Little Miss Sweat Dreams

alex turner's biggest fangirl | requests open

☆ ALBUMS

warnings : FLUFF, tiny tiny angst, implications of smut, throwing up, cussing, sex shaming (not alex dw)

wordcount : 4,2k

masterlist

2007 ᯓ★

the next weeks were quite… normal. even alex was, surprisingly, acting like nothing had happened. just breakfasts all together, days spent at work, and evening watching tv, him and you on either sides of matt. it was your usual, basic life. 

like the calm before the storm. 

a few weeks after the album release, they had a bunch of promotional interviews planned. it was in a few different cities, but never too far away from sheffield. some nights, you were feeling very alone without matt’s loud chewing and alex’s incessant complaints about it. 

they were currently in blackpool, heading towards a little pub to play their new songs, just like the old days, like matt told you. they were happy to be able to play little rooms like that, something about being closer to their public, and with much less pressure. 

you, on the other hand, were still feeling really lonely, and decided to go out. just to have a bit of fun, just to distract and entertain yourself from the silence of the flat without them. 

as soon as you arrived at the club, you felt too much. too hot, too noisy, too many people. but since you really needed to take the edge off, you swallowed your doubts with your - oh, so overpriced and too alcoholized - drink. 

once it kicked, you were better. not drunk in a bad way, just lighter, less in your head and more in the instant. a girl took your hand, and you danced with her for a few songs. that’s when he spotted you. a random man on the other side of the bar. you caught his eye, and he didn’t hesitate a second before coming and blatantly flirting with you. 

he was charming : tall, seducing green eyes, well-mannered. so you let yourself get seduced. he paid you a drink, then a second one, and before the third was even ordered, you were making out. he had his hands on your hips, but yours were still stuck close to your body. like you didn’t know how to use them, like you never had the chance to even try and unstuck them. so you let him kiss you, feeling the strong taste of whisky coming from his mouth and his slightly too long nails tickling your sides. 

after a few more drinks and kisses, he called a cab for you both. 

“what’s your address?”, he asked. 

“can’t we go to yours? i have roommates”, and the lie slipped out so easily you almost bought it too. 

so he gave his address to the driver, and the car started. on the way, he started touching your thigh. then, his hand went up, and up, and you were feeling the nausea crawling up, and up. when the cab stopped in front of his block of flats, you looked at him and shook your head. 

“what?”, he said. 

“i’m sorry, i’m just… i don’t feel well. i think i should go home”. 

he frowned, “well i could take care of you, you know. these hands are magic”. 

“right, yeah. but no thanks, not tonight. i’m sorry, i just don’t feel like it”. 

“you taking the piss, right?”, he said, and you heard his voice getting angrier. 

“no. i said i’m sorry. i just want to go home”. 

“what the fuck? i literally took you to mine. i thought it was clear”. 

“it was, i simply don’t want to fuck anymore”. 

shaking his head, he answered, “well next time, don’t act like a slut, yeah? save guys the trouble. fuckin’ bitch”. 

when he got out of the cab and slammed the door, you gave your address to the driver, apologized and promised a tip. and then you started to cry. 

you should’ve slapped him. you wanted to. hell, you also wanted to get laid. but the idea of fucking him got you feeling all weird, and once you were home, you threw up the drinks he paid for at the thought of him touching you. 

and there was only one face in your mind the whole time. the face of someone doing the exact same thing three hours away from here. 

after playing their gig, alex went to order drinks from them at the bar while the others were putting their instruments away. when the drinks arrived, a group of women pushed one of them towards him, all giggling. she tapped his shoulder, so he turned around and smiled at her politely. 

“hi”, she simply said. 

“hi”, he answered. and then, when he spotted the ‘birthday girl’ sash around her, he pointed it out and added, “happy birthday”.

she blushed before answering, “thanks. you were really hot on that stage”.

alex’s words got stuck in his throat by her sheer straightforwardness, and that’s how their long conversation started. he ended up paying her a drink, claiming it was a present when she said he didn’t have to, and they talked all evening long. the guys left at some point, and when alex told her he lived in sheffield, she offered to go to hers, just to have a few more drinks and talks. 

drinks and talks that led to clothes being torn up while going up the stairs. to her hands in his hair and his on her waist. to them having quick mid sex and falling asleep tangled in her sheets. alex wasn’t experienced, despite all the girls asking for his number now that he was making music, but he had had johanna, and this one time with you. 

when he woke up the next morning, he had a pounding headache and barely any memories from the night before. he remembered having too much to drink, he remembered having sex with a girl. and when he turned his head and saw her, he remembered that he couldn’t even finish with his eyes open, because he realized midway your face from the day he touched you was carved into his eyelids. 

they came back home a few days later, you were hanging out the freshly washed clothes with your earphones on. a calm low ballad was running through your ears, but you still didn’t hear the front door opening. so, when matt picked you up and spinned you, you couldn’t contain the surprised shriek escaping you. 

“dear god, matt! i almost had a heart attack!”, you scream.

“you must have known we were here! otherwise, why would you be doing any chore instead of exploiting alex and i to do everything?”.

alex laugh, dragging the two suitcases inside of the flat. “we just got back, matt. leave your poor sister alone. she was probably enjoying her life without us”. 

you agree distractedly, keeping for yourself the fact that those days without them were, in fact, very long. matt mocks you both before taking his suitcase from alex’s hand to go empty it in his room. alex closes the door and walks towards you. 

“need any help with that?”, he asks. 

“nah. i’m sure you have a lot of things to do. with your suitcase and all’at”. 

“i can help you and do my stuff after. that way you can help me later. win-win”. 

you look at him and laugh softly, very amused at the fact that he wants to spend time with you, even if it’s just to do boring housing tasks. still, you nod, but not before demanding a glass of water, because you can’t help being insufferable around alex, who used to answer every single one of your tantrums when you were both kids. 

1996 ᯓ★

when you were fourteen, one of your friends invited you to go camping with her. it was a little thing, only two days sharing a tent with her parents in another one next to yours, but you were very excited : it was your first holiday without your own parents, and it was with one of your bestest friends. 

you started packing on a sunny afternoon, while your parents were at work. when the doorbell rang, you were startled, already imagining a scary man here to kidnap you. but when you looked through your window, just to make sure, you saw that it was just alexander. 

from your window on the first floor, you told him, “matt’s not here!”. he made a surprised face before looking up, and smiled widely when he met your eyes. 

“what? he invited me over!”, he complained. 

“well he’s dumb. cause he’s at our auntie for the rest of the holidays”. 

he looked down at his feet and muttered things you couldn’t hear from here, and then asked, “what are you doing?”. 

“i’m packing”, you said, “for my camping trip”. 

he nodded, and after a second, “can i still come in?”. 

without bothering answering, you walked down the stairs and unlocked the door for him. “lock the door when you’re inside. and you can take a brick of apple juice only if you bring me one too”. 

“hello to you too”, he said, already grabbing two bricks from the fridge while you were climbing back up to your room. 

you were shoving t-shirts and pants randomly in your bag, kiss me kiss me kiss me by the cure playing on your cd player. he entered your room, sipping on the juice.

“you need any help?”. 

“can you pass me a hoodie?”. 

“which one?”, he said, already rummaging through your closet. 

“doesn’t matter”.

he took an orange one out, one he thought would go well with your eyes, not that he had any idea about how fashion worked and handed it to you. then he grabbed a blue one, looked if you were looking at him - you weren’t - and brought the sweater closer to his face. the closer it got, the more he was smelling your perfume on it, and the more he was feeling lightheaded. 

“you like how it smells, turner?”.

he jumped and almost dropped it. “i wasn’t- it’s just-... i was-”. 

you rolled your eyes at his babbles without answering. the next few hours were mostly spent in silence, listening to one album after the other. after a while, you zipped your bag, put your finished brick of apple juice in your bin and led alex towards the door. he got out, and before he left, you threw the blue hoodie at him.

“try not to miss me too much!”, you said before slamming the door. 

he wore the sweater every night for the two weeks following this. until your perfume was not on it anymore. until it was all on his pillow instead. 

2007 ᯓ★

you were laying on their shared bed, playing around with alex’s guitar, watching them empty their suitcases and clean their room. it was cozy, just the soft hum of the instrument, the dark sun of the late afternoon - early evening slipping through the ajar shutters

“how was blackpool then?”.

alex answered first, “very fun. we did an interview an’ played in two little pubs. t’was nice to see people enjoying our new music”. 

and then matt had to go and spoil it all by saying something stupid. 

“ah yeah, alex, i bet you enjoyed your time in blackpool”, he looked at you and said, “he got laid! spent the nice with this nice bird and got it real good, yeah, al?”.

as if it was not enough, he started making horrible high-pitched moans, supposed to imitate a girl's, making you and alex instantly very embarrassed. 

“it’s not- it was just… god, matt, you’re making it sound much worse than it is. we just… we had fun. s’all”. 

“hey man, don’t get me wrong, that’s fucking great, yeah? you’re lucky, you. wish i could fuck girls whenever i want like that”. 

“well tell me if i’m bothering you. god. you’re animals. fuckass animals, talking about women like that”, you were still muttering, making your way out of the room. you felt it all over again, jealousy flooding through your body, from the hair to the toes. you felt that you wouldn’t be able to control it again. 

“wow, calm down. not my fault you can’t get laid. don’t be jealous”. 

“i can get laid. i did, actually. so just don’t talk to me and leave me alone”, were the last words you said before storming out of the apartment. they didn’t have to know it was a lie. you just wanted to hurt like you had just been hurt.

matt was laughing, mocking you, but alex’s gaze was stuck on the door you just left through. he couldn’t look away, and he was feeling more and more confused as to why you were reacting like this. every time you got closer to each other’s, you were ending up leaving angry, but every time he was going with another girl, you were ending up leaving angry, too. 

so he waited a few minutes, grabbed his jacket and told matt he had to head to the store to buy some things, then asked if he needed anything, and left quickly when matt said no. 

it’s not like matt was doing it to annoy you. he was a pain in the ass of a brother, yeah, but he wouldn’t do it if he knew it was hurting you. from matt’s point of view, his best friend was finally moving on from the girl he had been hung up over for years - you - meaning he was heading towards something better for him, something that would not make him permanently sad when thinking about girls. 

he didn’t know the complex relationship alex and you had. didn’t know you were starting to slowly accept your feelings for him, that you had shared one of the most intimate moments of your life with him in the very same kitchen they had breakfast in a hundred times before. and you, you didn’t know matt would be okay with that, as long as that meant you were both happy. you were stuck in the idea that getting with your brother’s best friend would hurt him, and that he would never forgive you. 

how wrong you were. and how wrong he was. 

but alex knew. so he kept walking around town, looking out for you, like he always did. he ended up finding you, sitting on the pavement outside of a tiny musical bar, head in your hands and a paper cup at your feet.

when he gets closer, he nudges your shoe gently with his, making you look up. 

