#damon albarn fluff

[starssaroundmyscarssblog]

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 (part one)

pairing: 90s!damon albarn x fem!oc

summary: in which she lives in a very big house in the country, and he can't get enough

word count: 2.95k

warnings: clay (and real) pigeon shooting, mentions of game hunting, mentions of sex

maeve hadn't expected the living room to resemble a large 'escape the rat race' board when she entered, searching for the long coat she was sure she'd left over the back of a sofa (that had been banished to a far corner) the previous night. tiptoeing over the straw that littered colourful squares, she searched high and low for said coat trying to ignore her brother yelling at her to hurry up from the kitchen.

finally, after squatting down in a corner and groping around under the sofas until her fingers brushed the heavy material, maeve stood up and tucked it under her arm. a whistle from the door frame caught her attention and she was ready to tell her brother to do one, but she caught herself. damon was stood in the doorway with one hand above his head- it looked like he was trying to hold himself up from the doorframe whilst balancing a tray with two cups of tea on the other hand.

maeve hopped over the props that had materialised during her search and took a mug gratefully, taking a long sip as they walked down the corridor. "all set up, then?" she asked, stopping en route to collect a dark green smock hooked over a peg by the pantry as the fog of the morning hadn't lifted over the fields.

"yeah, we should be done by four if the boys turn up on time." damon looked at his watch, "which hopefully shouldn't be too far from now." the pair entered the kitchen, a room with a cold stone floor and even colder stone tiling, greeting george (maeve's brother) and her father who were stood by the back door and ready to go.

maeve ditched her half empty mug in the ceramic sink, and jammed her heavily socked feet into the wellies she'd upturned from the rack. george was hopping about on the spot, restless. "hurry up, maeve, i want to go!" he was younger by a few years and stroppy when he didn't get his own way. she sighed through her nose. "oh, tell him dad!"

mr archibald clapped him on the shoulder and lead him out of the door as he said, "we'll be going in a few minutes, george, maeve can't help that her coat went missing. we'll be away before the filming starts-" at this damon called out his thanks with his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, "-and we'll be back when they've finished and cleared up. okay?" looking out of the window, maeve could see her brother nod reluctantly.

"if you need anything, mum's only down the road visiting nan. don't let anyone on the third floor, george might kill you if he finds out someone's gone into his room, and i hope everything goes smoothly." with one swift movement, maeve zipped her smock up to her chin and kissed damon goodbye on the cheek.

he returned the gesture wholeheartedly and opened the back door even though she was perfectly capable of doing it herself. "thanks again for letting me stay over last night, and for letting us use the house. bloody nightmare trying to find one once people found out what we needed it for."

there was a scattering of wet paws spreading mud over the flagstones and all of a sudden two springer spaniels were panting heavily and clawing at damon's shirt. maeve slapped her thigh to get the dog's attention, glaring at them as she pointed for them to trail back out of the door. "poppy, ollie, out now." with their tails between their legs they trotted out of the kitchen.

"sorry about them, they just get excitable. they haven't been out with us for a few weeks. you can put your shirt in the washing machine if you want."

"oi, maeve, are you coming or we're leaving without you!" george bellowed from the bastle house, impatience rising with his temper. maeve sighed, grabbed damon by the cheeks and kissed him hard right infront of the kitchen window just to wind george up. he pulled away, breathless but smiling brightly. "if that's what i get every time you're late, i'm going to have to hide your coats more often."

"i mean it!"

"love you." she said, shutting the door behind her as damon winked when the doorbell rung. if she was quick enough, maeve could get all of her things from the bastle house in enough time to miss the rest of the boys arriving.

underfoot the muddy puddles splashed with the force of her wellies meeting the ground, and maeve swung around the door as george was filling a box with spare pellets. maeve grabbed her shotgun from where it was hung over a hook and snatched up a box of ammunition to stuff in her shoulder bag. in her pocket was her gun license, should people come walking over the public footpaths and ask why she had a firearm.

maeve knew her hobby was unethical, but shooting birds and hunting game was something she enjoyed doing she was clay-disc shooting this morning and then rambling through the countryside her parents owned before driving back in the old land rover to meet damon for an exhibition at the tate that evening.

george snorted a laugh as he picked up a polaroid picture he'd found wedged under garden tools piled into a corner of the bastle. "i think damon dropped something last time you were in here," and handed it back to her while miming wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

"glad to see you've cheered up," she said before looking down at the picture. her cheeks flushed hideously, she remembered staring at the ceiling of her bedroom blissed out as damon hovered over her. before she could protest he'd snapped a picture of her, from the top of her tits all the way to her headboard laughing as if he'd said the funniest thing in the world.

she shoved it into her pocket to serve as a reminder to scold damon when she saw him again, running out of the bastle as she grabbed the car keys for the land rover and shoved all of her things onto the back seat before jumping into the drivers seat. she pulled out of the driveway as george pestered her to put the radio on and her father criticised her for changing gears too quickly when they drove past the rest of the band trundling up the road.

maeve lifted her hand off the steering wheel to wave at them quickly before turning onto a secluded country track to take them all the way down to the bottom fields. damon had asked them to keep the noise down, as he didn't want the takes to be messed up and he would get lost of he, the only one who had a decent idea of the land, was tasked with finding them.

george hopped out of the backseat with the dogs to open the gate, making 'forwards' and 'backwards' gestures with his hands as maeve attempted to park as best she could on the soggy mud. she locked the car after unloading her kit over her shoulders, and greeted tony and pete by shouting over the field at them. tony and pete's waved back as they continued polishing the clay disks with cloths worn down from generational use

"pull!" maeve's voice was loud as the wind carried her shout to tony, who reached into the cage on the table. she watched at the clay disk flew from his finger tips and into the sky, as it crested and she aimed just below as her finger rested in the trigger. with delicacy, she pushed the trigger down and dug her heels into the ground as the recoil shot through her arm and right to her lower back.

with a sharp crack the bullet left the barrel of the shotgun and propelled itself right into the middle of the clay disk, shattering it into pieces as poppy dashed forwards eagerly to retrieve the largest chunks. maeve waved away the smoke with her hand and returned to her dad, drawing a tally mark under where her name was written in chalk on the board. she was three- no, four, points now that he'd missed his shot, above george and wasn't a fan of his gloating.

she reached for the old china mug she'd left on the small wooden table they'd se up and took a sip of her tea, enjoying the warmth that seeped through her fingertips and to her wrists. maeve looked at her watch, ten to two and quite a while until george would be able to go into the house without seeing any of the band members. he didn't like them, she knew that, but she wished he wouldn't play oasis whenever damon was over. damon said he didn't mind, "really, i don't care. it doesn't bother me, love," but george did it anyway.

pete jumped over the gate and splashed wet mud all up his gaiters as he dropped a covered basket by his feet. ollie pushed himself through the gaps in the wooden fence and started to sniff around the basket, nudging it open with his nose and dragging out a limp pigeon in his sharp teeth.

george hollered and whooped, throwing a bird that regained use of its wings when it was set into the air and aiming at it. he was about to shoot when maeve beat him to it, the shot echoed around the field as the pigeon fell to the floor and poppy retrieved it for the pile of broken clay. he glared at her, yelled "pull!" before pete had a chance to drag to pigeons over to the clay disks, gesturing with the barrel of his shotgun at tony to hurry up and get on with it.

tony wrestled with the bird and flung it skywards, across to the corner of the field and george took aim before the crest and shot the bird out of the sky. in his excitement he fell backwards with the recoil and insisted, because he said so, that they go stalking through the forest for game.

their dad said no. maeve set the birds into the sky one by one and there was a free-for-all, with shouts of 'the one on the left is mine' or 'i've got the one on the right' ringing with gunshots and clicks of barrel reloading. poppy and ollie were springing about with pigeons stuffed in their mouth, dropping them infront of tony and pete who patted their sides and fed them treats for their hard work.

