𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕀𝕥 𝔹𝕒𝕔𝕜 - 𝔻𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕕 𝔾𝕚𝕝𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕄𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕣, ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 - ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 1

“I hate you.” The words spilled from your mouth so easily.

“I hate you even more.” Roger sneered. You just rolled your eyes and stared out of the tour bus window.

You were Nick’s sister so you had known Roger for a very long time. And for an equally long time you had hated him. He was like the human form of a pterodactyl, he screeched and had unsettling facial features. Not to mention his shitty personality that made you want to slap him every time he opened his mouth.

Nick had been nice enough to let you come with him on tour for a little while since you were taking a break year from college to travel. But it also meant that you had to spend three months with Roger. And to make it even worse you were forced to sit next to him.

“You love me.” 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.

“What’s it like being an insane drug addict who everyone hates?” Okay so that wasn’t your best material but it was hard to be witty when you were flustered.  Roger just laughed and elbowed you in the ribs.

“Ow!” You hissed.

“Oh please, that did not hurt.” You glared at Roger, but then you realized that if you kept giving him the reaction that he wanted then he would just keep bullying you. Instead you just smiled.

“What is your problem? You look like a fucking psychopath when you smile like that.” Roger spat.

“This. Means. War. Roger.” You said slowly, empathizing every word. 

Roger smirked and glared down at you. "War? And what are you going to do? You’re cramped on this bus with me for the next three months and you aren’t even tall enough to reach my height. what is a shrimp like you going to do to me?"

You looked up at him and grabbed the collar of his shirt. "Watch me." For a moment you and Roger locked eyes and maybe for a second you saw a slight blush dust his cheeks. You let go of his shirt and quickly went to your bunk and closed the curtain. How were you going to get back at Roger? He was right, you were a lot smaller and weaker than him. But.... maybe he wanted to see you fight him. Maybe he liked seeing you get upset over every little thing. If that was the case then what?

You buried your face into your pillow and screamed. Roger was such a pain in the ass and at the same time you wanted him to like you, even just as friends. It would certainly make this trip a whole lot easier. You looked up from your pillow and wiped the tears that were beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. Every damn time you wanted to be close to someone you couldn't seem to get along with them. Sure you were Nick's sister and while you argued sometimes you were still somewhat close for siblings. But you also found yourself living in his shadow for most of your life. He, and his bandmates, were so much cooler and more talented than you and so it made sense that they wouldn't want anything to do with you. But that was just you throwing a pity party so you sat up and grabbed a pen and a notebook. At the top you neatly wrote, "THIS MEANS WAR ROGER". Below it you wrote out a checklist of all the ways you were going to get revenge on Roger. Step 1, ruin his night. Step 2, make him cry. Step 3, Kiss him. You slammed the book shut and then realized what you had written at the bottom, Kiss him.

Images of his pretty lips and unconventionally attractive features flooded your mind. It finally dawned on you that you didn't want to hurt him; you wanted to love him.

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1 YOU ARE HERE

2 CHAPTER 2

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 CHAPTER 5 

6 CHAPTER 6

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 2

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Blue fabric and blond curls brushing against once youthful pounds of flesh. Once painless joints dance and fingers intertwinedas laughter erupts from the lungs of the two lovers. Crashed hotel rooms and half-burnt cigarettes combine with the smell of coffee cups that had been forgotten the moment that clothes had been tossed aside on the floor and short words of affection were exchanged. These memories are only fleeting in David’s mind as he grew older. He could see girls he had once loved flash before his eyes like static on a TV, only a few images were clear and once they were enjoyed they vanished back again into that special hell for unremarkable thoughts. Dirty thoughts, lustful ones that could drag him to that same hell with them if he didn’t shake them from his mind. But no matter how hard he tried he felt this overwhelming sense of distraction every time he saw her. Or rather every time he saw the tiny picture of that mysterious girl on her tiny plastic license. Her had every inch of her silhouette engraved into his mind but all he had to look at was that picture. It was grainy and the lighting was atrocious but he kept it safely in his pocket in case he saw her again, or in case he just felt like resting his eyes in something pretty.

