camera girl {alex turner x femme reader}

alex x yn part 10

trigger warnings: alcohol and tobacco depictions, slight physical assault

the next morning, you wake to a rough knocking at your door. rolling over in your bed, you look at your phone, where allen had left multiple messages telling you he was going to stop by your apartment before he left to work.

"come in!" you call as you throw the sheets off and walk into your kitchen, shaking your hands through your tangled hair.

"morning," allen murmured in your ear as he pulled your chin towards him, leaving a kiss on your lips. you're slightly taken aback, but continue pulling a ceramic mug from the shelf.

"i'm making tea, you want any?" you ask.

"i don't drink tea. do you have coffee?" you frown to yourself and open the tea cupboard, "checking" for coffee. you know there wouldn't be any, you never buy coffee. but it wouldn't be worth it to make him mad.

"no, sorry. we can stop at the cafe down the road if you want," you carefully add. allen gets up, putting his jacket back on.

"oh well give me a minute," you cry, taking a sip of your tea and running to your room. you brush out you hair, shaking it to get as much volume as possible. theres no time to curl it, you can hear allen putting his shoes on. you pull on a grey sweater that was hanging off the foot of your bed and run back into the living area, just catching him before he opens the door.

"where are my keys?" you mumble to yourself, searching the table and drawers.

"let's just walk, shall we?" allen suggests. you stop, looking up at him.

"oh um...i suppose it's nice out. alright," you say.

• • •

"so, how do you know what's his face...alex?" allen asks.

"oh i actually work-" you're cut off by a woman in black running up to you, holding a large camera and microphone.

"CAROLINE! CAROLINE! OVER HERE! can you address the rumors regarding you and alex turner, are you two dating?" you try to push past her, but allen holds you in place, smiling at the camera.

"no i-it's-we're just friends-we're just-i'm sorry i have to go," you sputter and turn around. allen's hand holds grip on your forearm so hard his fingers begin to turn white.

"my name's allen tadien, im actually her boyfriend," allen says to the reporter, softly smiling at her.

"thank you mr. tadien," she says as she snaps a photo of you two and rushes away. allen finally lets go of your arm, leaving a red mark.

"why would you do that! if they have your name they'll find where you live, and then they'll find where i live," you cry.

"what's the issue," he brushes off as he pulls his phone from his pocket. "oh shit i have to go to work they're calling me. i'll talk to you later." he walks off, hailing a cab.

"we've not got coffee," you call out as he steps in the cab. without a response, he drives off.

"what the fuck," you mutter to yourself, rubbing your face.

not wanting to waste your day, you slump the rest of the way to the coffee shop. it was your favorite. it sat just in between two fancy restaurants, leaving it with little business. but the coffee was always rich and the scones fresh. they were a music based shop, with a record player and stacks of vinyls to choose from.

as you walk in, you wave to ana, the owner. she smiles and begins making your order. you walk over to the music corner, putting a quid in the jar. that's the rule, a quid a record. pictures of the four of them sitting in the booth (no doubt taken by you) are hung up around the wall, along with one of alex's old acoustics.

he had been planning to retire it due to the chipped frets and warped neck, but you suggested he signed it and give it to you. you never told him it would end up in the cafe, though.

ana catches you admiring the setup and whistles for your attention.

"love we got they new track, just in. might be my favorite by far. it's in the back collectin' dust, why don't ye grab it out for me," she says as she wipes down the counter top and places your drink on top.

you give a soft smile and walk to the back, placing your money on the counter and picking up the drink as you pass. you find it propped up on her desk, the bold black words standing out. it's surroundings seem so fade out as if they're melting away. suck it and see.

you laugh to yourself and walk over, picking it up. what an odd name.

you go back into the cafe to find ana standing by the record jar, holding up your quid.

"how many times i gotta shout it in ye ear, you've not to pay for these records," she scolds.

"that wasn't mine," you counter, smiling. she rolls her eyes in annoyance. you were their only customer that early in the morning.

you slide the vinyl out of the case, carefully putting it on the player. the needle slowly drops itself onto the plastic. you listen for a few moments as the static sound fills the room, searching for the start of the song.

she's thunderstorms, lyin' on her front. . .