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sinning-23 · 3 months ago

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Publicity Pt.7

Warnings: fighting, swearing, smoking, y/n can fight and Paula can too apparently, bathroom stall? makeout, cunnilingus, proper use of a tooth gap, hair pulling, crying and cumming but also crying cause you’re drunk, multiple orgasms, unprotected (wrap it up sluts), confirmed relationship, drunk sex? kinda? tipsy? IDK-

A/N: So this chapter is a hot mess and maybe 2D and y/n finally have that much needed discussion about what they are before shit gets any worse. I HOPE YALL ENJOY? SORRY THIS ONE TOOK ME A BIT-

P.S this one is for the 2018/2017 rap girlies (#raesremmurd, #migos, #y/n shakes ass)

Link to:

Publicity Pt.5

Publicity Pt.6

Enjoy!

“Baddie baddie shot o’clockkkk!” You slur, a wide smile over your face and Noddle giggles all the same.

The bass was booming, and the strobe lights of the club made the slight shimmer in the dress Noodle lent you shine like stars. At least that’s how you felt now 7 shots deep.

You feel so much lighter, an air of confidence and calm washing over you as liquor fills your system.

"Gotta hand it to Murdoc, not a bad idea coming out tonight," You admit with a slight smirk.

You can feel a set of eyes burning into you as you raise the next dark brown shot to your lips. He's watching you, standing against the wall across the way as Paula talks his ear off.

2D's disinterested though, a cigarette hanging from his lips as you swallow down the liquid. Your tongue slips out to lick your lips clean. He faintly shakes his head, briefly looking at Paula, who had stopped talking to sneer at you.

That shot was well earned, especailly after the car ride had you really pushing your limits.

-2 hours ago in the car-

You finally sit back, releasing your grip on the seatbelt as the radio plays. You feel your phone vibrate, the message from Noodle making you sigh.

🍜: I’m about to cuss him out,, why the fuck is she on his lap?!?!

With how hard you rolled your eyes you’re surprised you didn’t see the back of your skull,

Reply: Don’t know, don’t care. I’ll be too drunk to gaf in about 10 minutes

Paula leans foreward, making eye contact with you.

“So, you get around- I mean, get out a lot y/n?” She asks, your blood already boiling but you pride yourself on remaining calm.

“Don’t need to. Get around I mean, I usually can stay faithful to one person.” You hum, hearing noodle choke back a laugh.

“You seem to though, get around?” You speak again, Russel looking at you from the rear view mirror.

It’s a warning of sorts. He knows a fight is bound to break out at any moment. 2D huffs out a laugh which he covers with the clear of his throat.

“‘Scuse me? I-.” Paula’s got this grimace on her face, and the look is making you feel slightly better.

“Oh no you misunderstand. I meant you party often?" You hum, seeing her eye twitch.

The car parks, each of you stepping out and easily walking through the entrance. You can feel eyes on you, but you can’t tell who’s. Russel's because of the caride, Murdoc, because he knows whatever schemes he's got going is working, or 2D...because he can see just how pretty you look in that dress.

It doesn’t matter.

-Currently-

If someone didn’t scoop you up and toss you over their shoulder soon, you would surely be knocked out at the booth Murdoc swindled somehow. Speaking of which? That slimy fucker was nowhere to be seen, having eyes on this little blonde thing that walked in when you all arrived.

You knock back another, and the liquid starts to taste more and more like water.

“Listen, we need to go dance before we- oh my god y/n, LISTEN!” Noodle gasps, her hand grabbing your shoulder as you pause to try and hear better, eyebrows knitting together in focus.

The beat is somewhat ominous, the vocals coming in low at first over the crowd but you catch it, that bass hitting with the lyrics

Rack city bitch

Rack rack city bi-

You’ve never hopped out of your chair quicker, stumbling a bit but gripping Noodle's wrist as you both giggle wildly. The floor had filled up with several people each finding their own space to dance. You can't help the way your hips roll with each vibration of bass, your hands coming to rest on your knees.

The room is spinning, palms coming to hold your waist as you complete a successful body roll. You hope they're his, but you know it's not deep down. They don't feel like his. Don't rub little circles on your waist like he would.

Don't grip like his do.

The flash of cameras catches you off guard but again, you're too drunk to care. The media team would have to deal with it later.

"Damn mama, I didn't know you could do all that." The stranger speaks, your mind blocking his face out.

It didn't matter who he was...because he wasn't D.

"Yeah, anyway, Noodle?" You call, feeling yourself become irritated the longer he speaks.

"What's your deal, I'm tryna talk to you?" He scoffs, but you simply look through him in hopes of seeing Noodle's round glasses.

No luck.

"Okay, I don't care. I'm looking for my friend so move." You scoff back, pushing past him in a bit of a drunken haze.

