It was supposed to be one reckless night—an escape from the stress of the season, a way to forget an ex who could never make you come, a little tension relief from both your jobs—not a forever consequence. Especially not with your best friend, who surely only saw you as that and nothing more.
But Alex Albon’s fucking swimmers had other plans.
Now the question is: can you survive the fallout when desire, friendship, and a very unexpected surprise collide?
▶ TRACKLIST
1: Positive
1.5: Typing...
2: Handle with Care
3: Seatbelt Secured
4: 'Straya Baby
5: Under Pressure
6: The Keepers of the Secret
7: Between Bites and Secrets
8: Friday
9: Unprofessional
10: Just Friends
11: Unable to Hide
12: Monaco Baby
13: Safe Here
14: Domestic, Actually
15: Seen
16: Bored
17: Q&A with Y/N
18: The Godparent Title™
19: Golden Hour at Silverstone
20: Loading...
20.5: Reactions
21: Mango Sticky Rice
22: IKEA versus Galex
23: A Breaking Point
24: Holding the Line
25: Edits, Cravings, and Hormones
26: Baby Shower
27: Babymoon
28: Homebound
29: Italian Happiness
30: Paparazzis and Podiums
31: Stubborn
32: Little Albon
33: Diapers and Devotion
34: Voice Notes
35: Traditions
36: Seventy-Two Hours
37: Home, Finally
summary: You take a stranger to couples therapy to see how long it takes the therapist to realize that you don't know each other at all.
word count: 4.2k
contains: crack, based on this tweet
It started as a joke.
On a Tuesday night, after too much scrolling and too little dignity, you opened Tinder and changed your bio to read:
Looking for someone to take to couples therapy and see how long it takes the therapist to notice we don’t know each other.
It was one of those chaotic thoughts you weren’t supposed to act on, the kind that belonged in a group chat, not a dating profile. But the wine glass was half empty, and you were feeling reckless, so there it went. You expected maybe a handful of half-hearted reactions. A lazy “lol.” A pity match or two. Definitely not everyone is taking it seriously.
You didn’t expect Alex.
His opening message wasn’t a “hey” or a smarmy pick-up line. It was:
This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen on Tinder. Are you serious?
You blinked at the screen. And then, before you could think better of it, you typed back:
One hundred percent serious. Imagine the chaos.
That was the start of the worst and best idea of your life. Because instead of running in the opposite direction like any sane person, Alex dove headfirst into it with you. Within half an hour, you had the skeleton of a fake relationship plotted out—how you’d met in a coffee shop, how you’d argued over oat milk, how he’d once lent you an umbrella, how your anniversary was in May. By midnight, you were laughing so hard you could barely breathe, trading increasingly ridiculous “issues” to fight about. You claimed he chewed like a cow. He claimed you had a debilitating obsession with reality TV.
By the end of the night, you had an actual appointment booked.
It was only when you woke up the next morning, groggy and hungover on adrenaline, that it hit you. You were really about to walk into a licensed professional’s office with a stranger you met on Tinder less than twenty-four hours ago and pretend to be in a relationship on the rocks.
You should have canceled. You should have deleted Tinder altogether. Instead, you put on your favorite jeans, downed a coffee, and headed out to meet him.
You hadn’t thought this far ahead.
It was one thing to type out chaotic backstories over Tinder with a stranger named Alex, who, judging by his emojis and weirdly specific insults, was probably harmless. It was another thing entirely to stand outside a beige office building with a sign that read “Dr. Martin Grey, Licensed Couples Therapist” and realize you were about to commit a federal-level crime against psychology.
Well. Maybe not federal. But at least unethical.
“Y/N?”
You looked up, startled, and immediately regretted it because the man approaching was unfairly tall, unfairly attractive, and unfairly holding two iced coffees like he hadn’t just agreed to become your fake boyfriend in front of a licensed professional.
“Alex?”
He grinned, and you hated how boyish it was. “One oat milk latte, for my favorite hater.” He held it out, as if this were a normal first meeting and not an audition for who could commit to the bit harder.
You took the cup, squinting at him. “You actually got oat milk.”
“Obviously. It’s canon now. That’s how we met, remember? You called me the human embodiment of oat milk. I had to method act.”
You sipped. Damn him. It was good. “Okay, fine. Points for consistency.”
“Thank you. I take this role very seriously.” He straightened up, mock-solemn. “So, should we rehearse? We’ve got, what, five minutes before we’re due in there?”
You both looked at the sliding glass doors like they might swallow you whole.
“Right,” you said, tugging your phone out to skim the notes app where you’d written your “lore.” “Okay, so. Coffee shop, eight months ago, umbrella in March, anniversary in May—”
“—and our main conflict is that you hate how loudly I chew,” Alex finished, pointing at you.
You pointed back. “And that you think I’m addicted to reality TV.”
“Which is true.”
“Shut up.”
“See? Perfect,” he said, like this wasn’t absolutely deranged. “We’re already fighting.”
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “We are so going to get caught.”
Alex leaned against the wall, casual in ripped jeans and a hoodie, like this wasn’t the weirdest Wednesday of his life. “Nah. Think about it. Therapists probably see couples way messier than us every day. Like—‘my boyfriend of twelve years won’t do the dishes’ messy. We’re gonna look normal by comparison.”
“I don’t think normal couples plot their relationship lore on Tinder.”
He tilted his head, considering. “Normal’s boring.”
You shouldn’t have laughed. You really shouldn’t have. But you did.
The laugh turned into a nervous little spiral of giggles, and Alex was watching you with that infuriating grin, and suddenly the absurdity of the whole thing cracked something open in your chest. “Oh my god,” you wheezed. “We’re actually insane.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, sipping his coffee like this was all routine. “But at least we’re insane together.”
You looked at him then, really looked. He had a sharp jaw softened by an easy smile, hair that clearly resisted being tamed, and brown eyes that flickered between amusement and—something else. Something you weren’t about to acknowledge, not when you were about to fake a relationship in front of a stranger with a psychology degree.
Instead, you forced a grin. “Okay, partner in crime. You ready?”
He exhaled dramatically. “Born ready.” Then, lowering his voice: “So, just to clarify, if they ask how we met, I don’t say ‘on Tinder.’”
“God, no. Stick to the coffee shop.”
“And if they ask about our first fight?”
“You chewed too loudly during our second date.”
He nodded, serious. “Right. And if they ask why we’re here—”
“—because we’re working on communication. And because I watch too much Love Island.”
He cracked a smile. “Solid.”
For a moment, you just stood there, staring at each other with matching smirks, two idiots about to gaslight a therapist.
Then Alex pushed the door open and held it for you. “After you, fake girlfriend.”
You rolled your eyes, stepping inside. “Don’t make it weird.”
“Too late,” he whispered.
The waiting room smelled faintly of lavender and judgment.
You both sat on opposite ends of the couch at first, awkwardly scrolling your phones like two strangers in a doctor’s office—which, technically, you were. Then Alex leaned over, nudging your knee with his.
“We should probably sit closer,” he muttered. “Couples don’t sit like this.”
You froze. He was right. Normal couples didn’t sit with a three-foot buffer zone of pure “stranger danger” between them. Slowly, carefully, you slid closer until your thighs brushed, and holy hell, when had it gotten so warm in here?
Alex chuckled under his breath. “Relax. We’re not actually dating.”
“Right,” you said, pretending the heat in your face was from the coffee. “Totally.”
Before you could overthink further, the office door opened and a middle-aged man with kind eyes and a clipboard stepped out.
“Alex and Y/N?” he asked.
Alex shot you a look that screamed, "Showtime."
You both stood, and for a brief, ridiculous second, Alex reached for your hand. His palm was warm, his grip firm, and you knew it was for show, but your heart didn’t get the memo.
“Yes,” Alex said smoothly. “That’s us.”
And just like that, you walked into the lion’s den, hand in hand with your fake boyfriend, trying very hard not to laugh — or maybe scream.
The office looked like it had been decorated by someone who thought IKEA catalogs counted as personality. Neutral beige walls, two armchairs angled just enough to look conversational, and a box of tissues on the coffee table like an ominous warning.
You and Alex sank into the loveseat together, stiff as mannequins. His arm brushed yours, his knee bumped your leg, and every nerve in your body screamed, do not laugh.
The therapist, Dr. Grey, according to the little brass plaque on his desk, sat down across from you, crossing one leg over the other. He had the practiced smile of a man who’d seen every kind of marital crisis known to humankind.
“So,” he began, pen poised over his notepad. “Tell me what brings you two in today.”
Showtime.
Alex cleared his throat, shooting you a side glance. “Uh, well… we’ve been together for about… eight months now?”
You nodded too eagerly. “Yes. Eight months. Exactly.”
Dr. Grey’s eyebrows lifted, already scribbling. “That’s a very precise answer.”
“Anniversary in May,” Alex added quickly, as if that explained anything.
“May 13th,” you blurted.
The therapist’s pen paused. “Impressive memory.”
You forced a sweet smile, gripping Alex’s knee under the table like do not blow this, oat milk man. “We’re very… detail-oriented.”
Alex winced slightly at your grip but leaned into the role. “Right. But lately, um… we’ve been having some disagreements.”
“Mm-hm.” Dr. Grey tilted his head, waiting.
You jumped in before Alex could waffle. “He chews like a cow.”
Alex gasped, full betrayal. “I do not!”
“Yes, you do! It’s like sitting next to a lawnmower when you eat cereal.”
“That’s so specific—”
“Because it’s true!”
Dr. Grey held up a hand, his voice calm, soothing. “Okay. So one concern is… eating noises?”
“Yes,” you said firmly, while Alex muttered, “She exaggerates.”
“And,” Alex countered, “she’s addicted to reality TV. Like, she’ll watch four hours of Love Island in one sitting.”
You sat up straighter, indignant. “That’s called commitment to character arcs!”
“It’s called brain rot!” Alex shot back.
The therapist’s pen scratched furiously. You half-expected him to underline brain rot.
For a moment, silence settled over the room, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioner. Then Dr. Grey steepled his fingers.
“It sounds like you two care about each other,” he said. “But small irritations are becoming amplified.”
“Exactly,” Alex said, nodding seriously. “Like, it’s not a dealbreaker that she knows the names of every contestant on Too Hot to Handle, but it’s… concerning.”
“And it’s not a dealbreaker that he slurps noodles like he’s auditioning for a sound effects job,” you added sweetly.
Alex whipped his head toward you. “That’s a low blow.”
“You deserve it.”
The therapist cleared his throat. “Let’s talk about how you two met. Often, remembering the foundation of the relationship helps put current issues in perspective.”
Crap. Here it was. The lore test.
You jumped in first. “We met at a coffee shop.”
Alex nodded rapidly. “Yeah. I was in line. She insulted me.”
Dr. Grey blinked. “…She insulted you?”
“She called me— uh— what was it again?” Alex glanced at you desperately.
“The human embodiment of oat milk,” you supplied.
The therapist blinked again, pen hovering. “…Interesting.”
“Yeah,” Alex said, as if this were the most normal meet-cute in history. “Romance blossomed after that.”
“Instantly,” you said, trying not to crack.
“Instantly,” Alex echoed, his lips twitching.
Dr. Grey scribbled something that you were certain was just ?? in all caps.
“Okay,” the therapist said slowly, “and your first date?”
“Umbrella,” Alex said too quickly.
You nodded like a bobblehead. “Yes. It rained, and he… lent me his umbrella.”
“In March,” Alex added, smugly.
“Right,” you said, glaring at him like don’t get cocky.
“And when did you become official?”
“May,” you chorused in unison.
Silence.
Dr. Grey’s eyes flicked between you, suspicion glinting. You could feel sweat prickling your back.
Alex reached for your hand again, squeezing, and for one absurd second, it steadied you. Like, yeah, maybe you were lying through your teeth, but at least you were lying together.
“Well,” Dr. Grey said finally, “it’s clear you two share a playful dynamic. But let’s dig into what happens when conflicts arise. Can you give me an example of a recent fight?”
Your brain blanked. Your carefully written notes hadn’t covered this.
Alex, bless his chaotic soul, said, “She got mad because I ate the last cookie.”
Your head whipped around. “That’s not a fake example, that actually would make me mad.”
“You didn’t even bake them!”
“Cookies are communal!”
“You can’t claim dibs on the whole pack!”
Dr. Grey pinched the bridge of his nose like he was already reconsidering his career choices.
The silence stretched again, thick with awkwardness. You stared at Alex, and he stared back, and somewhere between your glare and his smirk, you both started to break.
First, it was a twitch of your lips. Then a stifled snort. Then Alex’s shoulders shook, and before you knew it, the two of you were half-laughing, half-choking on the loveseat, desperately trying to hold it together in front of a man who thought he was saving your relationship.
The therapist looked done.
“Do you often laugh during conflict?” he asked dryly.
“Yes,” Alex gasped, wiping his eyes. “It’s our coping mechanism.”
“Very unhealthy,” you added, still giggling.
