#Graham Coxon au

[babymockers]

I was going through my drafts the other day when I found this, written in the peak of my Graham Coxon obsession, a couple of years ago. Since it's so long, I had to cut this story into two parts (I was very creative 🙄).

I don’t know why I’m sharing this, but enjoy!

"I can’t see what you see in me"

Graham Coxon x female reader.

Prompt: Graham was having a really hard time with himself during a photoshoot and you had a great idea to cheer him up. Heavily inspired by Blair and Serena stealing Eleanor Waldorf's clothing line clothes on Gossip Girl (s1, e4).

Place/time: during the late 90's.

Reader description: reader is a French model trying to make herself a name in the industry, while being reduced to be in her boyfriend's shadow.

Fluff.

Part 1.

Graham was alone.

He was sitting on his stupid chair, drinking tea from his stupid cup, feeling even more stupid than he did before.

Now, for the amateur eye, he didn't seem that much alone. He was surrounded by people: make up artists, stylists, cameras, all that stuff. But he was, in fact, alone. Alone and bored.

Also, it was a terribly cold winter and a storm was probably coming at any time while they were stuck there working outdoors in a park.

So he was falling asleep on his stupid chair. Again.

Suddenly, he heard an excited voice calling his name, a voice that he knew a little too well from the person that he loved the most.

"Graham!" you shouted and he quicky turned his body towards the direction of the sound, standing up. You ran onto his arms and hugged him tightly making him almost lost balance. Even though he was surprised, his arms reached out for your body instinctively.

Still in his arms, you took his face with your soft hands and placed a sweet kiss onto his lips, him melting at the touch.

Alex, sitting next to that romantic scene, looked at you with genuine curiosity, trying to make something of your face. Wondering if you two have met before.

The truth was: you haven't. It may have sounded strange considering that in the past couple of months, you had been omnipresent-like to the Blur guys. Your name was always there, filling not only the empty spaces of the rehearsals but filling Graham's mind completely. You were present whole-heartedly in Graham's dreamy smiles and little giggles that came out of nowhere and in every new song that came with a dumb look of im-so-in-love. Present in the purple-ish marks on Graham's neck or like a stolen kiss from his plumped lips. Present in Damon's laugh every time he made fun of his best friend's infatuation but secretely holding an enormous respect for you that made him feel almost rotten to jealousy. "He doesn't need me anymore. He's got Y/N now. She'll take care of him" Damon used to say. But he didn't meant it. Not really.

You were great, the best one Graham ever had. The other ones were either boring or pretentious cunts, in the singer's own words. But he couldn't help to feel overprotective towards his best friend and he would be lying if he said he didn't feel a bit jealous of the fact that Graham was so in love with you.

Damon loved attention. And Graham's attention was like crack because it was hard to make him interested in someone for real.

And the other times, you were there in body and soul, sitting in a corner taking pictures of whatever you founded interesting enough or simply hanging out.

So it was really weird for Alex to not have met you yet. Sure he heard the name, but Graham had been smart enough to make Alex and you not cross any paths. He knew Alex too well to trust him.

Dave chuckled and wolf-whistled, making Graham's cheeks turn red and he separated his lips from yours, unable to hide the big smile plastered on his face.

He never had anyone loving him like you do. So intense and passionate, so caring and gentle like a little child, rushing into his arms and calling his name for the whole town to hear it. Making him feel special, wanted. You could have anyone but, and here's the big but, you wanted him. And proudly so, as you always said.

"W-what are you doing here? I thought you weren't in England" He asked in confusion.

Your smile turned into a frown "And I thought you'd be happy to see me...”

"No, no. Please don't get me wrong. I'm just confused. I mean..." He started to panic.

You cut him off with a big smile "I'm joking, Gra. Turns out i don't have to work this couple of days because the collection got ruined by the rain and the photoshoot had to be rescheduled. The CEO was so angry, you should've seen him. He treated us very badly and that left me feeling sick to my stomach. So I remembered you were having a photoshoot here and I took the plane and well... I got an impulse. It's okay, right? I won't bother you. Just here for moral support" You said in a rush. "Oh, hi Dave". Dave waved his hand. Then you turned to Alex "I believe we haven't met yet. I'm Y/ N". You offered him your hand. "Alex, right? Heard lots of things about you".

He took your hand and gently placed a kiss on it "Good things I hope. So you're the famous Y/N". He turned to Dave but shot a quick look towards Graham, who was eyeing carefully at the exchange that was occurring in front of him, looking quite uneasy. "I must say I never expected that our little Graham was shagging such a pretty bird. Where are you from, Love? You've got a lovely accent". Graham tensed.

The awkwardness of the situation was only intensified by him pointing out your accent. You knew Alex didn't mean any harm, but that didn't sooth the rage in Graham's throat.

You've been officially named "Graham Coxon's New French Girlfriend" by the media and while you've told Graham so many times that it was a honor to be his girlfriend, he knew you were more than that stupid title. After all, you had a career of your own. You coincidentally met him at an event and now you've been living together in England for almost a year. But it just sort of happened. It wasn't your problem the media became obsessed with you.

And also you really wanted to get rid of the accent.

You opened your mouth to say something but before anything came out, Graham spoke in a condescending tone:

"She's french, Alex. You should know since you seem to get along so well with the french gals".

"Well... Alex begun.

"Where's Damon? I thought this was a group photoshoot" you interrumpted him trying to distract the tension away.

As if summoned, Damon appeared with a lopsided grin, always in his very own world. He kissed your cheek in a scandalous way and put his arm around Graham, although his best triend didn't even look at him. He was too busy shooting Alex with his gaze.

"Graham, it's fucking cold out here, put something on, mate. Jesus, you look like you're going to kill someone and I'm not in the "hiding a corpse" mood" Damon said completely oblivious to the fact that he was the one wearing only a suit and Graham was wearing a big jacket. Classic Damon. Then, he continued: "Well, the photographer, that bastard, just said he needed both of us, Alex, in front of the camera 'cause, I quote him: "Alex could make the suit work 'cause he's a good looking fella". I told him he could kiss my ass or my face, whatever. I quite fancy him. But not like I fancy you, Graham" He said battling his lashes, kissing Graham's temple. "You look sexy when you're angry. Love it".