then maeve grabbed george, the dog's leads and the animals that she clipped them to, and they walked off into the woods with eyes peeled and ears alert. they were silent, leaves crunching and branches snapping underfoot as they tried to listen for rustling bushes or movements in the bracken. george locked onto what he thought was a rabbit but was just a clump of fluff caught on a bramble, and maeve missed a fox that came streaking past while she was untangling the strap of her shotgun from her hair.

they continued, circling the edge of the woods with only the dogs for company, until maeve realised they'd come all the way back round to the field where their dad was pulling clay for tony and pete was nursing a coffee maeve suspected he'd made irish with a dash of baileys from the hip-flask she'd bought him for his birthday.

all of a sudden, as they were trekking through the marshy ground, the heavens opened with a clap of thunder and flash of lighting. martin (their dad) had disassembled the trestle table in a flash and had chucked it into the trailer of pete and tony's car for them to take back to the house, had tipped pete's drink back his throat for him while he was disposing of the dead game, and loaded maeve and george's guns into the boot in the blink of an eye.

maeve settled into the front seat in her still dripping smock, martin hadn't let her take it off as the track to the country road flooded quicker than anything and they had to get back to the house before they were stranded until the rain stopped. "what's the point in having a land rover," george leant over the middle seats to turn the radio on, "if we can't use it to get through flooded roads?"

as maeve flicked the indicator and checked for the absent oncoming traffic, she said, "because last time it happened you were driving and you got us stuck. we had to call a rescue service who couldn't find us, and we missed the rehearsal dinner for cousin sophie's wedding."

"but sophie's a bitch. i'm glad we weren't there."

"i was the maid of honour!" maeve shouted as she turned onto the driveway and drove all the way around the back of the house to the bastle. damon and graham were outside smoking, leaning against the dry part of the wall protected by the porch overhang. she didn't see them as she left the car and hooked her shotgun over her shoulder.

graham whistled. "your arse looks great in those trousers, maeve," he called out with a final drag as damon pulled the cigarette from his mouth and stubbed it out against the wall. maeve smiled and disappeared around the bastle, hanging up her shotgun and putting back the box of bullets she's brought but hadn't needed to use. she hung out her smock to dry and wiped away some mud that had caked around her nose using the specked mirror on the wall.

maeve walked back round to the backdoor and held onto damon's arm as she kicked off her wellies and stood them upside down on the rack under the shelter of the porch. the thick socks on her feet padded over the flagstones of the kitchen and maeve nearly barged into alex, who'd appeared with a pitcher of water in one hand and a plate empty save from crumbs in the other, on her way down the hall and up the stairs.

the grandfather clock at the top of the staircase in the entrance hall chimed loudly five times, and right on cue the camera crews shook hands with martin and thanked him for letting them use the house before trooping out of the front door and into the vans waiting for them in the front drive.

damon sighed. "sorry we ran over time, i bet george was a pain in the arse."

"as per," she led him up the stairs and unlocked her bedroom door, letting the two of them in as damon flicked on the light, "but we lost track of the time anyway. managed to get out into the woods as well, but the rain cut us off after one loop." maeve cringed as she pulled her thick socks off and discarded them in the pile of her clothes that had gathered at the foot of her large bed, her bare feet making cold contact with the floor sent a shiver shooting up through her.

maeve slipped into her en suite and started the shower, revelling in the water that warmed her bones pleasantly - she hadn't realised she was that cold. standing under the hot water of the shower stream felt like bliss, though she was in and out in a few minutes after scrubbing her aloe vera body wash roughly against her skin. she rubbed moisturiser over the cracked skin of her nose whilst gently moving the excess down over her cheeks and to her collar bones, where a bruised colour mark was beginning to bloom under her pale skin.

damon was lying still at the foot of her bed when maeve emerged from the bathroom, playing with a rubix cube that had been unfinished since 1986 in his long fingers. she sat down at her vanity and the heavy chair legs scraping across the floor disturbed him from the quiet, instead turning to prop himself up on his elbows as he watched maeve run a brush through her hair. "so everything went well, then?" she asked, pulling a light brown eyeliner pencil through her lashline.

"yeah, all good. there might be straw under some of the sofas though, but we tried to get rid of as much as possible." he fiddled with something on his wrist, "sorry."

"don't worry about that, there's always mud caked onto the floor somewhere so we'll get round to clearing it away soon."

as maeve pulled on her tights and buttoned up her fitted shirt, she lifted up a delicate gold necklace. "would you?" she asked, turning to stand infront of the mirror to check her skirt when damon's hands slid over her shoulders and moved her hair away gently. the ribbon of the velvet bow in her hair tickled his nose as damon dipped lower and pushed a series of feather kisses to the back of her neck, clasping the necklace under the collar with a nip on the shell of maeve's ear.

her cheeks flushed as she pushed his face away, dragging her nails over the column of his neck before reaching around him for her chunky brown cardigan. maeve grabbed her bag and damon's hand, dragging him down the stairs and through the entrance hall, snatching her car keys from the trinket dish by the front door. she shouted 'bye, don't wait up', over her shoulder as damon wrapped his arms around her waist and bundled her over to her vintage mercedes parked on the gravel driveway

🪩⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊☕️

[andulina567]

I fell in love with Damon Albarn from Blur‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[b0r3dtod3ath]

@naughtyboydamon ty for the request and sorry you had to wait so long!

(any era damon)

Damon knocked on your door, a warm smile on his face. You opened the door, looking tired but surprised to see him.

"Damon, hey! What brings you here?" you asked, stepping aside to let him in.

"I was in the area and thought I'd drop by. You seemed a bit off when we talked on the phone earlier," Damon explained, stepping into the apartment.

You nodded, letting out a weary sigh. "Yeah, it's been a bit though lately. But it's alright."

Damon's gaze softened as he noticed mess everywhere and tired expression on his friend's face. "Are you sure? Want to talk about it?"

You hesitated for a moment before you eyes filled with water. You gently nodded avoiding eye contact with him. "Yeah.."

As you poured out you frustrations, Damon listened intently, offering words of comfort and support. He could see the weight lifting off your shoulders with each shared burden. You went on a rant about everything that has made you feel so overwhelmed and stressed during the past few weeks.

"You know, Y/N," Damon began, his voice gentle, "you're always there for everyone else. It's okay to lean on others too, especially on days like today."

You looked up at him, grateful for his understanding. Thankful that in his eyes you are not even a bit weaker than you were before. "Thanks, Damon. It means a lot."

You sat in silence for a while, eyes locking in silent understanding. In that moment, Damon realized just how much you meant to him.

"I've been meaning to tell you something," Damon said, his voice hesitant.

He had captured your curiosity. "What is it?"

"I... I care about you, Y/N. More than I've anyone ever," Damon confessed, his heart pounding in his chest.

You puffy eyes widened in surprise, but a warmth spread through you at Damon's words. "I care about you too, Damon. More than you know."

In that instant, the air crackled with possibility, their unspoken feelings hanging between them like a delicate thread. Without another word, he leaned in, his soft lips met the skin of your hand and gave it a gentle kiss. In no time he started covering you up in kisses as to lift your mood up.

As he pulled away, chuckling and smiling, he spoke again. "How about I stay over tonight? We can order some food, watch a movie, and just relax."

Your tired eyes brightened at the suggestion. "I'd like that. Thank you, Damon."

And so, you spent the night wrapped in each other's company, finding solace and comfort in the simple act of being together. As you drifted off to sleep, tangled in blankets on the couch, you knew that no matter what tomorrow brought, you would face it together.

April 22 2024

[ay0nha]

request? could you write something with Damon having major sexual tension with a backing member of gorillaz (like a violinist or something) it’s vagueeee but still

SUMMARY: A warm smell surrounded you that’s familiarity made something bloom in your chest. It wasn’t a far cry to admit Damon was attractive. Any star was. Something scratched at your chest, toyed with you. It taunted you to bring the fabric close and be consumed by it. But Damon’s eyes were fixated on your every move; the wrong one would be catastrophic. 