The look Dr. Grey gave you could’ve rivaled the power of God himself.
Dr. Grey tapped his pen against his notepad. “So. The last cookie fight aside… when disagreements arise, how do you typically resolve them?”
You and Alex froze.
Because you hadn’t gotten that far in your fake backstory.
“Uh,” you started, wringing your hands in your lap. “We… talk it out.”
Alex nodded too quickly. “Yeah, lots of communication.”
“Mm-hm,” Dr. Grey said, unconvinced. “And what does that communication look like?”
Alex hesitated for half a beat too long before blurting, “Um… I usually make her tea.”
You whipped your head toward him. “Tea?”
“Yes,” he said, leaning into it. “Tea calms you down. Chamomile, specifically.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You don’t even know what chamomile looks like.”
“Of course I do!”
“What color is it, then?”
“…greenish?”
“That’s all tea, Alex!”
Dr. Grey’s eyes flicked between you both like he was watching a tennis match. His pen was working overtime.
“Okay,” the therapist said slowly, “so perhaps the tea ritual isn’t as consistent as it could be. What about physical affection? Do you use touch as a form of reassurance?”
The question hit like a stun gun.
You and Alex glanced at each other, and then away, like two teenagers caught passing notes in class.
Finally, Alex coughed. “Uh, yeah. We… hug.”
“Hugging,” Dr. Grey repeated, deadpan.
“Yes. Hugging,” you echoed, your voice an octave too high.
“Do you want to demonstrate?” the therapist asked.
Your soul left your body.
Alex’s eyes went wide. “Demonstrate?”
“Sometimes it helps,” Dr. Grey said calmly, “to show how you connect physically in moments of tension.”
You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you whole.
But Alex, ever the method actor, opened his arms in slow motion like he was about to embrace a feral cat.
“Come here, chamomile girl,” he said under his breath.
You glared at him. “If you call me that again, I will actually leave.”
But you leaned in anyway, because what else could you do? His arms wrapped around you awkwardly at first, one around your shoulders, one hesitating at your waist. You stiffened, then slowly — too slowly — let yourself sink into it.
And god help you, he was warm. Steady. Comfortable in a way that made your brain short-circuit.
“Mm,” Alex said loudly, patting your back with exaggerated force. “See? Hugging fixes everything.”
You elbowed him in the ribs on principle.
Dr. Grey’s face was unreadable.
“Thank you for that demonstration,” he said finally. “It seems like you two do rely on humor and physical touch… but I’m sensing there may be some deeper communication issues.”
“Oh, definitely,” Alex said solemnly, still holding his side where you’d jabbed him. “She doesn’t respect cookies as individual entities.”
You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck. “And he doesn’t understand basic tea taxonomy.”
The therapist inhaled deeply, clearly regretting his career path.
“Let’s try something different,” Dr. Grey said, flipping a page on his notepad. “I want you both to list three qualities you appreciate about each other. Start with Y/N.”
Your stomach dropped. Crap. Compliments.
You blinked at Alex. He was watching you expectantly, and you had the distinct impression he was enjoying this.
“Um…” You fidgeted. “He… makes good jokes?”
Alex raised his brows. “Good jokes?”
“Fine, passable jokes.”
“Better.”
You exhaled through your nose. “And… he’s reliable. He showed up today with coffee, so that’s something.”
His expression softened for a blink before he smirked again. “That’s two. One more.”
You hesitated, then muttered, “He’s… nice to look at.”
Alex’s grin spread slowly, lazily, and he was far too pleased with himself.
Dr. Grey scribbled something furiously.
“Interesting,” the therapist said. “Alex, your turn.”
Alex didn’t hesitate. “She’s funny. Like, the kind of funny that sneaks up on you and makes you laugh when you shouldn’t.”
You blinked. That was… weirdly specific.
“She’s also stubborn,” he continued, tilting his head at you, “which is… frustrating, but kind of admirable.”
Your chest did a weird, fluttery thing.
“And…” He paused, a smirk tugging at his lips. “She’s got great taste in reality TV. Even if it’s brain rot.”
“Wow,” you muttered, looking away before he could see the stupid smile tugging at your own lips. “Backhanded compliment much?”
Dr. Grey set his pen down slowly, watching the two of you like a scientist who’d just discovered a new species.
“I see,” he said carefully. “So despite your disagreements, there’s clearly… affection here.”
Both you and Alex opened your mouths to protest at the same time—
“Affection?” you squeaked.
“Definitely not,” Alex said too fast.
But your hands were still suspiciously close on the couch cushion, pinkies nearly brushing, and the way Alex’s knee pressed against yours told a very different story.
Dr. Grey leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth twitching just slightly, like he was onto something.
And for the first time all session, you were genuinely terrified.
For the first thirty minutes of the session, you had been proud — no, smug — about how well you and Alex were pulling this off. Sure, there were some hiccups: the cookie debacle, the chamomile lie, the oat milk meet-cute that sounded less romantic and more like a dietary restriction. But overall? You thought you were killing it.
Until Dr. Grey leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and hit you with the calm, measured tone of a man about to end your entire career.
“Y/N. Alex.”
You both froze like students caught passing notes.
“Yes?” you said, your voice doing that embarrassing crackle thing.
“I want to be honest with you,” Dr. Grey continued. His eyes narrowed slightly, sharp despite the kind smile he’d been wearing all session. “I don’t believe you’ve told me the truth about your relationship.”
Silence.
You could hear the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights above you, the way Alex sucked in a sharp breath beside you, the sound of your own soul trying to yeet itself into another dimension.
“Excuse me?” Alex said, finally, a nervous laugh slipping through.
Dr. Grey didn’t flinch. “You’re not a couple. Are you?”
You and Alex spoke at the exact same time.
“Yes, we are—” Says you.
“No, we’re not—” Says Alex.
Your heads snapped toward each other, eyes wide.
“You traitor,” you hissed.
“I panicked!” he hissed back.
Dr. Grey sat back, steepling his fingers again like some kind of judgmental Batman. “Well. That clears things up.”
You buried your face in your hands. “Oh my god.”
“Okay, okay, hear me out,” Alex said, holding his hands up like he was negotiating a hostage situation. “Technically, we’re not a couple. But! We’re auditioning for the role of one.”
You kicked his shin. “Don’t make it sound like community theatre.”
“What else do you want me to say? ‘Hi, Dr. Grey, we’re two psychos from Tinder who thought it would be funny to prank a licensed professional?’ That sounds worse!”
Dr. Grey’s mouth twitched like he was fighting the urge to laugh. “That’s… exactly what you’ve just admitted, though.”
You groaned, sliding down in your seat until your head hit the back cushion. “We’re going to hell.”
“Correction,” Alex said, pointing a finger at you. “You’re dragging me to hell. This was your bio idea.”
“Like you didn’t swipe right!”
“Because it was hilarious!”
The therapist cleared his throat, and both of you snapped back to attention like guilty schoolchildren. “So let me get this straight,” Dr. Grey said. “You matched on Tinder… devised a fake backstory… and booked a therapy session. For fun.”
“…Yes,” you muttered.
Alex, apparently deciding to lean into the bit until the bitter end, added, “It’s kind of a social experiment, if you think about it.”
Dr. Grey stared at him for a long, withering moment. “I’m not sure that makes it better.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your whole body buzzing with embarrassment. Beside you, Alex shifted like he couldn’t decide whether to bolt for the door or keep digging his grave.
And then, you laughed.
A small, stupid giggle bubbled out before you could stop it. Alex turned to you, wide-eyed, like you’d just lost your mind. Which, maybe you had.
Because soon the giggle snowballed into full-blown hysterics, your shoulders shaking, tears stinging your eyes.
Alex lasted all of five seconds before he cracked, too. His laugh was loud, unrestrained, contagious. Within moments, you were both doubled over on the loveseat, wheezing like hyenas, while Dr. Grey sat across from you, looking like he was reconsidering every decision that had led him to this profession.
“This is— this is the worst idea we’ve ever had,” you gasped, clutching your stomach.
“The best idea,” Alex corrected, wiping at his eyes. “We actually made it thirty whole minutes before getting caught. That’s a record.”
“Are you keeping score of fake couples?”
“I am now!”
Dr. Grey pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have to say, in my twenty years of practice, this is a first.”
“Happy to make history,” Alex said, still grinning.
You were still laughing when you finally sat up, cheeks aching, chest heaving. Alex was watching you with that stupid boyish smile again, eyes crinkled at the corners. And you hated it.
Well, you didn’t hate it. That was the problem.
The session ended mercifully soon after. Dr. Grey, to his credit, didn’t kick you out on the spot. Instead, he sighed, scribbled something in his notebook, and said, “For future reference, couples therapy works best when… You are, in fact, a couple.”
You and Alex nodded solemnly like kids being scolded.
“Understood,” Alex said.
“Totally,” you added.
“Please don’t book another session under false pretenses,” Dr. Grey finished, his voice flat.
“Got it,” you both said in unison.
And with that, you were free.
The second the office door clicked shut behind you, you and Alex collapsed against the hallway wall, laughter exploding out of you again like you couldn’t hold it in.
“Oh my god,” you wheezed, doubling over. “We actually did that. We actually wasted a professional’s time.”
“We’re criminals,” Alex agreed, tears in his eyes from laughing. “We’re going to be blacklisted from every therapist in the city.”
“Do therapists even have a blacklist?”
“They do now. We’re probably at the top.”
You leaned your head back against the wall, still catching your breath. Alex was standing close, too close, his shoulder brushing yours. When you turned to look at him, he was already looking at you.
The laughter died down, leaving a charged silence in its wake. His smile lingered, softer now, almost hesitant.
And before you could talk yourself out of it, before your brain could scream bad idea bad idea bad idea, you leaned forward and kissed him.
It wasn’t a long kiss. Just a quick, impulsive press of your lips to his, tasting faintly of oat milk latte and bad decisions. But when you pulled back, his eyes were wide, his mouth curved into a stunned half-smile.
“…What was that?” he asked, voice low.
You shrugged, trying to look casual despite the way your heart was sprinting in your chest. “A thank you. For committing to the bit.”
“A thank you,” he repeated, still grinning.
“Yes.”
He tilted his head, studying you, and damn it, why did he have to look at you like that? “You know,” he said slowly, “we could… actually do this again.”
“What, lie to another therapist?”
“No,” he said, laughing. “I meant… a second date. Like, a real one. No fake backstory, no chamomile lies.”
You blinked at him, surprised. “A real date?”
“Yeah. Dinner, maybe. Or—” he smirked—“we could go to a coffee shop. Make it canon.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling too. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” he said, bumping your shoulder lightly, “you kissed me.”
You shoved him playfully, but your cheeks were still warm. “Fine. One real date. But only because I want to prove to you that cookies are communal.”
“Deal.”
“Deal,” you echoed, shaking his hand like you were signing a legally binding contract.
And as you walked out of the building together, still laughing, still buzzing from the chaos of the afternoon, you couldn’t help thinking: maybe the joke had gotten away from you.
Please I need some Girl dad alex albon. I don't even care what it is! Maybe with Uncle George featured
Pretty Heels [AA23]
Summary: Yn is going through her running phase, which drives Alex wild. Thankfully, George has the perfect solution.
Authors Note: Hope you all enjoy this as much as I did. Thank you for this very open request.
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The paddock was alive in that specific way it always was on a Friday morning—engines humming in the distance, radios crackling, people walking fast with purpose while pretending not to panic.
Alex stood just outside the garage, sunglasses perched on his head, coffee in one hand, the other firmly holding onto a very small, very energetic four-year-old.
Yn.
She had curls that refused to behave, big curious eyes, and the unstoppable confidence of someone who had only recently discovered she could run. And run fast.
“Okay,” Alex said, crouching slightly to look her in the eyes. “You stay right here. Right. Here.”
Yn nodded solemnly.
“I promise,” she said, placing a tiny hand over her heart.
Alex squinted. “That sounded suspiciously confident.”
She grinned.
Behind them, Charles leaned against a barrier, Lando was mid-rant about something technical, George was half-listening while scrolling through something on his phone, and Carlos was sipping water, relaxed as always.
“This is the calm before the storm,” Carlos said, nodding toward Yn.
Alex sighed. “You have no idea.”
Lily had gone to a media thing—just half an hour, she’d said. Famous last words. So Alex was on dad duty, which usually wasn’t a problem.
Except for the running phase.
They were mid-conversation when it happened.
A squirrel—bold, fluffy, completely unaware of the chaos it was about to cause—darted across the edge of the paddock.
Yn’s head snapped up.
“SQUIRREL,” she announced, voice full of awe.
Alex barely had time to process the word before she slipped her hand out of his and bolted.
“Oh no—Yn—YN—”
She was fast. Alarmingly fast for someone whose shoes still lit up when she walked.
“YN!” Alex shouted, immediately sprinting after her.
Lando burst out laughing. “She’s gone!”
George looked up, eyes wide. “Is she - oh my god, she’s fast.”
