𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕄𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕣, ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 - ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

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.

𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕀𝕥 𝔹𝕒𝕔𝕜 - 𝔻𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕕 𝔾𝕚𝕝𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

ONESHOT

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

David has officially won the world record as shittiest boyfriend of the year. Maybe even the eon if he was being honest, and the worst part was that he hadn’t even realized what he had lost until it was far too late. He had lost the kindest, smartest and of course most beautiful girl that he could probably ever hope to be with and yet he had lied to her and pushed her to her limits to see if she would break. And well, she had broke. He had been pushing and pushing until one night he came home to a house completely wiped of her existence except a small note that didn’t even seem like it was meant to have been left for him to find.

It read,” I might not do this. I have to leave David no matter how much I love him; I just can’t keep staying up late every night worrying about him and wondering if he’s with some other woman because I’m not enough for him. I know he’s been cheating but then I think maybe it’s my fault, maybe I’m not pretty enough or maybe it’s because I pester him too much. He’s a musician and I don’t know why I ever thought I could tie him down with a family.”

In all the note was small and likely a page ripped from her diary that had been taken with her in her grand exodus that had occurred when he wasn’t home.

David wiped the smudged lipstick from his lips and realized that there were small water stains on the paper. Was he crying? No there was only sticky red lipstick that seemed to burn his skin now. He had been cheating on her, he wasn’t really sure why now but it was true. He had told himself that he was a rockstar, a celebrity of sorts and a tortured man who was only happy when he had women throwing themselves at him. But rarely did he ever stop and think about the woman he had waiting for him at home. She didn’t have to get undressed for him to notice her, or at least she didn’t at the beginning. Way back when he appreciated how cute she was, back when her lips were enough to please him. But the more he thought of her, the more he was filled with rage and desire.

The red stains wouldn’t come out. No matter how hard David scrubbed his face still felt feverish and raw as if the lipstick were a brand marking his infidelity. He felt so gross now not just on his face but everywhere. It hadn’t occurred to him last night but he truly felt infected somehow. The smell of another woman’s perfume clung to his shirt no matter how much cologne he drowned his body in. He couldn’t even remember what the girl he had had wrapped around him looked like but she seemed to still be gripping on to him, reminding him of his mistakes. She wasn’t the only girl, there had been others. A new one almost every night he stayed out late “at the studio”. He used to come home to a cold plate of food and his tired girlfriend asleep on the couch. And for some reason this had angered him. She was somehow unknowingly in his way and yet she meant the world to him. In hindsight he could only now see the warnings screaming from all sides.

One year ago

He could hear her laughter rising from deep within her lungs and mixing with his own. Her smile lit up her face as she laid on his lap and reached a soft hand to his cheek. This moment was so perfect and David could think of nothing else but how excited he was to finally share a small apartment with his girlfriend. He couldn’t wait to wake up to her gorgeous face in the mornings and wrap his arms around her waist when he found her in the kitchen cooking. He wanted stay up late into the night laughing and talking with her and spend afternoons laying on the floor next to her listening to the radio. There was so much that they could do together, so much that they hadn’t been able to do before. But none of it ever happened. Instead David would wake up on the couch after a night of drinking, or cook for himself when she was mad at him which had become a daily occurrence. And instead of spending his nights with her he would spend them with women who were easy with their affections but meant little else to him. He had chose this and now she was gone, he should have known this would happen. At any point her love and patience would run out and she would take it all back.

3 days ago

David didn’t even bother to sneak in when he could come home early in the morning. He didn’t care if she knew he was home late because he was the man of the house and what was she going to do to him anyway? Be mad at him? She was always mad but that didn’t hurt him any.

She was awake which was unusual because it was almost 3 in the morning and she was normally passed out by 11. But tonight she just had a feeling, a very, very bad feeling. David was out again “with Roger discussing the new album” but the odd thing was that Roger had called her that night looking for David. Things just weren’t making sense but surely there was an explanation. She didn’t need to track his every move right? Maybe David’s car had gotten a flat tire, or maybe he had gone to run some errands before heading to Rogers house? But no, she knew none of that was true because Roger had said, “I haven’t heard from David in a few days.” David had supposedly gone to Rogers place maybe two days ago so he was obviously lying to her. But why? She thought David was an honest man but evidently not. So when he did finally stumble through the apartment door she couldn’t push away that sick, damming feeling.

