Roger Waters x reader oneshots

Tentative Decisions (Roger x female reader)

Word count: 3.6K

Tags: angst, smut, some fluff in the end. 

Contains dubcon, so be warned.

The title is from a Talking Heads song.

Takes place in 1975.

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The sky outside the window grows darker and the clock ticks more and more derisively as your mind and fingers start to get tired from working with the typewriter. You stare at the paper with zero enthusiasm, zero soul. Sentences are refusing to form in your head.

You've been struggling with writer's block for at least a month now, and you're not surprised. Ever since your other half started working on a new album with his band, his struggles and constantly awful mood have slowly seeped into you as well. You can't help worrying about him.

The clock on the wall reads a few minutes past 11 PM. It never takes them this long. Why hasn't he come home by now?

You sigh and turn back to the typewriter, gazing at it as if begging for solace, but it remains silent and without emotion. Looks like you're on your own again. You silently hope he is having a slightly above-average day. At least decent enough to speak to you like a husband should.

That's wishful thinking, you ponder.

Narrowing your eyes in the dark and squeezing the last drops of patience out of yourself, you finish the paragraph. You hit the keys with frustration, almost breaking one of your nails. Deep inside you know you ought to focus on getting a new typewriter since it's essential for your job, but you're just too worn out now. You'd like some peace. You'd like your Roger back.

Gently rubbing your fingers, you lean back into the backrest of your chair and close your eyes. Dozing off for a moment doesn't seem like a bad idea. After all, it's late and you deserve a break after almost worrying yourself to the point of insanity. You take in all the little noises around you. The soughing of the wind outside, your cat exploring the kitchen, the ticking of the clock, your quiet heartbeat, and...

Footsteps near the front door.

At last, he is here.

Before the blood in your vessels manages to accelerate, the door is shot open. Your eyes widen and you immediately hurry to the foyer to meet your husband.

"Roggie, hey. Where were you so-" you blunder before noticing the expression on his face.

He walks past without a reply or with an inaudible one. You hear him place his bass case in the living room corner and plop down on the couch.

Your cat appears and rubs against your legs lovingly, but you're not in a mood to appreciate it. You have been discarded like a broken promise. He appears to be even more angry than usual. Everything you were hoping to avoid is sitting in the other room watching a news channel and hating the rest of the universe.

Your fluffy friend goes to greet his other owner. You sigh and follow him, unsure if you should even try to help your lover or leave him be.

Roger has never been a simple and sensible person. He isn't someone you can easily mould into a shape that wouldn't cut you. Obviously, you love his one-of-a-kind sense of humour, mind and beauty, and he can make you feel like the most loved person in the world, but only sometimes. More often than not, you're stuck clutching at straws of the most rudimentary respect he gives you to convince yourself he's worth all this pain and effort you put into your relationship on a daily basis.

You can't just have his body, beautiful voice and all of his positive traits. You must take everything. And that is just too much.