PAIRING: Damon Albarn x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.6K

WARNINGS: I tried to combine a handful of requests, so if it's a little choppy...don't worry about it....fluff, cursing, lack of coherent plot because I a little bit gave up half way through, nothing crazy, etc.

A/N: Hello! I love this concept so much. It was meant to be an enemies to lovers, but my little fluff-filled heart couldn't do it. Please, please enjoy! (If you can't tell, I live for this gif lol)

“Loop it.”

The harmonies felt better. But after going through every note in your range, Damon still refused to settle. Sleep clung to your voice and became prominent when you tried to push through.

“Let’s do it again…” Damon pressed the signaling button for his voice to echo. You could see through the glass fatigue ruled him and fueled his obsession. “Try the C major–” He hesitated to commit to the note, but not when he had called your hotel room in the middle of the night. “—No. Try doing–

“I’m taking a break.”

The headphones disconnected before Damon could reprimand you. If you had to be inconvenienced, so would he. Silence followed you as you moved through his home. Damon’s eyes tracked your familiarity in his home. There was something, a feeling he couldn’t decipher about the authority you found in it.

You were no longer a guest, but you weren’t a friend. Despite knowing each other for years, you never quite graduated from the acquaintance level. Yet, there you were, sipping from the mug Damon had made himself as if you were his other half.

Your position normalized it. The industry, which you barely claimed space in, normalized things like this. There was plenty of musical history to account for late-night sessions or jams, but this felt intentional. Different.

“Where are the others?” You teased him knowingly. You were well aware of the rumored soft spot he had for you, but it was hard to believe what he expected of you.

“Still sleeping.” Damon was restless, focusing on the wasted time on hot water and honey. “They’ll catch up.” He attempted to reason with your glare. “We need to get back.”

You had gotten further than usual, half a mug’s worth, before he complained. There wasn’t enough caffeine in the tea to keep you up, but the warmth helped. So did the fact that there was a fresh stock of the brand you gravitated towards. He was expecting you.

“Just a minute longer.” You hummed, neck stretching to the left and right until it popped. “Sure you don’t want any?” Damon declined, settling with a yawn. “You’ll have to sleep at some point.”

“I will…” He sniffed with agitation. You annoyed him and crawled under his skin just to settle there. “...once we’re done.”

“We are done.” A breath of amused laughter flitted through your nose. “You’ll have to drag me back in there.” Damon looked at you as if actually entertaining the thought. Throwing him a coy gaze, you added, “I’d love to see you try.”

“I thought about it.” He cracked a smile, finally. Damon was uncharacteristically quiet during the session, suppressing his usual cheekiness.

Your expression softened, matching his, “I know.”

“Maybe I’ll scrap the song.” He finally caved, his anxieties surfacing. “B-sides or something.” His movements became his own, demeanor present again, “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a mess.” You cleared your mug, the remaining tea cold and forgotten. “That what you want to hear?” You hummed for an answer. “Or that it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard?”

“Depends.” His smile remained present. “Does my ego need inflating?”

“God, no.”

Your breath of laughter was divine. Damon would listen to it on a loop if he could. These moments made it worthwhile. They were fleeting but brought a much-needed lightness to the night. Made the purpose of your presence just a little sweeter.

—

You’d come in with little layers, to begin with. Stumbling out of bed meant whatever was on your back would have to suffice for the day ahead. Yet, that hadn’t accounted for the switch of the air conditioning to accommodate the countless pieces of equipment used.

At night, things were different. You related to the solitude, the quietness making it easier to think. Yet, the buzz of a busy studio gave a unique rush to every meeting that helped immerse you in a world of collaboration.

“He kept you all night?” Jamie’s tone was teasing with the rhetorical question. It was obvious in how you looked—casually put together and gaze set on the goal of finishing—that you’d seen the sunrise.

You offered a simple smile, making it seem like you hadn’t minded. In reality, you hadn’t truly minded, but part of you resisted the game of cat and mouse.

“You’re allowed to say no.” Another breath of laughter. Jamie had a knack for using his humor for others' comfort, which you appreciated. Especially if it came to poking fun at Damon. “He does know what that means.”

“Keeps me occupied.” The excuse was rehearsed but not inaccurate, as you shrugged. “The extra cash doesn’t hurt.”

“God knows he’s got plenty to spare.”

Jamie looked at Damon. He was engrossed with his lyrics, scratching out words for others and shuffling the cue cards in different orders until they made sense for the singers who would soon spill in. A cigarette hung from his lips, the ash snowing down onto his work.

Damon mumbled against the butt to himself, taking a drag just to push it out through his nose. Something was appealing to the vice. Especially as you thought to reach out with your two fingers to capture your lips around the cigarette just to feel the heat of his lips.

“C’mere for a minute.”

There was a lag before you realized Damon had called out to you. There wasn’t a need for you yet; he would have to make something up soon to explain why you had to detach yourself from Jamie.

“The melodies sound good.” You crouched beside him, the compliment surprising not only him but yourself. “I heard you earlier…” You attempted to backtrack before the heat reached the tips of your ears. “...It’s shaping up nicely.”

“The lyrics are..." His sentence trailed off, morphing as he blew a raspberry. He couldn't quite shake the frustration of his unfinished song.

Goosebumps littered your skin as you reached across him for the marker in his hand. He knew you were cold since he avoided looking at how the swell of your breast peaked, looking for heat.

“Grammar’s a bit off.” You mumbled, adjusting the order of a few things. It was like a puzzle; the song's lyrics could be bent however you wanted but could only settle comfortably with a proper flow. “...Let's see how that sounds.”

You hummed the melody that had become your earworm. Damon matched it with the lyrics. The flow had changed with the slight adjustment as if mocking how it had taken days for him even to approach it.

“Yeah, that’s good…” Damon whispered to himself, to you. There was no reason to be surprised at your skill, but there was something that tickled him. “Good, let’s get the others.” He could feel the start of his rambling in his chest. “I mean, when everyone gets here…you can show them.”

“Somethings off with you…” Your eyebrows cinched together with premature amusement. “You don’t like it?”

Damon was hard-headed, never soft-spoken about his work and how he envisioned it. But he struggled to form his words the way he wanted with you.

“He’s upset that he didn’t come up with it himself. ” Jamie joined right as Damon went to thank you. “Now leave the girl alone; I don’t know how she’s not sick of you yet.”

—

As others filtered in, producing and recording, the smoke began to fill the room. Things began to come easy, things falling into place with more than a pair of eyes looking for a solution. Damon thrived in the environment. He personified the more, the merrier.

He would detach himself from one group just to mingle with those working in the opposite direction. He multitasked even when everyone decided to relax collectively, yourself included.

“All I’m saying is that the audience in Rio has this unmatched energy.”

They talked about the upcoming tour, regaling tales of part performances that couldn’t be matched. It had just been confirmed and announced to the anticipatory fans in capital cities globally.

“Toyko, hands down.” Another added. “ Plus, the food is well worth the travel.”

You traveled for work but only hopped from one studio to the next. Never had you performed in front of crowds as the rest had. They shared stories of the things thrown at them during peak performances and tales of drunken nights that were fuzzily being put together.

“Albarn, do you remember?” They called for him across the room. He had waited for the single invitation to be closer to you with the backing of an excuse. “In Montreal, how’d we get back to the hotel?”

Damon didn’t touch you, not yet, at least. The arm around the cushion of the sofa settled comfortably as he sat. His head lulled back and forth, giving attention to those he conversed with. But something about how he gravitated to your space made it seem like his undivided attention was yours.

You found it difficult to listen to shared stories you knew little about. But you liked the rumble you felt against your side when Damon fluttered with laughter. Each time, he would catch the goosebumps that spread across your arms. He figured you were cold, but you were worried that you were revealing yourself, and he only reveled in it. So you used the very excuse of being affected by the temperature to cover yourself.

You could have gone without asking, but your hand landed on his knee before you realized. “You have a jumper or something?”

His eyes lingered on your hand, which caught his attention. It was a smart move on your part, better than trying to call his name, knowing it would go out in one ear and out the other. Others continued around you, making nothing of the touch, but you rarely initiated something.