Y/N couldn’t be more stressed. Not only had she been humiliated by some married asshole, but she had also embarrassed herself in front of a hot guy in the bathroom at the party last night, and to add to everything else, she had lost her driver's license. Technically she hadn’t needed it last night since she had gotten a taxi to take her to the party last night and then drive her home because she had assumed she’d be coming home drunk, but instead, she came home brokenhearted and without a very important little ID. At least she had come home alone. That had been the goal, right? Don’t hook up and get hurt but rather show the world that you can be a strong independent woman. She really showed all of those men working for various record labels, didn’t she?

It had been almost a week since David had seen her at the party that was set up for music producers to mingle with up-and-coming artists and discuss contracts as well as find members of successful bands who could mentor these young musicians. It hadn’t been the most eventful party but it had weighed heavily on David’s mind and the more he thought about her the worse the obsession became until finally, David decided that maybe this mysterious girl, whoever she was, probably needed her ID back asap. But how would he find her? He’d never seen her before and she seemed so nervous he doubted that she’d show back up at another party like that. Maybe he could ask around? But who would he ask? And how would he describe her? “Oh you know this really cute girl with the pretty hair and the pretty eyes and the great figure and shy personality?” Like that would make any sense to anyone but him. When he had first laid eyes on her he had wondered what he wanted from her. Sex? Company? Did he want to have her as just some hot girl to carry around and show off to executives? That was probably it knowing him, but now that she was gone he needed to find her to return her ID and this was David’s one chance to do something that might make her notice him. Then hopefully he would know her as an acquaintance at most. But deep down, maybe between his legs, he got the feeling that he wanted way more from her.

Y/N had dabbled in music since she was in elementary school when she had been pressured into playing the cello by her parents and despite hating it throughout middle school she was talented. It wasn’t until she began playing along with rock songs on her cello that she realized that the instrument was cool and something that she grew to enjoy. She loved playing covers of songs from bands like The Beatles, Creedence Clearwater Revival and Pink Floyd. Oh, how she adored Pink Floyd. She loved the album Animals since she was also a fan of the book Animal Farm and she had seen the movie for the Wall a couple of hundred times. She enjoyed the lyrics and music that had such depth to them that she could never duplicate. And then the band members were an obsession in and of itself. Her favorite members were probably Nick, Syd and David, god David was hot. Y/N wasn’t exactly in her youthful years anymore but she was pretty sure that all of the Pink Floyd members were old and wrinkly by now. Wait a minute, the older man that she has seen at the party, could he have been…the David Gilmour? He certainly had David’s gorgeous lips and eyes. But no, there was no way she could have been that lucky. She quickly jumped up and went to her computer to see what David looked like these days. *Click click* there he was, staring back at her from the other side of a screen, the David Gilmour, the same man that she had met in the bathroom doorway at a party.

David didn’t think that the girl he had been interested in, okay obsessed, had recognized him as a member of Pink Floyd. She did look a bit younger than him and maybe people her age just weren’t interested in classic rock the way they once were when he had joined the band. But even if she had recognized him she hadn’t said anything that had indicated she knew who he was. The reason he was falling down this thought process was because he had hoped that if she did recognize him she would be at the concert tonight so he could give her the ID that she had dropped at the party. Pink Floyd was currently on tour for their new album “The Division Bell” and if David had any hope of returning the license before he went far out of town to tour, she needed to be there. Maybe in passing, he should have introduced himself as a rock legend but he didn’t, seemed a bit egotistical at the time, but now it felt like a missed opportunity to meet up again. David wiped the sweat from his forehead and walked on stage. His heart sank when he looked out into the crowd but what was he expecting? For her to be on the front row screaming for his attention? Would he have climbed down off the stage and placed the card that had kept them connected for the past few weeks into her palm and gently closed her fingers around the piece of plastic so that she would never lose it again? But then he would lose her.