Alex rolled his eyes, tired, and grinned at Graham

"Don't be mad at me, you twat. I was joking". Then he said to you: "Nice meeting ya, doll".

"Careful there, Alex. He's not playing around when Y/N is involved. Quite jealous he is" Damon laughed before the two of them started walking towards the photographer, who was already waiting for them. Damon rushed onto him, giving him a kiss on the cheeks.

You laughed at his childish behavior.

Dave patted Graham's shoulders and excused himself before making his way towards the improvised trailer the team managed to put together.

Graham lit up another cigarette letting the nicotine calm his burning insides and peered over the working crew to see Damon and Alex both wearing 1930's suits and posing as camera flashes exploded in their faces. He sat in a little bench, you by his side: "They look great. I didn't look as great as them".

You took his hand in yours. "You okay?"

"What is it like?" He said after a moment of silence, not looking at you but somehow giving you all his attention. "To be a model, you know. To have all of those people looking at you and telling you to make faces or something".

"Well, it's definitely not as fun as it may look. I used to think that it would be easy, that you only needed to be pretty and you'd be fine. But it's exhausting, actually". You smiled sadly "I often think l'd be better behind the cameras, being the one taking pictures”.

"You took some lovely pictures the other day..."

You smiled. "And how's it like being a rockstar?".

"Don't let Damon hear you say that. He says Blur's not a rock band. I say Blur's whatever the fuck Blur wants to be". He laughed humorless.

"And what does Blur want to be?" You asked.

"I'm not quite sure. Probably not a rock band".

You both laughed.

You moved your body closer to him. "And what does Graham wants to be?"

"I don't know. He certainly would prefer staying in bed cuddled up with you. Take me away from this big bad world and agree to marry me". He said while he leaned back on the bench, resting his head on your lap and putting your hand on his head, practically forcing you to stroke his hair.

You giggled "Mmm... You just made that up?" He nodded. “It sounded like a song". You said while he looked up at you with a sly smile. You leaned in and kissed his forehead as you started: "Alex..."

He interrupted you: "Alex is a bastard, you should know that. He's far up his arse and thinks he's got the right to do anything 'cause he's sexy or whatever. It doesn't sit right with me sometimes. Let's forget about him". You nodded.

A couple of minutes went by with none of you talking and you thought he was falling asleep. You loved watching him sleep. It was like all the darkness there inside of him left his body and he was finally at peace with himself. Then he broke the silence: "Do you find him a handsome bloke?"

You struggled, trying to find the right words "He's alright. Big egos aren't really my thing, though. I think you're way more handsome than him".

He frowned "You can't possibly think that. It doesn't take too much to see that Alex and Damon are more attractive than me. I'm awkward and too self conscious. They're the handsome ones. They could "sell the product". And I-I-I'm not, you see? I don't sell the product. I’d probably won't look half as great as them in those ridiculous 1930's suits. I don't sell what Blur wants to be. Fuck, I don't even sell myself. I'm just here...”

You took his hand in yours, leaving a kiss in it "I think you're all those things you said about them. You're there being yourself with all your flaws and strenghts. And I think that's beautiful about you. You don't need to sell the product because there's no product at all. You're Graham Coxon, not the guitarist or the guy from Blur. You're the person and you're the most attractive to me because you feel and you love in a way that none of them do". You looked at his eyes intensely. "And you also look quite sexy when you're jealous, Damon's right, I must say”. You added, trying to relieve the tension on his shoulders.

He gasped, pretending to be offended "I wasn't jealous".

"Sure you weren't" You said mockingly causing him to laugh.

Then he went silent again.

He sighed "I just can't see what you see in me".

You looked at him. The tenderness in his factions. His big brown eyes full of the melancholic feeling that consumed him daily.

You just knew he was more than enough. You knew since the first time you met him. He was incapable of holding your gaze yet somehow he managed to got you blushing all night. He didn't knew a single word of French yet you understood him so well. You communicated through your souls. Words were unnecessary.

Graham, so fragile and so broken. Yet, he put together the broken pieces of yourself, the ones left bruised. Now you were glowing, sparkling.

You wanted to do the same for him.

.

Part 2 here

[oriixxc]

[stxrshxpxd]

🌷 fic friday;

bad dream

90s damon albarn x reader,, angst + make up

It was a slow sunday afternoon, alone in my studio flat. I was listening to a mixtape my friend had made me for my birthday, and was trying not to think about the lyrics Jeff Buckley was singing at me. I hated, from the bottom of my heart, that Damon had ruined so much good music for me. In the last few months I had realised how many of my favourite musicians only ever really sang about heartbreak.

About four months ago Damon and I had gotten into a massive fight. We both were quick to act up about stuff, but this time was different. We hadn’t resorted to angry make up sex or a soppy hug and kiss. Damon had stormed out of my place and I had stayed. All night I had laid, in and out of sleep, replaying all our words and getting angry all over again. A week passed and we didn’t see each other, but I heard about him through our mutual friends – that was another thing I had realised; I had no friends that weren’t also friends with Damon – and by the end of the week the gossip that had gotten to me was that we had broken up.

I was furious for a month, then I was sad for a month, then I thought I was over it for a month and then another month of sadness came. And here came a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” I called over Jeff’s writhing. Friends came and went as they pleased a lot around my place. There was no answer for a while and then the door opened carefully. Looking up from my slouched pose on my couch, I was shocked to see Damon standing in the middle of the room.

“I had a really bad dream.”

I didn’t know if I wanted to yell or cry or laugh.

“At four in the afternoon?” I laughed but didn’t smile. I stood up and walked right past him, making a point to not look at him or smell him. It was to no avail; the whole place already smelled like him again, when his scent had only just about faded from the wallpaper. I turned the music off, filling the air with heavy silence.