“On the chair.” Damon jutted his chin across the room where his sweatshirt had been scrapped.

Eyes were on you, watching your sock-clad feet pad carefully over the various wires that littered the floor. The sweatshirt was intentionally large on Damon, so it swam on you as you pulled it over your head.

A warm smell surrounded you that’s familiarity made something bloom in your chest. It wasn’t a far cry to admit Damon was attractive. Any star was. Something scratched at your chest, toyed with you. It taunted you to bring the fabric close and be consumed by it. But Damon’s eyes were fixated on your every move; the wrong one would be catastrophic.

Someone called your name, and your original spot was filled beside Damon. There was a yearning to return to that, probably the shared exhaustion of the day forefronting your thoughts.

—

Your eyes couldn’t help but drift throughout the session. It was becoming a hard habit to break. But for once, you were thankful, able to catch the tail end of Jamie and Damon’s tiff. They had their lovers quarrels, but they never remained quiet. They were never shy to be dramatic for everyone to hear and witness.

The studio glass was your barrier, but you had an inkling it was about you. Jamie was always an advocate for you, for everyone. He, although not always, could talk sense into his counterpart. You just wished he waited to do it when you weren’t there or when you could eavesdrop.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m—

“Nah, I’m tired of your excuses.” Jamie tutted, arms crossing with conviction. “You have a beautiful girl over in the middle of the night, and you make her work.” He shook his head as if it was the most despicable thing. “The only thing she should be doing is moaning–

“Fuck off.” Damon frowned at the crudeness. He’d mused the thought but never allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy. “It’s not like that, believe me.

“You’re letting me down.” Jamie continued, ready for the fight. “What happened to you?” He always tapped right on Damon’s pressure points. “You’ve gone soft, can’t even ask out a girl without falling apart.”

“Thanks, mate.” Damon threw a glare, still looking ahead. He caught your eye unintentionally. But his eyes flickered back to Jamie before the slim chance of being ashamed. “Go find something to do, I can’t babysit today.”

“You’re drawing it out,” Jamie said. “She’ll be gone when you finally fucking do something—

“I’ve invited her out tonight.”

The lie flew out fast. Damon had only heard through the whispers of others that you would think about going. Now, he gambled.

Jamie’s eyebrows twitched up, “With us?”

“Who else?”

A smirk pulled at the thought. Years passed, and your tendency to avoid social events began to precede you. “You bribed her to say yes, didn’t you?”

—-

“Refill?”

Damon watched your drink dwindle. Your ordered whatever everyone else was having, making it easy to blend in. It was his excuse to talk to you, which he found otherwise difficult.

The music was loud, thumping directly to drown out his voice. Yours carried beautifully as you laughed with the company. It felt like a strike every time Damon heard it. A reminder of the incompetence Jamie had reminded him of earlier.

“Hmm?”

The music covered Damon’s words. You leaned close to his neck; ear perked to hear him. He had caught you on the dance floor, where you swayed to the beat. On the off-beat, your shoulder brushed against his, a deliberate move on your part.

“Your drink…” He pointed to it this time. The strobing lights helped cover his stumble. “You want another?”

Damon looked good. Maybe it was the buzz around you allowing you to fall behind the veil of alcohol. It helped that people around you bumped the two of you closer. If he hadn’t been looking at you so intently for an answer, you’d be in his arms within a matter of minutes.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

The atmosphere of the club required commitment. But the bar offered a reprieve. You were lucky to have found a free stool that wobbled under your weight while Damon flagged down the bartender. You were sure some recognized him, but as he matured, the more privacy he maintained.

“Thought you would be a no-show.” The gin and tonic had a heavy pour, reflecting the overwhelmed workers and carelessness of the night. You sipped on its sweetness, patient for Damon’s response.

“So did I.” Ironically enough, you had approached Damon. You extended the invitation, lying through your teeth that the others had sent you to ask him. Relief flooded him. A shrug simplified Damon’s feelings. “Changed my mind.”

“Why?” You teased, looking at him with nothing but conviction. “You found out I was coming?”

“Something like that.” His lips twitched at the sentiment, arms encasing you as more bumped him toward you, “Jamie’s quite persistent.”

Your drinks dwindled, and more were ordered. The bubble you’d created was filled with wit, a banter that came naturally and held heavy sentiments. You had already memorized the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, how his laughter started deep within his chest just to echo its way to you. But it never got old. Typically, you’d scold yourself for admiring him that way but indulged regardless. Damon was never subtle with how his gaze lingered, but you doubted subtly was his priority.

Especially as he broke eye contact with you just to wet his own lips, mirroring your gesture. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded. “You’ve got my attention.”

It seemed the best time to ask you when he had you in his grasp. There wouldn’t be a more appropriate time in his eyes. This was what he wanted most but never knew how to express. He wanted you near him, like this.

“Come on tour with me.”

[stxrshxpxd]

🍁 fic friday;

10:30 am

1999 damon albarn x reader

fluff!

“How can you read that in the morning?” I questioned and laid my head on Damon’s shoulder. He was holding an old copy of Pet Sematary that he had been meaning to read for years. The boys had just gotten a break from live shows for about a month and I could tell it was about time. In all the years I’d known him Damon had never slept so much before. And he still looked exhausted most of the time he was awake.

“Well, it’s better than at night,” he argued and I chuckled softly, seeing his point.

The time was 10:30 and my stomach was beginning to twist with hunger but I didn’t want to get up. The warmth from my duvet and Damon’s body could easily lull me back to sleep again, I thought. Just as my head gained some weight against his shoulder he twitched and adjusted his position, pulling me out of my slumber again.

“Lie still,” I whispered with mock annoyance.

I heard him lay his book down and felt his three day stubble graze my temple as he glanced down at me.

“We’ve already slept like ten hours,” he laughed and I opened my eyes, squinting up at his drowsy ones. The sun pierced through the thin clouds outside and settled in his long hair and stubble, making them both appear a warm golden colour.

“I know, but I’m hungry, and sleep is a way out of hunger.”

Damon laughed again.

“So is eating.”

“But I’m too comfortable here,” I laughed miserably, having closed my eyes again and dug my nose into his bare shoulder.

“Come on,” Damon chuckled, placed a firm kiss on the top of my head and rolled away from me. I looked up at him where he stood with his duvet wrapped around him and the framed background of swaying, orange and red treetops behind him.

“Fine,” I mumbled with a smile and draped myself in my warm duvet, waddling behind Damon out to the kitchen.

[damonjuicyscock]

Hello you guys,

Sorry I forgot to give you news.

I once again had a car accident (I'm a good driver, others are not)

Someone just bumped against me and since then I'm resting my poor neck and as it wasn't funny enough, I got sick ✨️

I hope I'll be able to publish in two weeks that would be great.

At the moment, so I can be forgiven, I propose you a FAQ, you can ask me questions (about me, the future of this tumblr, the future writings), I'll gladly answer them !

Take care of yourselves !

Lots of love

DJC ❤️

(I also take this as an occasion to introduce you my new lovely 10 years old cat : Patrick)

[avxoxo1]

all these songs are about me btw xx

[leaawrites]

She's the one I'm running with

Damon Albarn x fem!reader

Summary: when everything falls apart, at least they still have each other.

Warnings: the press, fluff, maybe messed up timeline and behavior

Wordcount: 1.2k

Masterlist

“Do you ever wanna run away?”

A simple question as that had started it all, well maybe not everything. The press was there first, as always. Whether it be in front of a restaurant they were eating at one night or outside the studio whenever the band recorded a new album. They were there to take pictures of every situation, hoping to capture just the slightest glimpse of unintentional imperfection. Something more raw than laughter on a TV show or dumb comments in an interview or on stage. They wanted the real faces of every celebrity and they’d do anything to capture just the right moment for a new headline. They’d write anything to have their name printed as a footnote under the newest headline.