The stranger smacks his lips and its also a miracle he doesn't make a bigger deal of the situation. You stumble to a wall, head spinning as you take a breath. Yeah that was fun but...it would've been better if it was him.

You curse yourself, looking around, your stomach sinking at the feeling of being alone. Noodle disappeared, Murdoc was gone, Russel, you couldn't even remember where the booth was...and 2D......

2D was probably being seduced by that wicked woman Paula and maybe she was sucking the fuckin soul out of him. Your eyes sting, the lump in your throat working its way out in small sobs as your eyes fill with tears.

Crying in the club? Seriously?

You try to hide in the darkened corner, trying not to ruin your makeup as your heart aches. You shuffle to the bathroom, drunken ladies much like yourself offering you comfort as you try to fix your melted mascara and eyeliner.

The washroom empties, leaving you alone in from of the mirror, overstimulated and ready to leave.

"Are you seriously crying right now?" She speaks, an amusement of sorts lacing her tone.

Paula stands at the sink beside you, applying a fresh coat of deep red lipstick.

"I mean, I would be too if I thought I had a chance at something serious with Stupot." She hums, mater-of-factly.

You can feel your fists balling up at your sides, the sober self-restraint you had dwindling.

"What's your problem? Why are you being such a vicious bitch!? You don't even know me!" You argue, stepping to her as she does the same, quite skilled at making you feel small.

"Honestly, I couldn't care less about you. But Stu, I think I got another chance with 'im. Murdoc seems to think so, and I want my spot in this band back." She admits, your eyes scanning her with rage.

"So you come and squeeze your ass where it doesn't fit? Didn't you want to go after Murdoc in the first place?" You rage, fists still clenched with the last, dwindling ounce of restraint you have left.

"I can have em' both. Stu is a lil.. well let's be honest daft, and Murdoc knows exactly what I wan' an' how to give it to me."

Your knuckles turn white.

"I doubt he'll make me leave the band, he's desperate." She explains, backing up from the mirror, and flashing a smile.

You're at a loss for words, anger boiling within you. Paula walks out, the click of her heels echoing down the hall. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. It's almost as if your reflection speaks to you.

"You're just gonna let that slide? Go fuck her up y/n."

You didn't need to be told twice, your strides were quick and focused, and the only thing on your mind was to wind up and let her have it. You spot her at the bar, her head turning towards you as your palm pulls back.

Whatever drink she had in her mouth went flying out.

She stumbles, reaching for a fistful of your hair and you yelp, taking each punch she throws while she drags you onto the main floor.

The flashes of cameras and the sounds of Nicki Minaj blaring only stimulate you more as you use your leg to kick her off you. Your arm swings full force, landing almost helicopter-like punches as you chant swears, your knuckles becoming bruised.

You can feel your eye pulsing and blood trickle down your lip.

Paula manages to flip you, her fist back in your hair as she lands more punches. Between heaves of 'Bitch, bitch, bitch" and "let me go hoe", the two of you hash it out and are way far less sophisticated than you anticipated.

-moments before disaster-

Stuart sits in the booth, cheek resting again on this palm as music booms through the club. He wasn't sure where you were, that was his biggest concern. Earlier he'd seen you sprint to the floor to dance and some dude had managed to wedge his way to you.

Yeah, it pissed him off but...was he really allowed to be upset right now? You two...weren't in an established relationship. He said he had feelings for you but that was it. Then Paulal showed up and things just felt tense.

The car ride pissed him off, why Paula decided to sit herself where you belonged, he didn't know. However. before he could protest you were already entering the car. He wanted to die right then and there, the look of utter irritation and betrayal written on your face made his heart sink.

And now, you're nowhere to be found...probably with that guy you were dancing with... He perks up at the sound of swearing, something that sounds like confrontation. The crowd seems to swarm to one spot and he can hear your voice, raging and heaving.

"BITCH! GET UP! GET UP!"

Russel, who had been sitting at the booth with him, was already getting up to go separate you from your opponent. He squeezes his way past, spotting both you and Paula beat up, the fight looking to have been pretty fair. The brunette's hair was knotted, red lipstick smudged, and glasses cracked. He doesn't know what to feel, tugging your back as you spit more insults through gritted teeth, lunging to attack her again as she does the same.

-currently-

You're unsure of who won because both of you were being pulled apart by either security or a stranger who just wanted to finish dancing and drinking.

"Wha' happened?!" 2D gasp, tugging you away as you spit blood at her feet, animosity clouding your vision.

"I'm sick of her ass that's what happened. She's a fuckin snake D." You explain, lurching forward as she shoots you a blood-filled smirk.

"Sure am you sleazy twat!" She seethes back, rage flashing in your eyes before you're pulled back again.

You're being dragged away faster than you can process, adrenaline still rushing through your veins as your knuckles twitch. You look up, only seeing a mess of blue hair.

Your stomach drops when you reach a neutral bathroom and when the door clicks locked.