“you’re quick”, he says. 

“what?”, you ask, confused.

“you just left the flat and yet i already found you with a drink”, he answers, making you smile against your will, “what is it then?”. 

“jus’... it’s vodka”. 

alex laughs softly, “well vodka what?”. and when you look up and raise your shoulders, he jokes, “don’t tell me you’re drinking plain vodka”. 

when you make that ‘guilty’ face, he bursts out laughing, making you laugh too. “it’s fucking disgusting”, you admit, spilling the rest of the glass on the ground. 

“yeah, i bet it is! plain vodka, god. you’re insane”. 

“i know!”, you defend yourself half-heartly, still laughing with him. 

after a few seconds, he sits down next to you, shoulder against shoulder. he grabs a stick from the ground and starts playing with it, cracking and turning it around, just to have something to do with his hands and not be too nervous about these circumstances. 

“you know, not to defend him or anything, but matt doesn’t say that to hurt you. he doesn’t know… what happened between us”. 

“uh, well obviously. i would literally kill you if he knew”, you say, trying to brush off the awkward conversation coming. 

“no but seriously. i think you guys should talk or something. i don’t think this situation is… healthy. for any of us, i mean”. 

you stand up, smooth your jeans out and say, “there’s nothing to talk about. we did one mistake, end of story”. 

“it wasn’t a mistake for me”, he confesses, standing up after you. 

 “then why did you hook up with another girl?”, you blatantly throw, and it feels like a punch to the gut to alex. for once, you don’t feel like you’re getting angry. just more honest, like things can’t keep being this way. like you know you both went through too much to keep being stubborn about your feelings. 

“i didn’t- i just-”, he hesitates, then clears his throat and continues, “after… what we did, it looked like you didn’t even wanna talk to me anymore. and here you go saying it’s a mistake and… i don’t know. i guess i just thought you’d never want me that way anyway”. 

“so you go drown your pain in another girl?”, you ask, voice stern, but still with a little lopsided grin. 

he sigh softly, “yeah. guess i did. but i regret it, y’know. it wasn’t the same. and it seems like you got laid too”. 

“meh. don’t talk about that”.

he nods before looking at your face, down to your hands, and then back up straight in your eyes. tilting his face as if to ask you an indirect question, he holds out his hand to you. you roll your eyes and still grab it like it’s nothing before setting off to walk back to the flat. 

after a few minutes of walk, once you’re at the foot of your building, alex turns to you. “can i say something?”.

you stop in your tracks, “depends. is it going to make me angry?”.

he pretends to think, and then says, “i’d say there’s nine chances out of ten that this will make you mad”. 

“okay. hit me, turner”. 

“i really want to take you out on a date. like a real thing, y’know. i jus’ really wanna be with you”. 

“alex, you know we can’t!”. 

you can see panic rising in his eyes when he complains, “what? why? i thought you wanted to! especially after tonight!”. 

“i- ugh, i do want to, unfortunately. but we can’t. i mean there’s still the matt’s problem”.

“the… what? what’s matt’s problem?”, he asks. 

for a moment you wonder if he’s making fun of you, and then you understand that he is, indeed, serious. 

“he’s my brother, and your best friend. i don’t think he’d like us… going out together. even less having sex”. 

alex looks at you for a second. and then he laughs. almost hysterically, really. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him laugh that hard since you know him. 

“you know that matt knows i like you, right?”. 

you look at him dead in the eyes, and almost yell, “what?!”.

alex only laugh harder at your surprised face, “i mean you knew, your parents knew, basically everyone around us knew, how could you think matt didn’t?”.

“oh my- and he’s like… okay with that?”. 

“uh, yeah! has been since we were like eight”. 

“god, i’m so fucking stupid”. 

“well i won’t say that-”.

“but you’re thinking it”, you cut him. 

“i might be thinking it. promise i won’t say it though”, he says, chest still heaving with laugh. 

“you’re such an asshole”, you say, letting go of his hand to open the building’s entry door.

“yet you’re going on a date with me!”. 

“yeah yeah. don’t be smug about it or i won’t”. 

when you got back into your flat, matt was passed out on the couch, in front of a british cooking show. there was a plate half-full of re-heated pasta on his lap and a beer that must have been hot now on the table in front of him. he looked peaceful, though, even with the dozens of dirty t-shirts lying in front of the washing machine waiting to be cleaned after their quick journey to blackpool. 

alex and you cleaned the rest of his disastrous dinner and put a blanket on him, and right before disappearing in your room for the night, you tiptoed to alex who was brushing his teeth and kissed his cheek gently. 

he spitted in the sink and said playfully, “who is this sweet girl and what has she done to the one i know?”.

“shut up. night, al’”, you answered, smiling softly. 

“night, love”. 

a few days later, alex went out with jamie after you had told him you finally wanted to have the conversation with your brother. you decided to cook a little something, just because talking is a lot easier when you have another thing to do to occupy your mind. 

matt and you used to be pretty close when you grew up, with playful fights and chases, but speaking together open-heartedly was a bit more tricky, so you were bracing yourself for what was coming. when he joined you at the table, he asked, “where’s al?”.

“he just got out. said he was grabbing a drink or summat”, you answer. 

“what? with who?”, he says, already reaching towards his phone to call him. 

“it’s not important, matt, just- god, will you just sit down?”. 

he looks at you with a confused expression, but still sits down and starts eating slowly. sighing, you grab your fork too, and unwillingly open your mouth to talk. 

“soo… i talked with alex”. 

without letting you finish and in the middle of a chew, matt speaks, “‘bout what?”. 

“about our relationship”. 

“whose relationship?”. 

“oh my god matt, are you thick? alex and mine. we… like each other”, you say, almost cringing at yourself for the way you express it, “fucking hell”. 

“you what?!”, he barks out, standing up quickly, making his cutlery fall in the process. then, he starts pacing around the room like a dog in a cage, and adds, “you, alex, liking each other? fucking finally. oh my god!”. 

you can’t help but laugh, sparking his laugh too in the way, and he almost runs towards you to pick you up directly from your chair, “i am so. fucking. happy!”.

“i can’t believe you’re happy!”. 

after a few more jumps and happy wails, you guys settle back to eat and fall into a more serious conversation. you take a bite and say, “y’know, i waited so many years. i mean i… i kept my feelings for me ‘cause i thought you’d hate me. i just accepted the fact that i like alex like, a few months ago. when i’m sure that i’ve actually liked him for literal years”.

“yeah. well i always knew about alex’s feelings, they were pretty obvious, but you were harder to read, even as my sister. i never knew you actually liked him back”. 

you laugh softly, and retorts, “ah, me neither”.

you end up together on the couch, each one engulfed under a blanket covering your whole body like it’s cold outside - when it’s absolutely not -, restarting the cooking program matt was watching the other day. when alex comes home and hangs his keys on the hook, he smiles widely at the sight of you both. 

“good evening future brother-in-law”, matt instantly says. 

“oh my god, matt, ew. don’t say that. that’s gross”, you complain, throwing a cushion at him. 

“what a pleasure to be home”, alex sighs contently.

ᯓ★

a few weeks after that day, alex and you got into a kind of going-out-but-not-going-out relationship. discreet touches when you walked in front of him, kisses on the head that had you screaming at him.

it’s only a month later that alex and you were both free for the long-awaited date night. he wore a simple black t-shirt with a dark blue jean, and you chose roughly the same thing, but with a short instead. he took you to a little restaurant down town, not something too fancy or popular, because he wanted to be able to have an intimate dinner with you. 

honestly, the beginning was really weird. you guys were used to fast foods in the car, pizzas on the couch, or, at best, bowls of rice watching movies in your room. still, after a few minutes, you both loosened down, and eventually had a very good time. 

taking a bite of your meal, you say, “kinda weird, isn’t it?”. 

“yeah, kinda. good weird though, mh? i like it”, he answers, looking at you with stars in his eyes. 

you laugh softly, hiding your blush behind your fork, “sap”. 

alex drives you back home, and he takes your hand in the car. once inside, you say, “we’re home!”, waiting for matt to answer. it’s only in the kitchen that you find a note on the fridge, saying ‘out. don’t be dirty!!!!!’. you turn around and show it to alex, pretending to gag, making him laugh. 

“you know, i realized we haven’t even kissed since that one time”. 

“awh, do you want to kiss me, turner?”. 

he steps closer, and answers proudly, “yes, i would very much want to kiss you again”. 

you crook a brow, fold you arms and tease: “then what are you waiting for?”. 

and when he kisses you, you feel him smile against your lips.

a/n: the end of my first serie! this was my 1st real tumblr experience and i'm very happy with how it turned out, i really hope you guys liked it too.

warnings : smut, fingering (f receiving), kissing, mentions of cheating

wordcount : 2.2k

masterlist

late 2006 ᯓ★

after the party, they decided to come back to sheffield. they were getting enough success to earn their money even in this little city, and they wanted to represent the place they were born in, not a capital that already had hundreds of known artists. 

so matt moved in with you, because he didn’t want to go back to your parents. and alex was just about to move in with johanna when they broke up.

the breakup was not loud, he told her he felt like all this time apart had changed something, and that he didn’t love her as she deserved. he wished her to find a boy that could love her more than he could, and then they parted ways, while she was still crying.

so of course, as the bestest friend he is, matt told alex to move in with you both. you should have said no, you wanted to say no. and yet here you were, helping them both set up their room. since you obviously didn’t have a ton of money, they had to share one. but they were happy with that, like kids doing an endless sleepover. plus, they promised that they would help with rent and everything else.

and just like that, the next year started with you three watching fireworks from your tiny balcony, because you were all too tired to go out after the move.

2007 ᯓ★

the second album launched in april, and they were fucking excited about it. at only twenty-one, they were already accomplished rockstars, and at twenty-five, you were still happily working at your music shop. after some years here, you were now manager, and you couldn’t be happier with your daily life. every evening, you came back home to alex and matt writing together, playing around with instruments, or listening to things on their own. every evening, you ignored the visible tension between you and alex, hoping matt wouldn’t notice. 

a few weeks later, matt came into your room - and as every self-respecting little brother, without knocking - and proudly told you, “i have a date”. 

you whistled jokingly and clapped, “woah, tonight?”. 

“obviously tonight”, he answered, arranging his tie in front of your big mirror, “can’t you see how i’m dressed?”.

“oh yeah, i can very well see. you look absolutely ridiculous”. 

“ridiculous, indeed”, said a third voice from the living room.

“seriously? i’m classy!”

“you look like mom dressed you up for a wedding”, you added.

 alex laughed at that, and matt frowned, throwing you a shoe that was on your floor.

“hey! get out of my fucking room, helders!”.

“i’ll let you know, helders, that the girl i’m going out with loves men that wear suits. she told me. so keep your remarks…”, he took the second shoe, aimed it at you, “...to yourself!”, and throwed it. 