‘Damon Albarn, cheating on long-time girlfriend? Is there trouble in Paradise for the power couple of Britpop?’

Everything was a question and over the top. Everything was what it was never meant to be. A bloated stomach was a pregnancy and a new ring was an engagement or secret wedding. Everything one did, when it was seen by the public, was a form of violation. Whether it be against the fans or the own closest circle, someone always had to be hurt. Something always had to be dramatized.

The newest of them all finally drew the line for Damon, it made him ask that one specific question.

“In what sense?” she’d asked, playing with the sleeve of his grey shirt and looking up at him from her position on his chest.

“Just go,” he answered with his hands tangled in her hair. “Let’s just pack our stuff and go somewhere quiet. Without all the cars and people, just us.”

“OK.”

And that’s what they did the next morning. Damon called the band, saying that he needed some time off and that he wouldn’t be available for the next three weeks or so. Let’s say, they weren’t all too happy with his call. Y/n asked for the holiday she’d been putting off and her extra hours, before starting to pack their bags. Not too much, not too little. They wouldn’t be doing much, she knew that. He hadn’t actually told her what he’d planned for them, but she was willing to follow him anywhere.

She was sure of that at last, when she climbed into the car and looked over at him. His face highlighted by the golden sunlight that was still rising above the buildings, catching all the little details and making him stand out for her like he did the first time she’d seen him.

Taking out the film camera that was hidden in her bag just in case, she captured the moment, hoping it’d come out alright and good enough for her to put it into the box with all the others she’d been collecting over the past two years.

At the sound of the shutter going off, Damon turned to her with a slightly playful grin on his face. He hated the pictures others took, but hers, he loved them. He’d let her follow him with a whole film crew if it meant that he got so see the smile spreading across her face whenever looking at him or the video she took, the photos she gave him at every end of the year since they met in college and became close friends. At first it were mostly of the band at rehearsals, where she’d been invited to by him in particular, or at gigs, where Damon invited her as well to, but over time and as the friendship blossomed to something more than light banter and occasional flirting, the pictures of him became more too until they filled the whole album. He’d look at them on nights when he couldn’t sleep or was feeling lost for inspiration and read through the small notes or poems on the side of every page with a smile on his lips - he still did that - wishing that her words were only meant for him and no one else in the band, until they were.

And now she was his and he was hers just as much, a dream come true.

“What?” Y/n asked, looking at him with knitted eyebrows and an unsure look on her face, like she waited for the hour long speech about pictures once again.

“Nothing,” Damon simply shrugged, starting to tap his finger to the beat on the steering wheel and looking at the road ahead. “Your smile is just absolutely beautiful.”

The drive to their destination was an hour and a half, all in which they were talking or singing or sitting in silence, solely enjoying the other’s presence with them. Stopping the car, Damon looked from the little cottage he’d rented over to the girl in his passenger seat, asleep. He couldn’t just wake her now, could he? Deciding on the easiest way to get her into the warmth of the house, Damon went over to her side of the car and picked her up, carrying her inside.

Opening her eyes, Y/n was greeted by the fireplace burning in front of her, her body slumped against the cushion of the sofa and Damon nowhere in sight. Sitting up, she looked around the little space out of wood until her eyes landed on the figure standing in the kitchen, staring puzzled down between a small piece of paper and the pot boiling in front of him.

Not noticing his girlfriend waking up, Damon almost let out a scream as he felt a pair of arms wrapping themselves around his chest and a head nuzzling itself into his back, inhaling the scent of his shirt. Looking down at the hands clasped around his middle he smiled, recognizing the ring. The one, whose meaning the press weren’t wrong about.

“Hello, love. Slept well?” He asked, continuing to try and cook the pasta like it was scribbled down on the little paper by her mother.

“Yeah,” she answered, not moving.

“Hope you’re hungry.”

“If it tastes good,” she teased.

“My food always tastes good,” Damon argued back, looking over his shoulder to see her stifle against his back and shaking his head at her behavior.

“It’s not even that bad,” she complimented as she tried the first bite, her nodding in approval as she was still chewing.

“Thank you, chef,” he answered with the same attitude she had been talking with earlier.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about something,” Damon said into the middle of silence, blowing out the smoke of his cigarette, before handing it over to her.

“About what?”

No matter how much people might deny the fact that she was supportive of her boyfriend and complain about how little times she was seen at gigs or festivals, she truly cared about everything going on in his mind and how he chose to express it.

“A new band,” he answered, making her turn her head in his direction.

“What about blur? Don’t you wanna try and keep that up? I mean, you’re so popular.”

“I wanna try something new, you know?” She nodded in understanding, aware of the fact that he’d been trying out different styles for quite some time now. “Blur is good and all that, but I believe there’s more in my creativity than ‘Britpop’. Do you remember that guy Graham was obsessed with, Jamie Hewlett or some? He’s the comic artist and we’ve talked about music as such these days and all that. What do you think of a band made out of comic characters?”

“What?” The idea sounded absurd, unimaginable even. With all those people around that were catching on fame, all those real people everyone liked to talk about when life got too boring for them, how would a group of fictional characters fit in there? Though, the more she thought about it, the more it intrigued her. An real fictional band in a world so unreal. It made sense of some sorts.

“Tell me more.”

“We have some vague ideas as of now, nothing solid though.”

That’s how they spent the next few weeks, talking and brainstorming ideas, sometimes with Jamie on the phone. Falling asleep between scribbled notes or with an open song file lulling them to sleep. It wasn’t their ideal idea of a holiday activity, but at least they got to do something just for them for a little while. It would be available to the public in time, but at least now, nobody could ask them about it.

It was just theirs.

Their little world to hide away from reality in. The one they could run away together to.

[remersgf]

- masterlist ❣️

smut: 💥

fluff: 🫧

doug remer:

💥hazy

🫧remer taking care of drunk!reader blurb

🫧💥remer headcanons

💥please

💥remer going down on you blurb

🫧remer x reader on the team headcanons

🫧remer getting the silent treatment headcanons

🫧💥remer with a size kink headcanons

🫧drunk!remer x reader blurb

💥sucking remer off blurb

💥watching remer masturbate blurb

💥fill ‘er up!

🫧remer taking care of sick!reader headcanons

💥perv!remer blurb

🫧remer with a goth!gf headcanons

matt stone:

💥birthday boy

💥his toy

💥voyeur!matt blurb

stan marsh:

💥pc stan marsh nsfw headcanons

💥pc stan marsh age gap blurb

🫧sleeping positions with pc stan marsh

🫧pc stan marsh dating with an age gap headcanons

💥showing up to pc stan marsh’s house blurb

🫧going to the liquor store with pc stan marsh blurb

damon albarn:

💥pretty thing

💥the best

💥damon albarn nsfw alphabet

💥tease

💥caught

💥jealous

[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!

[starssaroundmyscarssblog]

🪩⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🎸 𝐍𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 . . .

THE FERN AND NOEL SAGA

to be or not to be (part one) . . . in which noel's going nowhere and fern's going everywhere

⤷ to be or not to be (part two) . . . in which noel's going nowhere and fern's going everywhere, but they're making it work

argumentative, antithetical dream girl (part one) . . . in which noel tries not to get jealous over someone who he knows he shouldn't be worried about, and fern gets high for the first time to soothe the blow

⤷ argumentative, antithetical dream girl (part two) . . . in which noel tries not to get jealous over someone who he knows he shouldn't be worried about, and fern gets high for the first time to soothe the blow (18+ MDNI)

THE ASTRID FALKNER UNIVERSE

'slut' (part one) . . . in which a morally good girl meets a morally bad boy, what could go wrong?

⤷ 'slut' (part two) . . . in which a morally good girl meets a morally bad boy, what could go wrong?

a pleasure of masquerade . . . every time time noel saw astrid perform live; a thread

it rains when you're with me . . . in which astrid releases a studio album for the first time in eleven years, and noel can't keep up with the demand that comes with it

🪩⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🎸

[lgwifey]

Hi, may I ask if you can write something about Damon Albarn and a female reader?  (Maybe something fluff if you want, but I think anything will do). 

