f!reader x boyfriend!graham dunne — graham dunne masterlist
djats week 2026 — spring day #004
summary : billy dunne sucks, and no one is more aware of that than his own brother. graham loves billy, of course, he kind of has to, but he gets exhausting, especially when it comes to the band. so when you offer to whisk him away to the beach late at night, he couldn’t possibly say no to his beautiful girlfriend.
warnings : it’s sooo fluffy, they make out but don’t have sex, so overall fluff, some billy bashing
word count : 1.6k
It’s not difficult to read Graham, he’s an extremely open book. You can practically read his mind just by glancing at him because of how transparent he is with his emotions. At least, that’s how he is around everyone else. It’s different whenever he’s around his brother, a bad sort of different. It’s like walls go up whenever he’s around Billy. He talks less, smiles less, becomes a lesser version of himself. Now, with tour coming up it’s gotten worse.
He doesn’t let his walls back down, even when he comes home to you every night. It’s too much for him, to try and switch back and forth when more than half of the hours in his day are spent around Billy, rehearsing and planning for and arguing about the tour. He stays closed up all day because of this, no matter what you try to do. Even when you try to surprise him with his favourite dinner or cuddle when you go to bed, you hardly get a proper response.
He’s not rude by any means, he doesn’t get that way unless someone’s really upset him. He’s just quiet, unreactive. A thanks for the dinner, but his face doesn’t light up like it would normally. He holds you at night, sure, allows you to press kisses to his jaw and kisses you back gently when you ask, but he falls asleep sooner than normal. It’s clear that practices and the band is getting to him, you can see clearly how much he needs a break.
Being his girlfriend, you know that you’re the person in charge of getting Graham to relax. He’s been coming home late, since Billy’s been keeping the band at the studio late into the night to rehearse. Luckily for you, you’re a great actress, so a phonecall to Sound City where you wail into the receiver about how you might’ve broken your ankle, Graham is rushing home right away.
The front door bursts open, revealing your panicked boyfriend, his face holding emotion than he’s shown the whole week. He sees you, standing there on your perfectly fine ankles, a small picnic basket in your hands.
“I thought— you said you were hurt,” he says.
“I lied,” you say simply. “You needed a break and that was the only way I could get you out of practice early.”
“Oh.” His expression softens, and he approaches you slowly. “Thank you.”
You smile, taking his hand. “Don’t thank me yet. We’re going out.”
“At this hour? I’d rather just go to bed,” he says, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you close.
“That’s all you’ve been doing for the past month. Eat, rehearse, sleep, eat, rehearse, sleep, over and over again. It’s like you’re a robot, Graham, you need some variety in your life again,” you say, pressing kisses to his cheek and jaw. “Let’s go for a drive, down to the beach. We used to go every weekend. We haven’t done that for a while.”
You feel a smile form on his face under your lips, and you smile in return. His arms release you, but not before he kisses you, deeper than he has for a while now. “I’ll drive,” he says.
“You always do,” you say, going to slip on your shoes.
The drive to the beach is quiet, but not in the quiet that’s been haunting you all this time. It’s not the uncomfortable quiet you keep trying to break with conversation, only getting short, tired responses from Graham in return. This one is warm, comforting, like the quiet nights you would have together when you first went out, curled under the sheets, halfway to falling asleep as you tried in vain to stay awake through kisses and murmurs of “I love you.”
Now, the cool night air is whistling through your rolled down window, the engine hums softly as Graham drives, the radio is on but turned down so you can just barely hear the music. He’s got one hand on the wheel, the other holding yours over the center console. The closer you get to the beach, the louder the seagulls get, and soon enough he’s parked the car.
The two of you get out for just a moment to get the top down before climbing back into the car, you opening up the picnic basket. There’s not much in there, just some cold cut sandwiches, potato chips, and two Cokes. Not a fancy dinner by any means, just a simple meal so that the two of you can pretend that everything is normal before Graham has to go back to his grueling pre-tour routine once again.
