#only exception

There’s just one problem.

Steve Harrington.

He’s handsome, funny, charming and sweet in a way that makes her heart pulse and her palms sweat. He makes her forget why she’s sworn off love; reminding her that someone can come in and sweep her off of her feet.

If only he wasn’t her best friend's ex-boyfriend. Completely off limits.

Oh, and her roommate. There was that too. 

Modern AU. Roommates to lovers slowburn :)

CW: Mentions of toxic relationships, Male/Female masturbation, unprotected and protected sex, oral sex, dry humping, drug and alcohol use

Down on Your Knees

Falling Here

Rules to Follow

Out Of My Head

Look the Other Way

Supposed to Do

Great Beauty

Dangerous Intentions

Responsible Guy

Taglist: @libbyeaston @corrodeddeadlydoll @cristy-l-blog @lizzieravenxo @diffrent-spokes @spacecadet-dot-net @strangegirl26sff @vehementlyelectrifiedknowledge

You leaned into the mic, voice sharp and raw, cutting through the speakers. Guitar riffs slammed behind you, and still, all anyone could see was you—the power in your stance, the intensity in your gaze. 

Backstage, the world blurred. Equipment hummed, crew scurried, adrenaline thumped. And then you felt it—him. 

Alex. Standing there with that bright smile, a sunbeam in the shadows of your blacked-out domain. Somehow, he wasn’t intimidated. Not by the tattoos, the eyeliner, the edge that kept everyone else at arm’s length. He just… watched, calm and steady. 

“Sunbeam,” you grinned, jugging the water someone had handed you backstage, towel in the other hand, drying your sweaty skin. 

“Trouble,” he said, his smile unwavering. “You were amazing out there.” He nodded toward the curtain where most of the crew had disappeared. The show had ended—thankfully, without a fight or anyone getting hurt in the moshpit this time. 

Alex had once asked if he could join the moshpit. You’d been quick to say no. Not risking your sunshine of a boyfriend getting tossed around by leather jackets and beer-guzzling fans. 

“Thank you,” you said, your smile reserved only for him. 

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m actually glad the tour is finally over,” you added honestly. 

Because that finally meant you could spend time with him—longer than just a few stolen hours or days when your schedules happened to align. You’ll follow him to his last triple-header, then finally have a winter break, just the two of you. 

“Me too,” he murmured, pulling you against his chest, uncaring that you were still sweaty from the stage lights and your headbanging. You nuzzled into the fabric of his shirt, breathing in the scent of softener, wood, and something minty. 

“But first,” you said, voice sharp but soft underneath, “you have to show off what a fucking champ you are.” Not a question. A demand. Dry, as always. But Alex knew you meant it well—that this was your way of saying you believed in him. 

“Oi, Y/N,” came a teasing voice behind you. Jasmin, your bassist. “All cuddly already?” 

You flicked her off without moving, staying firmly wrapped in Alex’s arms. 

“How cute,” Axel, your drummer, cooed, following Jasmin. “Who knew Miss All-Angry-And-Sad could ever be so… cutesy.” 

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll cut off your balls and use them as rattles at the next show!” you fired, finally stepping out of Alex’s embrace to face him. Both the drummer and Alex laughed, knowing full well you’d never follow through. 

It was just embarrassment—being caught all sweet and gentle with Alex. 

To be honest, you’d never really been gentle. You meant well and were fun to be around, but no one knew you as soft. Coldness had always been your armor, keeping everyone at a distance. 

Your bandmates were the closest to you and had seen glimpses of your true self. But it was only with Alex that you finally softened—allowing yourself to feel more, to let him and your bandmates in closer. 

The backstage chaos faded as you and Alex slipped down a narrow hallway, away from crew and lingering fans. The faint hum of the venue faded into silence, leaving only your shared footsteps and the occasional creak of the old floorboards. 

Alex dropped his hand from yours for a moment, leaning against the wall, eyes still bright with that relentless warmth. “You’re incredible,” he said softly. “Seriously. Every time—” 

You cut him off with a dry laugh, shaking your head. “You sound like a fanboy.” 