“No, I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“Well, mommy’s here,” I joked viciously, walking past Damon again and sitting down on the couch. Fuck, his scent was still weaved into the blanket under me. He ignored my attitude and he looked down at his dirty socks. He resembled a dog drenched in shame. He also looked very good, his hair having grown about two inches and a new, short stubble scratching the fabric of his dark blue hood.

“I dreamt that you had died. And for a minute when I woke up I thought it was real.”

It felt like everything inside me spilled out of my pores and I couldn’t move my legs. There was so much hurt in his voice.

“I woke up kind of sobbing. And um…”

Damon looked up and around the room. Then he closed his eyes and talked faster.

“It made me realise how fucking much I’ve got left that I wanna do with you. And I didn’t want the last thing I ever did to you to be yelling and slamming a door in your face.”

While he talked I regained mobility in my legs and I sat further out on the edge of the couch.

“What would you want the last thing you do to me to be?” I asked quietly and stood up. He accepted me standing close to him and I felt myself getting high off his scent again.

“Apologise,” Damon muttered and poked around in the air between us for my hand. His finger hooked around mine at last. He looked up as I grimaced and shook my head.

“Try again,” I mumbled. Damon smiled ever so slightly and grabbed my whole hand.

“Kiss you?”

He leaned in impulsively.

“That’s better,” I laughed softly and accepted his kiss. It felt like four months worth of kisses washing over me and I couldn’t think straight for a long moment.

“Now can I apologise?” Damon purred and I kissed him again with a wide smile.

[sirenlulls]

𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

i will write — fem & gender neutral!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, pregnancy & parent fics, social media aus

i won't write — drastic age gaps (5-10+ years depending on the character), eating disorders, self harm, suicide, toxic relationships, major nsfw, character x character fics

who i write for ↓

( youtubers ) wroetoshaw, miniminter, calfreezy, chrismd, george clarke, theburntchip, arthurtv.

( formula 1 ) charles leclerc, carlos sainz, pierre gasly, oscar piastri, lando norris, max verstappen, daniel ricciardo, lance stroll.

( celebrities ) timothée chalamet, zendaya, florence pugh, jack champion, harry styles, alex turner, elijah hewson, robert keating, josh jenkinson, ryan mcmahon, gene gallagher, lennon gallagher, damon albarn, graham coxon

requests are open!

[liamonyaoi]

Things we should bring back:

Dylovan as a whole

Mickbrian (self indulgent this one)

Mod fashion

Britpop zombie apocalypse aus

Quadrophenia fanfiction

Liam gallagher/graham coxon (i call it liaham)

Ian brown/john squire

60s girls

Thank you for listening

[greencatsbabies]

[VIDEO] "City Lights" par The WAEVE, prémisses d'un album à venir.

The W AE V E, c’est Graham Coxon (Blur) et Rose Elinor Dougall (The Pipettes). Le duo a dévoilé un premier album en février 2023. “City Lights” est le premier extrait d’un second album à venir en 2024 (date non encore annoncée). Ce titre augure de belles choses, au-delà, naturellement, des échos blur-esques qu’on y entend (ce qui continue à renforcer l’idée que la colonne vertébrale…

[mistermixmania]

blur – Das neue Album “The Ballad of Darren” ist da, plus: Livestream-Konzert aus London 📣 https://mister-mixmania.com/de/news/musik-news/blur-das-neue-album-the-ballad-of-darren-ist-da-plus-livestream-konzert-aus-london/ Tagged as Blur, The Ballad of Darren Acht Jahre nach ihrem letzten Studioalbum kamen Damon Albarn, Graham Coxon, Alex James und Dave Rowntree Anfang des Jahres erstmals wieder in Albarns Studio in West-London zusammen, um über die ..... : #musiknews #musik #Blur #TheBalladofDarren Foto Credits: WMG

[mirrorforevers]

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me ����✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

-

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

-

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

-

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

-

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

-

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

-

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

-

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night�� but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

-

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

[merrumeru]

You're driving me crazy when you are coming home, part 1

Pairing : Damon Albarn x Reader 90s!

Words : 4k

TW: toxic relationship, cheating, swear words, mention of sex

Note : I just want to make it clear that glorifying a toxic relationship is not my goal. These types of relationships are very harmful. The presented story is a purely fictional situation. However, if you ever find yourself in such a relationship, please think about what's best FOR YOU. Nobody has the right to criticize, frighten and manipulate you emotionally, especially not the person who "loves" you. Take care xoxo

Part 2

september 1994

I turned the key in the lock. When I entered the apartment, I expected it to be dark, after all, it must have been much after 11 pm. I used to come home early, but today the restaurant where I work had a lot of guests. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the light coming from the living room. The first thought that came to my mind is, of course, a break-in. However, two seconds was enough for me to realize that it was something much worse. In silence, I took off my shoes and coat and put my purse on the shelf next to the door.

„You could at least take your shoes off. I cleaned the apartment this morning.” My gaze lingered on a pair of soiled vans, which soles rested on the coffee table. A mixture of anger and fatigue was sprouting somewhere inside me.

„Y/N, I didn't hear you come in” he put down one of my women's magazine which he was reading or pretending to read.

„Unfortunately, I knew it was you as soon as I entered. Why are you here?” My question evidently amused him, as his goofy, stupid smile appeared on his face.Even though he knew I didn't want to play his games, he took his time to answer. As usual, he didn't take me seriously.

„I thought my girlfriend would be more pleased to see me” He leaned forward slightly, looking straight into my eyes. „You look pretty”.

„Fuck off Damon” My gaze drifted from his eyes to some point on the carpet. I didn't know what I wanted to say. Maybe it was the fatigue. Or maybe the helplessness that was removing the ground from under my feet again. The silence was unbearable, and even the lazy ticking of the clock from the kitchen could not disturb the hopelessness. „Just go out. I don't feel like talking to you.”