"...D, I-I'm sorry I-"

"Stop. You go' a busted lip" He speaks shortly, running multiple paper towels under the faucet before ringing them out and approaching you.

The lights are dim and, your body beginning to ache now. The cold paper towel meets your lip and you avoid eye contact, silently awaiting something, anything.

"She fucking evil." You whisper, looking down at your shoes, only to have him lift your chin.

"You beat 'er pretty good though," He hums, taking care to not apply too much pressure.

Your head is still fuzzy, the room having a slight spin.

"I did? I was running on whiskey and rage." You giggle, seeing him smile faintly.

"Yeah, I thin' thas' enough for you for tha' nigh'" He explains, a slight frown replacing the brief smile.

"Are we okay?" He asks finally, giving you whiplash almost.

"W-What do you mean? I mean...I don't know. We don't have a label for this and Paula's been all over you. You haven't seemed too much against having her again." You speak tone albeit quite bitter.

When you finally tear your gaze from the tile floor and look up, he's already staring at you, hurt. Fuck that look...those stupid pathetic puppy eyes. Like he was lost and the only guide was you.

"What? No, I.- again? Who told you we-?" He's got so many questions he can barely complete the sentences.

"Murdoc. And Noodle gave me the rest of the details, but that doesn't matter. You didn't even stick up for me. Or dismiss her... or I don't know. But that's not your responsibility because we're not together."

"Oh..." He states simply, brows furrowed just as much as yours now.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn' think you...I don' know I thought that maybe that was only a one-time thing and you didn' wan' me hangin' all over yo-"

"Why would I want that?! Dude, I literally told you I didn't want to mess up whatever this was and you told me you had feelings for me. I want you!" You burst, eyes wide at your confession.

"You do? Though' that' guy you was dancing with was takin' up your attention." He states almost as if you're playing him.

How many trust issues did this guy have?

"Yes Stu, why would I lie. Why would I fucking fight with her over you? I've literally never done that before. Ever. And I was just trying to make you jealous! Kept wishing it was you..." You explain, lifting your bruised knuckles whilst shaking your head in disbelief.

"I want you." You reitorate, eyes searching his. He's not thoroughly convinced almost, his pitch-black hues scanning yours for a hint of malice, maybe even dishonesty.

He finds none.

You can't help but cup his cheek, feeling kinda stupid for the events of the night but it didn't matter now. Like magnets, the two of you pull towards one another, pausing for reassurance between your lips meeting.

He doesn't hesitate to close the gap.

Sobering, you pull him closer, your fingers lacing through the hair at the back of his neck and he whines.

You can feel his body envelope yours, his own hand mimicking your movements, one hand at your waist while the other guides your kisses, each deepening by the second.

Neither of you bother to pull away for air, puffs of air hitting your face as you maneuver to grip the collar of his shirt.

"Here? N-Now? Right now?!" He asks in a huff, face flushed and red under the dim lighting.

"Fucking, yes. Now." You insist, eyebrows furrowed, you pop each button one by one.

"W-Wait no you're drunk,' He gulps, gripping your wrists.

What?! No no no! Why give you that kiss and get you all worked up as if you weren't running off adrenaline? A whine leaves your lips and you rest your forehead on his chest,

"A-A little but please? Please I need you." You whimper, the strap of your dress sliding down.

"Love, you're not...you need to sober up. And I don't thin' you wan' this in a bathroom stall." He explains, pressing a kiss to your temple.

No convincing this one. You sigh, nodding before standing and using him for support. Your phone dings in your dress's pocket and with another heavy sigh you answer.

3 missed calls 7 new messagess 🍜: Who was that guy you were dancing with??? 🍜: Hey whered you go? Missed call from 🍜 🍜: Hey girl where are you? I think Paula finally left D alone you should talk to him 🍜: Girl answer your phone! Missed call from 🍜 🍜 : Holy shit there's a figth?! Two chicks- 🍜 : OH my god that's you?! AND PAULA 🍜 : Where did you and D go? We're outside in the car we need to bounce asap! Missed call from 🍜

You blink hard, glancing up at 2D who’s got one arm around your waist, the other keeping you steady, holding your free hand with care.

“We gotta go. Like now. I think everyone’s in the car.” You whisper, feeling your head start to hurt.

He nods, planting another soft kiss to your temple.

“I know, jus’ focus on keepin’ your balance.” He explains, doing his best to keep you guys along the darkened walls of the club.

Just outside was the bullet-hole-filled Camaro. Inside are Noodle and Russel. Both of them sitting front seat. You stumble down the stairs and into the car with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorryyyy.” You groan, reaching for Noodle's shoulder as she lets out a breath of relief.

“Girl don’t do that again! I didn’t know where you were!” She scolds, gripping your hand with a scowl.