Charles pointed. “Left! She went left!”
Yn zigzagged toward the squirrel, arms flailing, giggling like she’d just unlocked a secret level of life.
“I’M GONNA PET IT,” she yelled.
“You are NOT PETTING THE SQUIRREL,” Alex called back, heart pounding as he closed the distance.
The squirrel vanished under a barrier.
Yn skidded to a stop, confused for exactly half a second—long enough for Alex to scoop her up.
He held her against his chest, breathing hard.
“Absolutely not,” he said, laughing despite himself. “You cannot just run after wildlife.”
Yn pouted. “But it was cute.”
“I know. That’s how they get you.”
The others had gathered around them now.
Carlos grinned. “So this is the running phase.”
Alex nodded grimly. “This is the running phase.”
Lando crouched in front of Yn. “You know you gave your dad a heart attack, right?”
She tilted her head. “What’s a heart attack?”
Alex immediately said, “We don’t need to explain that.”
George smiled softly. “She’s fearless.”
“She’s four,” Alex said. “She has no concept of consequences.”
Yn wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck. “I sorry, Daddy.”
That did it. He melted instantly.
“It’s okay,” he sighed. “Just—no more running.”
She nodded again, very seriously.
The group went back to talking, Yn now sitting on Alex’s hip, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.
And then—
A bird.
She pointed. “BIRD.”
Alex tightened his hold preemptively. “No.”
George laughed. “She’s like a puppy.”
“I swear,” Alex said, rubbing his face, “I look away for two seconds and she’s chasing something with a tail.”
George hesitated for a moment, then spoke up. “Hey. I can help.”
Alex looked at him. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah,” George said easily. “I’ve got time. And I can run faster than a squirrel.”
Yn gasped. “You can?!”
George smiled at her. “Definitely.”
Alex thought about it for a second. A Williams meeting was coming up. Lily wasn’t back yet. And George genuinely looked eager.
“You sure?” Alex asked.
“Absolutely.”
Alex shifted Yn toward him. “Okay. But rules.”
Yn immediately protested. “I want Daddy.”
“I know,” Alex said gently. “But Daddy has to go talk about boring grown-up things.”
George took her carefully, settling her on his hip.
“You’ll hang out with George, yeah?” Alex said. “No running.”
Yn considered this.
“Okay,” she said. “But only if he doesn’t let me pet squirrels.”
George laughed. “Deal.”
Alex handed over her tiny backpack, crouched to kiss her forehead, and pointed a finger at her. “Be good.”
She saluted him.
As Alex walked away toward the meeting room, he glanced back once.
George was already talking animatedly to Yn, pointing at something in the distance. She was laughing.
“Good luck,” Lando called after Alex. “You’ve just outsourced chaos.”
Two hours later, Alex emerged from the Williams meeting mentally exhausted and emotionally ready for coffee.
He stepped into the paddock again and immediately scanned the area.
No Yn.
His heart jumped.
“George?” he muttered.
And then he saw them.
Walking toward him.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Yn was holding George’s hand, taking careful little steps like she was crossing a tightrope. On her feet were the prettiest little lilac play heels Alex had ever seen—sparkly, slightly too big, and absolutely impractical.
Alex stopped dead.
“What,” he said faintly, “is happening.”
George noticed him and waved. “Hey!”
Yn looked up, saw Alex, and beamed.
“Daddy!” she said proudly. “Look!”
Alex walked toward them, eyes fixed on her shoes. “Why are you… dressed like you’re going to a gala?”
George shrugged. “She found them.”
“Found them where.”
“Someone’s hospitality unit,” George said. “She said they were calling to her.”
Yn nodded. “They sparkly.”
Alex crouched in front of her. “Baby, you can’t run in those.”
George grinned. “That’s the best part. She can’t run at all.”
Yn took another careful step, arms slightly out for balance.
“I’m walking,” she announced. “Like a princess.”
Alex stared at George.
“You did this on purpose.”
George held up his hands. “You said no running. I adapted.”
Alex laughed, shaking his head. “I leave you with my child for two hours and you turn her into royalty.”
Yn stepped forward again, very slowly, very carefully.
“No running,” George said gently. “Remember our deal.”
She nodded. “Running is dangerous in heels.”
Alex blinked. “She said what.”
George leaned closer. “She’s very wise now.”
Alex picked her up gently, inspecting the shoes. “You okay?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “George holded my hand the whole time.”
George smiled. “Didn’t let go once.”
Alex stood, heart full in that quiet way that sneaks up on you.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely.
“Anytime,” George replied. “She’s… kind of amazing.”
Yn wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck. “George says I’m not allowed to run anymore.”
Alex chuckled. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Only walk. And only sparkle.”
Alex kissed her cheek. “I think I can live with that.”
Lily appeared moments later, stopping short when she saw Yn’s shoes.
“…Why does our child look like she’s about to attend fashion week.”
Alex grinned. “Long story.”
Yn held up one foot proudly. “I didn’t run.”
Lily laughed, shaking her head. “Honestly? That’s a win.”
George gave a small bow. “Mission accomplished.”
And for the rest of the afternoon, Yn stayed exactly where she was - walking slowly, carefully, hand in hand with anyone who offered - sparkling lilac heels clicking softly against the ground.
No squirrels were harmed.
Alex’s heart rate returned to normal.
And George was officially promoted to trusted anti-running accomplice.
brother's best friend, fluff, humor, bit of thirst
synopsis: you knew him as "lexie" when you were both growing up, but years later you can barely recognize him. looks like little "lexie" albon's all grown up!
inspo: when did you get hot? by sabrina carpenter
WARNINGS: cussing, bit of thirst ;)
a/n: NOBODY has given this song more streams than me! sorry, not sorry. also this is my longest fanfic and my God, who knew I was such an Albono girlie?
When George sends you the paddock pass, your first instinct is to roll your eyes. How many times do you have to tell him there's no way your missing a day of work to be some paddock princess? For God's sake, you're not 17 and jobless anymore.
But, on second thought, it doesn't sound so bad. You haven't seen Carmen in person since Christmas and well...being a paddock princess was pretty fun. Most of all, George had tugged on your heartstrings a bit by even sending the impromptu paddock pass.
It reminded you of the good days when you followed George around to his karting races. You were his mini manager back then; making sure he had every thing he needed and more.
You'd missed George more than you would allow yourself to admit.
Maybe a walk down memory lane was just what the doctor ordered.
ynrussell posted a story!
view replies ⬇️
georgerussell63 acting hard to get meanwhile you're color-coordinating your outfits with me...yeah okay, mate
↳ ynrussell shush georgie i have an image to maintain
lando no way the mysterious yn marie russell is going to grace us with her presence this weekend
↳ ynrussell i told you my middle name IN CONFIDENCE lando 😤
↳ lando yn ***** russell sorry 😢
carmenmmundt NO WAYYYYY
carmenmmundt YOU ARE SOOO JOKING
carmenmmundt this is way too mean yn 😞
↳ ynrussell i'm not joking carm!!! see u saturday 😏
↳ carmenmmundt i've never been happier to see a russell
Saturday arrived in no time and you met up with Carmen inside Mercedes' hospitality.
You'd been to the paddock once since George had become an F1 driver and that was his rookie year. He was in the much smaller Williams Racing motorhome, not the sleek glamour that Mercedes is.
Once you two laid eyes on each other, you both let out a shriek.
"CARM!", you yelled as Carmen shrieked your name.
You two dissolve into a puddle of giggles when you catch Bono side-eyeing the ruckus that was the pair of you.
"I can't believe you're actually here, Yn! You haaave to meet all of the girls", Carmen began.
"Oh, we are going to have a blast and a half", you giggled.
And that you did.
When you met Alexandra and Lily Z., you all instantly became friends. It warmed your heart to know Carmen wasn't alone during race weekends while George was busy. The girls were good company and supplied you with all the paddock tea you could ever want.
"You know, Yn, there are a few single guys on the grid", smirked Alexandra. At that, Lily elbowed Alexandra but let out a small chuckle herself.
"I'm far too old to be sat around with some motorsport playboy. Sorry, girls", you waved her off.
"You talk like you're 97, Yn. You're 29! Have some fun, kiss a guy or two", Carmen encouraged.
"Yeah, well, my choices are limited to Lewis Hamilton and I don't think that would ever happen, guys", you argued.
"Oh, you're into the older guys? How about...Ayao?", joked Alexandra.
"No, no. Just the other guys are either too young or tangled up with their rosters", you laughed out.
"Wellll, not everyone", Carmen said slyly.
At that your curiousity piqued.
"Yeah..who?"
"There's always Albon", Carmen said, laying her final card on the table.
Alex Albon.
When was the last time you'd thought of him?
Must have been when Alex entered Formula One and you congratulated him on his debut all those years ago.
"No, no. No way he doesn't have a girlfriend. Plus, I haven't seen him in what? Maybe, seven years now", you say, with reddend ears.
"Well, if you're ever interested, he's been single for a while now. He and his ex ended things months ago now", Alexandra informed you.
You laughed her off and asked her about her dress.
Ever the fashion connoisseur, she started ranting about a local British designer she had custom make her outfit. The rest of the girls chimed in, and all talks of your love life were soon forgotten.
For now.
ynrussell
📍Silverstone
Liked by georgerussell63, carmenmmundt, and 35k others
ynrussell tell a friend to tell a friend...I'M BACK!
tagged: @carmenmmundt
view comments ⬇️
georgerussell63 no mention of my pole position...cool cool cool
↳ lando 😂🫵🫵
↳ georgerussell63 not even gonna entertain the guy starting from the pitlane
↳ lando
georgerussell63 happy to have you here 🖤
↳ ynrussell 🥹🖤 love you baby brother
ynfanpage yn completely ignoring george's first comment is such typical sibling behavior 😭😭
kimi.antonelli happy to meet you yn 😁😁😁 You are my favorite Russell!
You'd never been so excited for a Sunday. Carmen and you were meeting up at the Williams motorhome to see Rebecca and your little brother was on pole. The day couldn't be looking better for you.
Until, you're trying to enter the Williams paddock club and the security guard outside of it tells you there's no way your getting in.
You show him your paddock pass, look around for Carmen and anyone else you could recognize.
You resort to tell them you're George's sister and you have access to VIP lounges.
He still won't let you in.
You get ready to turn around and go back to Mercedes when your eyes meet a pair of strangely familiar dark brown eyes.
The handsome stranger comes out of the Williams motorhome and seems amazed when he recognizes you.
"Yn? What are you doing here?", asks the stranger in Williams gear.
"Uh- Sorry, do I know you?", you stupidly ask.
He lets out a chuckle and smiles even wider if that's possible. "Alex. Albon?" A second later he adds, "Does Lexie ring a bell?"
Oh, God.
Lexie Albon.
George's friend who followed you like a shadow in the junior years of your brother's career. He was always lanky, but shorter than your Georgie. Always funny and kind. You remember him looking at you like you hung the stars when you brought the pair of preteens bottles of water and ice packs.
Who would have thought Lexie would grow up into...this handsome man?
You're brought out of your daze when he asks if you're looking to come into the paddock club.
You nod and thank him, feeling your ears redden.
You turn your body towards him and thank him for letting you in.
"No worries. It's...nice to see you again, Yn", Alex says.
"It's nice to see you, too. How's Williams treating you?"
You two talk for what feels like a minute but is really thirty.
In the corner of the paddock club, Carmen's sitting at a table with Rebecca, Alexandra, Lily Z. and Kika. They're all staring at you and Alex get along swimmingly well.
"They look...really good together", starts Alexandra.
"Oh, she's definetely interested, don't you think?", Rebecca continues. At that, they all nod.
"They'll be together by Vegas, watch", Alex bets.
They all start laughing until you start heading their way. Suddenly, everyone's talking about the food and how...good it is!
As you sit down, you feel the heat on your cheeks and the smile on your face. Worst of all, you feel like you've got a soft spot for Alex starting to develop.
Post-race, the air is electrifying. It always is after a day of good on-track shenanigans, but Silverstone's always been a different beast.
George couldn't manage to hold on to his race lead, but made you cry tears of joy standing up on the second step of the podium. You knew his time would come to be the home hero, but today was it's own beautiful memory.
Packing up your belongings sitting on the table outside the Mercedes motorhome, you jump when you see a shadow suddenly looming above you.
"Alex! Crikey, give a girl a warning next time, yeah?", you say, the posh in you ever-present.
"There's no questioning who you're related to, Yn", he laughs out.
You tilt your head, wondering why he'd say that. Were you looking particularly...Russell-like today?
At your confusion, he says, "Crikey?! Seriously, do you people not hear yourselves?"
You audibly gasp in faux-anger at his statement,"Us Russells take our vocabulary very seriously, Mr. Albon. This is no laughing matter."
"I, for one, wasn't laughing...just appreciating how adorable you are", he flirts.
"Yeah?", you quietly respond.
