Damonsxlt - Gimme British Boys

Johnny Marr & Radiohead’s Ed O’Brien having some laughs :-)

my frontal lobe is made up of graham coxon and thom yorke and that’s it

Осталось семь мяу.

graham/reader • and i love him

hmmmmmm so

i wrote a lil smutty n angsty gra/fem!reader fic set in the late 90s and im kinda proud of it ‼️

👉🏼 👈🏼 

this is my first work for the blur fandom and im Nervous bc i haven’t been writing for a while and english is not my first language but hope u guys enjoy it anyway - if you enjoy it enough i’ll post it on ao3 too, aight? also this hasn’t been beta’ed by anyone so yeah. also feel free to send me a message if u want to beta it in case you wanna see it there. aaaaaaaaa

tw: alcoholism

Keep reading

▫ headcanon

····-> "roadtrip with graham"

-> grem coxon and u

-> it mentions nudity! :P slight nsfw moments.

it is what it is... lol. i was inspired by an edit on insta :D ... made by @thtotska i reckon

·

- you'd both go nowhere. graham is mostly guided by your old map and sometimes asks a passerby for directions; an old-fashioned way, you could say. but it makes this trip special, it describes neatly its essence. nothing else mattered but you both, and that feeling was lost for a couple years now. it was a great idea graham came up with, you thought... just go away for a while, no planning, rules or steps to follow.

- watching graham drive, in silence or not. you do loads of that on the road.

- it's nice to see him lean over the window when there's no cars around and he can ease up for a bit. the outline of his cheeks and jaw are delicately highlighted by the sunlight, he quickly takes off his glasses and places them on his thigh, to get a better feeling of the outside. you palm your cheeks at how endearing he looks with eyes closed shut for a couple seconds, and to his shy smile when the wind goes through his hair; he blinks shortly and looks like a dream. he always did... but you get those feelings suddently and they shake you quite marvelously. his peach lips mouth the words you both know so well to this one song so effortlessly, he warms you both into a dance with the stars hidden in daylight... it looks like a sample of pure perfection. how the poor, sad world wished to be. he does all that unaware of his charm and capacity to knock you down, and that makes him even more unbelievable. it'd be plausible to wake up from a dream after this. as soon as his head is back in the car, you fix your spine quickly and try to act like your world wasn't shaken.

- he taps along to whatever tune you choose to play and he silent laughs, followed by "sing, dearie..." to you, when you openly feel embarrassed of knowing the entire lyrics of some ordinary power pop you've known for years. but he knows... he knows, deep down, that his dear loves to sing. and you know he loves to hear it. you guys like to flirt even stablished. :)

- "i'll sing if you sing."

- "ok. i like that."

- stopping by a hidden diner at night, you both starved for some kind of meal or proper food that isn't another cheap butter biscuit that's meant to go with tea. graham orders the biggest sandwiches the place offers... how smart. he had to push food in after his hunger was over, while you watched and laughed your arse off. "don't laugh... it hurts." he mutters, with a mouthful and sad eyes. you can't really stop laughing, but you hold his arm and pet his hands in empathy. "sorry, gra... you look like a squirrel in the winter... fuck-" you launch into another laugh... (🐿️ - this man) after his feast, he feels rather tired. you decide to sleep on front of the diner. you make use of your "get comfortable" skills, that are usually very welcome on situations like this. you cover the backseat with big blankets and place two pillows for each. graham doesn't let you finish and hops in the car, kicking his sneakers off and rolling around to find a position. you'd complain if he wasn't so drained.

- "graham, just... move to the side a bit, love...?"

- you had to move him. gently, of course, he was already asleep. your hands wrap around his waist from the back and you touch your head on his neck, even breathing silently so you wouldn't wake him up. you were overly careful with him.

- there was a time you aimed for something, loosely, but you did; somewhere nice with a lake. passing your fingertips on the many lines of your map, you find a lake in a close distance and squeal, excited.

- "oh god, no need to deafen the driver."

- his mood soon improved as you pointed him the way, still jumping on your seat with the great luck. he loves seeing you excited, shaking your head and laughing at his dumb comments about deafening him. he likes how beautiful you look while singing even louder because of this lake. he divides his attention on the road and you, really. the lake isn't so far anymore... you open your door even before graham properly parks and you just run to it, stripping on your way.

- the great feeling of the water soaking your hair... the sun eventually peeps through your eyelids, but you shrugg it off as graham holds you in his arms, uncovered waist underwater and a lost gaze on the drops of water on your fresh skin. all the bumps and curves on your body seemed perfectly put, lovingly planned, even though you couldn't see that yourself sometimes. he could drool right there. a goddess, he told himself with vehemence. a beautiful goddess, nude, sultry body with a gorgeous smile to the feeling of all of her muscles relaxing on this empty and remote lake, settled and reliant on such a plain man, looking at her intimidating body and trying not to faint. he held your shoulders and your lower back with much care from now on; he took care of a goddess, nothing less than that. sometimes, he gets those lapses of intense love and can't seem to wash it off... he hates how dumb he looks while holding you and helping you float.