“asshole!”, you screamed, right before he left your room, running. because some things never change. 

later that night, when matt leaves for the restaurant, you’re left alone with alex, something that has never happened since that night. cause matt is always home, and when he is outside, alex is with him, as the good best friends they are. 

you try not to show you’re stressed, but this situation, in fact, worries you. so you go take a cold shower and take the time to thoroughly wash your hair, to try to soothe your nerves. when you come out, in your pajamas and hair still wet, alex calls your name. 

“i’m making pastas, you fancy some?”.

“plain pastas?”, you ask.

“uh… yeah? you got something else in mind?”.

you join him in the kitchen and sit on the counter, watching him. he has a packet of pastas in each hand, like he is debating on which ones to cook. “dunno, we could make carbonaras”. 

“sounds good, but i don’t think we have any crème left”. 

after a few minutes of debating, you finally both settle on plain butter pastas, much to your dismay. while alex prepares the dish, you pour yourself a glass of wine. “want something to drink?”. 

“a beer, please”, he answers. 

you bring the bottle to him, and when he takes it, your fingers brush softly. “thanks”. 

when the pastas are ready, you sit together on the couch, and put on a shitty movie on a shitty unknown channel. he brings his beer close to your drink and says, “cheers, love”. 

“cheers. to your fabulous second album”. 

after taking a sip and putting his drink down, he laughs softly. “did you listen to it fully this time?”.

this immediately sends you back to the night you two almost kissed. 

“yeah, had no choice, matt was blowing my head off”, you snicker gently. 

“what’s your favourite?”. 

“it’s hard to chose. i’d probably say old yellow bricks, though. i like the beat”. 

“it’s funny how you always make sure to not compliment my voice”. 

you laugh loudly, surprised, “i do not! i like your singing too!”.

“nah, it’s fine. i grieved the fact that you hate my voice a long time ago”, he says, placing his hand over his heart to feign he’s offended. 

you both laugh softly together, and after a few minutes of eating your delicious pastas in silence, you say, “i like do me a favour, too. but it feels personal, y’know. almost too intimate”. 

“yeah, probably cause it is. i wrote it right after i broke up with jo”. 

you eat more of your plate, and say, “you never told me why you guys broke up”.

he eats more, too, maybe because he thinks about how he is going to answer that. “s’nothing crazy. i just realized i didn’t love her that much. distance and allat… ‘t was complicated”. 

“i get that. well… at least that made a good song. very raw and all”. 

“mh mh”, he hums absentmindedly.

“that still hurt you? the break up, i mean. you guys looked like you were really in love with each other”.

“s’fine, just a bit weird. i always feel a bit guilty, y’know. she loved me more than i did, that’s all. i didn’t want to hurt her more”. 

“well that was very mature from you, really. most people don’t do that”. 

he hums again, and the conversation ends. but it’s not awkward, just comfortable and quiet. after a few moments, you take the plates to clear the table, and alex follows you with the drinks. you start washing the dishes when alex speaks again.

“you know, there’s another song that was inspired by something”. 

“by your break up with jo?”.

“no, no. by something else”. 

you keep cleaning, and ask, “well, which one?”.

“505”. 

you try to contain a smile, but then realize he can’t see you, since he is facing your back. “who’s it written about, then?”.

“someone i always come back to, no matter what. someone that makes me feel nostalgic, that i can’t forget”. 

“a pretty girl?”, you ask, almost teasingly. 

“very pretty, indeed. super cool, too”. 

you feel him before you even hear him. he steps forward and is right behind your back.

“a girl that i can’t predict. that i never know what to do when i’m around”, he admits. 

“aw, that’s such a shame, alex”. 

he puts a hand on your waist, and maybe he acts confident, but you feel it tremble against your body. 

“i think you don’t understand how many days i’ve waited to be alone with you”. 

you dry your hands on a towel and turn around, but his hand stays on your waist. “and why’s that?”.

“because i needed to talk to you. really bad. especially after that night. i can’t act like it didn’t happen anymore”. 

he looks up from his hand on you, and looks straight into your eyes.

“i’m sorry for doing that. i shouldn’t have tried anything with you when i was in a relationship”. 

he takes a deep breath to ground himself, and his fingers trace little circles on your hip. 

“i thought about it a lot, y’know. i wish i hadn’t done what i did, cause i’m not that guy, yeah? i’m not a cheater”. 

he places his second hand on your hip and steps a bit closer. 

“i don’t want you to see me like that”, he pauses a second, and says, “but i still really want to kiss you”. 

your heartbeat races up instantly, and you feel yourself getting hotter at his words. and you’re touched by the fact that he is still the insecure little alex you knew, despite all his efforts to prove that he is not. lost in thoughts, you don’t answer right away, and he keeps going. 

“please, can i kiss you?”.

maybe you both grew up, yet you know this is still a fucking mistake. he is still your brother’s best friend, still four years younger than you, and most of all, he lives with you now. this is an enormous error, this is something you shouldn’t do. 

but the part of you that had always felt something for alex doesn’t care about what is right. the part that was so jealous of johanna without understanding why know that it’s not wrong, it’s just something you never accepted about yourself. alex was a part of your life since you were ten, and he had taken a place in your heart almost at the same time. 

so you tilt your head up, and nod. but this is not enough for him, and he asks,

“please, say it. i can’t take it anymore”. 

“i want you to kiss me, alex”. 

and his lips crash against yours the second these words leave you. both his hands come up to cup your face, and he passes his tongue on your lower lip slowly. that’s when you part them, and alex kisses you like he is trying to forget he wanted that since he was a teenager.

he kisses you softly at first, and then deeper, harder. 

his hands slide from your face to your back, and he pulls you closer, just because he can’t help it. your fingers make their way to his hair, and he moans in your mouth when they do. 

after a few more kisses, you part yourself, and he chases your lips before stopping to look at you. your faces are still so close, and he can’t help but kiss the corner of your lips, your jaw and down to your neck. 

“i’ve been wanting this”, he kisses your neck again, “for so long”.

“alex”, you whine, and it sounds like music to his ears. 

“let me touch you, please”. 

fuck logic right now. fuck what’s wrong, fuck what’s right. you want him, and you want him now. 

“yes, alex”.

“say my name again”, he demands, while his hand slips into your oversized pajama sweatpants.

and when you whimper “alex” again, and he finds your underwear already wet, he is the one who lets out a shaky moan. 

“you’re… oh my god”, he breathes out, still touching you over your panties, “you want this”. 

you scoff, “fucking hell, of course i want this”. 

“you’re so pretty like this”, he confesses. 

except you’ve never been a very patient girl. so, you grab alex’s hair to kiss him again, and when you part ways, you order right against his lips, “touch. me”. 

and who is he to not listen to your desperate little voice, asking him to do something he’s been fantasizing about for years now? so he pulls your underwear to the side, and slips one finger inside.

your gasp makes his heart beat faster, and he can’t stop watching you. while he moves slowly, and adds a second one, he kisses you again. 

he keeps moving his fingers inside of you, and puts his thumb on your clit when he feels your legs start to tremble. 

“are you close?”, he whispers. 

“don’t stop alex. i swear- fuck, don’t fucking stop”. 

he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t want this moment to ever fucking stop. you’re dripping down his hand, but he doesn’t let on, keeps on pleasuring you until your orgasm crashes over you, and you moan out his name. you grab his shoulders when your legs shake, and he encircles your waist with his arms so you don’t fall. 

he wipes his hand against his shirt and kisses you again, very softly, just a quick peck on the lips. 

the moment alex opens his mouth to talk, you hear the front door opening. you don’t even have the time to recover fully from your climax, so you push alex away and turn around, pretending to do the dishes again. 

matt’s “i’m home!” resonates through the flat, and the reality of what you just did crashes over you. 

alex, the little boy you learnt how to tie his shoes to, just touched you. and you liked it. and you don’t think you will ever be able to forget the way he looked at you. like you were heaven on earth. 

but this shouldn’t have happened. 

“welcome home, matt”, alex says, voice low, like he is disappointed, but he was expecting your silence at the same time. you don’t look back when he leaves the kitchen to join his friend in the living room.

and yet, you know it will happen again.

warnings : mentions of depression, mentions of blood, mentions of kissing and cheating

word count : 2.2k

masterlist

the next few years may frustrate you, but that’s how they happened.

late 2004 ᯓ★ 

you were completely burnt out for the rest of the year. and maybe even the ones after. the doctor said it was just a “depressive episode”. that it would pass with time. but it wasn’t as they say in books. you wouldn’t sit in bed all day, no. 

you had found a shitty temporary job as an order packer. but you would wake up and go to bed everyday, feeling empty. your parents didn’t understand, matt said he did, but you could see in his eyes that he didn’t fully. hell, you didn’t even understand yourself most of the time.

and of course, in september, matt and alex were eighteen, and supposed to go to college. well they didn’t, obviously, because they were working on their music everyday, but they still left. and because life is tragic, they went to london. saying it would give them “better opportunities” to get recognized.

you only talked briefly with alex after the last argument. he knew you were not okay, but every time he spoke to you, he could feel himself get so angry, that he had chosen to just stop, not wanting to make you feel even worse. 

but you, you almost wanted him to yell at you, if that meant he would just talk to you. you hated this forced silence, hated to see him leave the room as soon as you entered it, hated the fact that he was looking at johanna the same way he had looked at you his whole life. maybe you had changed - like you loved to say - but alex had definitely changed, too. and london was about to change him even more. 

2006 ᯓ★

the album was published. after two years of intense work for it, the arctic monkeys had finally released their first album. the music was a huge success right away, because they already had a reputation. 

and you, were doing better. you had a real job now, something in a music shop, because let’s not forget that all this was thanks to you and your guitar. you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you had wasted years in college for nothing, but you liked what you did now, so it didn’t really matter. 

matt and you called every week during 2005. he was telling you about the progress of the band, about jamie’s funny hangovers, about andy’s family in london. but he never told you about alex. every time you asked, he answered, “he’s fine. busy like always”, almost just to brush it off. 

after the album was released, they came back to sheffield to celebrate. you didn’t live at your parents anymore, but you went to the big party they had organized. it was almost ridiculous. they had invited over all sheffield, even people that used to not like alex and matt. the older guys from the purple shirt were here too, right next to the owner of the bakery down the street. 

you talked with a few people and had to explain your schooling at least five times - to five different persons. your parents patted your back gently when they passed behind you, people were laughing, drinking and chatting heartfully. 

the four boys were busy, of course, everyone wanted a word with the new stars of sheffield. matt still made time to hug and tell you funny story times that had happened in the last weeks. alex was with johanna all night long. which was logical, since she stayed here when he left, they had time to make up for.

she was holding him the whole time, her arms around his arm, his waist, even staying glued to him when he was with his family. the only thing you got so far was a tiny wave by way of hello. 

when you got outside to smoke a few hours later, they were already here. he was sitting down and she was sideways on his lap. alex was holding a cigarette, but his concentration was on her. they were full on making out. there, on your patio. you almost threw up at the sight, and your glass slipped out of your hand because of the shock. 

the glass shattering on the floor made them part quickly, johanna gasped, and you were already crouched down, trying to pick up the broken pieces. 

laughing like you two were best friends, she said, “oh my god, you scared me!”. 

and you hate the fact that you hate her voice, her tone, and that you just hate her fully. because it is rubbish to hate on another girl for nothing, but you just can’t appreciate her. 

alex, him, isn’t laughing. he watches you for a second before kissing jo on the cheek and removing her from his lap gently. he says, “leave it, i’ll do it”. 