He didn't even move. My words made no impression on him. Maybe because it's not the first time? No one who knew us could say we were a good couple. A couple ... because he wanted it so, because he introduced us that way. We have been together for two years, but apart. Our lives take a completely different course. When he's on tour again, I'm alone here with my own life. Then he comes back, for a few days, for a week, to disappear again for months. Turns my whole, simple life upside down. The complete mismatch of our characters ignites argues for whatever reason that only end in two possible ways: silence or passion. And most likely it is this passion that keeps our entire relationship going.

„Oh c’mon Y/N don’t be mad. Love…” However, this time I was fed up. „We haven't seen each other for a month, I want you-„

„No. I want you to leave. We may not have seen each other for three weeks, not a month. After all, you've been in town for a week.” A smile slowly faded from his face. I looked at his pursed lips and now narrowed eyes. „I was on the phone with Graham. It's funny that we were both surprised to find you weren't where you supposed to be!”

„I’m gonna kill him. Fuck.” Damon got up and started walking towards me. „For what? For lying to him and me? Why are you making fools of all of us?”

„It's not what you think…” We were now millimeters apart. I could feel his heavy breathing and the smell of cigarettes. It was the same Damon. In the same sweater, with a small hole next to the collar, that I bought him for Christmas, in the same hairstyle, though his hair was a little longer than last time ... The same tired eyes that were looking for mine now. I felt his hand touch mine uncertainly. I felt his hand touch mine uncertainly. „Look at me. I apologize, a few things stopped me…”

„Stopped you from what? From going home for the night? From calling me? Oh thank Lord, you finally found your way home! Needed a map? Compass?” A wave of anger has taken over my mouth completely. „It's good that you've found shelter in the beds of your female fans.” I took my hand out of his grip and without a word, I passed him over to sit on the sofa. My legs were like cotton wool. We had argued many times, but I'd never said it to his face before. I knew he was cheating on me. After all, our relationship was never serious. I didn't call him my boyfriend, we just slept together and we'd have fun. He was the one who babbled everywhere that I was his girlfriend. He got angry when other men appeared around me. But he himself gave me a million reasons to be jealous. I looked at his back. Why couldn't we be one of those couples, where I would now hugging him from behind, covering his eyes and asking "Guess who”. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

„If you didn't want me to come back… why didn't you tell me to return the keys?” Slowly my thoughts wandered away. At first I didn't even understand what he was saying to me. „Why is there a beer in the fridge that I like even though you hate it. Why... even now you're wearing my t-shirt?” The way he emphasized "mine" made me clench my jaw tighter. „ Just admit you're addicted to me. „You can't ... or rather you don’t want me to disappear from your life… Y/N”

The confidence that radiated from his voice made me sick. I stood up and picked up the magazine that Damon had been looking through earlier and threw it in his direction. It hit the wall with a dull bang. „You make me sick. Think about what you say. For months, all we have been doing is arguing. Do you remember the last time you left without arguing? Because I don't. I'm sick of it…” Our eyes met, but the feeling of regret and shame again made my gaze fixate on some distant point. I felt my heart pounding at dizzying speed „ It's over.”

If the words had a weight, mine would weigh several tons. I wanted to be alone so that the world could collapse on me in complete silence and solitude.

„C’mon love… it's just another stupid argument. I know that's not what you want.” His voice hesitated slightly at the last words. „Y/N look at me”. But I didn’t. I could feel his gaze on me watching my every move. He repeated, this time louder and even more firmly. When there was no answer this time, I felt his hands suddenly tighten on my wrists. With all his anger, he was standing next to me again. His mouth crushed mine. The force with which he pressed against me made me sway and I fell onto the sofa. But Damon didn't break the kiss for a moment. My fingers lightly tightened on his back. I knew he loved me, but just knowing couldn't make me happy.

His hands slipped under my shirt lifted it slightly, revealing my stomach. He kissed me as if he wanted to sink into me, to enter my heart again. He didn't have to, because despite my words, he still had a place in.

„You making me so miserable Damon” I turned my head to the side so that his lips were against my cheek, then slowly moved towards my neck. But he said nothing. His kiss was coming lower and lower. I felt like they were burning my skin through the fabric of my shirt. He placed the last two kisses on my exposed tummy.

„You hurting me by saying such things. You know I'm trying.” With a hollow sigh, Damon rose to meet my eyes.”You know it's not like I don't care about you. You are damn important to me, I don't want you to disappear from my life."

His hand touched my face as he gently caress my cheek with his thumb. Our lips met again, but this time they only brushed each other. I felt his whole weight fall on me, how his head rests calmly on my chest and his hands gently wrap around my waist. We were surrounded by silence. I could smell his shampoo mixed with the smell of cigarettes. Uncertainly, my hand went towards his hair. I stroked them gently. I couldn't understand if it was his weight that was causing me pain or my own heart, which was breaking into millions of piecesWhy couldn't life be much easier for us?

„Do you mind if I smoke?” Damon whispered as he twisted his head so that it rested between the space of my breasts. „This time, I'll let you. But take the ashtray from the kitchen and open the window.” He released me from my tight grip and slowly stands up from the couch. I followed his every move with my eyes.

When he turned to face me as he lit a cigarette, I noticed that the glow that had been in them a moment before had disappeared from his eyes. He puffed the smoke slowly out of his mouth and sat back down on the couch. This time, however, at the opposite end.

He had a beautiful face profile. He looked like a teenager with no bad thoughts in his head. Innocently. That was the perfect word. But something was missing. As if someone had put out the candle and all the glow had vanished into the darkness. I got closer to him, I wanted to stick to him and never let him go. Without a word, Damon pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head a few times. „I love you.” I whispered closing my eyes. He didn't answer right away, just finished smoking without haste.

„I love you too.”

There were no more words that needed to be spoken. We sat in this position for a long time. Sometimes Damon placed a kiss on my head or my hand. He gently stroked my shoulder.

"I should go. You are probably very tired" I nodded my head. I quickly raised his hand, which had been holding mine tightly for a long moment, and kissed it. He looked surprised but smiled slightly.

"I'll walk you to the door." Still holding hands, we walked to the door. Damon put on his jacket and stood with his hands in pockets. I tried to smile but all my facial muscles froze in a grimace. "You should start wearing a warmer jacket. The nights are pretty chilly..." He didn't answer anything but nodded. I wanted to say something else, say that he should stay... This was where his home was supposed to be. However, it would be a lie to say that it would have future.