"'Course. Only the prettiest woman in the paddock could pull off saying 'crikey' and 'blimey'", he says, looking into your eyes with stars in his own.
"Well, only the handomest guy in the UK could pull off Williams blue", you flirt back.
"You sure do know how to make a guy swoon, Russell", he chuckles out.
"You're not too bad yourself, Albon", you smirk.
"Congratulations. You did well out there. I don't know if I cried more over your place or George's", you say with a hand on his fireproof-covered arm.
"Thank you", he starts, "means a lot coming from you."
"I've got to get going, Lexie. Georgie and Carm are waiting for me at this Italian place nearby...but it's been nice to see you. Don't be a stranger", you shyly say.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Yn. Have a good dinner. Enjoy yourself. If you're still the Yn I knew growing up, I know you deserve to soak up all the rest you get", he says.
One thing about Alex was that he always saw the real you. The honest, hardworker with a heart of gold. The girl who gave up her school vacations to fly around with George and take care of him. The teenager who worked her ass off in school to get a full-ride to her dream university. Somehow, he even sees the woman who works tirelessly to one day achieve her dreams.
After you give him a hug and a wobbly smile, you two part ways.
Suddenly emboldend by Alex's compliment, you decide to pay him back with one of your own.
"Hey, Alex!", you call back.
He turns around with a confused smile on his face and questioning in his eyes.
"When did you get so hot?", you ask, with an overly dramatic smirk to tie in your flirtation.
Once what you say registers with him, his tanned cheeks redden. The shells of his ear suddenly resemble tomatoes. Oh, and you? You're smiling ear-to-ear as you take in the extrovert's sudden shyness.
You can't believe George has convinced you to come to another race. Two in one season? Unheard of from you.
Frankly, if your boss hadn't suddenly come down on you for not taking your PTO, you probably wouldn't have come. But, George doesn't need to know that. He's far too happy to have you around and introduce you to his whole team. You hadn't spent enough time in his garage last time to get introduced to everyone, so today was George's chance to introduce his paddock family to his real one.
The mechanics were kind and his engineer was a gentlemen. But, George didn't need to know you were most excited to meet Kimi's engineer, Bono, and his boss, Toto.
It made you happy to know your little brother was being taken care of. To know he had friends and people who lifted him up on hard days eased some of the worries you'd had for years now about his busy travels and notoriously unprivate profession.
After a good qualifying from both drivers, Toto invited the team out to dinner. With it being the Austrian Grand Prix and all, it seems the boss was in a good mood. Good enough to let George bring you along as part of the team.
With sparkling eyes and a proud smile, you accepted George's invitation and got ready for dinner.
ynrussell
Liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon, bestieuser, and 89k others
ynrussell always on our worst behavior @carmenmmundt @georgerussell63
view comments ⬇️
bestieuser remember me when you make it big 🥺
↳ ynrussell oh puhlease, you know we'll be having a fall romcom marathon next sunday 😏
georgerussell63 What do you mean? That handsome lad is always acting his best 😄
↳ ynrussell its seriously so hard not to be a mean older sister to you.
↳ lando 🤣🤣🤣🤣
↳ ynrussell daily reminder that @oscarpiastri is beating you. he is first in the wdc. he has gotten more pole positions than you. he is beating you by 31 points. i repeat, THIRTY-ONE POINTS.
↳ lando i'm telling my therapist about you.
↳ ynrussell 😘
carmenmmundt my partner in crime 💕 always so beautiful
↳ ynrussell seriously we should elope atp
↳ georgerussell63 🧍🏼♂️
↳ ynrussell gosh not everything is abt you. @mercdesamgf1 give this man more jobs im tired of his presence in my comment section
You weren't expecting to run into Alex at the restaurant where Toto had booked the table. Or to ditch your brother to have drinks with Alex. Or to end up spending the whole night by his side, laughing and telling childhood stories the other had long forgotten about.
He caught you looking at him for a second too long and immediately called you out on it.
"So handsome you can't look away, Russell?"
"You know, you were always cute. But, now...you're eye candy, Albon", you truthfully reply.
Not one to be outdone, Alex responds, "You do know your the most gorgeous woman in this room? In every room? Hell, even in outdoor spaces you're hotter than the Singapore sun."
You two fall into a fit of tipsy giggles.
God, things were so easy with Alex.
There was obvious chemistry. A connection. And, not to mention, the tension between the two of you was palpable.
You wonder if he feels all of this too.
But, you don't have to wonder for too long.
"Go on a date with me", he offers. When he sees the surprised look on your face, he doubles down. "I'm serious, Yn. I've always had a crush on you, but now it's undeniable. Seeing you again and getting to know the woman you are now...it's impossible for me to let you get away a second time."
"Are you sure this isn't the spicy margaritas talking, Lexie? I'll forget it in a second if it is", you say, giving him a chance to back out.
"You're kidding, right? I've been pining behind you since I was in go karts, there's no way I'd give up on you now, beautiful."
"Well, then. It's a date, Lexie", you say into his shoulder as you go in for a tipsy hug.
A month later, the two of you have spent more nights on the phone than not. You've exchanged dozens of memes and TikToks. Things are going incredibly well between the two of you.
But, you're oh so nervous for tonight. Your first date with him.
You've only told your best friend and Carmen about it (and a warning to Carmen to not tell your brother). You've even made a group chat to introduce your two friends to each other. And to nervously rant about how you hope this goes well because you really like Alex Albon.
After an hour of nervous ranting before the clock has struck 12 p.m, your confidants decide they must come over and help you get ready.
You'd been ranting about how you didn't know what to wear since Alex had decided to plan you a surprise date. Oh, and what type of makeup do you wear to impress the guy you've known since childhood? Ugh, should I wear heels or do you think he's the type to plan a sporty date? You get the gist.
After an hour of calming you down and another hour of gossip, you three decide on the perfect outfit. Casual enough for something sporty and formal enough to impress. The perfect face of makeup where your best features were highlighted, yet it was obvious you'd put effort into yourself was also worn.
When it almost came time for Alex to arrive to pick you up, your nerves had subsided and your excitement had picked up.
ynrussell posted a story!
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alex_albon i'd never want to rush a lady but i'm outside, darling 😄
↳ ynrussell oh shit. thanks for letting me know lexie. ill be right outside
↳ alex_albon if you need extra time, take it. i made sure to give us some extra get ready time in case
carmenmmundt you look gorgeous, don't fret!!! he'll love your look as much as he likes you babe
yourbestie take a deep breath and enjoy yourself! i've got a good feeling abt this one
georgerussell63 🕵️
After an hour of driving and non-stop chatter, the two of you arrived at...a drive-in movie theatre?
As soon as you realized how much effort Alex put into your first date, you teared up. He'd rented out the whole lot, made sure they were showing your all-time favorite movie, and had already set up a blanket with all your favorite movie snacks.
He was nothing like any man you'd ever gone out with. All the effort and thought he put into the date put him in a league of his own.
As you cuddled up to him during your favorite part, you whispered, "I'm not so sure I deserve this. Or you, Alex."
"You're right. You deserve more than I could ever give you. But, I'll try to chip away at that block every moment, date, and anniversary we spend together."
You'd never been appreciated like this before.
Turns out the one that should be beside you was right in front of you your whole life.
As you sat with that knowledge, you had no idea Alex had another suprise up his sleeve.
When the two of you got up (to get ready to leave and end the date you assumed), Alex suddenly asked you to close your eyes.
When he asked you to open them a few minutes later, you were astounded by what was infront of you. Alex Albon in all his boyfriend glory asking you to be his girlfriend prom style. It was corny and cute and everything you'd ever wanted.
How could he remember?
When you were sixteen, you'd been horribly embarassed by a male classmate. A jock, of course. He had "asked you to be his prom date" in front of the whole school. And the day before prom, you found out from his only half-decent friend that he never wanted to ask you out and only did it as part of a bet. That day you'd come home in tears and ranted to your parents in the living room about how cruel teenage boys are and how you would never ever date one. Turns out little Lexie, who was hanging out with George in the same living room, had been listening to every word you'd said.
This. This was the world's way of saying that every shitty experience you'd gone through with guys was over. Your Prince Charming had finally found you.
You accepted by running into his arms and kissing his face a dozen times. He was smiling wider than you'd ever seen him smile.
You could never ask for more.
alex_albon
Liked by williamsracing, ynrussell, and 230k others
alex_albon busy boy on break 🚖🎥🏙️
view comments ⬇️
williamsracing Alex, its James. Whose that? 🕵️
↳ alex_albon huh
↳ albono1 NOT YOU ACCIDENTALLY REVEALING UR GF????
↳ albono1 only alex albon, everybody 🥀✌️
ynrussellfanz anyone else thinks that girl looks suspiciously like Yn Russell?
↳ albono1 its just the back of a blonde girl 😭 could be anyone
↳ ynrussellfanz no no hear me out
georgerussell63 whose the unlucky lady?
logansargaent Lucky lady, bro 👊🏼
lando Ayo, taken man check
↳ ynrussell seriously stfu and go make out with your situationship on international tv
↳ lando WHAT DID I DO FOR YOU TO HATE ME THIS MUCH OMFG
The second you saw Alex's post you knew it was a matter of hours, maybe days until George figured it all out. That his best mate and his older sister had been dating for three months and not said a word to him. Crikey.
After practically berating Alex for not being more careful, he simply said, "Well, now we can do one of those hard launches you say are so cute."
Not a half bad idea, Albon.
So, you took him up on it.
ynrussell
Liked by alex_albon, carmenmmundt, and 110k others
ynrussell it's always been you for me 💙 @alex_albon
view comments ⬇️
divageorge impending george crash out...
lando oh you are SOOOOOO chopped
oscarpiastri Cute couple 👍
carlossainz55 Congratulations, mate 👍
carmenmmundt so incredibly happy for you two 💕
^❤️ by author
georgerussell63 Am i high?
↳ mercedesamgf1 Mandatory drug testing on Monday, George- Toto
↳ kimi.antonelli for me too Toto?
↳ mercedesamgf1 Never for you, glorious child of mine ❤️- Toto
georgerussell63 What the hell.
georgerussell63 No way in hell
georgerussell63 I'm coming over.
And that's exactly what George did. Except he waited until 5 a.m. the next day when he knew Alex would be sleeping. Like the gremlin he is.
The thing is...you had slept over at Alex's. So, when George barges into Alex's apartment (which he obviously has a key of), he sees you and Alex in bed sleeping together. Like today was just another day in thousands you'd lived through. Like today wasn't a huge fucking deal. As if his closest mate and his sister weren't in a relationship he knew nothing about.
"Alexander Albon Ansusinha", George growls out.
Suddenly, Alex is wide awake and sittinf up. He thought he'd heard thunder or something fall off his night stand until he sees a freakishly tall, slender figure staring at him in the dark.
"WHAT THE FUCK, MATE?"
Alex's sudden yelling wakes you up too. And seeing your brother's figure looming over you in the dark sends you into an even deeper panic.
"George, seriously, don't be ridiculous. Let us get half decent before you start your shenanigans", you start. "But-" he interrupts before you end him by saying, "No ifs, ands, or buts. Let us dress and we can talk in the living room like normal, rational adults."
As George sulks out of the room, Alex is staring at you.
"What?"
"That was hot. Like boss lady shit", he confesses.
"Oh, shut up, you. Put a shirt on and some shorts", you giggle.
Meeting George in the living room before Alex comes out, you give George a warning.
"George. I'm sorry. We should have told you, I know. But, don't be too harsh on Alex. He's...amazing. The best thing that's ever happened to me. Hear him out."
He huffs but sits down when you do. It's not like he really has a choice.
As Alex enters the living room, you can see him nervously wring his hands out. He sits a foot away from you on the couch, but you scooch closer to him and interlink your hands. He lets out a sigh of relief at your proximity.
"George...I just want to begin by apologizing. We shouldn't have hid our relationship from you, that wasn't right. I think we..just got carried away in each other and how well every thing was going. It's been four months of bliss, mate. Your sister, she's amazing. To me. To her friends. I can't believe how lucky I am", Alex begins.
"Neither can I", George mutters under his breath as you cut your eyes to him in warning,
"But, I-I can't apologize for loving her. She's every thing. She's there after a bad day, present during a good one. I can honestly say I've found the one. Every date, night, bad moment is better by her side. I'm just sorry we didn't tell you sooner. Hope you can forgive me, mate", he says, confessing his love for you and apologizing for hiding it all in one breath.
You can see now how taken aback George is. A relationship is easy to be upset over, but love? How can you get mad at someone for finding what many spend their whole lives looking for?
You add, "I'm with Lexie. This, us, has been incredible. It is incredible. He treats me with care and respect and admiration. I trust him in a way I've never been able to trust any man before. I get that you're upset, but please understand...this here isn't some unserious fling. It's two people that care about each other and show it every day no matter what."
Hearing you talk about a man like that made George tear up. He looks at Alex and then at you, before his eyes finally close in on your interlinked hands.