“Maybe I am,” he admitted, shrugging with a grin that made your chest tighten. “But you deserve it.” 

You smirked, tugging at your sticky tank top. “Careful. Say stuff like that in public, I’ll have to curse you out in front of a crowd.” 

Alex stepped closer, voice dropping, almost conspiratorial. “Good. That way, everyone knows you’re mine.” 

Your smirk softened, just slightly. No one else ever got to see this—the little cracks in your armor, the warmth you reserved for him. You leaned into his shoulder, letting the loud world behind you fade entirely. 

“I missed you,” he murmured, resting his forehead lightly against yours. 

You huffed, trying to keep your edge intact, but the corner of your mouth betrayed you with a small, quiet smile. “You really are relentless, huh?” 

“Only for you,” he said, brushing a hand over the back of your neck, careful not to touch the still-sweaty hair plastered to your skin. “I don’t care about the crowd. Or the chaos. Or the tattoos. I just…” He hesitated, swallowed, then smiled softly. “…just want you.” 

You laughed quietly, shaking your head, though your eyes betrayed the softening. “You’re ridiculous,” you whispered. But your hands found his, fingers curling around his like you were tethered for good. 

“Ridiculous is my specialty,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But you… you’re my favorite chaos.” 

For a moment, you let yourself simply be. Head tucked against his chest, arms wrapped loosely around him, the fire of your stage persona replaced by something quieter—something he could see, hold, and cherish. 

And maybe, just maybe, that was the part of you no one else would ever know. 

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ 

The hotel room was quiet when you arrived, a stark contrast to the roar of the stage. Lights dimmed, curtains drawn, the faint hum of traffic below barely reaching you. Alex leaned against the doorway, watching you kick off your boots and stretch tired limbs. 

“Finally,” you muttered, dragging a hand through your sweaty hair. “A room where no one can touch me or ask for an autograph.” 

Alex grinned, stepping closer, hands sliding into his pockets. “And here I thought you’d miss the chaos.” 

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a smirk, tossing him a towel. “But this… this is better.” 

You sank onto the edge of the bed, letting yourself exhale fully for the first time in hours. Alex perched beside you, just close enough that his warmth brushed your arm. You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. 

“You just gonna stare, or are you going to do something about it?” 

He chuckled, leaning in slowly, careful not to rush. “Depends on what you want.” 

You smirked, the teasing edge back in your voice. “I want… you to prove you can handle me off-stage.” 

Alex’s grin widened. “I think I can manage.” 

And he did. Fingers brushing the nape of your neck, thumbs tracing over tattoos only he had memorized, pulling you close until your foreheads touched. You tilted your head, letting your lips find his finally. A kiss you’d long been waiting for. 

Soft and gentle—so unlike you but everything you needed and more. 

Before long, you deepened the kiss. Sliding onto his lap, legs straddling him, fingers tugging at his hair while his hands roamed your back. 

“I love you,” you finally uttered against his lips, slightly breathless from the intensity. 

“I love you more,” he replied, making you chuckle. You shook your head against his forehead, marveling at the contrast between his dark eyes and his sunny personality. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmured. 

“Only for you,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “But you… you’re my favorite chaos.” 

For a long moment, you just breathed together, the world outside fading completely. The teasing softened, and you curled into him, arms around his waist, letting him hold you as you normally held yourself—tough, guarded, untouchable. 

“You know,” you murmured against his chest, “I don’t do this for anyone.” 

“I know,” he said, brushing hair from your face. “And that’s why it matters.” 

You nuzzled closer, letting out a quiet laugh. “You really are persistent, aren’t you?” 

“Only because you’re worth it,” he whispered, hands steady, grounding. “Only because you’re the only exception.” 

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in quiet warmth, until the night crept in and the rest of the world didn’t matter at all. 

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ 

It was over winter break that you finally sat down with your guitar again and wrote a new song—something that didn’t feel like your usual style, but that came naturally. Like most things with Alex. 

When it was finished, you knew you needed someone to hear it before your bandmates, before the studio. And that someone was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. 

Just you, your guitar, and Alex. Two steaming cups of tea forgotten on the side table. 