“I was looking for you but I couldn’t find you!” You explain, telling her about what had happened from the washroom all the way to the dance floor and the way up to the fight.

“About that, where’s Paula?” You ask, looking beside you as if she’d just appeared somehow.

“Quit I guess. Said she’s getting her stuff later and just caught a ride after you whooped her ass.” Noodle chuckles. Showing you clips of a video that was already posted on Instagram.

“Fuck, my media team is gonna kick my asss.” You huff, already thinking of what you’d be reprimanded for upon your arrival in New York.

You groan, eyes squeezing shut. You can feel 2D squeezing your hand, keeping you grounded as the car takes turns you won't quite remember by the morning. Speaking of which, you don't even quite remember how you got back to the studio so fast. Hell, you didn't even know how you got up the stairs and seated atop a soft mattress.

A mess of blue hair and a gentle touch remove your heels, each strap pulled off your sore ankles and feet before being set aside. He pulls bobby pins from your hair, each one clinking softly against the nightstand which held an ashtray and the blunt you two had smoked the prior.

Your head is clearing up now, at least a little and he raises a cup with a straw to your lips.

"You're treating me like a princess." You hum, using your free hand to cup his cheek.

He only smiles softly, setting the water aside before kissing you're forehead. What the fuck were you two? The dreaded forehead kiss?! You don't have time to question it because he's already out the door, reminding you that he'd be right back.

You swing your feet off the edge of the bed, the water helping keep whatever headache at bay.

It's dark, the only source of light being the faint glow of the bathroom. Standing, you clumsily walk to the bathroom, observing your state in the mirror, growing at the realization of how fucked your face was.

Mascara and eyeliner were smudged and melted over your eyelids, while the gloss you wore had long gone. In its place was a gash, dried blood surrounding the won't as you poke your lip out to inspect.

Glitter littered your cheeks and adorned the growing bruise there. Your eye's swelling had gone down so that was a plus... You sigh, looking briefly as 2D when he re-enters the room, catching your displeased look in the mirror.

"Got you some pajamas" He offers, offering a soft glace.

"Why don't you just let me wear one of your shirts?" You ask, pleading almost as he paused, but complies, guiding you back t the bed to sit.

He's careful, lifting your dress over your head, face flushing as the sight of your body. God you're just too pretty for your own good. There's a pause, the eye contact strong between the two of you and you cant help but crack first, your arms looping around his neck.

"Thank you, for taking care of me." You whisper, bodies melting together as he tugs this dress shirt of.

"Always. He states simply, your lips meeting again, and you can taste the remnants of a cigarette and butterscotch on his tongue.

The room is filled with soft gasps, mainly on your end as 2D practically caters to you, gauging your every move.

"Le' me make everythin' up to you darlin'" He states, not a question, more of a plea.

"Thought you said I was too drunk?" You recall, raising a accusatory brow.

"We're both drunk" He chuckles, the look in his eyes solely trained on you and filled with anticipation.

"I was jus tryin' t' be responsible'" He explains, seeing a slight grin take its place over your lips.

"Yeah right, drunk and responsible don't even go together." You huff, connecting your lips again as he happily accepts.

Downnn your neck he trails searng hot kisses, sences heightened by the last bit of alcohol still in your bloodstream

"Hey, you don't have to-"

"I want to, 'specially after everythin' yesterday and tonigh'." He explains, already at your waist, peppering kisses along the hem of your panties.

"You already made it clear I'm all you want...now it's my turn."

He nips at your thighs, the sting making you jolt.

Long, slender fingers curl over the waistband and tug the fabric swiftly down your thighs, over your knees, and off past your ankles. You can feel his breath just ghosting over your wetness, each puff of air sending a chill of anticipation down your spine.

He parts his lips, enveloping your folds with a slow, open-mouth kiss, taking time to close over your clit. You jolt again, this time a loud "Ah!" spilling past your lips. You can feel him smirk, and both hands come to rest against either of your thighs.

With brows knitted together in pleasure, 2D takes his chance to look at up at you from under his lashes.

So pretty.

Your head tiled back against the pillows, bruised knuckles turning white as you squeeze the sheets. It's almost impossible to look away as he eats you for all your worth. He particularly enjoys how your back arches off the mattress when he decides to push two fingers into you.

"FFFuck Stu, I-Im gonna cum," You speak breathlessly, more of a warning to him than anything.

"I know, can' feel you squeezin' down on me." He huff happily, curling his fingers in, up, and out again.

Its enough to snap the line of pressure that'd been building since he first slipped your dress off.

You lurch forward, hot, heavy moans rolling off your tongue in waves as he laps up your arousal, humming in satisfaction.

"So good love, you taste so good." He praises, peppering soft kisses over your core all the way back up to your lips.

Despite the exhaustion filling your body, you fight to keep going, still needing more.

Wanting more

"Need to feel you. Please, let me feel you." You beg desperately, tasting yourself on his tongue with each kiss.