"I won't lie and say it feels good to be left out of such a thing. But, I get it. I can't be mad at you two falling in love. Not the two people I care about most in the world", George expresses.
"But, Alex, if you so much as give her a paper cut..I will end you. On track and off it, I will be your greatest nightmare. You won't sleep a wink or eat another bite of good food. You understand?"
Alex gulps and slowly nods in agreement.
You get up and slap your little brother's shoulder lightly before you settle your head on it. It's impossible to believe that the little boy you once protected is now threatening your boyfriend to protect you.
Once its all settled down, George leaves you two alone.
"So...that went well?", Alex jokes,
"Ha ha. He didn't take it that badly", you seriously agree.
"Oh, for sure. If you don't think about that midly concerning threat", Alex jokingly wipes sweat off his brow as he speaks.
"I'm just happy it's all out in the open", you whisper as you two walk hand-in-hand back to the bedroom.
A week later, Alex invited the Russell siblings out to dinner. He said it was to test the waters but you think he's just trying to show George he's good enough for you.
He opens the entrance door for you, takes the chair out for you, orders your favorite cocktail while your in the bathroom, and holds your hand under the table when it gets too loud in the restaurant.
The best part is you can truthfully say he does all these things and more even without George being present.
But, George does notice. He notices how happy you are with Alex, how considerate Alex is of you, how the two of you talk in sync and laugh at the same moments. Yet, best of all he notices how Alex always notices you. Whether it be putting a table napkin on your dress so it doesn't get dirty or praising you when you underrate yourself, Alex genuinely cares. It's hard to say otherwise.
At the end of the night when your eyelids start to droop and Alex's jacket is falling off your shoulders, he finally admits his defeat.
You two are perfect for each other and there's no denying it.
"Alex, Yn. I..I'm happy you two are together. I see how much you love each other and how much Alex cares for you, Yn. I know neither of you asked for it..but you have my blessing", he says with a rare timid smile.
You smile and go in for a hug...which actually ends with you almost falling on the floor and Alex having to hold you up by the waist.
"Goodnight, Georgie. Alex and I are going hoooome!"
"Night, Yn. I love you, sis", he says.
As Alex nods in farewell, he hears George say, "Night, Albono. I'm happy it's you with her, mate. I know you'll treat her well."
At this, Alex turns around briefly and meets George's eyes with a smile and a nod.
You're rambling about something Alex can't decipher, but he can't help but think that this is the only place he'd want to be. With the only person he'd want to be with.
summary yn loves taylor swift. albon takes her advice
a/n someone asked me to write an albon smau and i thought this was the perfect idea for him
masterlist
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alex_albon always travel with your best friend for good luck
tagged yourusername
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user praying circle for you to score points this weekend 🕯️🕯️
yourusername 🙏🙏🕯️🕯️
user what are you even doing in that first pic
alex_albon picking furniture for my house
yourusername 🤨🤨 i think you meant annoying yn, who just wanted to sleep, into approving your decisions
user well i like your taste alex, those chairs are beautiful
yourusername he has great taste. i taught him all he knows
alex_albon excuse me? all you taught me was not to annoy you on flights🙄
yourusername and how to make brownies! don't forget about the brownies😉
williamsracing carlos' good luck charm is sparkles, alex's is yn🫶
user even williams ships them
user i'm at the same city and breathing the same air as alexyn🤭🤭
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yourusername this is what i look like when i've been dragged out of bed for breakfast after not being able to sleep on the plane ‼️ at least he paid
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user so you really wake up looking that beautiful huh,,, life is so unfair
alex_albon she's stunning every minute of the day
user simp
user what soulmates look like in my books
user not alex carrying all the bags
yourusername as he should💆♀️ it's his main job, driving super fast cars it's just a side thing
yourusername alex_albon never let your well paid and exclusive career keep you from your one true passion<3
user if you had to describe alex in one word what would it be?
yourusername sunshine
user i know they tease each other a lot but you can tell they truly love and appreciate one another so much🥺🥺
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💿i’m only me when i’m with you - taylor swift
yourusername good luck today my alex💗 i was your first fan and i will always be your n1 supporter
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alex_albon you've been with me through the good and bad and always had my back. that spot will always be yours, i love you
yourusername love u more bestie<3
user MY ALEX😭💔
user they are meant for each other you cannot tell me otherwise
user the song i can't🥹 i love them too much
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alex_albon another successful weekend done
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yourusername MAYBE WARN A GIRL??? THIS POPPED INTO MY FEED AND ALMOST SENT ME INTO CARDIAC ARREST???
yourusername who is the guy in the first picture and is he single?🤭🔥
user stop flirting on instagram and kiss
user masterclass drive today
user poor alex carrying yn around the airport
alex_albon are you kidding me? it was too easy. she's so tiny she almost fits in my pocket
yourusername hey😠 it's not my fault you are a giant compared to me
williamsracing the yn effect💙
user is yn excited for taylor's new album??
alex_albon this is my post?? ask her yourself??
yourusername hi lovely, yes I AM!! me and alex are having a listening party
alex_albon she's forcing me
yourusername you suggested it🤨
alex_albon only bc you love taylor and i love you
user i- 🥺🥺 just get married already
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yourusername posted a story
LOOK AT THE DECORATION!! // you did amazing sweetie alex_albon
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Fear is a powerful emotion.
Alex knew all about fear —especially how it had no place in his line of work. Being scared meant you could not do your job properly. Once you are in the car, going 300km an hour, thinking about risk is not on the table.
On his personal life, however, he was always fucking terrified. Any action had consequences. The risks felt too high. It petrified him.
He met her when they were both 16. He knew back then that was his person. It was always her. It would always be. But outside of that car, once he took his helmet off, fear ruled his life again.
And so he convinced himself they were better as friends. Even though he knew she felt the same as he did. Even though she knew how he felt too. He had put on the handbrake years ago and couldn't let go.
But there was another thing Alex knew all too well from his job and that is time. We are all racing a clock. It's a battle we know we are eventually going to lose, we just don't know when.
So the lyrics hit. And so did the realization: his life was passing through while he was a passive passenger, up for the ride. He was letting happiness slip through his fingers. All because he had no idea what would happen on the other side of crossing the line.
But as they say, nothing safe is worth the ride. Driver Alex knew this. Real Alex was beginning to understand this too.
And this was definitely worth it.
It was the push he needed.
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Yn entered the hotel room to find balloons, flowers and letters on her bed. At first, she thought they surely had gotten the room confused with someone else's. This was not meant for her. No way.
Then she read the note.
"for yn. this song always reminds me of you. you're my best friend. -alex"
She didn't have to scan the code to know what song it was. She knew him better than anyone. He knew her better than anyone. They had their connection.
For years she had watched him fight what they felt for one another and waited patiently. She knew he would figure it out eventually. In the meantime, what they had was enough. Because no matter what, Alex was and always would be the greatest thing that ever happened to her. They would always be there for each other through everything.
But every day she hoped— someday.
She turned around, choking on her tears. Alex was looking at her expectantly, trying to decode her reaction.
"Are those good or bad tears? I think you will understand better when you read the letters..."
He couldn't finish his thoughts before she was kissing him. He clung to her like she was all he would ever need.
"I'm in love with you too," she said.
And they were both laughing and crying at the same time, and their kisses tasted salty, and at one point George was banging on the door demanding to know how it went but they didn't care. They finally had each other. Fully and fearlessly.
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💿opalite - taylor swift
yourusername all's well that ends well to end up with you<3
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user this is a hard launch right?... RIGHT?
user i hope this means what i think it means
user i have no one to talk about this with😭
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alex_albon "you're my best friend" and you knew what it was
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user HE IS ! IN LOVE !
user the caption !!! i'm screaming into the void
user what was your favorite song on tloas?
alex_albon i think you know the answer to that one already
summary: alex albon has always annoyed the heck out of you and you always assumed it was because he was your brother's best friend. but at carmen and george's friendsgiving, you find yourself resolving that misunderstanding.
warnings: childhood frenemies to lovers, best friend's brother, age gap (4 years), height difference, angst, fluff, poor humour, pining, reassurance, carmen playing cupid // poorly proof read as usual
word count: 5.0k+
a/n: i lwk think i got diabetes from these two. WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN???? thank you for this anon for requesting this ARGHHHH i luv u.
tag list ♡︎: @moonvr @justaf1girl @cosmix-stxrs @athena63005 @rebekahjonesx
🏎️ masterlist | ⚽️ masterlist
You still remembered when you had first met Alex. 2008. You were seven and your older brother George had been two years into his karting career. The weather had been as grim as England often allowed, grey and dark all over. But perfect for some racing.
The bond between the two was almost immediate as your distaste for the sight of asphalt for the umpteenth time that year. They conversed over the usual as racing nerds: the track, the kart, and some video games. And then you watched Alex's brown eyes sweep past his new friend's head easily, his taller stature making it swift, and found them falling on you.
George noticed, casually shrugging when he turned his head to you. "That's my younger sister. Compulsory attendance, you know. A nuisance really."
You glared at your brother, unaware of the intrigue flickering through the Thai boy's eyes. He blinked slowly, watching a sarcastic smile sprawl over your face as you took a step forward, leaning on the tips of your toes before gently smacking your brother's head.
"Idiot," you muttered, voice soft in his ears as you brushed past the two of them, sending a strong force of wind right past Alex.
You weren't sure if it was that moment or the seemingly natural atmosphere of boys that had set the course of your relationship with Alex. One that allowed him to see the way George stupidly treated you as your older brother (a 'rite of passage' as he would always claim). But from then on out, you welcomed another bothersome boy into your household.
You always thought Alex had learned from George. Pushing the side of your head with the tap of his finger if you were being too nosy, purposely putting things in places you couldn't reach just so he could make fun of you, mocking you by copying what you were saying, hiding your books or your toys, stealing your food off your plate, claiming you looked ugly every two seconds... a bully to say the least.
And suddenly, your entire childhood had been full of two annoying boys rather than one.
As you grew older, your dislike for Alex had become tame and reverent—a notion of stability in your life. Because even when you'd come home and find him lying in your house on some random day, you had learned to find it normal, simply rolling your eyes, curling your lip in distaste, and sauntering off to your room.
Even on track as George and him rose through the motorsport rankings, you found yourself dramatically sighing every time Alex entered the room, finding some backward remark to cite when he actually did well on races instead of complimenting him, groaning when your brother naturally invited him to every goddamn thing you two did together... it never really ended.
But as the years passed and they entered Formula One and you focused on university, you saw less of them. Less of him. Yes, at every family event, he was there. Of course, he was. It would’ve been strange if he wasn't. But somewhere in between, the nuisances that had been bothering you had faded. And well, you grew up.
Which is why, when Carmen, your brother's long-time girlfriend and increasingly looking like your potential sister-in-law, hosted a Friendsgiving with your brother at their house, you had come. George was on break, and you were happy to spend your weekend on something that wasn’t work-related. You couldn't count how many times you had been working overtime. It felt like any form of happiness was slowly just slipping form your hands. So you needed this.
The sun had already set as you had reached, parking your car outside. The ongoing autumn and the upcoming winter made it impossibly darker and colder, leaving you tugging your coat close to your body and your breath billowed out in small smokes—a testimony to the weather. Your eyes raked over George and Carmen's new house. They had just bought it recently and gotten it renovated. With all the dim warm lights leading up to the door and the freshly trimmed hedges and large windows, you had to say it looked pretty good for something that your brother, out of all people, invested in.
You blinked when you heard the crunch of the gravel just a few steps behind you. Turning your body, you immediately found yourself sighing. "Oh great. It's you. Again," you smiled sarcastically at the familiar figure, eyes naturally having to flicker up.
Alex gave you a pointed look, hands at his side as he caught up to you. "Nice to see you again too," he chirped back with an eye roll before taking a quick glance at you. The corner of his mouth quirked up. "What are you? A polar bear?" He queried, questioning the thick coat you wore over your thermal and sweater.
You grumbled under your breath, continuing to walk up the driveway. "What does this look like to you, Alex? Thailand? It's three degrees," you huffed, folding your arms.
He pressed his lips together, preventing the grin form entirely spreading on his face. He wasn’t oblivious to the cold. He himself had waited ten minutes too long for his car to start up properly after spending a few days inside his house. Though, your flushed cheeks and reddened nose were a dead giveaway. It was freezing.
You relished the small moment of silence as you neared the stairs leading up to the front door, unaware of the thin sheet of ice that had frosted over after this afternoon's brief rain shower. Your last step was telling, foot twisting almost instantly while the air around you began to contort and the strange shift of gravity pressed against you. Urgently, your eyes darted out to stabilise yourself. But the pole holding the staircase up was too far for your arm to reach and the six-foot-one male one step down was definitely not an option. The idea of having to touch him to keep yourself up... yup, no way that was happening.
Fuck, you were going to just have to fall.