P.S I really like your writing :) .

Hiiiiya babes, thanks so much xxx I hope you like this, I’m not entirely sure what type this falls into but it’s all my brain’s giving me <33

RUN

90s!Damon Albarn x fem!aristocratic!reader

Y/F/N : your full first name. Y/N : your nickname/shortened version of your full name

MASTERLIST

"Y/n Y/L/N is at it again ladies and gentlemen !"

The eighteen year old rolled her eyes, mumbling to whoever was in the room with her to 'turn the blasted thing off, won't you'. She sat up, lifting her pink silk eyemask off and throwing it onto her lesser used bedside table.

"Good morning Miss Y/F/N."

She looked aside to find her childhood nanny at her bedroom door, just having placed the hot pink television remote on her vanity.

"How many times do I have to say Vanessa ? Just Y/N."

She sent a smile to the mother figure before jumping out of her bed, quite literally. The winter chills sent her to pull on some pom-pomed slipper boots, pulling on a pair of fluffy pyjama bottoms aswell.

"Of course, Y/N."

She sent a smile back to the young lady before informing her that her mother was downstairs waiting for her, which caused her to go wide eyed and immediatly rushed down the two flights of stairs which lead to the dining room.

She stopped before the overly elegant double doors, quickly pulling her hair out of the pink scrunchie she had slept in and trying to pat it down. She gave a quick knock before opening the left door, walking in with a perfect posture.

“Good morning mother."

The girl caught her mother's eyes at the other side of the room. They didn't get along, not in the slightest bit, so when the older woman was actually at the house, conversation at breakfast and at supper where dead, other than small notes on each other's jobs or family events that might be occuring. Y/N sat on one side of the exagerated table whilst her mother sat on the other side.

"You have a fitting at eleven."

"I know."

"Yes well knowing you, you would forget."

She discretely rolled her eyes, looking down to her juice beside her plate.

"And I would have to clean up your mistakes which I have neither the time or effort to do Y/F/N."

She bit her lip, and just gave a hum in response before standing up and leaving to her room, leaving her untouched food to be dealt with by the butler a few meters away from her. She bit the inside of her cheeks hard as she ran up the stairs, turning left and running up the next set before reaching her room. The bedroom door slammed shut and y/n threw the scrunchie off her wrist onto her bed.

She quickly washed and fixed yesterday's makeup, which she didn't need to overly bother with since it would all be redone at the fitting she needed to leave to go to. She slipped on a pair of beige highwaisted suit trousers and a white lace bralette. She threw a bunch of her things into a handbag before slipping on chestnut uggs, an a long denim afgan coat. She brushed through the knots in her hair before throwing the gem decored flip phone into her bag and rushing out if the room.

Before she got to the end of her drive, she slipped on a pair of large sunglasses due to the reporters at her estate's gates.

She could see and hear the laughs of people passing by as they watched her try to avoid the cameras and shouting journalists who where running after her down the path.

If only they understood.

After her dress fitting for one of her mother's arrangements next month, Y/N decided to stay in the city and get a bit of lunch before returning back to the house. She ended up not having to hide from people as much since apparently there was someone else on the same road as her who was deemed more important, her mind thanked whoever it was because their misery was currently allowing her to relax for a bit.

She ended up in a little cafe off a main road. After ordering a coffee and a snack they had in their counter display, she sat in one of the booths by herself. Her bag sat on the inside of the row as she flicked through one of her new books. One of the girls who was working at the till when she ordered placed a mug and plate down infront of Y/N and with a smile gave a timid "if you need anything else feel free to ask." She gave a smile back before taking a sip of her coffee and humming to herself, tapping her fingers on the table as she read through her open page.

As she ate, she took extra care in keeping and crumbs away from the new hardback and when she had finished with her food she left the few belongings in their spot before ordering an iced drink to have before heading home.

At least that was her plan, but that plan was quickly dropped when as she was about to get up and thank the girl on shift for the drinks, a crowd of cameras appeared. Y/n gave a yelp before slouching back into her booth, sliding the book into her bag and hopeing no-one knew or saw that she was there.

As the door crashed open, a figure in baggy clothes ran in and jumped into the opposite side of her booth. She noticed him muttering to himself, distracted and seemingly having not noticed her.

She hid further away from the cameras, crushing her bag as she fell onto it, letting out a sqeak as she did so, begging that she hadn't broken anything in it. Having got the stranger's attention, his muttering stopped and he looked over to her with a clearly very confused expression.

"Hi."

"Hello."

Her reply came before a short, awkward pause and after it was a sudden burst of annoyance displayed through hushed shouts.

"What the hell are you doing ! I don't know who you are but I was having a nice time away from those parasites and now they're going to know that i'm here !"

He blinked for a moment before waving his hand in a confused manner, causing her to roll her eyes. To say the stranger was even more confused when she started climbing under the table to his side of the booth, dragging her bag behind her.

"I'm Y/N."

She held out a hand for him to shake in their slouched and cramped situation.

"Damon.”

"Okay, now Damon how am I supposed to leave this cafe without gaining those people's attention."

He grinned at her, almost as if she had told a joke, Y/N shuffled herself around with her elbows and their faces where way to close for any stranger's to be, but there wasn't much either of them could do due to the glass exterior of the cafe and the little booth space which couldn't be seen from outside.

"I could run out in a moment, I just need to catch my breath."

Y/N swore she was actually having palpitations from his accent but tried to keep her calm. It was just so different to all the upper class pricks her mother tried to match her up with.

"It's okay, I can call my driver to come collect us both, it'll probably force them to leave us both alone for the time being."

It was obvious Damon wasn't expecting her to have a driver who was able to appear at a moment's notice, sure she sounded posh and looked rich... but a driver !

“We could just make a run for it ?”

She paused typing on her mobile, looking up to where he was slightly less slouched than her.

“If we run fast enough they won’t be able to catch us.”

She smiled to him, kicking her bags to fall on the floor so she could grab it.

“Well if I’m going to be stuck on a front page with you, I think it’s the polite think to know your full name Damon.”

“I could say the same to you Miss Y/N.”

She cringed slightly before telling him, watching his features drop slightly before buzzing back to how they where before.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

“Damon Albarn at your service Miss Y/L/N. And I’m three, two, one, run !”

[sweetfawnsposts]

YALL THE FANFIC DATE IS GETTING DELAYED TO TOMORROW BUT HERES SOME THINGS I DO FOR FANFICTION!!

Fanfic types!

Nsfw- yes but not rough nsfw :)

Fluff- DEFINITELY!! IF YOU GUYS DONT KNOW I LOVE FLUFF FANFICS!!!!

Angst- yep!!

People I’ll only write about in fanfics!

Kieran culkin

Macaulay culkin

Ryan gosling

Devon sawa

Thom yorke

Damon albarn

Graham coxon

Criteria for requests :) (requests start in may, I probably won’t do a lot of requests)

No l0licon, sh0tacon, big age gap d d l g, r4pe, SA.

No rough smut. But gentle smut is perfectly fine.

THATS ALL FOR NOW!!

[ay0nha]

Tomorrow Nevermore | Damon Albarn

SUMMARY: "You coming?" Lila's voice carried well, and at that moment, Damon realized he had to follow her as he had nowhere to be but beside her.

PAIRING: Damon Albarn x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.4K

A/N: OK. First part!! Thank you so much, @lundenloves​ ,  for always, Always helping and listening to me. This story has zero to little plot and will mostly be nonsense interactions. An inspiration for this story is the senses. Squint, and you'll find it. This part was inspired by hearing, and the song Lila hums is just a little nod at I Got Law (Demo)/Tomorrow Comes Today.

Damon heard her first.

Lila's hum carried and cut through the forgotten game on the television. It drifted with the mist from the bathroom.  Beside him, Jamie mumbled a curse about the loss of hot water, but Damon was far too focused on the tune. Three notes were repeated, a slow sequence, but stopped when she entered the door frame. Damon stared boldly but hadn't realized her eyes were on him.

