I Had A Dream That The Members Of Korn Were Donating Clothes But In Order To Get Them They Made People

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕄𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕣, ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 - ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 5

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 YOU ARE HERE

6 CHAPTER 6

John Deacon!

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? 

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1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 CHAPTER 5 

6 YOU ARE HERE

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. 

OCCULTSTARR MASTERLIST

·:༺ ♱✮♱ ༻:·

ℙ𝕀ℕ𝕂 𝔽𝕃𝕆𝕐𝔻

★ Divine - Nick Mason x reader

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

1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 CHAPTER 5

★ Love on the Air - David Gilmour x reader

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

1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

★ Take It Back - David Gilmour x Reader

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

1 ONESHOT

★ This Means War, Roger - Roger Waters x Reader

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

1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 CHAPTER 5 

6 CHAPTER 6

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ℚ𝕌𝔼𝔼ℕ

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

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

1 ONESHOT - NSFW!

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𝕋𝔼𝔸ℝ𝕊 𝔽𝕆ℝ 𝔽𝔼𝔸ℝ𝕊

★ Just, Just Wasting Time - Roland Orzabal x Reader

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

1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

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𝕄𝔼𝔾𝔸𝔻𝔼𝕋ℍ

★ Had Enough of Me Yet? - Dave Mustaine

1 ONESHOT - NSFW!

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 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 YOU ARE HERE

4 CHAPTER 4

5 CHAPTER 5 

6 CHAPTER 6

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.

Just a silly Bill and Ted headcannon because I love transmasc Bill. I think he started doing the over the top voice to help his voice sound more masculine and Ted started doing it too so people would think that’s just how they both talked.