- "what's wrong, gray?"

- "nothing, dear, i'm just... i'm fine."

- graham couldn't wash it off. even after cleaning up and finding a motel to sleep over. he seats on the slightly cranky bed and stares at you in the shower... he was more than entertained. you noticed him staring carefully at you and biting his lip a couple moments before... he couldn't see your eyes looking back at him because of the steam, but you saw his shimmering eyes and restless figure quite well.

- after you leave the shower, graham quickly turns the old tele on and acts like he was looking at it the hole time. you walk slowly to him, with a towel still arond you, and sit close to his hips. he immediately fixes his posture and looks at you in a way that gave him away completely. (who else losing their rags m8ts)

- "why are you staring like that?"

- "i'm not staring in any way...!"

- "yes, you are..." he can't reply as soon as you run your fingers down his chest, with his breathing soon picking up the pace. "... i saw you looking at me, you know?"

- "you did?" he whispers carefully, but a tiny grin decides to come out.

- "i did. it's almost like you want something, or am i wrong...?" you palm the side of his cheek gently and look closely to his lips. you can see his hands grabbing and twisting the sheets under you.

- "... you're not wrong."

- you didn't have much sleep that night. (rag lost fellas)

- graham brought his acoustic guitar and played it when you stopped in a roadside just for a break. he plucks the strings for random sounds for long minutes; it feels like a mellow meditation. the notes are predictable, yet, it's good to hear all of them and make your thoughts a bit more real. you hum along to one of his 'secret songs', the ones he came up with and showed nobody else but you. he loved to know that you remember all of the secret songs and their eccentric touches. he helps you with hums as well, and you end up leaning your head on his shoulder and hugging his back, while letting him sing the lyrics and whatever he wants. such a great idea.

- :)

·

I can’t stop replaying what happened over and over in my head. I want it to stop.

could you do like a farm life with graham?! it’s kinda weird but i always imagine growing up in a cute cottage with him <3

cotttage-core graham cottage-core graham cotttage-core graham cottage-core graham cotttage-core graham cottage-core graham. i’m practically foaming at the mouth at the idea of this oh my GOD. also i went on holiday to a cottage in the middle of the countryside last year and writing this made me miss it :-(

- one thing, matching wellies! sharing bobble hats, jazzy jumpers, woolen scarves and wearing graham’s big coats to go on morning walks around your fields in the winter; graham loves seeing you wearing his clothes and regularly excessively bundles you up before you two head out, tugging his coat straight on your shoulders with a gentle pat. he keeps your hand alongside his in his pocket as you’re walking, only to keep your hands warm of course, totally not because he’s smitten or anything. 

- stargazing at night. the distinct lack of light pollution in your area ensured that the sky was always bright with little white lights. throughout your time there graham had grown pretty knowledgable about different constellations and the specific times of year that meteor showers occurred; you’d usually set up camp outside for those nights. he’d keep you tucked into his side, flask of hot tea prepared for the two of you, one arm pointing to the sky and a soft voice quietly speaking about the names of the patterns you observed. graham would carefully observe your face in the darkness when he was sure you were fully absorbed in watching the sky, he’d always feel his heart swell in his chest. in moments like these, graham wanted nothing more than for you to feel safe against him; “you’re comfy, love, aren’t you?”. if he was very honest with himself, when you’d both see that fateful shooting star and he’d watch your face light up in pure happiness, he wasn’t sure what more he could wish for and would settle for wishing his life would always always stay this sweet. 

- hot summer nights with you in some flimsy cotton sundress, barefoot, and you couldn’t help but stand up to sway to whatever music graham had picked for you to listen to whilst eating dinner on your patio. graham couldn’t really keep his hands off you, you looked so pretty with the fading sun painting your skin, a light layer of sweat making you glisten like you weren’t quite real. 

- graham painted often in your garden, using a little pochade box you’d decorated with stickers to paint little beautiful pieces of your grounds. if you were lucky, sometimes you’d even notice he was painting you.

- taking film pictures and polaroids of graham laughing, a little daisy in his hair as he lies in the grass. (im going to cry)

- your cottage being decorated in little eccentric trinkets you’d managed to procure from the sweet, small business in your area. a hand-knitted duvet with patches of all different colours, a clock in the shape of a tabby cat, healthy plants stacked on every windowsill. 

- graham being insistent on the use of candles as your light source at night, making your cozy living room smell like a mixture of whatever scent graham was particularly infatuated with at the time (he mostly liked fresh linen, though). 

- graham reading to you softly at night, curled up on the sofa together, legs tangled under a soft blanket i need to stop now im going feral 

Damon Albarn reads an excerpt from Roald Dahl’s Fantastic Mr Fox

He should record audio books.