"I know, I know love." He huffs, accent thick against your lip as he manages to slot himself between your legs, parted just enough to feel his bulge press against your sopping wet folds.

You've got a bruising grip on his shoulder, his lanky arm wrapping around your waist as he pushes his briefs down just enough to let his length spring free.

Still so pretty.

You're staring at it, mouth watering at the thought of having it in your mouth again. It's almost as if he can read your mind because, with a gap-toothed smirk, he captures your lips in a kiss just barely slipping the tip of his cock between your folds.

"Another time, f-fuck. Jus' le' me do this for you." He begs, whining mid-sentence at the contact.

He's warm against you, and you nod, eyes meeting his just before he pushes in.

The stretch, just as delicious as before has you sucking in a breath as he does the same. You're wrapped in one another, Your back against the pillows, arms slung around his neck now. 2D pulls your waist close, bare stomachs and chests touching as your legs wrap around his waist.

He rolls up into you, your bodies connected and burning.

"Yes, right there." You whine, burrying your makeup smudged face into his neck.

He huffs out a moan, back to gripping your waist with the hand that's wrapped around you. The other is tucked behind him, steadying himself with each upward roll of his hips.

"I've really got you this wet l-love?" He whimpers, each squelch sounding more vulgar than the last.

He rolls up hard this time, picking up his pace.

"Fuckkk yes, all you, all for you." You cry, sinking your teeth into his shoulder as he reaches the deepest parts of you.

Another thrust had your head tossing back, the moan tearing from your throat making him push again, lips kissing against your pulse. He sets a bruising pace, the echo of your bodies meeting over and over combined with the faint squeak of his bed.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry I- fuck don't stop," You whimper, feeling him shake his head against your neck, his mouth coming to envelop one of your nipples.

Your eyes water, tears spilling past your waterline from the sudden overwhelming guilt mixed with far too much pleasure it almost hurt.

"Don' you dare apologize righ' now. You jus' focus on feelin' good. Le' me make you feel good." He instructs, every word he speaks and every upward plunges into you sending you closer to your peak.

He kisses your tears away, moving his hand from your waist to stroke your hair lovingly.

You can feel him stutter, that same focused look on his face from before written all over his face. It's almost impossible to not look down and admire.

His face is flushed red, eyes almost closed. He's got this knot in the middle of his furrowed brows, mouth trying to find a place between slightly agape with whimpers and moans, or tucking his lower lip between his teeth.

"W-Wait, love I-need to pull-"

"Don't. Don't, just let me feel you, Stu, please." You whine, nails clawing at his back, his slender frame sitting so perfectly in your arms as he fights against his better judgment.

"Shit, y/n you can't just- oh fuck!" He groans, hips trying their best to keep pace, fighting off his own high.

"Please? I'll beg so pretty Stu."

"L-Love, I need you to say it. Say it and it's yours." He huff seriously, trying his best to keep a standard pace as to not throw you or himself over the edge too quickly.

He reached his fingers down to pinch your clit, a yelp leaving your lips as you fix them to ask exactly what you need

"Please cum in me."

It comes out as a breathless whimper, the stimulation of his thrusts mixed with his fingers and the overall tension sends your second orgasm of the night washing over you like a tidal wave, the crash trapping air in your lungs.

"Fuckkkkk yes." He whimpers, your mouths meeting once again, each sound of your releases swallowed up amongst passionate, sloppy kisses.

Heavy breaths and slow-paced thrusts only let you hear how absolutely soaked you are, 2D slowly pulling out of you. The thick ropes of cum slide down past your thighs, his length coated in you.

You're tangle with one another, lips coming back in contact with passionate firey kisses, each one softer and more loving than the last.

"Y/n," He begins, holding your face in his hands, black eyes searching yours, the tip of his nose touching yours.

"You mean so much more to me than jus' a fuck. I want you t' know tha'. An' I don' wan' you to think I'm sayin' this cause we uh..we just- anyway, will you to be my girlfrien'? Officially?" He states, panic written in his features.

It's like he was worried you'd reject him, despite having explained yourself and your feelings already.

Your heart races in your chest, eyes searching his.

This was what you wanted…so why were you so scared to accept it. The invitation of affection and adoration from the singer you'd fallen for in the span of a month you'd been working on this god-forsaken album.

After dealing with his fucking boss...and his evil ex-girlfriend, what you wished for had finally fallen into your lap, literally. And it was holding you, searching your reaction with panic.

Your heart twists and flutters at the thought of being involved...while your stomach churns with fear. What would this mean when it was all said and done...

With the album somewhat finished, you'd be shipped off to New York again at a moment's notice. You'd become strangers even. The paparazzi would get a hold of it and twist your relationship into something...Your mouth hangs open, fear lacing the response.

"Yes."