Through the light that spilled through the bedroom doorway she could see David rush to the bathroom like he was hiding something. She got up and swung open the bathroom door. David made some weak attempt to protest but he could lie anymore, she had caught him with red stains all over his face and neck, which also stunk of cheap perfume and a few of his top shirt buttons were ripped off.

“Did you have fun?” She scoffed. David’s face went from shock to anger as his girlfriend of two years reached for a damp towel and began to wipe off the lipstick smudges. All David could do was to sit in the toilet lid and look up into her blank expression. The silence annoyed him and paired with the gentle rubbing of the bath towel to his face made him wish he had stayed out a little longer. He was ready to scream at her when she began to sing.

“Ring a ring o’ roses A pocketful of posies, A-tishoo, a-tishoo We all fall down”

What the hell?? David thought. She was seriously singing a nursery rhyme after she had found out he was cheating on her?! Then again what did he expect? What was the proper response? She had screamed at him, hit him, cried and poured out her heart to him and still he lied to her. And no matter how much he hurt her, he would still blame everything on her.

“Why are you singing.” He forced the dry words through his lips. The girl stopped her gentle wiping and thought for a moment.

“The red stains look like blisters, like the ones that plagued England.” Of course, she was so childish and yet he felt that there really was some truth to her words. She grabbed his jaw and kissed over the raw, irritated skin.

“Is this how she kissed you David? It’s no different than I would have done it had you come home to our bed.”

5 hours ago

She didn’t have a better place to go other than her friends house, but it would have to do until she could find a decent place to live by herself. She had really wanted things to work out with David but she couldn’t waste her youth on a man who clearly didn’t love her. He was barely attentive enough to ask her about her day and she was beginning to feel so empty coming home to a house full of his things but not him. She was also beginning to feel ill from how much she was neglecting her body to look better for him in hopes of him falling in love with her again. Where was that soft spoken English boy she had met two years ago? The one who was passionate about music and so poetic with his words. She would find herself speechless at the beautiful way he would describe the most mundane things as if just walking outside were this elaborate adventure full of otherworldly metaphors and purpose. She admired him and cherished any affection he would give her, but that affection was almost nonexistent these days. She would have to beg him to glance at her kindly and intimacy was a luxury reserved for women far more beautiful than herself.

Tears streamed down her face as she shoved the last of her things into her car and climbed in the drivers seat. David barely noticed or cared about her presence so what did it matter if she left?

Present time

David balled his fist around the piece of paper and looked in the mirror once more to check his reflection. His face was red but free of “evidence” as he called it. It was too late to get her back and that might just hurt both of them more, but he had to decide, did he want to apologize? Did he want to lift her in his arms and pretend none of this ever happened? Or maybe this was all for the best, maybe now he could stay out late without her nagging him and wanting him to be a family man when that just wasn’t who he was right now. He was young and successful and he didn’t want to live the boring life she seemed content with.

For a few days he didn’t even try to speak to her. He didn’t know how to reach her anyway, but he certainly hadn’t tried either. About a week later he found himself lying on their once shared bed staring up at the dingy ceiling. Had they ever laid next to each other in this bed? Or spent a single loving moment together in this room in general? Maybe in the early days, before lust had consumed him but that was still no excuse for the way that he treated her. He compared her to other girls and made her beg for love. She gave herself to him so freely with only the purest of love and he denied her for more disposable affections. It wasn’t as if she was the one distancing herself from him, so why was he so cruel to her?

There were so many signs and God knows he did his best to ignore them but all of the temptation seemed to turn his faith to lies. All of her love had flowed right through him and now it’s was all gone. He had expected this, all of those “I love you’s”, he knew she would take it back someday.

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕄𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕣, ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 - ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 5

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⫘READ MORE⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 CHAPTER 3

4 CHAPTER 4

5 YOU ARE HERE

6 CHAPTER 6

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).

𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔸𝕚𝕣 - 𝔻𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕕 𝔾𝕚𝕝𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 2

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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.

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.

⫘READ MORE⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

1 CHAPTER 1

2 CHAPTER 2

3 YOU ARE HERE

4 CHAPTER 4

5 CHAPTER 5 

6 CHAPTER 6

𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖 - ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 1

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Nick by the way, Nick Mason.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No hard feelings though.” Nick quickly added.

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

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

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

“I play piano but not much else.”

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

“Maybe.” You giggled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what?” Nick asked.

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

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

“Should we pick up Rick?” Nick asked.

“Nahhh.” Roger said.

So poor Rick didn’t get to go.

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

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

John Deacon!

𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖 - ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

CHAPTER 2

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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.