"You alright?" The words tumbled from his lips in greeting. It was a mediocre cover, but it hadn't mattered. It was like she hadn't seen him at all, the way she moved throughout Jamie's apartment like it were her own.

"She's the American 'cross the hall—" Jamie spoke through muffled lips. The cigarette bobbed as he explained her presence. The pipes of the building were old, bursting when inconvenient and requiring half the building to go without usable water. "—Offered the shower, didn't think she'd actually take me up on that."

"A  fucking saint, you are..." Damon lit his own cigarette with a sigh of a laugh. "You even know her name?"

"Layla, Lila, something like that..."  He answered, hand waving with indifference. "Just moved here for school, work...don't know... she doesn't say much."

Damon hummed an acknowledgment; attention seemingly turned back to the match on the television. Yet, when he heard the patterned hum again, he almost forgot who he was routing for. Jamie groaned as the ball was in possession of the rival team, but Damon stayed fixated on the notes, memorizing them in case she stopped.

Forgetting the mirror, Lila eyed the master bedroom. It felt larger than her own despite the floor plans being identical measurements. It was decorated cleverly, posters from various decades adorning the walls, and the space so subtly played with that it felt staged. But there was obvious life—forgotten bottles on the windowsill, bed haphazardly made due to unexpected company, and laundry in desperate need of folding.

The windows were open, bringing in the soft humid air and honking horns. The view from Jamie's room was better than hers, but just by a margin. Maybe it was because of how her apartment reflected every penny she owned. In moments, she'd return to the handful of boxes that had scribblings of their content. Lila could hear her mother's voice, reprimanding her for not only relying on strangers but letting the boxes sit there for as long as they had.

"Love–" Jamie avoided her name with charm as she reemerged. "This is my mate Damon; came over to watch Chelsea lose." Jamie returned to the game, his job as host over while Damon's eyes remained on her figure, missing the jab.

Lila paused for a moment, holding onto her name for the moment. "Pleasure."

She moved with a confident air, one unbothered by anything around it, and reflected an intense understanding of how she inhabited her own space. Instead of bypassing Damon's stare, she held it unwaveringly.

"You staying for the game?" Damon's voice hadn't even sounded like this own. Jamie even noticed as his eyes went between his friend and his neighbor.

Lila had promised herself that from the moment she understood men–no– boys, that she wouldn't entertain them. Boys were different than men, but men were always boys. The idea made sense in her head, and if she had to explain it at a family dinner, she could, but just to play into the game, she'd refuse.

The enigmatic nature of it was purposeful. If men were destined to be difficult, then so was she. It only seemed fair in a life that she was forced to endure. It wasn't a form of protest—her decision to terribly unpleasant—it was only a bit of fun in such a dull society.

With a curl of a smile, she commented, "I'd rather die."

------

"Oh—" Damon stumbled on his words as if caught breaking into the building. He offered a hello but trailed off almost immediately.

"Lila." Only this once she'd give her name. It was his responsibility now to remember it.

"—Lila." He repeated her name with a bemused smile. He searched the tattered paper plaques of the apartment bells for hers. L. Elliot. He thought to press it first, before Jamie's. He thought of the excuses he would spew—my finger had slipped, Jamie said to ring you, there's takeaway—but he failed to justify any of them. But as fate typically played things out, she was leaving just as he became discouraged.

The rain had caught on his eyelashes in a poetic way that made Lila frown. It reminded her that she was on her way out, only stopping to let Damon into the building. She nodded her head to the door she continued to hold open, "Go on."

"Oh—thanks, Jamie hadn't answered..." There was a pause as Damon shuffled past her awkwardly. There was no point in entering as Jamie wasn't the type to leave a key under a mat. Damon hadn't understood why he explained himself, poorly at that. "I left something the other day..."

"Ok." Lila nodded, lips tight with feigned politeness. The air was awkward, Damon's doing, but she carried an envious relaxation. She moved on from it, leaving Damon to catch the door with nothing close to a goodbye.

The rain had come in patterns of harshness, and Lila wanted nothing more than to stay shielded in her apartment. She had only just unpacked her final box, and she thought that laying in bed would make her feel more welcome in the new city. Lila debated on turning around. Instead, she scrutinized how the rain became heavier and blocked the sun entirely.

The cigarette was on Damon's lips as he dismissed the no-smoking sign of the building. His fingertips felt for the possibility of a key on the door frame but was met with years worth of dust. Patting his pockets, he brushed off the dirt and sought solace in his lighter.

Damon had left early intentionally, hoping to catch Jamie on his way to the studio, but clearly, he hadn't made it home the night prior. So now, rather than picking up his casio, he pushed his way out the door of the apartment building with anxiety-driven frustration.

"Not there?"

The voice beside him startled him. But the fear dissipated into a more welcomed anticipation. The tip of Damon's cigarette became damp against the humid air the longer he waited to respond.

"Either that, or he's ignoring me." Damon teased his absent friend. Sucking a last breath harshly through the cigarette, he flicked the remnants into a puddle. He watched Lila's nose scrunch, either from the smoke, the littering, or the way the sky rumbled with thunder. "It will get worse the longer you wait."

Her eyes remained on the clouds, but Damon finally felt like she spoke to him directly, "What do you do when it rains?"

"What do you mean?"

"You rode that in, didn't you?" Lila nodded toward the bike next to hers. If she squinted, she could already see the rust forming against the used bike. "The yellow one, that's mine."

"There's a tube station a few roads over." Damon offered, nodding to the left, where the rain seemed heaviest.

There was a moment of hesitation on Lila's part. But she pulled at her collar, twisting the thin jacket around her body as best she could, transforming the reluctance into courage. She took a deep breath as though holding it would protect her from the pelting water enveloping her. Damon's breath caught in his throat, watching how she entered the storm rounding the stoop of the building to the left just as he unintentionally instructed. She moved quickly, legs only stopping when she hit a crossroad a block down and looked over her shoulder for him.

"You coming?" Lila's voice carried well, and at that moment, Damon realized he had to follow her as he had nowhere to be but beside her.

The earlier morning consisted of deprived businessmen on their way to work and others who were finally released from working overtime. Damon and Lila seemed to stick out beautifully, drenched to the bone with amused smiles to match. There was hardly room to breathe, the way the people jammed into the car, not bothering to wait two minutes for the next.

The sway of the train encouraged their chest to bump into one another. Around them, everyone's eyes were focused on something other than each other—newspapers, phones, books, or even closed for a stop's worth of reprieve, whereas Lila's gaze was comfortably on Damon. Instinctually, he avoided it, willing away the warmth that would expose him once it hit the tips of his ears.

However, when he glanced at her, Lila used the car's momentum to get closer. "Are you following me?"

"I'm not a stalker." A smile broke out at the question. Damon was learning quickly how compelling each exchange became with her. It was as if she had already seen the end and only guided the conversation to her advantage.

"That wasn't the question." Lila hummed.

"I–well—where are you going?" Damon should have denied his intentions; anyone in their right mind would have. But he was following her. There was no reason for him to go east but to follow her as she encouraged him to. He realized far too late after his question that Lila was teasing him.

"Class." She answered. Then, she gave him a knowing smile. "Let me guess, you too?"

Class. Damon had prodded Jamie again, but he was clever, waiting a few days to raise the question that took seconds to produce. Jamie was convinced she was here for work and mumbled something along the lines of a complaint— Probably just another work permit. She'll be gone before anything good.

"There are always new things to learn..." Damon shrugged with warmth. His voice came out soft since everyone suffocating them could be privy to their conversation. "...and you, what do you study?"

Lila used a rhythmic sway to her advantage, moving away from Damon. The thrill clouded her briefly, but there was her mother's voice again, another chastising comment for disclosing so much of herself so simply. Her imagined response felt teenage-like in comparison—that was the point of uprooting everything, wasn't it? That was an essential part of the draw; to unabashedly determine how to move through life. It was easier said than done as Lila's throat felt dry, trying to call upon the simplest answer.