AN: Heyyyy so I made a little taglist fr some of you that seem to be really enjoying this story so far! Thank you so much for the love and support and I hope you guys are ready for the last few chapters ass I wrap this one up!

Mini taglist: @wolflikesmp100 @washed-up-and-feeling-blue

@bunbun007 @starfire21 @pop-tart0

#x reader #reader is black #i don't care he's hot #smut #hes so hot #2d gorillaz x reader #2d gorillaz #2d x reader #murdoc gorillaz #gorillaz noodle #gorillaz russel #gorillaz #stuart pot #stuart pot x reader #gorillaz x reader #paula cracker #gorillaz headcannons

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supernatural-bias · 1 year ago

Text

𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲

↳ summary: the day that landed your coworker in the hospital, and a car in the side of a building

↳ warnings: some blood, mentions of alcohol, some hurt but everyone turns out okay, and murdoc being murdoc

↳ notes: had a close friend that knows nothing about gorillaz beta read this, and they convinced me to post it. enjoy. reblogs and comments are more than appreciated

↳ song: da funk—daft punk

masterlist | commissions | carrd

Business at Uncle Norm’s Organ Emporium had been steady that day.

You remember it being around three in the afternoon when your shift rounded its end. The busted heater of the store rattled with a wheeze as it desperately tried to stay on, and you reveled in the momentary relief it brought you from the cold weather. Customers shuffled amongst isles lined with various vinyl’s and cd’s, occasionally approaching you at the front desk to ask a question or secure their purchase. Only one or two complained about the mold in the corners of the room this time—an overall win for the day, you mused.

“‘Ello.”

The small shop filled with a tinkling noise as the glass door to the outside swung open. A burst of cold air came with it, and the customers nearest the entrance bundled up tighter for the moment. You just exchanged a polite look with the newest addition to the store, eager to get off your feet and go home.

Stuart Pot’s green eyes flitted to you for a moment as he offered a small smile to accompany his hello. He took a moment to breathe in the warm air of the shop, no longer disrupted by the draft he had let in, before shedding his coat and starting forward. No doubt preparing himself for the beginning of his shift.

Stuart was a man that seemed to be all legs and no brain. Most people upon meeting him assumed he was stupid, walking all over him until he said something to make them think otherwise about their actions. You yourself wouldn’t have made much of him if he hadn’t struck up a conversation one day. Now, he was one of the only people you talked to on a regular basis. Pretty sad, considering he was just your coworker, but not at all unexpected for having just moved here.

You knew he liked roller skating and wanted to be a storm chaser as a kid. You knew he had a girlfriend that played guitar, and spent his spare time painting. And after one unforgettable day when you decided to bring your lunch in, you now knew his lips ballooned up when he ate pickles.

Stuart really wasn’t a difficult guy to get along with. And while your job wasn’t bad, it was always nice to have something of a friend to complain about it with.

“Afternoon.” You settled for nodding at him as he rounded the corner of the desk, pushing yourself out of the leaning position you had been in to allow him space behind the register. “It’s a real nasty one out there, yeah?”

“Only if yew don’t have a car.” Stuart, who had insisted you call him Stu for the past year now, shrugged. In truth, it wasn’t that he didn’t have a car, just that he didn’t know how to drive it. But that wasn’t anything important you needed to know.

You nodded in agreement as he panned away from you to clock in. At that moment across the store, a customer opened the door Stuart had just come from only to have the wind outside blow it closed right in their face. They took a moment to struggle with it before stumbling outside, looking displeased as they did so.

You made a face.

On a nearby chair hung your own scarf and jacket that you’d brought for the walk home. And while your feet hurt something awful, the thin layers you had brought in preparation of the temperature made you hesitate. Clearly you hadn’t thought long enough about how cold it would get. You sighed in defeat before turning back to Stuart.

“So, how have you been?”

The blue haired man blinked at your form leaning on the counter, no doubt wondering why you weren’t heading out. With a huff of air, you tossed the formalities in favor of a more straightforward conversation.

“It’s freezing out there.” You scrunched up your nose. “I don’t want to walk all the way through town in that just to get to my flat and find out my landlord forgot to fix the heat again. At least here has some warmth.”

“True.” Stuart’s voice cracked in its familiar fashion. Ever a man of few words, he just stood awkwardly, biting at a stray fingernail or two as a nasty habit. Thankfully the silence didn’t linger long before someone shuffled up to purchase a new set of guitar picks.

“Have you heard the new album that we got last week yet?” You mused after he was done ringing the fellow up, pushing yourself off and jumping over the front desk to point at a collection of records. “I thought it was pretty good, and it sounded like one of those underground bands you like to talk about.”

Stuart immediately perked up when you started talking about music; as he always did. It shouldn’t have surprised you, really, to work at a music shop with someone that was passionate about the art form. But with the way Stuart rambled on every now and then you’d think that that’s all he ever thought about.