Tickets were so expensive but it was so worth it. Y/N pressed the rewind button on her CD player and listened intently as the opening piano notes played for “High Hopes” the 11th track on Pink Floyd’s new album “The Division Bell”. She had listened to the album over and over dancing to it, singing along and daydreaming about David. She had purchased tickets to the closest concert and was excitedly choosing what to wear. So what if her biggest goal in life was to stop hooking up with men she barely knew and developing feelings, if she came home with David Gilmour then that was better than accomplishing her goals.

David’s voice rippled through the crowd as instruments crashed and hummed all around him, flying past his ears and into the crowd who screamed for more. But his now watering eyes weren’t focused on the crowd but rather on the girl who stood just a few rows back from the stage. Her hair flew in the wind and her smile beamed up at him as he sang. It had to be her.

Y/N sighed and pressed rewind again in her CD player. Track two pounding the words “What do you want from me” along to the beat of her pounding migraine. It was too early to be waking up and getting all dressed up for another day. She stumbled to the bathroom and sat down on the cold porcelain toilet. The year was 2003 and Y/N was well past her youth. About ten years ago she still had the energy to go out, party and pick up men. She still had the strength to scream along at concerts and sneak backstage just as she had done at the concert where she had officially met the man of her dreams. It hadn’t been the first time they had seen each other, no the first time she had seen him was in the bathroom doorway of a smoke-filled room, but at that concert when their eyes had met and he had flashed a little white card at her, she knew he was the one and that she would never need to worry about being heartbroken again.

David waved the little card for just a second and winked at the girl. When he saw her blush and look down, he knew, he’d never have to put his love on the air again.

ℍ𝕒𝕕 𝔼𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕠𝕗 𝕄𝕖 𝕐𝕖𝕥? - 𝔻𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕄𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

ONESHOT - NSFW!

Warnings: VERY NSFW ONESHOT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

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You could feel warm hands wrapping around your stomach, contrasting the cool feeling of the stone tile on your bare feet. You hadn’t slept much last night because of certain...activities that had kept both you and Dave up until well past midnight. The exhaustion hadn't yet caught up to you, but the aching feeling between you legs was enough of a reminder.

Reluctantly, you had climbed out of bed and out of Daves embrace to get something to eat from the kitchen. Of course Dave had followed you, already missing the feeling of your bare body against his. Not like you were complaining about it though, you had also missed the warmth that had engulfed the two of you.

"What are you making baby?" Dave inquired between placing soft kisses on your neck.

"I was thinking of just eating a pop tart." You said.

"Sounds tasty, just like you." He smirked to himself and began to kiss along your jaw.

You smiled and reached across the counter for the box poptarts. Taking one, you opened the package and took bite.

"You want one?" You asked Dave.

"I want you." He answered, lifting you up by the waist and sitting you on the counter in front of him.

“ I guess you just cant get enough of me can you." You tried to joke, but your words faltered when you felt Daves erection pressing itself against your thigh.

"I get the feeling that you wouldn't mind more of me." He said. His warm hands now cupping your face and pulling you into a kiss. It of course started out sweet and slow, before it got more heated.

"Fuck baby, if you keep kissing me like that then we're going to end up back in bed.”

"Maybe that’s what I want.” You answered him between kisses.

Without another word, Dave picked you up from the counter and carried you back to the bedroom. Without breaking the kiss, he laid you down on the bed.

“Do you want me to be rough like last night, or do you want me to be gental with you?" He asked, knowing that you were probably still sensative from the night before.

"I want it rough of course." You said.

Dave gave you a concerned look and asked if you were sure that thats what you wanted.

"Yes baby, I’m sure thats what I want. I trust you."