Alex's eyes almost innately flickered up when he could see your body shake in his peripheral, catching your arms and legs quiver as you lost your balance. His hands instantly darted out, not just moving to hold your arm but your waist, leaving him carrying you in his arms. He calmed the jerk of his heart, trying to ease the tension in his chest. He breathed out slowly, voice thick but covered in tease, "Careful there, polar bear."
You blinked, cheeks entirely reddening with a new flush of heat as you felt Alex's fingers curl around your body as he took the final step up. Holy fuck... holy shit! You had never wanted to die more in your life. You would've been grateful if the earth had just swallowed you whole right now. You pressed your lips together, trying to mask the sheer embarrassment on your face. Why couldn't you have just been symmetrically balanced enough to withstand a little bit of goddamn ice?
You swallowed when you realised he was still holding you in his arms and the doorbell had already been rung, leaving a sliver of terror crawl through your body. The idea of anyone seeing you like this... "Alex, let me go," you huffed, hand hitting his shoulder with a useless thud.
Alex peered down at you, amused. "Well, someone's a little cranky today," he murmured, grin beginning to spread onto his face, definitely not focused on how you perfectly fit in his arms like a baby polar bear.
You glared at him, heat in your skin only deepening further. "Well, maybe someone should shut the fuck up and put me down!" You hissed back, ears perking at the sound of the front door being unlocked. Oh dear God no. No, please, no.
"What in the actual fuck?"
You winced at your brother's baffled expression, his brows knitted together while Carmen tried not to laugh behind him, hand over her mouth. You were sure your face had paled even more, making your burning embarrassment even more evident. Oh my God, this couldn't get any worse, could it?
"What are you doing with my sister?" George queried, incredulous eyes staring at the hands wrapped around your body. There were a hundred things stranger that were more explainable than this situation in front of him.
"Woah! I'm just helping her out! She twisted her ankle on the stairs," Alex explained in his defence.
You blinked, suddenly feeling the throbbing pain in your foot as he reminded you. You had been so caught up in wanting to be swallowed by the earth, you had forgotten what you had actually done to yourself. You breathed out slowly, pressing your lips together as you blankly looked at your brother and his girlfriend. This could indeed get worse.
Carmen cleared her throat, forcefully wiping the amusement off her face. She pushed her boyfriend aside, making way for the both of you. "Let's just sit her at the dining table. George, go grab some ice."
You felt your world shake, hearing your brother grumble under his breath while Alex took a step into the home, easily traversing the new bits of furniture to find you a seat. You didn't dare say a word as he gently put you down on the chair, taking his time as though you were glass and he didn't want to break you. You cursed quietly, feeling your foot fall back again on the chair, sending an ache crawling up your ankle.
You flickered your eyes to Alex who caught your gaze, excessively massaging his arms and hands like you had hurt him. You watched his mouth part, but you had beat him to him. "You make a joke about me being heavy, I swear to God, I will lock you outside in the cold," you threatened.
He raised his hands in his defence. "I would never!"
You narrowed your eyes, moving your attention to George and Carmen. The latter peeled off your coat while your brother actually got down on his knee with the covered icepack in his hand, examining your foot carefully like he had suddenly gotten a degree in medicine. He made a face at the concentrated red flush. "Yeah, that's definitely something. Nothing too bad though. You'll be fine by tomorrow," he muttered, gently applying the cold ice to your skin, making you wince. His eyes flitted up to you. "Don't tell mom and dad. They will literally never let me host again."
"Be nice to me and we'll see," you retorted, poking your tongue out.
Carmen snorted next to Alex, both of them standing a bit more further away. She looked over at her friend knowingly. "You just happened to catch her like that?" She queried with a quiet whisper, brow raised.
Alex's cheeks warmed. Swallowing thickly, he shrugged. "It all happened so fast. George should be glad I did. She probably would've hit her head or something," he argued.
She hummed, not believing those words for a second. She, unlike her dear boyfriend, was not blind. She knew romantic admiration when she saw it. And over the past five years of knowing Alex and you, she was pretty sure he had been crushing on you since you were kids. Perhaps he even loved you now. Who knew? Maybe she could find out today.
Dinner had resumed after the chaos. You should’ve known that this Friendsgiving would basically be a date where you and Alex third- and fourthwheeled because there was no one else here. Just the four of you. And for some reason, that made it worse. Because now you were stuck next to him.
You sighed internally, deciding to stop sulking and actually feed yourself instead as Carmen and George brought out some of the last plates of food. Leaning over the table, you reached for some of the roast chicken. But before you could even serve yourself any, Alex had taken the plate in front of you and spooned a mismatch of food onto it.
You stole a quick glance at him, watching him settle into his chair. "Thanks," you muttered, ensuring you were still polite even if you didn’t particularly want to be. You weren't sure if he heard you considering he had said nothing. Maybe he had just felt bad for you. With your ankle and all.
You blinked in surprise, eyes raking over the assorted foods on the plate he put it back down. This wasn't a mismatch. In fact, those were all your favourites. Roast chicken, sweet potatoes, green beans, and some cranberry sauce. You knitted your brows together. How did he... Well, you supposed he couldn't have really gone wrong. You probably would've eaten almost everything on this table.
Conversation between the four of you fell easily. The smallest chatter was about racing, the rest however, was to catch up on everything you had all missed. The renovations, Carmen's recent magazine interview, Alex's recent sponsor ventures, and last but not least, your work.
"So," Carmen started, playing with her food as she took a quick glance between you and Alex, who had stood up to grab himself and surprisingly, you, a drink. She could see the mystified awe on your face when you realised he had made you you're favourite—a berry mojito because you didn't drink. See the way your brain stopped working, intrigued eyes moving to him. If Alex noticed, he didn't show it. She smiled to herself. "Is there anyone cute at work?"
You and Alex both choked on your drinks while George coughed in despair, sending his girlfriend a pointed look. Carmen rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, George! She's allowed to date!" She huffed, keenly watching the unease that poured into Alex's body.
George curled his lips in distaste as though his girlfriend had just traumatised him. "I would prefer to not talk about a child dating," he retorted, blue eyes narrowing on you like the idea of you in a relationship was the most damaging thing ever.
"I'm your younger sister," you grumbled, taking another sip of your drink. "Not a child," you reminded, settling the cup back down.
Before your brother could even retaliate, Carmen had cut in. "Well?"
You sighed, leaning back in your chair. It was evident you weren't getting out of this any time soon. You rubbed your lips together, clasping your hands together. "There was this guy," you started.
Alex couldn't decide if he wanted to listen or block his ears. But he found himself tuning into your words, jaw growing tighter and heart aching further with every passing second. This guy was from your work... apparently he was really ‘smart’ and and 'cute.' He was in a different department from you, and you had met at a company dinner. He had asked you out the day after. You grabbed drinks with him but 'nothing really clicked' according to you.
"I don't know," you shrugged, staring at your empty plate. "They was nothing... exciting about him, you know?"
Carmen hummed, nodding as she moved her hand to cover George's. "He doesn't piss you off like George does to me," she mostly joked, grinning at the small glare she received.
You pursed your lips, not really registering her words. "Sure," you shrugged again, taking another sip of your drink.
She turned to the man next to you, knowing grin on her face. "And you, Alex?" She queried, leaning her chin on her hand.
Alex blinked out of trance. "M-Me?" He replied, realising all the eyes, including yours, had fallen to him.
Carmen nodded. "Yes, you. Any updates on your love life?"
You quietly watched as Alex delved into it, stating there was nothing much going on really. Except there was this girl. A professional golfer named Lily. She had reached out to him a few times apparently, but he had been too busy to respond. George, being his ever loving best friend, had the courtesy of searching her up.
"She seems pretty good at golf," your brother nodded with satisfaction, tilting his phone to you to give you a glance.
You stared at the photo, mind startling at the strange feeling in your chest. It was tight... yet loose. Freely moving with the purpose of unsettling you. She was pretty. Like really pretty. And while that should've made you excited for this menace of a man next to you, for some odd reason, you couldn't bring yourself to be.
"You should go out with her. Take her out," Carmen goaded, brows raised, eyes narrowed in her provocation. She was poking a hungry bear, and she hoped it unleashed what she wanted.
Alex shrugged carelessly. "I'm not really interested. Besides, she's not my type."
You blinked, finding your lips moving before you could even think. "What's your type then?" You swallowed at the sudden sweep of brown eyes on you, reminiscent of when you had first met him.
George groaned at your question. "Not this again," he muttered, shaking his head at his best friend. He rolled his eyes, looking between you and Carmen in disbelief. "It's always the same thing with him. 'I want someone passionate, kind, and exciting. Someone who makes me feel alive.' How will you find them if you don't reach out?"
Alex chewed on his lip. The problem was he would let this all happen. Because he thought there was something inherently wrong about liking you. He was older than you and George's best friend. He shouldn't like you. He couldn't. He had no problem with liking you from afar. Especially because he was sure you would never see him the way he saw you.
Yes. You were passionate, kind, and exciting. Someone who made him feel alive with every remark and witty response. Someone who made his heart stutter and whir at random times throughout the day. Someone he could laugh with, be embarrassed with... be sad with. No matter how much he teased you as you grew up, you were just that kind of person. His person.
He shrugged, tired of this conversation. "I guess I'll just suffer forever then," he smiled tightly.
You watched how his fingers clamped around his drink like he was annoyed. It was the same way his jaw became taut and clenched, brown eyes all firm and hard. Like he was putting up a guard to protect himself.
You sucked in a sharp breath, forcing a small smile onto your face as you looked at everyone. "Should we clean up?"
Carmen blinked, feeling the tension in the air. It was so thick and heavy. Surely... Surely that was enough, she thought. She nodded, looking over the table, trying to quickly handle this situation. "Yeah, we should," she agreed before pointing to you. "You... You're going to bed with that ankle. Alex, honey. Do you mind?"
"I-I can do it," you interjected, eyes internally frantic.
But George shook his head. "Knowing you'll probably fall up the stairs instead. Just let Alex take you," he mumbled, standing up from his chair to grab the dirty plates.
Alex wordlessly had stood up too, only inches away from your seat, hand ready to help you up. You sighed quietly, taking your brother's words as the final conversation. You smiled awkwardly, feeling his hand wrap around your arm and another move down your back as you got up. He grabbed the semi-melted ice pack and tucked it to the side of his arm while you both quietly inched to the staircase.
You wondered if the grimace showed on your face. Because God, this was about to be a miserable journey.
You sighed as you finally reached one of the guest bedrooms, catching the dark night sky through the window. It had been a few hours since you arrived. You hadn't realised how much time had passed through conversation alone. You took a quick glance of Alex, awkwardly stumbling to the bed with his help. His face looked a bit blank since the conversation downstairs. You wondered whether George had crossed a line.
"Is that okay?" He queried, voice soft and tender as you slowly sat down. A tone you didn't often hear from him. You supposed you two argued too much for that type of gentleness.
You nodded, giving him a small smile, watching him bend down to put the icepack back on your ankle, fingers grazing your skin in a way that made you nervously swallow. You pulled your lip between your teeth, silent as he stood back up, staring at you briefly before turning to leave.
Your lips parted with an urgency unrecognisable by you. "I'm sorry if George and Carmen pushed you too far," you mumbled, heart pacing as he stopped in his tracks, leaving your fingers tightening on the edge of the mattress, knuckles white. "You know how they are," you laughed quietly. "They didn't mean to."
Alex blinked, turning back to you, brown eyes still shining under the rays of moonlight through your window. "They didn't," he replied, capturing the confusion on your face. "Push me, I mean," he clarified.
You nodded slowly, eyes falling to the floor under his heavy gaze. God, what was with you? Were you actually... nervous? You breathed in, clearing your throat. "Thanks for catching me, by the way."
He smiled lightly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Any time, polar bear."
You snorted, the corners of your mouth tugging into a grin. Your eyes flitted around the room. "Do they even have a heater in here?" You queried when you felt a sudden shiver down your spine. It surely wasn't that cold in here. But why was your skin littered in goosebumps?
His head jerked to the side at your question, long arm reaching out to finally turn on the lights. He narrowed his eyes, searching for a source of warmth. The lines on his forehead eased at the sight of the heat pump, easily moving to turn it on. "Better?" He asked, turning to you.
You nodded with a thankful smile. "Yeah, sure," you replied. You peered at him, hand reaching out to pat the empty space next to you before you could think. "You can take a seat if you want. Maybe the alcohol got you tired."
Alex chuckled softly, taking your offer up. He inched closer towards you, crowding your space with the suede cologne he always wore as he sat next to you. "I actually had a mocktail," he murmured, clasping his hands, staring out the window.
You raised your brows, turning to him. "Look at you go. Health freak," you retorted, nudging him teasingly, making him laugh lightly. You knitted your brows together, thinking back to the dinner. "How did you know all that?"
"Know what?" He queried, brown eyes now looming over you. Even as he sat, he seemed impossibly tall. Like he always had his eyes on you, and you were making the effort to look at him.