“nah, it’s fine. it’s my mistake”, you answer, scoffing. 

“i’m going to grab the broom. just wait a second, you’re going to-”.

your hissing cut his sentence short, “ouch!”.

“jesus, just what i said!”, he complains when he sees your hand start to bleed. you pull out the piece of glass that had cut you slowly, and more blood comes out. 

“come on. bathroom”, alex tell you, and then adds, “i’ll be right back, baby”, to his girlfriend. 

“i can take care of it myself. i’m not a kid”, you contests, yet already making your way to the bathroom upstairs. 

alex doesn’t even answer, he just rolls his eyes and follows you up. once in here, you put your hurt hand under the cold tap, watching as the water slowly turns red in the sink. 

when you raise your head, you see alex in the mirror, leaning against the closed door, looking at you through the glass, too. he notices your little frown, surely because your wound is stingy under the water. 

“you could’ve seriously injured yourself. this was reckless”. 

you laugh bitterly, and answer, “please, alex. it’s just a cut”. 

he walks to you and grabs your wrist, just to see your hand from closer. but you feel your skin prickle everywhere. from where his fingers are touching you down to your feet. 

“congratulations for the album, by the way”, you say, and you feel relieved, because this had been stuck in your throat the whole night. “thanks. you’ve listened to it then?”. 

“a few songs, not all of ‘em”, he looks at you from under his hair, smiling impishly, “not all of ‘em, huh?”, to which you confess, “guilty”, with a snigger. 

“what’s your favourite?”. 

teasingly, you say, “hmm, probably chun li’s spinning bird kick”. 

“what?”, he cries out, hilarious, “i’m not even on that one!”.

“yeah? oh, shit, maybe that’s why it’s my favourite one then”.

there was silence for two seconds, and then you both burst into laughter. it warms your heart to feel that way with him once again. feels familiar, like coming home and getting back to your bed from a trip. like the universe is settling back into place - as dramatic as that may sound. 

after a few more laughs, when your chests are still heaving from the giggles, you admit, “i really love mardy bum”. 

“yeah? thanks. i like it too”.

turning around to dry your hand in a white towel - that is definitely going to need some deep clean after that - you murmur, “was it inspired?”. 

“sorry?”.

“by johanna, i mean. you guys argue or something?”, you continue, turning around once again.

“uh, well, yeah, sometimes. but that was not… i mean i get inspired by everything. it doesn’t need to really happen to me or anything, y’know?”.

“yeah, i get that. al, can you grab a plaster for me, please?”.

you had not called him al since that one night for his sixteenth birthday, four years ago. the nickname makes his heart beat faster, but he tries to hide it, and simply nods, already reaching to grab the plaster’s box from the cabinet. he hands it to you without a word, and you try to stick it on your cut, but he can see you struggle with only one hand. 

“here, let me help you”, he says, grabbing the band-aid from you. 

and just because you can’t help it, “you happy with her?”.

he takes your hand between his and puts the plaster on softly, applying enough pressure for it to stay, but just enough to not hurt you. 

then, he looks up at you, still holding your hands, “yeah. i am”.

“okay. that’s great then”, you answer, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“i missed you. it’s been hard without you”.

you take a deep breath, and say, “i missed you too, alex”.

and he looks at you, and he is still holding your hands. then, he looks down, and cards his fingers through yours. just like that one time. except now, it’s different. because he is not in love with you anymore, because johanna is looking for him downstairs, wondering what can possibly be taking him so long. 

“it’s not the same, you know”.

“hm?”, you ask.

“it’s just… i don’t- ah, i don’t fucking know how to say this”.

“it’s fine. it’s just me”.

“yeah, that’s the fucking problem”, he confess, laughing bitterly. and then, after a few more seconds, he adds, “i don’t feel the same thing for her, as i… felt, for you”.

you feel your heart falling to your feet, just like the glass earlier. 

“alex”, you whisper, and it almost sounds like a plea to his ears. 

“i’m sorry. i know i shouldn’t… i shouldn’t be fucking saying this but i can’t help it. i just- i don’t know why it’s not the same”.

“when you… like someone, it’s never the same. feelings are always a little bit different”.

“but i should love her more, shouldn’t i?”.

his thumb absentmindedly traces little circles on your palm. at first, you think it’s to soothe you, but then you understand it’s to comfort himself. 

“i still think about you. all the time”.

one of his hands stays entwined with yours, but the other starts travelling up your arm slowly. caressing your elbow, skimming over your collarbone, and settling right on your shoulder, just next to your neck. 

“i think about what you’d say about my songs while i write them. about what jokes you’d make, what type of coffee you’d drink. i think about your hand in mine, about your hair under the london rain”.

the night is taking a turn you would have never expected. both your hearts are beating so fast, you each think the other is going to hear it. his eyes are stuck watching yours, taking in every single one of your little reactions. 

“i think about where we’d be today if i had told you earlier”.

“i always knew, alex”, you murmur. 

“i know. that’s why i never said a thing. i knew you didn’t like me back”.

“i never said that. it was just… it’s not possible, and you know it”.

his fingers touch your neck softly, caressing it. 

“i know, i know”, his voice sounds hurt, saddened. and even if he claims he knows, he softly confesses, “i want to kiss you so bad right now”.

your heart stops, you think you have gone crazy. still, your face tilts up, almost against your will - even if not really. his lowers, and when your breath mingle, his hitches. your respiration feels hot against his mouth. he just has to close the last inch between you, and all his dreams will come true. he just has to-

the loud knock startles you both. and the voice coming from the other side of the door kills the last shimmer of hope.

“aly? are you in here? is everything okay?”, johanna screams, just to be heard over the loud music. 

this intimate bubble instantly pops, and you realize the fucking enormous mistake you were about to make. alex is taken. alex has a girlfriend of four years. 

“yeah-”, he tries, but his voice gets stuck, and he has to clear his throat to continue, “yeah i’m okay! i’m coming down in a minute!”

“okay, baby! i’ll be waiting right here!”

alex and you look at each other. he seems broken, like you had just told him the worst thing ever. you take his hand off of you - reluctantly - and tell him very softly, “go get your girl, al. well done again for the music”.

you clap his shoulder in a friendly way, and leave the room with a smile for johanna. for all the end of the party, johanna’s hands felt heavy on his body. they were hot and tight, and he was uncomfortable. he just wished she would stop touching him, but didn’t know how to ask her.

he felt like an asshole, too. he had almost cheated on her, for god’s sake. on his sweet, loving, caring girlfriend. 

he had almost cheated on her, but that was not the worst thing about this night. 

the worst thing was that he’d do it all over if that meant he could feel your lips this close to his ever again.

a/n : oohhhh shit's getting serious hehehe. pls don't think this is excusing cheating, it's not!!!! you guys are NOT ready for next part (neither am i) 😏😏

warnings : ANGST (sorry), arguing, mentions of burn out (and a little bit of depression if you squint real hard)

word count : 2,3k

masterlist

2002 ᯓ★ 

you left the morning after the party. before alex could explain himself, before he could even have the chance to make it up to you for whatever he did wrong. and then weeks went on, and you didn’t come back. 

your mom told him you weren’t spending the summer in sheffield anymore. that you were staying in london until god knows when. she said you didn’t give a reason, that you just wanted to finish your studies and be with your friends. 

he tried calling you, of course. again and again, but you never answered. 

and as weeks went on, it hit him. you were a fucking egoist. you were a coward, a narcissist and a bad person. you always did things that prioritized you without thinking about anyone else’s feelings, even alex’s ones, who had been one of your best friends since you were six. 

so he stopped. from one day to the next, no more calls, no more asking your mother about how you were going. he felt like he was starting to hate you, and he didn’t like this feeling one bit. being away from you was hard already, but being with johanna didn’t help either. 

he kept everything to himself, and the feeling started to rot inside of him. the love he once felt for you was shifting into something ugly, something raw. something that made him feel guilty but that was logic all at once. 

because you’ve never really cared for him, anyways. not as a lover, maybe not even as a friend. he was questioning every shared memory, every conversation, every laugh, every late secret you whispered in the cold of the night.

so he put it all into songs. he wrote and wrote. johanna helped, sometimes. it had been a few months together now, and they were a normal couple. alex had come to like the cuddles and the kisses. 

he kept on writing, kept on playing with the band, and one day, they thought about actually recording it. so, after a few more modifications and rehearsals, they recorded their first own music. they borrowed jamie’s dad's material and put the songs onto cds with matt’s parents' computer - and help. 

one thing led to the other, soon enough they were opening andy’s garage door during their practice. handing out cds with i bet you look good on the dancefloor, and the very targeted bigger boys and stolen sweethearts. 

it’s the year after that the band took a turn. nobody expected it, not even them. 

2003 ᯓ★ 

alex had a serious conversation with his parents. because he was putting less efforts in school than in the band. they asked if he wanted to do this as a job, he said that he would love to, but that it’s nearly impossible. so they answered that they’d do their best to help them all and make it a little more accessible. he felt seen, supported, and helped. and that’s thanks to his parents that they got the first gig at the grapes pub. 

it was a few months after, they had burnt a few more pieces on cds, and people started exchanging and passing them around. some people in school were talking about that, some people in town were even recognizing them. 

after the grapes in june, things got insane. owners calling, alex writing more songs. soon enough they were playing in more and more pubs, almost every weekend, sometimes even during the week. johanna was here all the time, cheering from the sidelines, kissing alex’s cheeks as soon as they were done. like a ritual, one side then the other, before and after the show. it was his good luck charm, and every gig was as good - if not better - as the one before. 

and after every single gig, there was always at least a girl waiting for alex at the bar, asking  for his number, about what he was doing this evening. he can’t even remember the amount of hope he has broken by talking about jo. and he still can’t get accustomed to the feeling, not that he was ugly or anything, but having a girlfriend was a thing, having success amongst women was another. 

matt had got himself a new girlfriend too. she was sweet and funny and very friend with johanna. all four were often going to the drive in, just to grab milkshakes and talk during hours on, reshaping the world in penny’s - alex’ mom’s - car. music was working, he had the best friends ever, his girlfriend was an angel. really, in 2003, alex was the happiest he had ever been.

in london, things were different. no matter how the day went, you always ended up curled up in bed, eyes stinging and stomach hurting. for the first time ever, you were homesick. you wanted nothing more than to go home, to find the comfort of your bed and the soft sound of your childhood music box. but you couldn’t, because you had messed up. badly. 

you know you had pushed it too far, this time. you couldn’t control your feelings, taking it all out on him. you hated yourself for it, but you would never apologize. because it hurts you. johanna hurts you, the fact alex didn’t tell you hurts you. even if it was entirely your fault. 

you had never apologized during an argument, because for you, you never did anything wrong. when you got angry, you always had a reason for it. but this time, maybe you didn’t. how could you explain the way you felt seeing her next to him? how could you justify the nausea crawling up your throat at the sight of her hand on his body? how could you say you were jealous of alex’s girlfriend, a boy with feelings for you you had ignored since you were a kid? because you thought they were earned, because you thought they’d go away. that you weren’t worthy of his love, that it was just a child’s mistake. 

so many things were running in your mind, not one made sense. there wasn’t any excuse, any word that could make up for what you did to alex’s feelings. to his love for you. and you knew it, which is why you stayed in london. even when you had no bigger desire than to go home. even when you heard that your brother was passing on the local tv, that he was playing music in bars with his friends. 

so you tanked, keeping everything to yourself again, and again.

until you couldn’t take it anymore.