"If you are following me, I have to warn you, the seminar I'm off to is very boring..." She began, artfully avoiding a sore spot. Thankfully, the announcement above was muffled, the words barely intelligible, cutting Lila off statically.  

She moved like she'd lived in London her entire life, never glancing at the map. The only thing that stood out from the rest was the softness of her accent. Damon held onto every word, listening intently. He had so many questions for her since he'd had time to formulate them between meeting her and now. But walking beside Lila, trailing up the stairs, and attempting to fight off misty rain, the questions were the least of his worries.

"Thanks for the lift." She spoke, using the awning of the university's building as protection.  "What do I owe you?"

Damon meant to move closer to be protected from the weather. But just as Lila had moments ago, he teetered away. The only difference was that he felt shy, nervous to answer the jokingly rhetorical question.

"That song..." He started, eyebrows cinching to work through the thought. "What was that song?"

"What?" Lila's laugh was breathy with confusion and curiosity. It was as if Damon had finally stumped her—someone who could seemingly find control in every interaction.

"...The other day, at Jamie's, when you were coming out of the shower..." Damon stopped to rephrase, attempting modesty on her behalf, "When you came out of his room, it was like..." He stumbled for a moment with reluctance but then hummed the three notes that had haunted him.

She shrugged, eyes still batting with genuine confusion. She hadn't remembered so clearly the way he had. Lila laughed again. She had a detached sense about her like Damon could do whatever he wanted and wouldn't get under her skin. She was untouchable in that way.

------

Lila's handwriting became more unintelligible by the hour. She worked hard to subdue her subconscious cry of boredom, but the battle was hopeless. At first, in her apartment, she shifted from room to room, hoping the minor change of pace would aid her, but nothing came to her.

There came de aesthetics when continuing education; the idea of touching original documents, reading overly verbose work from centuries before, and even writing about how the notions found within still persist. Yet, Lila struggled to find the motivation to feel like she made the right decision to enroll.

Everything was a distraction. The clock on her wall reminded her of the seconds wasted, and the birds chirping cheerfully felt deliberate, telling her that the happiness they found wouldn't be shared.  Then, there was a sharp whistle, one that begged for her undivided attention.

"Hiya..." Damon squinted up with a soft wave. The sun was uncharacteristically out, but he refused to question the luck that it had provided him with it.

"Following me again?" Lila teased once she found the greeting's source. Damon was getting used to not expecting a hello; the past few weeks of running into Lila intermittently had proved so.  "You need a buzz in?"

He shook his head, "S'alright, Jamie should be down sooner or later."

From his position, Damon missed her inner turmoil, how Lila held back her question of what he was doing. She was thoroughly bored, and by just the looks of who was below, she knew he could offer he something better.  

"Studying?"

"Trying to." Her tone seemed vindictive, but she hadn't meant to push her frustrations onto Damon's simple question. "It's impossible to sympathize with racists from the 16th century." Lila cringed, feeling as though she had only dug the hole for herself further by rambling. She was smart but refused to be arrogant, so to recover, she asked her originally intended question, "What are you doing?"

He smiled, happy she asked exactly what he was going to. "We're headed over to—

"You're late—" Jamie interrupted, gusting out the stoop's door, ready to chide his friend. But he followed Damon's eye-line before continuing, "—Love—up there brooding?" Damon cringed, hoping his friend's humor wouldn't divert Lila from the conversation altogether. "...enough of that, you're coming."

Lila needed fresh air; it was the reason the window was open in the first place. The project wasn't due for another few days, and she knew she needed to stave off the boredom to regain productivity.

"I'll only be borrowing you for an hour or two." Jamie had settled her fate.

The time had stretched into numerous hours. Damon knew Lila felt preoccupied with the work she left behind, but she hadn't made it known. She was pragmatic in that way, seeing ten steps ahead but never letting on what she was thinking.

"I didn't know he was an artist." A good one at that. Plenty claimed to be talented and claimed that their work was original and interesting. Yet more often than not, their work hadn't lived up to the promises.  But Jamie had surpassed any rumor Lila could think of.

The work wasn't demanding, but it needed to be precise. Jamie was set to present a growing collection he'd been working on. Too many friends had canceled with excuses not to come and help as if he asked them to help him move. So there the three were, walking across the parchment paper and painter's tape, doing work professionals should have been.

"He calls these doodles." Damon scoffed in agreement, his comment furthering how Jamie underestimated his own art. "This is what makes the people happy." It was an odd sort of compliment, but Lila understood. "Look at some of his notebooks—that's the real work."

The figures held expertise and clear talent. Yet, there was an aesthetic to it that was distinctly Jamie's. The progression of the collection showed how Jamie cared less about the audience and more about the original characters he created. Lila rarely admitted it and wouldn't now, but she was impressed.  Her mind gravitated, though, to Damon working beside her. He hadn't seemed overly quiet, but he seemed more reserved than what he typically put forth.

Therefore, Lila encouraged more, "I need to know—you're not hiding any hidden talents, are you?"

"None worthwhile."

Lila made a note to prod further later, not believing Damon in the slightest. Everyone had a party trick. Lila's needs working on, wiggling her ears wasn't as impressive as opening a bottle with your eye. Even the thought of a crowd became overwhelming; just the thought of a party caused apprehension.

It was like clockwork, Jamie's social hours. Every week, ranging the days of the weekend, there was music pouring under his door and into hers. It was a good reminder of sorts that the night had become late, and Lila would be better off sleeping. But the music only got louder the more tired Lila got.

Before she could dwell on the thought further, Jamie called her away to hold a frame steady to screw into the wall. It was slightly crooked, but Damon hadn't commented, too eager to hear the conversation shared between the pair a piece over.

"You get the letter?" Jamie filled the newfound silence, screw placed between his lips in concentration.

Damon's mind ran. Jamie had his own charm, less boyish than Damon's— more direct and creative. With drawers full of different textured papers and pens that would glide over them spectacularly, Damon could only imagine the letter Jamie wrote to Lila.

Knowing Jamie, it wouldn't quite be a love letter, but something close. It would be witty, full of inside jokes that Damon could never be in on due to his position—the neighbor's friend. He was far too detached to have done something of the sort.

"Unfortunately..." It was another thing on Lila's growing list to tactfully avoid. The letter that was slid under her down made her lose sleep—nothing like an eviction notice to rattle someone.

"This look alright?" Jamie called over his shoulder to Damon. "It needs to be bloody straight." He cursed, drawing Damon closer. "They're kicking us out in two months, told us in a fucking letter. This goes well, people buy the lousy art, and then I can get a better place, better building, better neighbors."

"Oh?" Lila smiled, welcoming the humor. The fresh air and environment were doing wonders. She'd leave soon, not accept their offer to stick around, but she finally felt contented for now.

"Yeah, you." Jamie nudged Damon forward, taking his place to eye the portrait properly. "Don't hear the end of it with this one asking if you're around and whatnot."

"No, I don't—" Damon fell into the obvious trap, stopping abruptly when he saw Jamie's chesire-like smile. "We done here? I've got things of my own to do."

"Yeah, like what?" Despite Jamie's concentration ahead of him on the next thing, he always held attention to taunt. "Playing that song over and over again doesn't exactly count as something." He then nodded to Lila, setting up a deceiving trap for both of them. "That's your fault, you know. The pair of you—doing my head in."

"That your secret talent, then?" Lila got it; Damon's literal party trick. Those memories of sleepless nights due to Jamie's parties sounded again in her mind. It clicked. The music seemed live at times, others like a sequence consciously put together. It was Damon, putting on a show of sorts with the song she had hummed just once that had stuck with him so firmly she'd forgotten.  It was the reason Lila smiled, "I expect royalties."

[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.

[damonjuicyscock]

Heya Loviiiies

I'm done with auditions ! Do you know what it means ?

It means a new chapter out this weekend !

Can't wait for you to read it.

Hope you're all doing okay and taking care of yourselves.

See you on Sunday !

DJC❤️