You shrugged, suddenly feeling a bit shy. "The food, the drink... Berry mojitos are my favourite. And I love apple strudel for dessert," you mumbled, staring at the floor while your cheeks reddened. You prayed he couldn't tell. God, this was embarrassing.
But he did. He always did. He liked when you got flushed and flustered. It made him want to pinch your cheeks or kiss them like he wanted to now. The sight just made his heart soar, and you had no idea how much affected him.
He swallowed after some time. "I just notice," he mumbled like it was nothing. But you weren’t satisfied with that answer.
"Yeah, sure. Some people notice," you agreed, glaring at the ankle that had gotten you into this mess in the first place. "But people only know because they go out of their way to know," you whispered.
The silence that had fallen between you had become impossible to decipher. What you were insinuating... it made the both of your stomachs churn. You were so aware of how your fingers were mere millimetres away from one another, heat radiating off your bodies. And through all of that, Alex wouldn't look away.
"Maybe they do," he finally said, shrugging yet again. His heart screamed at him to do... say something. Yet his mind warned him. You were his best friend's sister. Nothing more. Nothing less. He sighed after taking in a deep breath, oblivious to your stolen glances while he thought. “I should probably go to bed. Let you rest,” he stated like it was the right thing to do.
"Alex," you called out, watching him turn to stand but your hand shot out to grab his, keeping him still. Your heart clambered in your chest, those soft brown eyes making all these years of teasing and annoyance so clear. You could see it on his face. The sheer nervousness... how torn he was denying something he so desperately wanted.
You weren't sure how to reassure him. You didn’t have the words yourself.
Alex watched you lean in, throat bobbing, breath catching. Your eyes that he had fallen for over and over again danced over his face, so softly he thought it was imagining it. Then they fell to his lips. And ever so lightly, you pressed your mouth to the corner of his lip for a few long seconds before you pulled away.
You bit down on your lip, brain fumbling with what you had just done. Fuck. Fuck. Why had you done that? Maybe you'd fix it in the morning. Maybe you were just too tired, and you were dreaming. Perhaps that was the only logical explanation.
You smiled cautiously at him. "Goodnight, Alex," you murmured with a nervous swallow.
It was a signal. For him to leave. He knew you it. You knew it. But he couldn't. Fuck, he just couldn’t. Not when you had just done that. Not when his heart was about to fall right out of his damn chest and his breathing had become uneven. Not when you had made him malfunction with a simple near-kiss.
Alex's hand reached out in and instant, curling around your jaw, feeling your grasp around the other tighten as he pressed his lips to yours. He could feel the warmth of your face instantly as your noses brushed. You weren't alone in it either. His own skin burned while the world around you had faded.
All you could feel was him. His hand on your cheek tugging you closer to him. His other hand turning in your grip, fingers intertwining with yours. His touch was molten. Something like magma. Something unworldly as he kissed you.
Your breath caught when you felt his fingers run down your jaw and fall to your waist. It was like he was trying to stabilise himself. Like if he didn’t, he’d break apart. And he would've. If he hadn't of touched you, he would've crumbled at the feel of your hand snaking past his neck and into his hair, bringing him even closer.
Once. Only once had Alex ever allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to kiss you. And it was even better than he had imagined. It was like he was finally completing his faith as a devout learner of everything you. A confirmation that the belief he had all these years had indeed been worth it.
Yes, you were his best friend's sister. But, fuck, the way you made him feel right now... it didn’t matter. None of it mattered if you were with him.
You tilted your head, pulling back just a smidge, lips barely apart as you both heaved in the silence of the room. You swallowed; cheeks entirely flushed from the kiss and his unwavering stare. "I..." you breathed out, knitting your brows when you remembered Carmen's words. "You excite me..." you finally concluded in realisation.
This was what she had meant.
Alex blinked, nerves more alive than ever. "And you make me feel alive," he shrugged sheepishly, small smile spreading onto his face.
You squinted at him. "I'm your type?" You raised a brow, corners of your mouth tugging upwards in amusement.
He groaned quietly, falling onto to the mattress with a slump. "Stupid George," he grumbled, voice muffled.
You chuckled softly, gently moving your body, careful to not put any pressure on your ankle. You lied next to him, running a hand through his hair, feeling his eyes fall onto your face. You could see it. The wonder if this was just a dream or not. "This is real," you confirmed with a small grin. "Or should I go fall down some stairs again to make sure?"
Alex rolled his eyes despite the edges of his mouth widening into a full-blown smile. He sighed quietly, pulling you in with an arm around your waist, letting himself memorise you when you were this close to him. He didn't know how it was possible, but you were even more beautiful up front. "Can I take you out? On a proper date?" He queried quietly, moving your hair behind from your face.
"I would hope so. You've already kissed me. In George's book, that's basically blasphemy," you teased.
He snorted, pressing his lips to your hand. "He'd probably kill me if he knew I was still in your room," he grumbled. He was gonna have to leave soon. Otherwise, he would be hearing some angry marching up the stairs and he'd find himself sleeping outside in the cold tonight.
"Carmen will convince him. Don't worry," you murmured with a grin. "I think he'll let you stay. What if I fall off my bed and you're not there to catch me? Or I slip going to the bathroom?" You wiggled your brows, curling your hand around his hip, nestling into your chest.
Alex sighed at your suggestions. "You're even more hopeless than I am," he muttered, shaking his head with a smile, heart warmer than ever. He took a small glance down at you, spotting your shut eyes after some time. He smiled even deeper, giving you a soft kiss on your head. "Goodnight, polar bear."
alex albon x !chronically fatigued reader (blurbs/drabbles)
you have always been good at pretending you’re fine — a skill that used to make you feel strong. but lately, “fine” has become a little harder to reach. the fatigue comes and goes like waves, and some days, you can’t quite tell if you’re treading water or just floating.
still, alex never lets you drift too far. he is there before you can even ask, soft-voiced and steady-handed, always knowing what you need before you find the words. with him, even the hardest days feel a little easier to bear — like maybe being cared for could be its own kind of strength.
(day 8 of chef’s tea party series!) (wc ; 5,786) (chronic fatigue syndrome - a biological illness that affects many body parts. It causes severe fatigue not improved by rest, problems thinking and sleeping, dizziness, pain, and many other symptoms.)
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You’d been tired before — everyone gets tired — but this was different. It wasn’t the kind of tired that a nap could fix, or that a good night’s sleep could chase away. This was the kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones, a constant heaviness that made even the simplest things feel impossible.
You’d brush it off at first. Blame it on work, stress, maybe a cold that wouldn’t go away. But when the ache lingered and the fatigue grew worse, when you found yourself sitting on the edge of the bed every morning wondering how you were going to make it through another day — that’s when Alex started to worry.
He never said it out loud at first. He just started showing up. He’d drive you to your blood tests, carry your bag through hospital corridors, make jokes about how he should get a “frequent visitor” punch card for all the waiting rooms you’d sat in together. And even though you’d insisted he didn’t have to come, he’d just grin, that soft, lopsided smile that made you melt every time, and say, “I’m not letting you go through this on your own, love. You’d do the same for me.”
The day of your final appointment, the one where you’d finally get answers, you remember waking up to the sound of rain and the smell of coffee. Alex was already in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, two mugs waiting beside the toaster.
He looked up when you shuffled in, hair messy, eyes still heavy with worry.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said softly. “You feeling okay?”
You shrugged, too anxious to answer. He didn’t push — just came over, kissed your forehead, and handed you a piece of toast like it was a peace offering. He always knew when words would only make things harder.
The drive to the clinic was quiet. His hand found yours at a stoplight, thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin. It was such a small gesture, but it anchored you — reminded you that you weren’t alone in this, even if your mind tried to convince you otherwise.
When the doctor finally said the words chronic fatigue syndrome, it felt like the room tilted. You’d known something was wrong, but hearing it out loud made it real. There was a relief in having a name for it, yes, but there was fear too — fear of what it meant for your future, for the life you’d imagined.
Your throat tightened. You nodded through the explanations and treatment plans, but everything blurred together. You only really came back to yourself when Alex’s hand squeezed yours, grounding you again.
He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t try to fix it — he just stayed beside you, quiet and steady, letting you process it all in your own time.
When you finally left the office, you sat together in the car in silence for a long time. The world outside kept moving — cars passing, rain tapping against the windshield — but it felt like the two of you were in your own small, fragile bubble.
You stared down at your hands. “I don’t know what to do now,” you whispered, voice shaking.
Alex reached over and brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch impossibly gentle.
“You don’t have to know,” he murmured. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
You looked up at him then — his eyes soft, full of a quiet kind of strength — and the lump in your throat broke. He pulled you into him without hesitation, holding you as you cried, one hand in your hair, the other rubbing slow circles on your back.
When you apologized for crying, for being “too much,” he shook his head immediately.
“Hey,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not too much. You’re just… human. And I love you — all of you, even the parts that hurt.”
The rest of the day, he made sure there wasn’t a single moment where you had to carry the weight alone. He stopped by your favorite bakery on the way home, insisting you deserved a “post-diagnosis pastry.” He queued up your comfort show and tucked you into the couch, pulling the blanket over both of you. And when you started to drift off, head against his chest, he kissed your temple and said softly, “We’ll take it one day at a time, okay? That’s all we have to do.”
And maybe you believed him. Because even though you didn’t know what the future would look like, you knew one thing for sure — whatever it was, Alex would be right there beside you. Always.
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The day it all caught up with you started like any other — coffee that didn’t do enough, a commute that felt longer than usual, and a to-do list that seemed to multiply every time you looked away.
You’d been running on fumes for weeks. Between work deadlines and finishing your last semester of school, you’d ignored the warning signs your body kept trying to send. The headaches. The dizziness. The exhaustion that clung to you no matter how long you slept.
You told yourself it was just stress. That once you finished this project, or this class, or this week, things would get better.
But that morning, standing in the middle of a marketing meeting under the harsh fluorescent lights, everything started to blur. Your vision swam, the voices around you became muffled, and suddenly it felt like your body was made of sand — too heavy to hold up, too fragile to keep standing.
Someone called your name. You blinked, tried to steady yourself on the edge of the table, but your knees buckled.
The next thing you knew, you were sitting in a chair, your coworker Emily kneeling beside you, pressing a cool bottle of water into your shaking hands.
“Hey, hey, don’t move, okay? You’re really pale,” she said, worry flooding her voice. “I’m calling Alex.”
You tried to protest, reaching weakly for her phone. “No, don’t — he’s probably training or something. I’m fine, I just need—”
“You nearly fainted,” she cut in. “You’re not fine.”
By the time Alex arrived — twenty minutes later, breathless, wearing his Williams hoodie and worry etched into every line of his face — you’d managed to convince yourself that it was all a misunderstanding. Just low blood sugar. Maybe dehydration. Something simple.
“Hey, love,” he said softly as soon as he saw you, kneeling down in front of your chair like you were made of glass. “You okay?”
You tried to smile. “I’m fine, really. You didn’t have to come all the way here.”
He frowned, eyes scanning your face, the slump in your shoulders, the faint tremor in your hands. “Yeah, and yet here I am,” he said gently. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”
You wanted to argue — to tell him you had emails to send, that there was a presentation next week you couldn’t fall behind on — but your body betrayed you the moment you stood up. The room tilted again, and Alex’s arm was instantly around your waist, steadying you.
“That’s it,” he murmured, already guiding you toward the door. “Home. Now.”
You didn’t fight him this time.
The drive was quiet. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting over yours, thumb moving in slow, soothing strokes. Every few minutes, he’d glance over to check that your eyes were still open.
When you finally made it back to your apartment, he helped you out of your shoes, guided you to the couch, and disappeared for a moment — returning with a glass of water and one of his oversized hoodies.
You changed into it without protest, too tired to pretend anymore. He sat beside you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
“You’ve been pushing too hard,” he said softly. “I can see it.”
You sighed, staring down at your hands. “I can’t just stop, Alex. I’m almost done with school, and work’s already short-staffed. I just have to make it through the next few months.”
He tilted his head, studying you like he was trying to figure out the best way to reach you. “Or,” he said carefully, “you could take a step back before you burn yourself out completely.”
You frowned. “You mean quit?”
“Not quit,” he said, shaking his head. “Just… take some time. Go part-time, or take a break until you finish school. Focus on you for a bit.”
You laughed softly, but it came out strained. “Alex, I can’t just sit around at home while you’re working so hard—”
“Why not?” he interrupted gently.
“Because it’ll look like I’m mooching off you,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I don’t want to be that person, Alex. I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me because I’m—”
“Stop.” His voice was soft, but it carried enough weight to make you look up. His eyes met yours, steady and sure. “You’re not mooching. You’re recovering. There’s a difference.”
He reached for your hand again, holding it between both of his.
“I make more than enough to take care of both of us, okay? And even if I didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
You blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Hey.” He squeezed your hand. “You could never be a burden. You’re the person I love. Taking care of you isn’t something I have to do — it’s something I want to do.”