Damon hugged me and kissed me one last time. His hand found mine, and I felt him place something cold in my palm. I clenched the small object in my hand. And then Damon left.

I stood staring at the closed door. I felt as if I was not in my own apartment, but in some distant, strange place. I tried to collect my thoughts, but the excess of masked emotions started to give me a headache. I looked at my hand and found that what he pressed into my hand was a key. Key to my apartment. So it was goodbye.

february 1995

The days passed without much meaning. I got up, went to work, came back, ate, went to sleep. I locked myself in a kind of bubble that I didn't want to get out of because it was too painful for me. I never thought it would hurt me so much, something that a year ago I associated only with fun and nothing deeper. No feelings.

Snow was falling outside the window. I was sitting in an armchair drinking some leftover alcohol that I found in the refrigerator. it was my way to escape.I didn't watch TV, I didn't read the newspapers. Damon's popularity was huge. I had the impression that in every newspaper there was at least one picture of him or band. The sound of the phone pulled me out of my dullness. I frowned because I didn't expect anyone to call me. I got up heavily from my seat and went to the phone.

"Yes?" For a moment, no one spoke. "Y/N? Wha's up?" I couldn't find whose voice it was. But suddenly something clicked in my head.

"Graham. Has something bad happened?"

"Something bad? Noooo. Why did you think so?" I felt he was a little nervous. " I just called to see how you are doing. You know, because of it all ... somehow we haven't had a chance to talk."

"Uhm... I'm doing great. I guess." I wanted him to leave me alone. "What about you? Are you back from the tour? It all worked out? Or maybe it's a bad question. I can see that everything went fine, all the media are talking about you."

"Yeah, that's a bit crazy." He paused for a moment "But you know, Damon's not doing so great."

This was the reason he called. I fiddled nervously with the phone cable. I bit my lips.

"What do you mean?"

"Damon ... is somehow absent. As if he wasn't having a good time at all. You know, as if all the energy was coming out of him. He's still a jester on stage, but it is very difficult to talk to him privately.Maybe you could finally pick up the phone from him?"

"No. This is not a good idea. We have completed this chapter. It takes time here, Damon has a good heart and a lot of love to offer. In time those bad emotions will pass and he will be his old self again. He will start new realtionship." The last words almost stuck in my throat. I never thought about it before. He spends time with other girls but always comes back to me. But now it's all over. "Entering back into our "pact" would be a toxic situation again.

"Have you ever thought that this could be a real relationship and not just a "pact"?"

"Graham, no, come on. Don't get me into this again. I made my decision."

"However, you don't sound happy at all."

"Maybe I also need some time. God. Why are you calling and making it even harder for me."

"Because I think you're quite selfish. You made your own decision. You didn't talk..."

"From what I can remember, I wasn't with you, but with Damon. You don't know the situation, so you have no right to tell me such things.I wonder how you would feel in my place." I fel anger rising inside me. "Anything else you want to say? If not, I hang up."

"Wait! I didn't want to... Fuck, I'm sorry. I just want to say that it was better then, when we all got in touch and everything." And I felt the same. " Y/N, Maybe we'll have a beer sometime. Of course, I am not forcing you to meet with boys. I'm just a little worried about Damon and you. Plus I really like you and I don't want to lose touch."

"I understand. Sure. I promise to pick up calls from you"

"I feel honored" we chuckled and I hang up.

november 1995

Fall has come again, or even it was almost winter. The days were gloomy and rainy, but I slowly regained my inner peace. It's been a year since I last saw Damon face to face. He called me many times, but I wasn't in the mood to talk. I knew once I picked up the phone I would never cut that toxic bond. Now was the time to get back to social life...

My colleague from work invited me to a party at her friends' house. I didn't know anyone but her, so I hesitated for a long time whether to accept the invitation. However, when another lonely friday came, I decided not to lose another day of my youth.

I found a nice dress in the wardrobe, did a little make-up and straightened my hair. I looked fine. I ordered a taxi for 9 pm and went first to my friend's house, and then straight to the party together. When I heard loud music as I got out of the car, I suddenly felt like going in is a mistake.

"Y/N c'mon i'm freezing!" I was grabbed by the hand and led inside. The house was crowded. In a way that made me feel uncomfortable. "Stay close to me. I won't leave you alone in a place where you don't know anyone. I will introduce you to a few people."

I relaxed a little. Alcohol and my friend's energy helped a lot. However, it was difficult to be close to her with so many people joining or leaving the conversation. So after a while I noticed that she was nowhere to be seen in the crowd. But this did not bother me. The alcohol level in my blood meant that I would no longer be reluctant to talk to anyone.

I decided to get another beer from the kitchen. I pushed my way through the crowd of people. Before I entered the kitchen, my eyes turned to the corner of the hall where some couple talk... too intensely.

My heart skipped a beat. It was Damon with some girl I didn't know.In my soul, I prayed that he would not notice me. I wanted to take my jacket and leave this house as soon as possible. But it was too late. He grabbed the girl's hand to apparently take her somewhere else. When he turned around, our eyes met.

I was standing with a stupid empty beer bottle and I didn't know what to do in this situation. I had not even thought that I would be in this situation. I noticed how my name coming out voicelessly from his mouth. Nothing good could come out of this meeting.

I quickly turned around to blend in with the crowd and then calmly walk out. I decided to go up the stairs and find a quiet place somewhere. I didn't even think about entering any of the rooms, probably some couples had already closed there. I sat down on the floor and leaned against the railing. I took a cigarette from my purse and lit it.

"Since when do you smoke?" It was him. I knew he would find me wherever I went. I even dared to think that if I did manage to leave, he would knock on my door sooner or later. I did not answer, but I shook the ashes into the bottle, which, for some reason I was still holding in my hand.

"It happens"

"It doesn't suit you."

"It's just your opinion." However, I threw the rest of my cigarette into the bottle and set it aside. "Why were you looking for me. You looked busy."