“I almost feel a bit naked,” you admit quietly. Alex’s eyes never leave you as you restrum the strings, not quite daring to look at him. 

“Why?” he asks with a soft laugh—the one you love most. 

“Because it feels…” You hesitate, searching for the right word. “So raw. Like I’m about to confess something.” 

“And are you?” 

You nod, biting your lower lip. “Okay. Let’s do it before I change my mind.” 

You breathe out, steady yourself—and strum the first chord. 

“When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind,” you begin, voice soft—softer than it would ever be on stage. “He broke his own heart and I watched, as he tried to reassemble it. And my momma swore that she would, 

Never let herself forget” 

Your eyes stay on your fingers, watching the strings even though you could play the notes blindfolded. 

“But darling, you are…” you sing softly, heart racing in your chest. “…the only exception.” 

Alex’s face lights up as if it were Christmas. His heart skips eight beats. He can hardly believe the woman he loves wrote a song just for him. 

“Maybe I know, somewhere deep in my soul, that love never lasts…” 

It’s as if you’re finally telling him the parts of your story you’ve always kept locked away. Even though he knows you better than anyone, this part—the raw, vulnerable you—has been hidden until now. 

“And we've got to find other ways 

To make it alone or keep a straight face 

And I've always lived like this, Keeping a comfortable distance” 

That’s exactly what you’d been doing—always keeping people at arm’s length because everyone else had left you. It was safer, less scary. But also lonely. 

“And up until now, I had sworn to myself 

That I'm content with loneliness” 

You thought you were. You’d grown used to that aching emptiness—until Alex. Only after meeting him did you realize how much pain you had been living with, how the loneliness had drained you without your knowing. 

Alex warmed you from the inside out without ever asking for anything in return. He was content with having you as you are, even if you weren’t as open or gentle as he is. Even if it took you longer to say the things you felt. Even if he had to ask three times if you were really okay. 

He would always take you, fully, as you are—the rockstar, the lonely girl, the chaotic storm. 

“Because none of it was ever worth the risk” you whisper, almost to yourself. But with Alex, you finally risked it all. Risked hurt. Risked disappointment. And it never came. 

You risked—and the reward was greater than you ever imagined. 

“Well, you are the only exception,” you sing, letting the words hang between you. 

“You’re also my exception,” he murmurs when you look up, eyes glimmering with unshed tears, a bright smile on his lips. 

Your own eyes fill, unwillingly. 

“I know you’re leaving in the morning when you wake up 

Leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream, oh…” 

There was a time early in your relationship when you always expected it to end. Waiting for the pin to drop, for the heartbreak to come. Waiting for him to say that your schedules, your chaos, or your past were too much. 

But it never came. 

He always reassured you. Gentle. Steady. Watching you as if you were the most mesmerizing thing to exist. 

“And I'm on my way to believing...” 

Finally, you believed. Alex wasn’t going to leave. He was it. He would stay. 

Tears glimmer in your eyes as you meet his own. 

“I swear if you cry, I’ll cry harder,” you laugh, looking at the man who is staring at you in awe. 

“You’re amazing, Troubs,” he whispers, voice slightly broken, tears clinging to his vocal cords. 

“No,” you shake your head. “You are.” 

A single tear rolls down your cheek—but Alex is there before you can feel vulnerable. He lifts the guitar from your lap, sets it gently aside, and pulls you fully into him. He showers your face with a thousand kisses, finally drawing a laugh out of you. 

“Thank you,” he whispers when the tears have dried, voice soft and full of awe. 

You look at him, questioning. 

“For letting me be your exception,” he continues, thumb tracing the soft skin of your cheek. Mascara streaks your face, but to him, you are perfect—tattoos, dark hair, cold exterior, everything. “For daring to love again, and letting me be that love.” 

You shake your head, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Thank you… for being the only exception, sunbeam.” 

youruser.lndn Monaco

youruser.lndn only exception is out now! @.alexalbon thank you for being my muse ❤︎ Liked by alexalbon, georgerussel63, carmenmundt and 66,923 others

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