Dave gave you a sweet smile and placed another rough kiss on your lips. His hands roamed your body, starting at your brests. His thumbs applying pressure to the sensitive spots he had learned would elicit noises from your pretty lips.

You started to get a bit impatient with his slow movements, so you moved I hand to his erection and stroked it slowly in retaliation. But Dave was quick to grab your hand and press your wrists above your head.

"I told you I would give you what you wanted didn't I? But since you chose to act out I’ll make this even more slow. By the time I’m done with you you’ll be begging for my dick like your life depends on it." You whimpered at his harsh words, and the way his hot breath fanned across your face.

“Get on the floor and sit on your knees." He demaned.

You immediently obeyed and got down on the floor. You looked up at him expectantly but he just scoffed at your desperation. He stood infront of you, his dick just centimeters from your lips.

“I want you to put your hands on my thighs and watch me get off." He commanded. You nodded and put your hands on his bare thighs. His hand wrapped itself around his erection and he sighed and the contact.

“I could have been in you by now if you weren’t such a brat." He mocked you as his hand moved up and down.

"I know you love the way I stretch that pussy of yours, too bad though." He looked down at you and smirked at the needy look on your face.

"Look at you, pressing your thighs together like that. You want me don't you.” His breathing was beginning  to get heavy and you knew what was coming next. The warm liquid sprayed out, painting your your face and chest with cum

''Do you think I should fuck you now baby?" He reached for a towel and cleaned the white liquid from your face.

"P-please Dave."

"Oh come on, I know you can beg better than that, you did last night.” Your face turned a deep shade of red.

"Please Dave, Im sorry for being impatient. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk anymore. Please." Dave looked at you with an unimpressed expression.

“Honestly, do you expect me to give in when you beg like that. I can’t even get hard to that bull shit.”

You looked up at him with a distraught expression. The burning between your legs was agonizing, and all you wanted was for Dave to touch you. But instead he walked over to the dresser and pulled out a belt from one of the drawers. Giving you a stern look he walked back over to you. Smiling down at you, he ran the leather material across your cheek slowly.

“Do you want to know what Im going to do?" He asked you with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Im going to wrap this around your throat and choke you while you touch yourself." He didn't wait for an answer before pulling the belt tight around your neck. The pressure wasnt enough to hurt you, but it did serve as a reminder that Dave was in charge.

“Thats it baby, be a good girl for me and I might give you what you want." You pressed your fingers against your clit as you listened to Daves words. Fuck, you were so sensitive already, and after watching Dave jerk off you were practically melting. And of course the feeling of Dave’s belt pulling at your throat was making the situation all the more erotic.

"You're so hot, Ah I’ve got to be inside you." He panted, his erection growing from seeing you touch yourself like that. With one quick motion he pulled the belt up, guiding you to the bed like an animal on a leash. Once you were on the bed he unbuckled the belt from your neck, and used it to tie your wrists in place. When he was satisfied that you were ready, he spread your legs and pushed in you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this, you feel so good every time." He panted as his movements began to get sloppy.

"I love you, oh fuck." He said as he pulled out and came on your stomach. Once he had recovered from his orgasm he smiled sweetly at you.

"Had enough of me yet?"

𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖 - ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 5

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So as it turns out groceries are expensive and the Floyd have bottomless pits for stomachs. Of course Roger chose ingredients to make more than one meal and David added a few miscellaneous things such as cereal and bread but when the idea of an oyster dinner came up all three of them got excited.

“Oysters and beer!” Nick cheered as Roger pushed the cart to the seafood section.

“Seriously after this we’ve got to check out otherwise we won't have enough for rent. And DON'T think that I'm paying for all of this myself!” Roger snapped. For once he was right, you had at least $300 in groceries for the four of you but it wasn’t going to be cheap to keep three grown men fed.