Nimble fingers picked up the artists cover as Stuart turned it over to the description on the back. When you hadn’t been looking, he’d abandoned his post in favor of the possibility of a new song track, moving surprisingly quiet for someone of his height.

“Homework?” Stuart parroted the title back at you as he read through the track names. “Sounds funny.”

“Lot’s of people think the same thing about you.” You grinned with teeth, unaffected by his suspicion. Stuart just looked at you owlishly, letting a small gap toothed smile show as he caught onto the joke.

“‘S nawt my fault I got an accent.” He placed the album under his arm for later, no doubt going to utilize the employee discount you and him were so generously offered. “If anyfing you’re the weird one.”

You would have responded. In fact, your lips had already opened— ready to rebuke his claim —when a horrible screeching noise stopped you.

The front of the store exploded into a brilliant shower of glass mere seconds later. Shards glittering in the grey light from outside threw themselves at you, covering the skin along your arms and face with a tingly feeling. You barely had time to process a slow trickle of something warm making its way down your face before your body reacted for you.

A poorly carpeted floor felt the weight of your backside as you fell back, bumping your head on a nearby table in the process. Somewhere a few feet away from you, you heard high pitched groaning that sounded faintly like Stuart’s voice, and a gleeful cackle that incited a splitting headache.

Faint sirens wailed in the background as you wobbly stood to your feet. The sight before you was much different than it had been a few moments ago. Pianos and cases of speakers that you had spent the better part of last week propping up were now in pieces. Some made sparking noises as they lay in disarray. You stared at them as your vision swam, not yet aware of the yelling figures around you or of the small pool of blood collecting at your feet.

But the biggest change by far you noticed, was the giant car sticking through the front of the shop.

At the wheel was the source of the maniacal laughing. In the three seconds it took to give him a once over, you observed more details about the driver than you could ever want in your life.

He had olive toned skin that was lined with sparse scars. His teeth were yellowed and pointed in an unnatural manner, and his hair fell just about halfway over his eyes; which when he opened them you saw were two different colors. One black, and the other a faded pink. It didn’t take long for his gaze to land on you.

“Oi! Did you bloody see that!” He shouted with glee, apparently ignorant to the chaos he had caused. “Brilliant! Bloody brilliant! Can’t even say I’m sorry about the cuts, love.”

His gravelly tone did nothing to snap your brain out of the haze it was floating in. With a far away look, you stared straight through the driver.

Later you wouldn’t remember the way his eyes widened as you mumbled something with a frown before collapsing forward on the hood of his car, fading into a restless realm of black.

You were fine.

Stuart Pot was fine.

At least that’s what the tests said.

Doctor after doctor had come in and out of your room with clipboards before they allowed you to even so much as get up. They’d given up on keeping you off your feet after you rolled out of bed as an act of defiance.

Everything was too white. Hospitals had always felt so artificial to you, so being stuck in one was nothing short of a nuisance. Beeping machines in your ear only proved to aggravate you further, testing your nerves. Thankfully, a nurse was sent in to discharge you, bringing news of only a few cuts they had disinfected, and some minor head trauma that should be okay as long as you kept an eye on it.

Now here you sat, just a few rooms over from the one you had just woken up in, sitting in a visitors chair next to your only friend.

Your only, catatonic, unresponsive friend.

Stuart’s hospital room was busier than yours. There were more machines, more i.v drips, and more nurse visits than yours had. It was to be expected, though. He had gotten hit with the car head on instead of just being near it, unlike you and the other spectators. The only thing keeping your stresses at bay was that his vitals were steady.

Blue hair splayed itself all around his pillow like a halo as he lay almost peacefully. His chest was moving up and down at an even pace, the gap in his teeth making a whistling noise as he breathed. You would have felt more relieved about it all, if it wasn’t for his eye.

It was fucked. That was the simple way to put it. Completely and utterly fucked. Where a gaze of mossy green had been prior, there was now brilliant bloody red. The entirety of it had been consumed by an inky darkness, making it look like the appendage had just popped right on out of his face. You were unaware if Stuart could see you staring at him from time to time, but you figured if he could, all he would see was pain on your face. Pain, not at his appearance, but at the trauma that was sure to come from it when he woke up.

There had been a third party to visit Stuarts bed not too long ago, sporting sunglasses indoors and black lipstick, and proving to be a very useful distraction for you. You hadn’t recognized her at first until she rushed to Stuart’s bedside, clutching at his hand like it would somehow shock him back awake.

Paula Cracker was just as you remembered her; loud and unabashed. The one time she had come by the shop to pick up Stu on her way home hadn’t been particularly interesting, if the way she barely looked at you before screaming along to her radio said anything. Stuart had to assure you the next day that she didn’t mean any harm. She just wasn’t all for meeting new people.

You had shaken your head at him and said nothing at the time.