2004 ᯓ★

one week before matt’s seventeenth birthday, you completely burnt out. you kept thinking about the fact that your brother was growing up without you, that his life was shaping without you in it, and that you didn’t want that at all. your family had a hole the moment that you left. so you contacted your homeowner, booked the first flight for the next morning - that, thankfully, still had some seats - packed two big suitcases, and left. you called a cab and spent the night napping in the empty airport, simply because you couldn’t take london air anymore. this capital was not your city, this flat was not your home, these friends were not matt and alex. this wasn’t your life. 

you arrived at nine in the morning, after paying another way too overpriced cab that took you home. and when you arrived just before your front door, and realized you hadn’t even taken your keys, you burst into tears. your brother opened when you knocked, and he immediately took you in his arms without asking any question. he carried your suitcases in your room, brought you a cup of tea and helped you get into bed, because you were still crying and shaking uncontrollably. 

the moment when he was about to leave the room, you asked : “don’t you have school?”. he smiled gently, not wanting to show that he was sad you two drifted apart that bad, and answered, “i don’t go to school anymore”. 

“what? why not?”. and he said, “well, we work everyday with the band. you know. we just write and play”. 

“oh. yeah, that’s cool. mum is okay with it?”

“yeah. she is. dad too”. you hummed softly, tired. you looked at him when he said your name, and then he added, “rest. you look dead”. 

“thanks, matt”. and even when he insults you like that, you realize how good it is to be back home. 

later that day, after a good - and very long - nap, you changed into your pajamas and went downstairs to grab some food. on the way to the kitchen, you looked at the clock, three pm. you had practically slept the whole day, and yet you were still feeling this tiring ache deep in your bones. you knew it would only go away once you would be settled back here for good. and once you would apologize to alex. but the second part wouldn’t happen so soon, because you were still angry. angry at him for pushing your limits, but mainly angry at yourself for … well, being you. 

with your hair still messy from the sleep, you were making yourself a peanut butter sandwich, something you hated when you were a kid, but had come to like after a few years of trying and trying again. 

that’s when you heard the door opening, followed by four boys talking. fucking timing. you considered hiding behind the curtains, then remembered they were see-through. so you stayed here, thinking that they didn’t have any reason to come in the kitchen, anyways. they would probably just go sit on the couch and play video games or whatever eighteen year olds boys do, and you would just have to wait here for a few moments. 

the old you would’ve barged into the room and yelled at matt that “if you’re inviting people over, you tell me! asshole!”, and a - very big - part of you still wanted to do that. but, this voice you couldn’t forget, and you knew who you’d find if you went into the living room. someone you were not ready to face yet. 

if only you had heard the footsteps approaching as well as you had heard his voice, you could’ve prepared yourself at the sight. but you didn’t, because your thoughts were very, very loud. 

so when you raised your head, and saw a grown-up alex right at the kitchen’s doorstep, you felt your heart beating faster. even more when he whispered your name, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. another boy was next to him, one you had never seen before. he looked at alex, probably confused about who you were. 

“since when- wait, what… what are you doing here?”

“i- i just arrived this morning”. 

“what the fuck?”, he cursed, “why?”

“i thought matt’d told you. i…”.

“fucking hell, no he didn’t. jesus”. 

you try to walk past him to go back to your room, just to avoid this very awkward situation to which you’re definitely not prepared yet. that’s when the third boy goes back to the living room with a shocked expression, because he has never witnessed alex act that way.

“no, no, wait. sorry, i’m just…”, alex hates himself right away for apologizing to you, even when he had told himself a million times he would never let you control him again. but he convinces himself this was just a careless mistake, and from now on, he would do what he had said he would do : act like you - mean, distant and cold. “i’m surprised. but i guess i shouldn’t be”. 

“what?”, you ask, looking him in the eyes. 

“i didn’t expect anything else from you. than leaving and coming back when you want it, without warning or caring about anyone, i mean”. 

you feel anger start to bubble up in your chest, exactly like last time, “because i owe you something now?”

alex laughs right in your face, “yes, you do, actually!”

“oh yeah? and why’s that, huh?”

“it’s just what friends do, you know? they talk, they call, they ask questions. they don’t just leave and ghost each other for literally no reason”. 

“alex. i just woke up. i’m in my fucking pyjamas. you really couldn’t wait before doing me head? seriously!”

“it’s been two fucking years! and another one before that! i think i deserve an explanation, don’t i?”

you roll your eyes, but even as doing so, you regret the turn this conversation is taking. you wanted to make things right, to say sorry for your mistakes. instead, things are getting worse, and you almost want to go back to london. to leave, to run away once again. 

“i was studying”. but he answers right back, “you ignored me for years”. 

“listen. we’ll talk about that later, yeah? i’m fucking tired”. 

“no! you’re going to leave again-”

that’s the moment when matt enters the room, looking like he knows something you ignore. maybe the fact that alex suffered a lot from your absence. that he confessed to your brother his love for you once, in the middle of a basic sleepover. and matt didn’t laugh about it, didn’t say it was disgusting, and that he was betraying the bro code. he said he understood, that he had known all along. 

or maybe it’s the fact that alex told him he thinks a part of him would always love you, no matter if he was a child or a grandpa, no matter if he was taken or not. 

so when matt sees that you two are fighting again, because obviously, alex had told him about the other time, he takes alex by the arm and leads him to the living room, but not before saying to you both that you were making “a huge mistake”. 

and when you get back to your bed, you can’t fall asleep anymore, spiraling. perhaps it was too late. perhaps your friendship was beyond repair. 

but don’t people say that new beginnings are only ever found in ends?

a/n : when i re-read myself i wonder why i write such heartbreaking things, oopsies. sorry again for the delay for this part, can't wait to show you guys the next ones (things get reeallllyyy interesting 😛)

thank you guys so much for all the love on the series i would never have imagined that i would get so many likes and follows so really thank you it means a lot to me 💌💌🌷🌷

warnings : mentions of kissing and sex, angst, arguing

word count : 2.1k

masterlist

2002 ᯓ★ 

matt and alex decided to celebrate their sixteenth birthdays at the same time. it was logical, because they had the same friends and almost the same families, too. even if that meant alex had to sacrifice his january birthday to wait until may, for matt’s one. you, on the other hand, were still in london for college. you changed degree, though, preferring journalism over literature a whole lot. 

that’s part of why you hadn’t gone back to sheffield for such a long time, with the doubts, the changes and your new daily life here, you kind of got caught up in everything. and it was hard to find enough space in your busy schedule to leave, anyway.

but for your brother’s party, you obviously made some time. couldn’t miss it for the world. you saved money for a few months just so you could buy him new drums. proper one, this time. as for alex, you bought a microphone with an amp, knowing that his former material was not the best thing he could have. 

wanting to make this a surprise, just as you liked them, you arrived a bit later than everyone, entering the kitchen discreetly. as soon as matt saw you, he let out a loud wail, just like the ones when he was still a kid. “you came! you actually came!”, he screamed, jumping in your arms instantly. 

“course i came! it’s your sixteenth birthday!”, you said, catching him just like always, then whispering, “happy birthday, dickhead”. “thank you, big sis”.

after a few minutes of conversation with your family and jamie, one of matt’s bandmates, you got back into the living room, where the heart of the party was. there were not a lot of people, just a little gathering around food with intimate lights and soft music. looking around, that’s when you spot him. 

alex was sitting on a couch. except, he was not alone. on his right was a girl, dollfaced and talking sweetly with another person. he had his arm around her shoulders, and he seemed hung on her words - on her lips. the sight hit you harder than you thought it would. 

of course, like your parents liked to laugh about it, you knew alex’s feelings for you would end up going away. you just thought you would see it coming. you didn’t think he’d have a girlfriend now, nor that matt wouldn’t have told you something as important as that, him who had such a big mouth.

you watched from afar for what seemed like forever, until he finally looked your way. he saw you then : standing straight amongst people swaying lightly, straight-faced amongst people laughing heartily. the first thing that came to his mind was how pretty you were. and then he realized that you were here, really here. he let go of the girl next to him and ran towards you, throwing his arms around your body instinctively. 

your body adjusts to him immediately, almost like it's second nature. “hi”, you murmur in his hair when he leans his head against your shoulder. “you’re here”, he answers softly, because he still can’t believe his eyes. “happy birthday, al”, to which he says “thank you, thank you”. 

“it’s been so long”, alex adds, not letting go of you. “you said it. i wish i could’ve come home sooner”. 

looking at you, “then why didn’t you?”. “i changed degree. had a lot of classes to catch up so i wouldn’t have to take the first year again. just academic things, really”. 

“are you back for real then? no leaving again?”. laughing, you tell him, “well, i still have one more year, i’m just back for the summer. i still have my flat for the holidays, though. you guys should come”. 

alex nods, saying, “yeah, definitely”. and just when he was about to add something, someone put their hand on his shoulder, making you both pull away against your will.

the beautiful girl that was next to him on the couch was here now, pressing herself against his side, like she was marking her territory. “well, aly, aren’t you going to introduce us?”, she asks. the nickname feels weird on her tongue, but maybe it’s just to your ears. maybe you’re just going crazy. 

“uh, yeah. yeah of course”, he answers before adding your name, “and that’s johanna, my uh … girlfriend”. 

the word lands heavy on your shoulders. it shouldn’t. alex is young, alex is your brother’s best friend, alex has loved you his whole life and it was never mutual. so why does knowing his love isn’t directed towards you anymore creates a pit on your stomach ? an ugly, weird feeling you don’t even want to acknowledge, and don’t have time to, either, because johanna is already extending her hand to you, smiling widely. 