“Why did you do all of this?” he asks, unwrapping a turkey sandwich.
“Because I love you,” you say simply, opening a bottle of Coke and taking a sip.
“You know that’s not what I mean.” There’s a soft smile on his face as he says this, nudging you lightly with his shoulder, as if chiding you for messing around.
“I’m not joking,” you say, the two of you switching so that he can have some Coke and you can take a bite of the sandwich. “I love you, so I know how you get when Billy is wearing you down to the bone.”
“You need to stop blaming Billy for everything.”
“You need to stop defending him. I get it, he’s your brother, but it’s clear that his whole schedule is going to lead you and the rest of the band to a very slow and painful death. He’s overworking you, I think everyone can tell except you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re not… you,” you say, struggling a bit to explain. “You usually have an opinion on things, speak up, try to look on the bright side of situations. You’re very much a ‘the glass is half full’ sort of person, and I love that about you, but, now, that’s gone. And it’s not your fault, you’re exhausted and stressed and everything, but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss you. You’re like— a shell of your former self.”
“I think you’re reading too deep into this,” he argues.
“You’re going to tell your girlfriend, the one person in this world that probably knows you the best, second only to your mother, that I’m reading too deep into this?” you argue. “Graham, I know you. You’re never usually this dull and blah.”
“You think I’m blah?” he challenges, his former playfulness slowly coming back.
“I think Billy makes you blah,” you say. “And I don’t like it. You need a break. Something more than just the two of us sitting here tonight because I know that this isn’t enough.” You trade the sandwich back for the Coke, taking a sip as you continue talking. “You need a proper weekend off from Billy and the band. Maybe a weekend away with your girlfriend?”
“You know I’d love to, but there’s no way Billy would allow it,” he says. “I love you, and I want to give you everything, you know that, but with Daisy running off to Greece to marry his royal highness, now that she’s back Billy’s not letting us off the hook.”
“Who said Billy has to know? We pack, we get a flight to like— France or Italy or somewhere super far away, not tell anyone. We can just vanish for a little bit, enjoy ourselves.”
“Seriously? You know Billy will kill us when we get back.”
“He won’t kill you, he needs a guitarist,” you say with a shrug.
“What about you?”
“Well if he kills me then you won’t play for him.”
Graham laughs, leaning over the console to kiss your cheek. “True enough.”
“So, what do you say?” you ask. “Secret vacation in Europe?”
He sets the half-eaten sandwich back in the picnic basket, washing it down with some Coke. “Secret vacation in Europe,” he agrees, kissing you properly now.
You ignore the fact that the two of you taste of turkey, mayo, and cheese, instead just letting yourself get lost in his lips. Your fingers twine into his hair as he practically climbs over the console to get closer to you, causing you to laugh and pull away with a bit of struggle.
“Backseat?” you ask, breathless.
Graham doesn’t even give you a dignified answer, just climbing into the back and waiting very impatiently for you to join. Another laugh escapes you as you join him, getting tugged into his lap as his lips find yours again. Your hands move up under the hem of his shirt as his tongue invades your mouth, his skin warm against your palms. Graham sighs against your mouth, head tilting back as you start trailing kisses down his neck.
“Not here,” he says softly. “Not tonight. I just want to hold you tonight, we can make love properly at home.”
“Make love?” you mumble against his throat, causing a groan to escape him.
“Don’t start,” he says, tugging you up for another kiss. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” you say, the words barely leaving your lips before his mouth is on yours again.
You’re not sure when the two of you fall asleep, but you wake up hours later to the sun blaring in your face, Graham still out cold beside you. Seagulls are cawing around you, one even trying to get into your picnic basket. You shoo it away with your foot but make no movement to put the roof back up. You never want to leave this moment, here in his arms with the California sun shining down on you. You’ll deal with seagulls later.
a/n: this one’s short bc there’s not much of an inciting incident that i can yap abt but it’s nice and sweet. i love graham dunne he's my baby aww awwwwwwww