But now, in the hospital, sitting by her boyfriend’s bed, Paula couldn’t seem to stop talking to you. She ran right into conversations like they were open doors, barely leaving any room for you to respond before barreling on. By the time she declared that she had to leave, no matter how much she apparently wished to stay, you had counted a total of ten words that you’d managed to get in. You offered her a short goodbye to match. She didn’t seem to notice.

You settled into a morose silence after that. Nurses stopped coming in, and you stopped waiting for something, anything at all, to happen. It was beginning to set in that Stu had been, to out it bluntly, run over, and wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

You had just begun to wonder if you should head home when the door knob to the room rattled, and opened harshly.

“Well this is bloody brilliant.”

The door to the hospital room, which you could have sworn Paula had just walked out of, swung open in a wide berth to reveal the very person that landed you in the hospital.

A quick glance at the clock let you know that Paula had been gone for almost two hours, leaving you to sit by yourself as Stu stayed put.

“What are you doing here.” Your mouth moved before you could stop it, sentence slipping past your lips in a weak attempt to make sense of this unsettlingly human being.

He looked the very same as he had the last time the two of you met. Just this time with an upside down cross for a necklace, and less blood on his hands. Literally.

The stranger made his way over to you, flopping down in a visitor chair and lighting a cigarette with one very dented lighter. He smiled cruelly at you, showing off a familiar row of teeth. They were as pointed as you remembered.

“Charity.” He tacked on a weird laugh at the end through the stick in his mouth. Two fingers lifted to his lips to remove the cigarette, a thick plume of smoke coming with it. He blew it in your face, and if you hadn’t been so lost in thought, you might have hit him for it.

“You don’t seem the charitable type.” Once again, your words were getting ahead of you. But he didn’t seem to be offended at all. Rather, the man gave a bone chilling laugh that was ended with another drag of his fag.

“Court mandated.” He continued with a smirk.

“They already had you tried?”

“What can I say? The law works fast when it comes to Murdoc Niccals.” He shrugged, once again with that strange laugh of his that accompanied nearly everything he said.

You simply eyed him with a tired sort of caution, drinking in the new information like it could kill you at any second.

“What? Not going to share your name with me?” Murdoc sneered. “It’s only polite.”

“When it comes to you, I have a feeling manners don’t really apply.” You grumbled, but ended up sharing your name all the same. Murdoc nodded slowly in response. You saw his eyes flick you up and down a couple times— something that made you clench a fist —before they found their way over to Stu’s bed.

“Hafta take care of him for ten hours.” He continued to explain without a hint of regret for the individual. “Apparently knocking some scrub in the noggin’ is a crime.”

“I wonder why.” You responded dryly, scratching at the bottom of your right eye without thinking about it.

“Wish I’d hit someone better looking with my car.” Murdoc laughed with a not so subtle look to you. “Wouldn’t mind taking care of ‘em for a few hours.”

“You just crashed a car into the front of a building and nearly killed someone. I don’t think I’d trust you with as much as a dead fish, much less Stuart.” You crinkled your nose. ‘Or me,’ your brain silently added.

“Not much you or I can do ‘bout it now, love.” He took another smoke to punctuate his sentence. It left you with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Murdoc snickered at your expression.

“I mean, it wouldn’t that be hard to watch you.”

“Didn’t know you were into that.” The man sported a shark’s grin, only dropping it when you made a fake vomiting noise.

“God no. I meant watch you while you take care of Stu. Make sure you don’t do anything to him.”

“I’m hurt you think I’d do anything unethical to Steve.” He scoffed.

“Stuart.”

“Same thing.” He shrugged. You didn’t bother to correct him.

The two of you delved into an awkward pause that was timed by the ticking of the nearby wall clock. While you were busy thinking about what exactly you had just offered yourself up for, you could tell Murdoc was growing bored. You fell back on bouncing your leg as you analyzed him, the bottom half of your body attempting to get out all of the nervous energy you had been bottling up.

“Well—" Murdoc flicked a bit of ash off the butt of his cigarette, putting it out against the armrest of his chair. “—this was a joy, yeah? Let’s never do it again.”

You couldn’t help but mumble an agreement in his direction. He stood up with a twist of his back, letting out a satisfied sigh as it cracked.

“Guess I’ll see you soon, love.” Murdoc chuckled darkly while heading for the door. One leather clad boot was out the exit before he paused, necklace bouncing against his chest as he turned to look at you.

“Say. You don’t play any instruments, do you?” His eyes held an unreadable emotion.

“Uh, I dabble. Stu is more of the music guy than me.” You responded. “Why?”

But he was already gone, leaving you to wonder if he had never been there. But the ash on the chair next to you and the faint smell of booze in the air told you otherwise.

You let your head fall into the embrace of your hands as you groaned, massaging at your temples in an attempt to quell the pounding in your head.

“What have I gotten myself into.”

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