“it’s so nice to finally meet you, aly told me so much about you!”. you, unfortunately, can’t say the same. because you didn’t knew, cause nobody fucking warned you that your childhood’s best friend, who so happened to have the biggest crush of you for most of your life, just got himself his first girlfriend ever. you were boiling over, even when you had no right to be.

so you took her hand, shaking it politely and reciprocating, “same goes for you, johanna. it’s really nice to meet you”. you turn your eyes while saying it, and alex’s ones are already on yours. he looks confused, scared and almost out of place.

and he feels like it too. alex and johanna met in high school. she was the new girl in his classroom after her parents’ divorce. she got seated next to him randomly, they became friends talking about music, and one thing leading to another, she asked if he wanted to be her boyfriend. at first, he didn’t know what to say, because he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. 

if his first thought was for the confusion he felt, the second one was for you. could he get into a relationship with johanna, knowing that you were still here, somewhere, in the back of his mind? but then again, you had been gone for a year now, surely you didn’t care that much about him. and it’s not like you ever cared romantically about him at all, anyways. 

so he said yes. he held her hand, brought her lunch, hugged her when they parted ways after school. then came the first kiss. he was lost, not knowing what to do with himself. jo guided him through it, because alex was not her first boyfriend. it was a little bit awkward and clumsy, alex thought. it didn’t feel as good as they depict it in movies, just like you had told him, but then again, maybe it was it fault. 

the kisses after weren’t much better, always feeling either too rigid or too cold. one time, they tried with tongue, and he hated it a lot, feeling sloppy and dirty when they parted away. so yeah, at first he wasn’t sure, but he had come to like her now. he liked talking with her, laughing about stupid things and eating with her and the rest of the group at lunch time. 

so after shaking her hand, you excuse yourself politely and go back to your family, with who you spend the most of your night. the party is fun, just late teenagers dancing, drinking and playing games. being twenty, you almost feel too old for that now, even if parties are not what’s missing in london. you like to have your fun, too, but right now, you’re not feeling like it a lot.

and you keep telling yourself it’s because you’re tired, because of the plane travel, because of the noise. but really, you know what it is. and alex knows too. your eyes keep meeting from across the room, and it makes you feel a very disturbing thing you wish you wouldn’t feel. but life is the way it is, so you keep talking and wait for it to go away.

a few hours later, the music volume lowers down, people pour champagne instead of strong drinks and everyone gathers around the same couch. it’s present time, meaning only matt and alex should be seated on the couch. but no, johanna is here too, pressed up against him, with her hand on his thigh. nobody seems embarrassed about it except you. and it’s weird, because they should be embarrassed. because it used to be you sitting next to them while they opened their presents, thinking about which ones you’d borrow the next day. 

but time passes, and now johanna took your place. they all seem happy about it. even alex’s parents. even alex. 

then, it’s your time to give them your presents. you slide the big cardboard box towards matt, and he screams when he opens it, revealing the beautiful drums you bought him. and then he keeps on repeating things like : “oh my god, oh my god! bloody hell! thank you, thank you!”.

when it’s alex’s turn, you give him the box with the amp and mic, and he looks genuinely moved about it. almost like that was the exact thing he needed at that precise moment. he hugs you instantly and whispers sweet ‘thank yous’ in your ear. 

a little bit after two, you go to the bathroom to put some water on your face and arrange your hair. someone knocks at the door, and you say “occupied!”. “i know, it’s me, al”, though he didn’t really have to clarify his name, because his voice is one of the ones you know the best. 

you unlock the door and let him in. “you okay?”, he asks. “yeah, you?”. he nods softly, still looking at you. “i’m sorry”. 

frowning, you question, “about what?”. 

“about johanna. about not telling you, i mean”.

“you don’t owe me anything. i don’t care”. you feel yourself getting defensive, borderline angry, but you can’t keep it in, no matter how hard you try. “i know i should’ve told you. but you were kinda hard to reach”. sighing, you answer : “i said i don’t care, alex. you do whatever, why would i give a fuck about that?”. 

“i don’t know. just thought i should’ve told you, is all”. 

“yeah, well no. i don’t give a fuck about who you shag”. 

he flinches, like you slapped him. you’ve always been no pushover, but still, this is weird. 

“what? i didn’t talk about that. why are you angry at me?”

“oh my god. i’m not angry at you, aly. can you just leave me alone?”

your mocking tone of the nickname makes him raise his eyebrows, but he keeps going, “i just wanted to apologize, that’s it. can’t we talk about it?”

“talk about what? your sweet girlfriend who can’t keep her hands off you? please, i don’t care about any of that”.

“why are you screaming if you don’t care?”

“i am not screaming. i just told you ten times that i don’t fucking care about her and about your love life”.

“wow. okay. i thought my best friend would like to meet my first girlfriend, but i see that things have changed”. 

“i met her, we talked, she’s nice, end of discussion. what more do you want, alex?”

“i don’t know, you’re just not what i expected”.

“yeah, well it’s been a year. people change. i’m happy for you and your girl, okay? that’s it”.

“a year because you didn’t wanna talk. i called”.

“oh my god, are we really doing this now?”

alex and you had never argued before. when you were kids, you used to throw tantrums, and your brother and him would handle them. but now, in this tiny bathroom, things were heating up, and neither of you knew how to stop it.

“i just want answers to why you stopped talking to me. we were friends”. 

“i don’t want to talk about this. it’s matt’s birthday”. 

he scoffed, bitter, “yeah? well it’s my birthday, too”. 

“i fucking know. that’s why i’m saying : stop talking and go back to your perfect fucking life”.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?”, he ends up saying, losing his temper too, “you’re being such a bitch right now”. 

“i’m being a what?!”, you cry out.

“a bitch! yapping about shagging and my perfect life? what has gotten into you?!”

“just shut the fuck up, alex!”, you grab your bag and start making your way outside of the bathroom. he tries to grab your wrist, but you don’t let him, instead, you open the door and shout : 

“happy fucking birthday, alexander!” 

a/n : babies first argument :(. btw idc about the fact that drums can't fit in a cardboard box, i was way too lazy to change it. ++ sorry if the school system is different & this is weird for you, i only know the french one so i write about what i know! kisses

warnings : literally pure fluff, mentions of smoking and kissing

word count : 2.3k

masterlist

1998 ᯓ★ 

for your sixteenth birthday, you threw a pyjama party at your house. you had three of your girl friends over, ordered pizzas and rented one of your favourite movie. the night couldn’t be more perfect, they gifted you handmade crafts and a cute embroidered cover for your guitar. the guitar they had bought you for your fourteenth birthday. 

you didn’t have a lot of friends, but you didn’t need more. these three girls accepted your whole personality, they never asked you to change anything about yourself, which made you feel accepted and loved, despite all the critics from your parents. being a teenager was rough. your mom and dad were always on your back, and you were not making any real effort to make the situation any better. 

back to your birthday party, once the movie ended and all your friends were asleep on shitty mattresses in your room, you went downstairs to grab a glass of water. here, you found alex, eating chips right from the bag. “hey”, he said. 

“you still hungry? i gave you all the pizza leftovers”. 

he laughed softly, “yep, wasn’t enough for both of us”. 

“that’s because you’re a glutton”. he laughed even more at that, still looking at you. 

you always knew about alex’s crush on you. it was not like he was trying to hide it anyways. because you were four years older, meaning he was only twelve. he knew you’d never want anything to do with him, but in his eyes, you were the perfect girl - not that he had met a lot, but still. he didn’t want any softness like matt’s girlfriend did. like, yeah, she was nice and kind, and alex thought she was funny. but she was not funny like you, she was not honest, nor loyal like you were. she wouldn’t go through a fire to save matt just to scream at him and complain afterwards. she wouldn’t scream at matt at all, actually. 

alex wanted you, because he had knew you when you were just a kid. because you knew everything about him, because you had never changed. he wanted you, because you wore scream masks and run after him and matt when they were annoying. 

but also, obviously, because you were very pretty. not in the conventional pretty way, but in the mesmerising one, at least in his eyes. your crooked teeth, your slightly off-centered nose, your bitten lips : all of these made you, you. and that’s what he loved. 

he even told you, once, this year. matt, you and him were lying outside, on the old, rusty trampoline nobody used anymore. you had told yourself you would pull your first all-nighter together, but matt fell asleep ten minutes in. alex and you were still watching the stars, eating snacks in silence. at one point, you extended your hand to grab some popcorns, and alex did it at the exact same time, meaning your hands brushed against each other’s. 

“oh, sorry”, alex said immediately. you just laughed softly, sticking the popcorn in your mouth, “s’okay”. 

from this moment on, alex was even tenser than he had been all night long. you knew something was about to change when he said your name softly. “hm?”, you answered.

“have you ever… had a boyfriend?”

you could feel that it was so hard for him to ask that. because you guys never talked about topics like that. discussing love with matt was a thing, asking direct questions to the girl he was in love with was another. but still, even if he knew you knew already, he thought he had to tell you. that he owed you that. 

“yeah. multiple times, actually”, you ate another snack before asking, “ever had a girlfriend, you?”. 

alex cracked his fingers, and said, “um… no”.

“ah, don’t worry about that, you’re still so young”, you tried to reassure him. but he didn’t need reassurance - especially not about his age. he needed to tell you. 

“but there’s this girl i like”, he said. and there it was. the secret - which was, once again, not as secret as that - he held close to his chest since he was six, was out. 

“yeah? does she know about it?”, you asked, even though you were almost sure it was you. 

“well, i think she does. but i’ve never told her”, he pauses, then keeps going, “she’s like… so cool. much cooler than me. she plays guitar, she’s smart and she is the funniest person ever”. 

laughing softly, you said, “woah, she seems perfect”. 

“she is. really is”. 

after a few moment of silence, he turned on his side to look at you, and you did the same. 

“you know who she is, right?”, he got the guts to ask. 

“i think i have my idea”, you smiled gently. 

his gaze kept on going from your eyes to your lips, almost like he was contemplating you. “...have you ever kissed a boy?”.

“yes, al. my ex boyfriends”. 

“how is it like, then? is it like in the movies?”

you laughed again, still looking at him, “not exactly. it’s not… i mean i don’t think it’s as good as they show us. but i’ve never tried with tongue, so i don’t know about that”. 

during the next few minutes, you simply looked at each other in quiet, until alex asked one last thing. 

 “can we hold hands?”

his voice was so soft, almost like he was scared of actually saying it out loud. like this sentence had been in his mind for a while, and he was finding the courage to say it only now. you nodded slowly, and alex’s hand immediately found yours. his fingers were so gentle, lacing through yours little by little. 

once your hands were completely intertwined, alex leaned down and kissed your cheek. so carefully, like you were made of glass. 

and then, he whispered, “i love her so much it hurts sometimes”. 

but what did he knew about love, huh? he was only twelve, after all. 

until he wasn’t.