"It's nothing. I've called you so many times. Why didn't you pick up?" I still didn't look in his direction, but I felt his eyes piercing me. "I called and called and called. I've even been to your apartment a few times..."

"I know I saw you through the window." I got up. "Damon, what do you expect from me? I thought we had told each other everything." I heard his stupid mocking laugh. "We told everything? I don't remember talking much then." However I remember you broke up with me at first and then you said you love me. So you give me hope"

"You gave the key back! Was that the final end? And now? You were with some girl! You don't think about me, you just think you have a right to me. You act like I'm your property!" I didn't feel like arguing, but he gave me no other choice. "If you loved me you would let me go peacefully and wouldn't play with my feelings"

"How the fuck would I let you go when I'm in love with you! You contradict yourself." This was the first time I heard such aggression in his voice. Usually, when we argued, his words were painful, but their tone was completely indifferent.

"If you love me, why do you share this love with all the women around?" I wanted to cry, but I couldn't give him this satisfaction and show that it still hurts me that our "relationship" is a thing of the past.

"You agreed to it. You said it didn't bother you." He frowned and walked a few steps towards me.

"What else could I say? You would do it anyway." Damon lowered his head and put his hands in his pockets.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't want you to feel like this. You always looked happy when we met. I should have noticed that something is wrong..."

"You are cunt... But I WAS happy. We had an amazing bond, I've never felt anything like this before. However, this whole mess was slowly killing me from the inside. I am unable to share. Maybe I am selfish, but I will not change my mind on this."

"If I promise you that you'll be the only one, is there any chance we'll start over?" I approached him and put my hand on his cheek.

"I'm afraid it may be too late for that. Trust is not built in a day or a week. Damon, this really doesn't make sense. We will never be happy together."

His expression changed from a slender to a kind of anger. He threw my hand away as if it had started to burn him. I started to be afraid of him. Damon kicked the bottle I had set aside with all his might. The glass hit the wall and shattered into many pieces. The mixture of alcohol and anger wasn't a good mix at the moment.

"Fuck it. Why you gotta be like that. Why are you making me the worst person in the world.How many times do I have to apologize to you.."

"Damon, calm down."

"Oh shut up." He kept coming closer to me until my back touched the wall. " Why are you rejecting me all the time.I'm like a dog at your every command, and you just keep saying that I make you feel miserable"

He was kissing me again. Invasive but passionate. Only then did I notice how drunk he was. I missed him. Drunk and sober. Aggressive and gentle. Its any version

"Why don't you tell me to stop? Why don't you push me away?" He whispered straight into my mouth. "You don't even know how much I've missed you all this time. I wanted to have you in my arms, wake up next to you...Gosh, fuck you and hear you say my name."

"What can I do? Each time, somewhere in my mind, I imagine that it's a different girl instead of me, how you tell her all these things, how you touch her, how your lips touch her body. It's killing me. Being with you makes me feel insecure." The kiss grew deeper and deeper. Damon's hand rested on my thigh and gently lifted my dress.

"But you are the best. You are the best thing that has happened to me in my life. Y/N" He kissed my neck and his hand moves higher and higher towards my panties.

"Stop. You are drunk."

"So what?"

"All these words won't make us all okay. A moment ago, another girl was in my place." I put my hand on his chest. "You still don't understand. How much I would not love you, you won't change."

I released myself from his grip. This time he did not resist. Without a word, I walked past him and headed for the stairs.

"Y/N..."

"Hm?" I stopped and looked in his direction for the last time.

"If I call you, will you pick it up?"

"Maybe." I shrugged my shoulders. "I know you are going to come over me anyway."

"I really do love you."

I didn't return his words. Maybe those weren't empty words on his part, but it wasn't time to give him a chance again.

[elizamoomoo]

🎸Some more Modern AU art of Graham Coxon an iconic guitar playing boi🎸 (😂F a s h i o n i s m y p a s s i o n 😩)

[its-real]

They dont need a light show to show how much they rock!

Splur, considered to be the greatest (and only) band in Ooo, consists of the members Flame Prince (first name Graham), Damon the Human, Alex Abadeer and Banana Dave (not pictured).

[babymockers]

And, finally, here’s part 2.

"I can’t see what you see in me"

Graham Coxon x female reader.

Prompt: Graham was having a really hard time with himself during a photoshoot and you had a great idea to cheer him up. Heavily inspired by Blair and Serena stealing Eleanor Waldorf's clothing line clothes on Gossip Girl (s1, e4).

Place/time: during the late 90's.

Reader description: reader is a French model trying to make herself a name in the industry, while being reduced to be in her boyfriend's shadow.

Fluff.

Part 1 here

Part 2.

You looked back at Damon and Alex. "I know you won't believe me, Graham, but you'd look so good in one of those suits."

"Y/N, you've got to be joking. They told me not to....

"Uh-uh. You'd look great". The look on disbelief on his face made you stand up, a sudden urge of something you didn't exactly knew made it's way through your mind. You offered him your hand "Come with me, come on". He looked at you hesitantly. "Come on!"

He took your hand and followed you. "Where are we going?" You didn't muttered a word. He panicked. "I can't leave them here. They need me-"

"We're not leaving them. Just trust me. I'm taking care of you right now'. You said.

You walked together through the photoshoot set, passing by numerous photographers, make-up artists, among other workers, until you reached the door of a sort of dressing room, where a variety of suits, shoes, shirts and hats were placed on hangers. At the top of the door, a small sign read: "Blur 1930's England Inspired Photoshoot. Authorized personal only". You turned the handle, mentally praying that the door was open. Luck was on your side, though, as the door opened without any struggle.

You entered the room, Graham right behind you, and you quickly began to inspect the clothes, looking carefully at the sizes. Some of them were even marked with Graham's name. But you ignored them. You went for the expensive ones, the ones designed to be worn only by models.

Real models.

Graham shouted-whispered "What are you doing?W-We're not even supposed to be here, Y/N!"