“How about these, they are close to the expiration date but that means that they are cheaper and if we eat them tonight we might not die from food poisoning.” David said, holding up a package of oysters. Roger nodded and David balanced the package on the pile of cans and boxes.

Moving carefully to the registers, you and David pulled out checkbooks and totaled up how much you would each need to pay to split the cost.

“So I have the most in my account so I’ll write the check but each of you will have to write me checks to pay me back.” The cashier gives you the total of $350 and you pay as the boys carry the bags.

“You each owe me $87.50.” You grumble.

“Right, right we'll get it to you when we get home.” Roger says and puts the bags into the small trunk.

“So do you guys not hang out with Rick or…?” The question breaks the silence on the ride home. Roger is sitting in the backseat with you again with his coochie out in the breeze. It was funny that he was so insistent on “stopping the funny business” between you and Nick, yet here he was with his legs spread further than you had ever seen any man spread. You knew he was just doing it to annoy you, but what if…what if he was jealous?! It was a dumb thought but maybe he was in love with Nick!!

“He doesn't contribute anything to the band so I kicked him out.” Roger said simply.

“Oh, well do you at least go see him? I mean wouldn’t it have been easier to let him move in with you guys instead of a girl?” I notice David and Nick tense up from the front seat. Clearly I struck a nerve but what could possibly be so bad about Rick that would make them all upset?

“Rick is………a FREAK.” Roger says looking out the window a bit uncomfortably.

“Huh? Like he's a weird guy?” I try to make eye contact with Roger but he's avoiding looking at me.

“Oh you stupid, naive child.” Roger shudders and finally looks me in the eye. “Rick is a bit like you in the sense that he enjoys funny business a bit too much. And considering that I kicked him out of the band I doubt we’re on good terms anyway.” I nod along to what Roger is saying despite the uneasy feeling it gives me as if at any moment I could be banished like Rick. It was probably in my best interest to get on Roger's good side, if he even had one, so that I can continue living with them.

“Roger, it's not a big deal what Rick does. I mean we all like women and he was our keyboardist after all.” David says from the driver's seat.

“Well he's not here and it's my band.” Roger huffs. He takes a cigarette out of his pocket and rolls the window down. You sit in silence wanting to talk to Nick but everyone seems on edge and you don't want to get kicked out of another car.

It was difficult carrying the groceries upstairs to the apartment but with two trips between the four of you all of the bags finally made it to the little kitchen where you all began to unpack the food you got. Roger carefully stacked things into the freezer while you and Nick sorted the food that needed to go to the fridge and the pantry, giving the pantry food to David to put away.

“Hey Y/N, I’ll write to you to check real quick.” David says, pulling out a pen and his checkbook.

“$87.50 right?” He asks. You nod and he writes it out and gives it to you.

“Here's mine too. We’ve gotta get some cash so that we don't waste checks.” Roger says handing the thin check paper to you.

“Right, well I’ll cash them in the morning.” You grab your new mouse doll and go to your room to put the papers in your lockbox.

“Hey…….I've only got $70 in my account.” Nick's soft voice says from his side of the room.

“Oh um, well when are you getting paid?” He looks away like he's embarrassed and holds his little checkbook in his lap pathetically.

“Being a musician and all, I'm not sure. Hopefully we’ll have a lot of money when we finish the album.” You stand near your bed awkwardly. You needed the money back for rent but you knew that money was tight for all of you so it wouldn't be fair to get upset with him.

“I could pay you some other way.” Nick smirks. Suddenly the mouse plushie comes hurling towards his head.

“Hey!” He pouts as it bounces off his brown curls. “I’m serious Y/N I dont have any money. I guess….I guess i'll get it somehow okay. Just please give me a few days and when I’m rich I’ll buy you anything you want I promise. He stands up from the bed and wraps his arms around your waist. “I meant what I said about being your boyfriend though I’d like to be more someday.”

I smile despite being annoyed about our finances. “That would be just divine.”

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.

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.”

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).

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.”