2000 ᯓ★

until you were eighteen and gone to college, and he was fourteen and still so entranced by you. everything was different, still everything was the same. you had the same mischievous smile, he had the same habit of throwing his shoes when entering your house, even if your mother got mad at him every single time. alex was a part of the household ever since he became matt’s friend, and today, you weren’t anymore. 

that’s the first time his heart broke, because not having you was still bearable, as long as you were close. now, you were hours away from here, from him, from all your memories. he was scared you’d find a perfect boyfriend, you’d build yourself a new life and you’d forget about him, about this conversation. it’s not like you were actually interested anyways, he was always just matt’s friend to you. and maybe it was for the best. but even while repeating it to himself, he knew he was lying, because he was still feeling this ugly, twisted, thing : jealousy.

2001 ᯓ★ 

this is the year everything changed. in december, you sadly announced you couldn’t go home for christmas. you had so many finals in january that you really had to study for, that you couldn’t allow yourself to take even a few days off. matt was disappointed but just made a joke, saying it would leave more turkey for him. 

alex, him, was devastated. he knew this could only mean one thing : you had a better life in your new town. you were happier away from here - from him. and something he would never admit out loud, despite everyone in his relatives knowing about his infatuation for you, is that he missed you a lot. because they all thought it was a little feeling that would pass with time. just a childhood thing that he would grow out of. 

but he missed you. and he missed the sound of you playing the guitar slipping out of your room. so, obviously, that’s what he asked for christmas, a guitar. that was the beginning of something bigger, because then, matt and him made a new friend, playing soccer in the kids’ playground, just cause they were bored. he was called jamie, and he played the guitar too. 

after jamie teached alex some things, matt started to feel excluded, and he wanted to participate too, except he didn’t know what to do yet. that’s when they were practicing in an empty class at school that another guy, andy, joined and told them he was playing the bass. matt didn’t really want to be the drummer at first, but he didn’t really have a choice, and drum kits weren’t that expensive anyways.

that’s how it started. just making covers in the school practice room, until alex found enough inspiration to start writing music by himself, since he was the one designated as the singer. at first, they were all love songs. really ridiculous and desperate. so he crossed them all out and re-started. again and again, until he was satisfied with a few of them. 

that’s when the music teacher asked them to play for the school charity fair, to which they, obviously, said yes. 

when the day arrived, in late june, they were already pretty good for beginners. all the parents were getting seated while they were putting down and tuning their instruments. they started playing, and a few songs in, alex raised his head from his guitar, and when he found his and matt’s parents in the crowd, he spotted you, too. at first, he thought he was crazy, but then he saw you smile widely, and his rhythm faltered for a second. you gave him a thumb down, laughing eagerly at him, and that’s when alex felt like he can breathe again. 

at the end of their set, and after a few too many mistakes from alex, they finally joined all of you. of course, matt was quick to run and give you a hug, despite all his attempts to hide that he missed you a lot. you talked for a few seconds, still with him in your arms, and then it was alex’s turn.

he hugged you too, obviously, and it was nothing weird because you all used to cuddle while watching movies. but right now, it is different. because he’s all too aware of your bodies touching, of your hands around his shoulders and his around your waist. aware of the fact that he’s taller than you now, and that you have to tilt your head to look at him. that he’d just have to tilt his down for your lips to touch. 

then, you’re all at a restaurant to celebrate both their concert and your return, even if just for a couple of days. right between the end of the main dish and the wait time for desserts, you excuse yourself and go outside. that’s when alex suddenly feels like going to the bathroom, only to redirect his path last second to join you in front of the restaurant. 

when he sees you, time genuinely stops. you’re leaned against the wall, a cigarette in your mouth and your eyes looking at the horizon. the light wind makes your hair and skirt move softly. just enough for him to see more of you, just little for him to still have to imagine the rest. 

you turn your head towards him when you hear his steps approaching slowly. “hi”, he says. “hey”, you answer. 

“since when do you smoke?”, he asks, curious. “london will do that to you, i guess”. he chuckles gently and steps closer, just to lean against the wall next to you. 

“you wanna try?”, “really?”. you hold out your cig for him, waiting to see if he will react, knowing he won’t have the courage to. 

so it surprises you when he takes it and tries. he puts his mouth right over your lipstick’s stains over the filter, and it fucks up his mind a little bit. when he takes the hit, he can’t help but cough violently, and he instantly feels really ridiculous. but you just laugh. light and free, like you always were.

“it’s disgusting!”, he complains. “really is, innit? tastes like shit”.

“why’d you do it, then? if you don’t like it”. you admit : “just to take the edge off. college is stressful”. 

“yeah, i bet it is… how is it then, you like it? you made any friends?”.

“it’s fun. literature was probably not the best choice for me, but i can still change so it’s fine. and yeah, some friends. but it’s not the same, y’know”.

he nods gently, comprehensive even if he doesn’t fully understand it yet, but the end of your sentence makes him tick. “not the same as…?”, he wonders. 

“well you know, as here. with my school friends. and you and matt. just… can’t find this kind of things everywhere”. 

“you miss us or something?”, he says with a crooked smile. 

“you’ve got some nerves now, turner”, you answer jokingly, “i knew you weren’t as shy as you let on. that’s why you’re my favourite friend of matt”.

“i’m like, the only friend of matt you know”, but even as he states it, he feels himself blush and thanks the sky for the darkness of this place. 

“yeah, point still stands though. don’t let this go to your head, al, but there are not a lot of people like you in the world”. 

and after saying that, you go back in the restaurant. like you haven’t just made him fall in love with you even deeper. 

the next day, you flew back to london.

and you didn’t come back to sheffield for a full year after that.

a/n : first part yaaay. yes it might be a bit too fast paced, but i want the story to start + the rest is kind of a slow burn sauurrrr...

warnings : alex and reader are very young (just for this part), fluff, curses, mentions of pregnancy and giving birth (+ hospitals)

word count : 1.7k

serie masterlist

when your mother told you she was pregnant, you were the happiest little girl in the world. you would talk about it every day at school. about how you would share your dolls with her, teach her how to dress like a princess and organize playdates with all your plushies. really, everyone knew that you couldn’t wait to be a big sister, even the teacher, who congratulated your parents at least three times, scared that it would never be enough for your excitement.

your mother’s pregnancy had a twist, though, and that’s what made you learn that life isn’t always fair. in her growing belly wasn’t your dream little sis, it was a boy. a boy, like your friends’ brothers, who were always hitting them, insulting them and making their lives more complicated even when they were littler. you didn’t want a brother, in fact, that scared you. at four, you knew that was a big change for your life, you just didn’t know how much.

when matthew was born, you were not happy. first of all, you had to stay at your grandparents’ for three days, and they were so boring. the days, not your grandparents, although they were too. your nana’s hot chocolate was not as good as your dad’s one and your grandad’s way of tying shoes was too different from your mom’s one, which bothered you.

after this painful time, you finally got to see your parents again. your mom was in a hospital bed, wearing weird white clothes that you found really depressing. meanwhile, your dad was pacing around the room, carrying a navy blue blanket. and from inside this blanket could be heard incessant baby wails, so loud you could barely talk with your mother. she looked so tired, too, much more tired than nine months ago. 

“c’mon baby, say hi to your brother”, said your dad while crouching down at your height, just so you could see your new brother’s face. and god was he ugly, all scrunched up and red from the cries, but you thought better than to say it out loud. you settled on a simple “hi matthew”, followed by your name and a “i’m your big sister”. 

once you all got back home, matthew had stopped crying. you stayed with him for a moment while your parents cooked and settled the table. after a moment of silence, you got closer to him, and said “you’re ugly”. he just looked at you, dead in the eyes, and then, he smiled. a tiny baby new born smile, but you could swore he smiled. which made you smile, too. and that’s when you knew you’d never hate him. when you knew he was going to be different from your friends’ brothers. because you were different too. 

and that, matthew learnt it to his cost. you were not like the other little girls at school, you were a tyrant. remember when you said you’d share your dolls with him? that was past. now, you were making his toys grovel and beg for just a look from your barbies. saying that you wouldn’t play with him if his characters weren’t treating yours as the actual princesses they were. you weren’t dressing him up with your costumes, but like a prisoner who needed to be taught a lesson. so, you ran after him all around the house until he was screaming in fear. playdates with plushies? forget it, the daily meetings were politicians assemblies to which he was not invited. 

you had no need to be scared about having a brother and not a sister, because you were the fucking danger in this household. 

1992 ᯓ★ 

when you were ten and he was six, matthew came home crying. he went straight to your room and face planted into your bed, right next to where you were lying, reading a book. “what happened?”, you asked. “they mocked me”, he simply said. you felt yourself boiling up at that, “who did?”, and you could feel his hesitation, so you spoke again “who, did?”. 

he raised his head to look at you, “older guys”. 

“why did they make fun of you?”, you said, making him cry harder right away. “they said my shirt’s stupid”.

getting up from your lying position to sit up, you motioned for him to show his shirt. which he did, reluctantly, pulling his hoodie up his head. under it was a purple graphic tee. 

“it’s spiderman”, you claimed. “it’s purple”, he answered. “and?”

“they said s’a girl colour”. confused, you squinted your eyes, “it’s literally a colour”. 

matthew cried harder again, “but it’s a girl colour!”, which made you spit up in anger, “oh my god, matthew it’s just a colour!”. and after a few minutes, he was getting out of your room, still sad, but a bit more convinced that it was, indeed, just a colour. right before he stepped out your door, you said “i think it’s cool. i like purple”, which you knew would completely comfort him. 

the next day, he wore a purple shirt again, this time with a cliché ‘awesome like my dad’ inscription, and a mustache drawn under it. and when he got home, it wasn’t with tears, but with a wide giddy smile taking up all the room on his face, screaming “i have a friend!” before he even made it to your door. “didn’t you already have friends?”, you chimed in. “yes, but now i have a best friend. i asked and he said yes!”, before you had any time to answer and without even taking a breath, he rambled, “the guys tried to mock me again, but he protected me. he told them purple’s cool and- and he said a forbidden word!”. 

surprised, you asked “yeah? what word?”. matthew simply said “can’t say, mum will ground me”, before walking out of your room to go talk your parents’ ears off about his new mysterious friend.

you met alex a week - or two - later. matthew had begged your parents for days to let him invite his best mate over, and they finally said yes. you were doing your homework in the living room, absent-mindedly chewing on the straw of your orange juice, the sound of your dad mowing the lawn could be heard faintly in the background. all of a sudden, the door opened with a loud sound, and nothing stayed peaceful anymore. incessant chatters were heard, shoes getting taken off and thrown in the entry, backpacks being swung off shoulders right onto the ground.

