camera girl {alex turner x femme reader}

alex x yn part 5

trigger warnings: alcohol and tobacco depictions

it's only been a few weeks, but quite a bit changed. alex got his so desired haircut, and invested in aviator classes, officially becoming the greaser of his dreams. theyre still touring with you, but theyre taking a few days break to relax and go to a studio they've booked for the day. las vegas is long behind you guys, you're now all in spokane, washington.

"MORNIN ASS FACES!" matt screams as he barrels into you and alexs hotel room, ripping open the blinds and turning on all the lights. you and alex groan and pulled the sheets over your heads in sync. oh, did i mention? you and alex are sharing a bed. first, jamie had only booked four rooms, then his dumbass booked alexs room with only one bed. nothing had happened between you two, it wasn't weird to share a bed or anything. for alex at least.

"fook off matthew," alex groans, the dryness of his throat giving his voice extra raspiness.

"nah mate, we're going to studio today!" matt nags. he runs over to your bed and violently rips off the cover. both of you are weak having just woken up, and can't hold a grip on the blankets. he runs over to your side of the bed, reaching to pick you up. your eyes are open at this point, and you quickly roll over to the other side of the bed, colliding with alex.

"AHHHH!" you squeal as alex laughs, having to hold on so he doesn't roll off the edge of the bed. matt runs around to the other side, and you both roll over to the other side, your hair flying all over the place.

"alright, alright matt! fuckin hell!" you shout at him and quickly sit up right as he tosses himself onto your bed, landing face-first on the mattress. you laugh and shove his face into a pillow, holding it against him. as you and matt rough house, alex gets up and rubs his face, beginning to make coffee. matt is about to make it out of your grasp, so you let go and quickly jump away, running to the other end of the room. he follows behind you with the pillow, tossing it in your face.

alex is leaning against the counter with his back turned to the coffee maker, watching you two run back and forth. one of the times running across, you're attempting to grab at his shirt when you give up and slap his ass instead, earning a reaction from him.

"if i did that i'd be filed for sexual assault, not fair, shithead!"

"you better not go palming her arse, matt," alex joins, sipping his coffee. out of breath, matt puts his hand on your head and tousles with your hair before walking out.

"WE LEAVE IN TWENTY MINUTES!" he shouts as the door closes.

• • •

"am i a feature of your dream reel?"
"love, i've got you but is this real?"
"everytime you leave youve got me tangled up and shaking"
"i was made to wait for your next-oh!" you stop singing as you hear the door open. you spin around on the stool and see alex.

"why're you in here yerself?" i'm sitting in the control room, where they had what seemed to be a million different switches to change the pitch, reverb, etc.

"i dont got shit to contribute to yer practice, there's no point in bothering ya," you reply. he walks over and leans his hips against the desk, crossing his arms and staring at you.

"didnt ye sing in grade school?" oh yeah, you and alex went to grade school together. you didn't know each other at the time, only heard of each other through your guys friends.

"not much, i haven't in a good while," you reply. his eyes travel to his black fender stratocaster and he picks it up by the neck. he sits down on a stool identical to yours.

he plays a short riff, then looks up at you for approval. you give him a small smile. "sounds bloody fantastic, how do ya manage that?" he slides his stool close in front of you, placing the guitar in your arms.

you know how to hold it, you've seen him do it 1,000 times. but you never could get the fingerings down. he reaches out and adjusts your fingers, clearly struggling.

"holy fuck-here lemme," he gives up, and moves his stool behind you.

"may i?" he asks. you nod, and he brings his arms around you, reaching for the guitar. he slightly moves it closer to your chest. then, he takes your left hand, guiding each finger to the correct place. finally, he leans back and reaches  for a pick. he places it in your hand and smiles.

"strum it," he says. you do, letting the sound ring through the room.

"oi not bad! i'd say press the strings a bit harder so it sounds clearer."

• • •

you both sit in a taxi side by side, letting the quiet music from the radio and the bustling street outside fill the empty silence. you and alex had gotten distracted practicing, and were late to leave the studio. everyone was meeting at mizuna, a local restaurant.

"how's recording comin?" you ask, breaking the silence.

he looks over, meeting your gaze. "quite well honestly. i think you'll like it."

you softly smile, not breaking eye contact. you see his eyes flicker to your lips, and you grasp a look at his, wrapped around his american spirit cigarette.

he leans forward, just a bit. you follow suite, slowly and slowly getting closer. you stop, reaching up to pull the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it between your pointer and middle finger. alex reaches up and rests his hand onto your neck, twirling a piece of your hair in his finger. he slowly pulls you towards him and feel your lips part.

though it seemed impossible, he moves closer to you. it feels like your lips are already touching, but no. you softly smile, and carefully leaned forward more until-