"Oh but that makes it more exciting, doesn't it?" You said, picking up a few clothes. "I don't see why we shouldn't be here, though. This is a 'Blur' photoshoot".

"Well it is. But we're only allowed to be here when we're needed. I can't put any of this on until Damon and Alex are finished".

"So we're not even stealing. We're just anticipating ourselves".

He looked at you in disbelief "You're insane!".

"And you're too cute to be true". You kissed his nose. "Come on, let's get some clothes for you." He shook his head, unsure. "Gra, trust me. It'll be alright. Do you trust me, baby?" You knew he would melt at the 'baby' thing. Graham loved nicknames.

He muttered something you didn't understand but he was still there anyway, so you thought he wasn't really that mad.

"Ok, ok". You said, placing all the pieces of clothing together in front of Graham. "Ta-da! There you have it, you'll look amazing in this".

He scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know. I shouldn't be wearing any of this by now. I'll probably look bad".

"Honey, you're gorgeous, relax. Besides, if anything happens I'll take the blame here and there.

"I can't let you do that!". He said, frowning.

"Of course you can. You need to have fun. Worry less and look at this hat, isn't it pretty?" You placed the hat on his head, in an unintentionally rough way, making him chuckle. "And it fits your head so well!"

"Love...".

"Just put this on. You know you want to".

"Love, I just don't really know if I should..." He took the clothes in his hands, hesitant. Then he looked at you. And, maybe for the first time in forever, he was able to see in himself a little bit of what you see in him. The way that you looked at him made him feel weak to his knees. And it also made him feel confident, adrenaline rushing through his veins and his eyes sparkling. "Oh, fuck them!".

"Fuck them". You said coming over him and kissing him passionately, his eyes now filled with lust. You detached yourself from his grip and gave him a sweet peck on the lips. "I'll go watch the door. You go change”.

Graham started to laugh, changing himself in a rush. "I don't even know why we're doing this. This is childish".

''Cause it's harmless fun. You deserve to have tun".

Graham looked at himself on the body mirror, a smile coming onto his face while he let out little giggles. He thought this was ridiculous, but, in some sort of way, he was starting to enjoy himself. So, when he was finished, he couldn't help to think that he didn't looked that bad after all.

So you reassured him, knowing exactly what was going through his mind (you've been together for 2 years for god sake!): "You look amazing. You really do. You look better than anyone else in here".

"You think so?" He asked as sincerely as he wanted your answer to be, looking at you with his big eyes, showing all parts of himself through them. The fear, the self consciousness, the crave for validation that he usually hide in drinking evenings and quiet stares. All in his eyes.

He felt comfortable being vulnerable around you. He was a vulnerable soul after all. He needed protection and trust, someone who was able to connect with him and stand by his side no matter what. And, after years of dead end streets and pointless roads, he finally found what he was looking for. Someone as confident, smart, funny, warm hearted and trustworthy as you. For him, you were like a rush of energy in lazy mornings and comfy sheets in a cold evening. He couldn't even try to deny one scary fact: he was head over heels.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, looking up at him with the word "love" written all over your face. "Yeah. You kinda fit the vibe. You're so beautiful, Graham". And you meant it, you really did. Besides, you always thought Graham was like a young boy from the 1930's, so you weren't just rambling. He was a natural with his little hat, his big blazer and his cute shoes, something so romantic about his little funny outfit that made your heart filled with the most intense and loving feeling.

He was truly something else, so different from anyone you've ever met. One of a kind, really.

You both leaned and connected your lips, kissing each other with less passion than most of the times and more in an "old couple" kind of way.

Then, suddenly, Graham bit your bottom lip, deepening the kiss while leaning over your body and holding you in his arms in a very movie-like way, causing your laugh.

"Stop doing that, you idiot! I'm going to fall!" You shouted while laughing. Graham leaned even more, practically making your head almost touch the floor while your legs were up in the air.

"No, you're not, Love". He said calmly, although the smile creeping over his face was apparently impossible to erase. He was making fun of you!

He was absolutely the worst.

"Graham, I'm dead serious!" He leaned over even more (as if that's possible!). "Graham!".

He stopped there, just looking at your mortified face, grinning like an idiot.

"I swear to God, if you don't put me on my feet again I will..."

He gave you a kiss on your neck, causing butterflies to throw a party inside your stomach.

Then he gently did what you asked for, letting your feet touch the floor and helping you stand up, resting his head on yours.

He won't admit it (Graham was such a funny stubborn-ass sometimes) but he secretly wished you were a lot more shorter than him, so he could put his chin on top of your head. It's not like you were the same height as him, I mean, you still had to look up at him and all, but he couldn't do that specifically. So you would usually lower yourself or you would stand on your tippy toes to make you look even taller, depending on your mood. Right now, you went for that second option, pretending to be mad.

He knew you weren't, though. So he bit your cheek, making you laugh.

"Stupid boy" You muttered bitting your own bottom lip, repressing a wider smile.

"I love your accent". He said out of nowhere, catching you off guard.

"What was that for?". You detached yourself from his arms, looking puzzled.

"Nothing. I just really love it". He smiled, holding your waist again and his gaze intensified on your lips. "I really love you". His voice almost a whisper.

You sighed, your heart pounding in your chest "I love you too".

And even though Graham still struggled, those were the most sincere words he ever heard in his life and no one could ever convince him otherwise.

So he believed you. He had no other choice.

"See? Now you can go there and be all this pretty in front of the camera". You said, wide gummy smile plastered on your face.

He melted inside.

And, also, he completely forgot about that.

So Graham, allowing himself to be carried by the moment, said this exact words: "You know what? I don't care about this bloody photoshoot. I don't care about any of this. Let's get out of here". And he offered you a hand, the same adventurous hand you offered him before.

"What? But, you have this photo shoot..." You looked around. Then to him "You want to drop out?" You asked, looking for something in his face that would made you realize he actually didn't want to do that. But there was just Graham.

Soft-spoken Graham, staring at you with his burning gaze and rebellious smile. Asking you to be his partner in that little war he called his work and the aftermaths of leaving it.

