.” Nick gave you a cute smile.

”Don’t think I didn’t see that.” Roger said over his shoulder. Damn it.

“Anymore funny business and I’ll kick you out of this car.” Roger threatened. You and Nick both giggled and kissed again.

”That’s it!” Roger pulled over and started yelling for you to get out of the car.

So here you are now, on the side of the interstate, in the dark, with the really cute drummer of Pink Floyd. 

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?

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1 CHAPTER 1

2 YOU ARE HERE

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 CHAPTER 5 

6 CHAPTER 6