you raised your head from your notebooks when you saw the two boys entering the room. “hey”, matthew said, right at the same time that his friend said “hello”. looking at them alternately, you simply answered “you’re disturbing my quiet”, before getting back on your homework. your brother looked at his friend and the look on his face read ‘i told you so’. 

it quickly became a habit. alex’s parents were working a lot, meaning the poor boy had to stay at the after-care school every afternoon. so, your parents, as the good samaritans they were, offered to pick him up and take care of him until they finished their work day. that way, alex could stay with his best friend instead of doing boring activities with random kids, and your little brother was kept entertained and didn’t ask for your parents’ attention every second : a win-win situation. 

except for you. it’s not like they were actually bothering you, but having a brother was already tough, so having two? they were so annoying, with their bickering, their talking trucks cartoons and superheroes games. your mom told you to be kind, to be understanding and helpful for them. as if. you were a kid too, you didn’t owe them anything. but since you respected your mom and didn’t want to embarrass matthew more than he was embarrassing himself simply by existing, you stayed away from them. in the garden when they were inside, in your room when they were in the kitchen. as easy as abc.  

the next month, you and your family were invited to the turner’s house for dinner: they really wanted to thank your parents for looking after their son. you had braced yourself for a boring night, being the only older child. the type of gathering where you’re too young to be with the adults, but too old to be with the other kids. but it was not. it was fun, actually. without you asking, the boys tried to include you in their games. they were okay with you being a knightess, and okay with you being the one to kill the deadly dragon in the end.

a few hours later, matthew was asleep on the couch, alex and you on either side of him. the moms were starting the dishes while the dads were talking about gardening, still seated - obviously. the movie was still playing, but your mind wandered, and that’s when you remembered what matthew told you the first time the two of them met. “is it true you said a forbidden word to the guys attacking matthew?”, to which alex nodded, eyes still locked on the telly. 

“well what did you say?”, you insisted. “i jus’ said ‘shut up’. and then ‘fuck off’ when matt was not here anymore”. you couldn’t help the confused expression on your face at the unexpected nickname. 

“people call him matt?”

“i do, don’t know about others”, he answered. and then you asked again “why did you wait until matt was not here anymore?”. 

“he told me you were not allowed to say curses”. you laughed at that, “he’s stupid. that’s just what our mum says. doesn’t mean we have to listen”. alex finally turned his gaze to look at you, “so you say bad words?”. 

laughing again, you answered, “yeah, ‘f course”. his curiosity was piqued, “what do you say?”. looking at him too, you said : “a dumb guy told me my hair was messy. so i said ‘dickhead’, and then when he cried, i said ‘asshole’ and ‘shit-face”. 

“even if he was crying ?”, to which you blatantly confessed, “him crying made me want to insult him even more”. 

the first time he saw you, alex turner was confused. the second time, he was intrigued. now, - and ever since the third time - young alex was convinced you were the coolest girl ever. 

little did he knew this feeling would never leave his chest.

a/n : first part of my new serie, i'm super excited!! and also, i don't care if six years old kids don't talk like that, i need it for the plot >:(

alex had always been a part of your life, he was your little brother’s best friend, and practically became a part of the family right away. and for as long as you could remember, he had been in love with you. 

he loved you through cartoons and scraped knees at six, he loved you through the teenage angst and discoveries at thirteen. but you were four years older. and you couldn’t stay forever. 

when you left for college, you didn’t think twice about him, breaking his heart on the way to london. but tables turned, and after ignoring him for years, you're back in town. 

except alex is not the boy he used to be. he is the lead singer of a band bigger than the two of you, women are at his feet, and the worst thing : he is taken.

you knew he would eventually move on, but you never thought it would hurt you that bad. and another bad news : you were never the kind to let things don't go the way that you want.

so how to deal with the love you never thought you felt, now that it is too late?

masterlist

prologue

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

i'll still give you the general ideas to see which one hype you up the most + to not forget them

1 (the one i'm currently writing) - you're matt's older sister. alex always had a crush on you but he is 4 years younger, so everyone think it's just a silly childhood feeling. time passes, you leave sheffield, they make it big. when you come back, alex has success with girls, isn't fond of you anymore. and you feel a weird twist at that thought. like an angsty, toxic serie where reader has anger issues and a toxic behavior towards alex. yeah

2 - you're amanda's (matt's wife) sister. you help with planning the wedding and all and alex is enamoured by you. except you don't trust him cause he is a rockstar with many groupies + you don't trust that he want a serious relationship. so kinda down bad alex with (pretending) nonchalant reader. i imagine the moment they have sex for the first time and then she acts like nothing happened. emotionally avoidant reader mhhhh

3 - reader and alex have a one night stand, she leaves without saying goodbye in the morning. turns out she has to interview him later, and it's awkward. and then for an unknown reason (haven't thought about that yet) she ends up going on tour with them (like to documentate the tour or something) (and because alex has fun in teasing her because of what she did) and they're like fuck buddies but have to keep it professional

4 - current (old) alex x new in the industry pop/rock star reader. so yeah age gap, kinda power play and manipulation (oops)

The last song I listened to:

good luck, babe! - chappell roan

Song on repeat at the moment:

catapult - arctic monkeys. i’ve always loved that song but for some reason i love it even more nowadays

Character(s) most similar to me:

uuhhh i used to say denki kaminari from my hero academia but i don’t watch it anymore. but i don’t have any other in mind so yeah

My first fandom:

i’ve been in so many fandoms i can’t count but my blog is based on music, mainly britpop / rock, mainly arctic monkeys

Currently reading:

i just started inheritance games 2 by jennifer lynn barnes

What country or region am I from:

i’m from france (but NOT from paris)

Meaning behind my URL:

don’t forget whose legs you’re on is just the title of one of my favourite songs by arctic monkeys

Time I went to bed last night:

like midnight probably

If I were a shoe, what shoe would I be?

i don’t really care much about shoes. probably the most basic pair of doc martens

Warnings : alex turner x singer!reader, fluff, alcohol mentions

Word count : 1,1K

He shouldn't have come to the bar. He had hesitated before joining his friends, but now it was crystal clear: he definitely should have stayed home. Because there was no way on earth he was going to forget the pretty face of the girl singing on the tiny improvised stage. Your pretty face. And God help him, he didn’t want to. Not now, not ever. When their second round of drinks arrived, he was already feeling drunk. Drunk on the shared laughs with his friends, drunk on your honeyed voice, drunk on the way your dress moved with the little sways of your hips, drunk on your smile, drunk on your eyes, drunk on your rosy cheeks. 

He could swear he had never felt that way about a girl. Never. And you weren’t even his usual type, either. He had always fallen for quiet, shy girls. Girls that looked like him. You didn’t, you were the opposite of that. You appeared confident perched on that stage. Like you knew what you were doing to him, hell, probably to every other man in that shitty pub. You looked so sure of yourself, of your talent, so grounded, so aware of your surroundings. And maybe that was why, maybe he was stuck thinking he had to have a “type” of girls, stuck thinking he could not deserve or want anything else than someone as little and unsure as him. Not that unsure girls were bad, no, not at all. He just … he just couldn’t think straight right now. Breathtaking. Mesmerizing. 

“You alright, Al ?”

Snapped out of his thoughts, he turned his head towards his friend that had, seemingly, already finished his glass, while Alex hadn’t even touched his. 

“Yeah.”

“You seem a little out of it, mate.”

Alex took a sip, just to keep up appearances, just to not show the raging war going on in his head - in his heart, settling on a simple “I’m fine, just a bit tired” that earned him a quick nod.

After his third drink, he definitely wasn’t thinking straight. It was not funny anymore, it felt as his entire body was aching, guiding him towards you, as if the only thing capable of soothing him were your hands, as if the only sound capable of reassuring him was your voice, as if you were a part of him he didn’t know went missing before tonight. And it felt weird, because he wasn't a light-weight when it came to alcohol, no, he knew how to handle a few drinks, but he had never felt so cold and warm at the same time, so calm and energetic, too. 

That’s when it hit him - when it should’ve been logical from the start - he needed to talk to you. He needed a number, a place, a paper, anything that could mean you’ll see each other again. He knew deep down that he couldn’t go back to his normal life and forget about you : he just couldn’t. So he waited until your set was done, until you cheerfully thanked everyone for their attention before going backstage, until you were seated at the bar with your bandmates, and he got up, pretending he needed to use the bathroom. 

Once he was next to you, he ordered a drink, just to give himself something to do with his hands, and obviously, more courage. “Good evening,” he said, and immediately mentally punched himself, real smooth, Alex.

Still, like the sweet thing you are, you answered politely, “Good evening!”. Alex felt himself blush at the simple sound of your voice addressed at him. 

“You were really good on stage.”

“Oh, thank you! This is so kind.”

Clearing his throat to give himself more time to think about what to answer, he finally settled on a “Could I buy you a drink?”, to which you said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t usually accept drinks from strangers,” which was so damn logical he felt dumb. 

“Yeah, that’s understandable, sorry for that.”

“You’re good!,” and just when he thought the conversation would die here, you said “So… you like music?”

“Yeah! Yeah I do. A lot, actually.”

“I mean, who doesn’t?”, you answer with a little laugh, and he can’t help but smile like a fool at it.

“You’re right, who doesn’t?”

After two hours of discussion, learning that your favourite band is the stone roses, that your favourite drink is raspberry lemonade and that you play the guitar but don’t like to do it on stage, Alex’s friends come by to tell him they’re leaving. He unfortunately knows he has to leave with them, considering he drank and he doesn’t have enough money on him to not split the cab’s bill. 

“Well, Alex, that was nice talking to you”. He can’t get enough of the sound of his name on the tip of your tongue, and he thinks he never will. Then, gathering all his courage, he turns to look at you and asks, “That was very nice. And uh- … d’you think I could have your number, maybe? I’d just really like to see you again.”

After a second, during which he feels like dying, you nod, flustered and grab a paper towel from the bar. “You have a pen?” and no, he doesn’t. Next thing you see is him hurrying to find one somewhere, anywhere, speeding his friends to look in their pockets, in their bags. When he finally finds one, he comes back to the bar with the giddiest smile on his face, handing it out to you.

“Here. Text me when you can, so I have your number too.”

In the cab home, he feels all weird. His stomach is upside-down, his legs are wobbly, his head keeps replaying your voice. He swears he has never felt that way about anyone else before, as cliché as that might be. Your presence, the way you move your hands when you talk, how you chewed on your straw while looking him in the eye when he was telling you a story. Those are the things he can’t forget. 

And that’s why he pulls out his phone the exact second his back hits the mattress, writing your number down under your name with a heart emoji - wait, no - just your name, he deleted the heart after a good minute of overthinking. He texts you right away, a little “hi, it’s Alex. thank you for tonight, it was really nice. =)”, before adding “can’t wait to see you again.” and throwing his phone away in panic. 

Little did he knew that you already had him saved under “Cute Guy Alex” in your contacts, and that you were just as eager, if not more, to see him again.