Musician Oneshots and Drabbles

Repeat

**"I was thinking like he works at a record store and ur a regular and u always chat and hes got a bit of a thing for u so he invites u to one of his gigs as he recently started to play some stuff and u have a great time and yeah !!" Tumblr request

Graham Coxon x Reader
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It started one summer afternoon. You were out with your friends, taking in the rare sun with the brightest of smiles on your faces. While walking down the boardwalk, you had spotted this small record shop. It took a bit of persistence, but they had agreed to look around to escape the heat.

Behind you, they laughed and kept telling the story from the other night after you'd left. Though, you weren't really listening; your eyes scoured the rows and rows of records, pulling some out to inspect and the occasional one to take home.

The fan beats down on your group, cooling your skin revealed by your tank top and shorts. You had a flannel wrapped around your waist from early that morning when it was far windier and the breeze chilled you a bit too much.

From the moment you stepped in, you could feel his eyes on you. It burned your skin despite the air pushed out to you, traveled down wherever he could get his eyes on, not hidden by your clothes. But, it mostly kept on your face.

You'd only caught a glimpse of his black frames and old band shirt. You were scared to look over, that if you did he might stop watching and you strangely enjoyed the attention he was providing you with.

One of your friends groaned, causing you to look up to them, "God! Mi said to be there ages ago, can we hurry up!"

It wasn't a question, more of an order. You look down to one of your favourite records and two you wanted to check out in your hands. Sighing, you tell them to go ahead and that you'd be there shortly, they rushed out the shop and left you and the few other people only.

You loved them to death, but sometimes you needed a breather from how intense they were. It was all party, no silence, so now that they were gone you felt like you could breathe easy again.

His eyes were on you again. You assumed he looked away to your friends as they left, but now the burn had returned. Not in a way that hurt, no, it was softer than the sun had been that day. It was more like the spring, a reminder of what you loved, the not-too-hot weather, flowers blooming their saturated colours, the air less polluted by the smoke.

You make your way from the last row, your eyes glued to your shoes as you walked. One foot in front of the other, you whispered in your head.

He swallows the lump in his throat as you place the three records as gently as someone would their newborn onto the surface. His hand shakes nervously behind the till, you notice when you finally look up, but choose to ignore it.

His hair is a messy dark brown that just barely covers the tops of his ears. His eyes are a matching dark brown that shine richly in the sunlight. Intoxicating, they are. You feel yourself falling at the sight, though you don't realise it now. A small smile graces his sweet face, one that finds itself on your own unknowingly. His glasses are pushed up his face by his cheeks and you feel an itch to correct them, but restrain yourself because he was a complete stranger and it'd be incredibly weird to do so.

His voice is quiet and he stutters slightly, like he was uncomfortable with his words. "Is this all?"

Your smile raises a bit higher as you nod. He pulls a bag from his side, the shop's logo on the front, and carefully placed the records inside to not damage them. You see him hesitate before he speaks up again, "You've got good taste." He gestures to your favourite which sat on the top, "Did you hear their new album? It was brilliant, y'know, I think it's their best work so far."