So you had no other choice.

After all, it was still raining outside, with a storm coming any time soon. They'll probably have to cancel their plans anyway. And the crew will still get paid, just like Alex will still be an asshole the next morning and Damon will definitely be unpredictable about the situation, but that was just Damon. And then Dave... Dave couldn't care less. As long as he could get some sleep right now, he'd be fine. The manager will be furious, of course, but that was just his work. The world will still be moving and the press will be thrilled.

So there was really nothing new.

The first signs of a big storm started to make it's way through the area. Outside the wind was going stronger and the temperature was dropping colder. Graham looked at you, his body temperature was a warm contrast to the weather conditions.

He quickly took some female 1930's clothes for you that were hanging there. He looked at you.

You looked at your purse, inside it was your camera. You saw his eyes sparkling.

So, again, you really had no other choice...

How could you ever say no?

Then, suddenly, Graham was not alone anymore.

The end.

[oriixxc]

[stxrshxpxd]

"i'm not your trophy" || uni damon

pairing: 90s/uni damon albarn x reader

word count: 1.008

warnings: smutish

prompt: damon and reader have known each other forever but never got along. at last they have ended up in bed together.

* * *

Three loud knocks shook my brain awake. One thin stripe of sunlight nearly blinded me as I tried to open my eyes, and a thicker one was drenching my bare shoulder in warmth.

“Yeees,” I grumbled into my pillow and an arm suddenly moved from on top of me to lay next to my face. Shit. Every little detail of last night flashed before my shut eyes in an instant. I moved my head from the sunlight and tried again to open my aching eyes.

“It’s nearly 10! Do you want breakfast or not?” my best friend Cassie shouted rhetorically through the door. Two more knocks and I propped myself up on my elbows, my breasts nearly exposed to Damon next to me. He too had opened his eyes and was glancing at me smugly. I shifted slightly under the covers and came to the conclusion that I was fully nude.

“Stay here.”

“I want breakfast!” he introjected way too loudly. I hushed him immediately but Cassie was already giggling on the other side of the door.

“Is that Damon?”

“Fuck me,” I muttered and shoved my face into my pillow again. “Don’t!” I said and lifted my head again, stopping Damon’s inevitable comment.

“Come onnnn,” Cassie shouted between giggles and she knocked again.

His palm pressed against my rib cage and his lips refused to leave mine, shoving me into my dormitory back first. The sharp corner of my desk pierced into the side of my hip suddenly, but all I could do was laugh into Damon’s mouth. The last two shots had ensured my pain receptors were completely out of order for the next hour or so.

I spotted the bruise in passing as I shimmied past my full body mirror to my left, my duvet draped very poorly over my body. I rummaged through my underwear drawer desperately and managed to slide a pair on, just as I noticed my t-shirt from last night that hung off the top of my dresser.

Damon’s fingers tugged on the stretchy fabric and pulled my t-shirt over my head swiftly, only leaving my lips for a second. He tossed it across my small room somewhere behind him and seconds later I was on my back with my cool pillow against my neck. His hand had already found the button of my jeans.

“Don’t break tradition!” Damon protested and threw his own t-shirt at me. I looked down at the grey shirt by my feet and remembered all the girls that had paraded around in his baggy shirts and smug smiles all around the refectory during breakfast.

“I’m not your trophy,” I stated and slipped my own shirt on instead. It was closely followed by pulling my jeans on as well.

“Okay. Maybe I’m your trophy.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, and then Cassie banged on the door again.

“If I tell you it’s boring news you fucked Damon, will you come out? They’ll seriously close the kitchen in 5 minutes.”

“Oh, shout it a bit louder, would you?!”

”Can we- Can you-” I stammered and failed to finish my sentence, as I watched him squeeze into an oversized top of mine. It fit him tightly over the chest and the deep cut of the neck left his collar bones exposed.

I was sat on top of him, my knees digging into my soft mattress on either side of his bony hips. My lips were attached to his left collar bone and his soft pleased grunts fell into my tangled hair as I sucked a bruise into his skin.

I stared at the dark red spot for a second too long, while Damon slipped into his blue jeans again.

“Sorry, you have a few of those too,” he grinned. He wasn’t really sorry. I spun around to study the visible parts of my body and found two large hickeys down the side of my neck.

“I feel about 15,” I muttered and rolled my eyes as I turned back around.

“I feel hungry.”

Damon made a quick decision and dragged me with him, firmly gripping my wrist, and unlocked the door. On the other side of it stood Cassie with a massive smile and a giggle on its way out.

“This didn’t happen,” I stated and waved my hand around in the air between me and Damon.

“I think Damon’s been wanting this since year one, have you not?” Cassie laughed, stepping into possibly risky territory. Cassie didn’t know Damon very well, apart from having been dragged into multiple drunken arguments between the two of us. Damon and I had grown up together, always known each other but never gotten on. It wasn’t until we began going to the same parties, especially the uni ones, that we really began talking to one another. And those talks were always heated discussions to say the least.

“Been wanting this since I was twelve,” Damon singsonged jokingly and Cassie and him giggled in unison.

“Been wanting this since I was twelve,” he had drunkenly breathed into my ear, while his one hand clasped my two wrists, pinning them down above my head. Not a single giggle could be heard.

We paraded into the half full refectory and gained a few looks. I saw the whispers but couldn’t hear them over the rest of the loud rumbling of conversation.

I slid away to an empty table nearby and sank down with a heavy sigh. The hangover was catching up with me. Cassie gave me a questioning look and Damon copied it.

“I’m not hungry,” I said with a steady voice.

“I fed you enough last night, huh?” Damon said with an intentionally loud voice and some of the other voices died down around the room as a reaction. The silliness of the purple low cut top hugging his torso teamed with his smug grin made me exhale another deep sigh and roll my eyes.

“Plenty,” I settled and nodded my head reluctantly as I sank down further in my seat.

[tabubranku]

Well, there’s Harry Potter AU.

[abrakazabka]

Gram and Damo are tube buddies 🧡 ((just pretend this is what the London Underground looks like lol))