You didn’t have the energy to argue after that. Not when he looked at you like that — like there was nothing in the world more important than making sure you were okay.
“Come on,” he murmured after a moment, standing up and holding out his hand. “Bedtime. Doctor Albon’s orders.”
You managed a weak laugh as he guided you to the bedroom. He helped you change into your comfiest pajamas pants, tucked you under the blanket, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“Stay put,” he said softly before disappearing for a few minutes. When he returned, he was carrying a tray — crackers, one of your favorite teas, and a heating pad. “Dinner of champions,” he teased gently, setting it beside you.
You smiled, tired but touched. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”
He climbed into bed beside you, careful not to jostle you. “Yeah, well,” he said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close, “you said that about the doctors, too. And we both know how that turned out.”
You let out a quiet laugh against his chest, the sound muffled by the fabric of his hoodie. His hand moved up and down your back in slow, comforting motions.
“Rest, angel,” he murmured. “Everything else can wait.”
And as you drifted off, the exhaustion finally giving way to something softer, you realized he was right. Everything else could wait — because with Alex beside you, you finally felt safe enough to stop fighting your body for a while.
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The rain had been falling since dawn, soft and steady against the glass walls of your apartment. Monaco looked blurred from where you lay on the couch — gray clouds hanging low over the harbor, streets slick and glistening.
You hadn’t left bed that morning. The fatigue had crept up slowly the day before and decided to stay, turning your limbs heavy and your thoughts sluggish. Even sitting up for breakfast had felt like too much effort. Alex had noticed right away — he always did.
He came padding into the living room in one of his old hoodies, hair still damp from his shower, holding a mug of tea in one hand.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said gently, crouching beside the couch. “How’s the energy level today?”
You gave him a small, tired smile. “Running on fumes.”
He brushed his thumb across your cheek. “Then today’s an official recovery day. No laptop, no guilt, no doing anything that doesn’t make you feel better.”
You started to protest, but he was already heading toward the bathroom. A few minutes later, you heard the sound of water running.
“Alex…” you called weakly.
He reappeared in the doorway, smiling softly. “Bath. Bubbles. Candle. Your favorite playlist. You’re getting the full spa treatment.”
You laughed under your breath. “You really don’t have to do all that.”
“I know,” he said simply, “but I want to.”
So you let him. The bathroom smelled faintly of lavender and vanilla by the time he helped you in. The water was warm, steam curling up around you, and Alex sat nearby on the tiled floor, rolling up his sleeves as he handed you a soft sponge. He didn’t hover or rush you — just stayed close enough that you felt safe, his voice quiet as he told you about a silly thing one of his engineers had said at the factory that week.
When you finished, he wrapped you in a fluffy towel and helped you to the bedroom. The rain outside had picked up, tapping gently on the balcony doors. He sat you on the edge of the bed, plugged in your hair dryer, and began working through your hair with patient hands. You watched him in the mirror — his brow furrowed in concentration, his touch impossibly gentle.
He caught your gaze and smiled. “What?”
“You look like you’ve done this before,” you teased.
“Many sisters,” he said, laughing softly. “I’m basically a professional.”
When your hair was dry, he surprised you again — pulling out a small bottle of nail polish from your nightstand.
“Figured we could match,” he said with a grin, showing his own fingers already painted in the same soft blue.
You couldn’t help but laugh. “You painted yours?”
“Of course. Equal pampering rights.”
He sat cross-legged on the bed, carefully painting each of your nails with the kind of focus he usually saved for race starts. The sight made your chest ache — in the best way.
Later, he rubbed lotion into your hands and shoulders, the slow, rhythmic motion of his thumbs easing away the tension that had built up over weeks of strain. Every time you tried to thank him, he shushed you gently. “Just relax,” he whispered. “Let me take care of you today.”
The rest of the afternoon drifted by in soft colors — the rain, the smell of candles, the quiet hum of your favorite playlist. You dozed off with your head on his chest, and when you woke up, he was still there, tracing idle circles on your arm and watching the light fade from the window.
By evening, you felt lighter. Not perfect, not cured — but better. The ache in your muscles had eased, and the fog in your mind had thinned. You rolled over to face him, your eyes glassy with emotion.
“Thank you,” you whispered. “For all of this. For… everything.”
He smiled, thumb brushing beneath your eye where a tear had gathered. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do,” you said, voice breaking slightly. “You make the hard days feel softer. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’d do exactly what you always do — you’d keep going. I just get to be the lucky one who walks beside you.”
You exhaled shakily, curling closer to him until your head rested against his heartbeat. The rain still whispered outside, steady and soft, like a lullaby.
Alex tightened his arm around you and murmured, “See? Told you we’d make today better.”
You smiled against his chest, the last of your worry melting away. With him, it always was.
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The morning of qualifying felt almost normal again — the kind of day you used to take for granted. The sky above the circuit was a sharp, brilliant blue, and the hum of the paddock buzzed with its usual weekend energy.
You’d been doing better lately. The new medication was finally starting to work — steadying your energy, softening the edges of the exhaustion that had held you hostage for months. Alex had been hesitant to bring up the idea of you traveling again, but when you mentioned wanting to come to this race, the way his whole face lit up had made it impossible to say no.
“You sure you’re up for it?” he’d asked that morning, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as you stood in front of the mirror.
You’d smiled. “I feel good today. I want to be there.”
He’d kissed your temple, soft and lingering. “Then that’s exactly where you’ll be.”
Now, standing beside him in the paddock before qualifying, you could almost forget the rough days entirely. The air smelled faintly of burnt rubber and espresso, mechanics hurried past with tires and radios, and Alex looked completely at home — laughing with one of his engineers, his race suit half-zipped as the team made final preparations.
You were leaning against the barrier outside hospitality, chatting with Kika and Rebecca, when the first flicker of dizziness hit.
It came on suddenly — not the full, crashing wave of a bad flare-up, but enough to make the world sway a little beneath your feet. Your heartbeat picked up, your breathing shallow. You tried to steady yourself, pressing a hand against the cool metal railing.
Kika noticed first. “Hey,” she said softly, touching your arm. “You okay?”
You nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just stood up too fast, maybe.”
But Alexandra, standing just behind you, frowned. “Sit down for a bit, amour. It’s really hot out here.”
Before you could argue, Rebecca was already flagging down one of the Red Bull hospitality staff for a bottle of water, and Flavy appeared like she’d materialized from thin air, her expression all calm efficiency.
“Come,” she said in her soft accent, guiding you toward the shaded seating area beside the garage. “We’ll get you out of the sun.”
You let them lead you, grateful even as you tried to insist you were okay.
The paddock could be chaotic during qualifying — photographers, camera crews, fans. But somehow, the girls managed to create a little bubble of peace around you. Kika positioned herself near the opening of the seating area, casually blocking the view from one of the camera angles. Rebecca handed you the cold water and crouched beside your chair, her expression gentle but firm.
“Drink, please,” she said with that big-sister tone that made it impossible to disobey.
Alexandra sat on the arm of your chair, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Alex is still in the garage,” she said quietly. “I’ll let him know you’re okay after qualifying, but for now, just focus on breathing, okay?”
You nodded, the tightness in your chest starting to ease. Flavy fanned you and smiled. “See? Team effort. We’re good at this.”
The comment made you laugh softly, even as you blinked back a few overwhelmed tears. “You guys are ridiculous. I’m gonna cry.”
“Ridiculously good at taking care of you,” Kika chimed in, grinning.
They stayed like that with you through the entire session — chatting quietly to distract you, keeping the mood light. Alexandra told a story about Charles accidentally shrinking one of her sweaters in the wash, which sent Rebecca into a fit of laughter. Flavy handed out mints “for the placebo effect,” and Kika kept updating you on Alex’s lap times, pretending she was his race engineer.
By the time qualifying ended, the dizziness had eased. You could feel your strength slowly returning, the fog lifting a little. When the girls finally relaxed and looked at you, you could see the relief in their eyes too.
Alex found you not long after — flushed from adrenaline, hair sticking up in every direction, a huge smile on his face. He’d qualified well, but his expression shifted the second he saw you sitting with a blanket over your legs.
“What happened?” he asked immediately, crouching down beside you.
“Nothing bad,” Kika said quickly, smiling at him. “Just a little flare. We took care of it.”
Alex looked at you then, eyes softening. “You okay, love?”
You nodded. “I’m okay now. Promise.”
He brushed a thumb over your cheek, his other hand settling on your knee. “You sure you shouldn’t head back to the hotel?”
“I want to stay,” you said quietly. “I feel better now. The girls were amazing.”
He glanced at them, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips. “You four are actual angels.”
Rebecca grinned. “We know.”
Alex chuckled, leaning forward to kiss your forehead before standing again. “Alright, but we’re taking it slow tonight. No after-qualifying dinner, okay?”
You rolled your eyes affectionately. “You say that like I was planning to go clubbing.”
He laughed, shaking his head as he ruffled your hair. “Just checking.”
Later that evening, back at the hotel, you curled up against him in bed while the rain started again outside — a soft, familiar sound against the windows.
“You were right,” you murmured, your voice sleepy. “About letting people help.”
He kissed the top of your head. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”
You smiled, half-dreaming already. “I think I finally get that.”
As you drifted off, surrounded by love — his, theirs, the quiet strength that came from not having to hide anymore — you realized that even on the hard days, you’d never been more held.
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You hadn’t planned on doing much for your anniversary this year. Between your classes, traveling with Alex, and the constant effort it took to manage your symptoms, the idea of a big night out felt like more pressure than celebration. Still, part of you felt guilty — seven years together deserved something more than takeout and an early bedtime.
Alex, though, seemed perfectly at ease with your lack of plans. He hadn’t pushed or hinted at anything; he’d just said, “We’ll do whatever feels good for you, love. That’s the whole point.”
So when you came home that Friday evening, worn out from your last lecture of the week, you didn’t expect much beyond a quiet night in. You kicked off your shoes at the door, tossed your bag on the counter — and then froze.
The living room was unrecognizable.
Blankets had been draped from the backs of chairs and the couch, forming a sprawling fort that reached almost to the television. Fairy lights lined the walls, casting a soft golden glow that made everything feel warm and dreamlike. There were pillows everywhere — big ones, small ones, the ones you always stole from his side of the bed — piled into a nest in the middle of the floor.
And there, half-hidden under the fort’s blanket entrance, was Alex.
He was wearing one of his old hoodies and a grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Welcome to the Albon Anniversary Hideout,” he announced, holding out a hand to help you crawl inside. “Admission fee: one hug.”
You laughed, already smiling as you dropped to your knees. “You did all this?”
“Maybe,” he said, pretending to consider. “I might’ve had some help from a very small, very mischievous cat, but yes — guilty as charged.”
Inside, the fort was even cozier. The fairy lights twinkled overhead, and the smell of your favorite food drifted from the coffee table — a perfect, slightly chaotic spread of Thai takeout, fries, sushi, and your favorite sparkling drink.
Your chest tightened, a rush of affection bubbling up that you could barely put into words. “Alex… this is perfect.”
He shrugged, but there was pride in his smile. “I figured the last thing you needed right now was a fancy dinner or more noise. This way, we can eat, watch something, and not move for hours.”
You grinned. “You really know the way to my heart.”
“I’ve had seven years of practice,” he said softly, tugging you closer until you were tucked against his side.
The two of you ate inside the fort, cross-legged on the floor, trading bites and laughing at how ungraceful you both were. At one point, you dropped a piece of sushi on one of the blankets and tried to grab a napkin before it stained, but Alex just shook his head, grinning.
“It’s fine,” he said, nudging your shoulder. “Adds character.’”
When the food was gone, he reached for the remote. “Okay, so, this next part might make you emotional,” he warned, pretending to look serious.
You tilted your head. “Why?”
He pressed play, and the opening credits of The Grand Budapest Hotel began to roll — the first movie you’d ever watched together back when you were still awkwardly getting to know each other.
You gasped. “No way.”
“Oh, yes way,” he said, smirking. “I even remembered your favorite part is the pastel bakery scene, so I ordered those little strawberry cakes from that place you like.”
You blinked, speechless for a moment. “You’re unbelievable.”
He smiled, leaning closer. “You mean unbelievably in love with you?”
You groaned. “You had to ruin it with the cheesiness.”
“Sorry, it’s my brand,” he said, kissing your temple.
Halfway through the movie, you found yourself curled against him, your head resting on his chest. His fingers traced lazy shapes along your lower back, his heartbeat slow and steady under your ear. The lights outside the fort flickered softly with each movement of the breeze.
“This is my favorite anniversary,” you murmured sleepily.
“Yeah?”
You nodded. “It’s quiet. And warm. And you.”
He kissed the top of your head. “That’s the goal, love. I just wanted you to have a night where you didn’t have to think about anything. No school, no deadlines, no trying to act like you’re okay when you’re not. Just this.”
You tilted your chin up to look at him. “You’re too good to me.”
He smiled, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “No such thing.”
The movie ended sometime after midnight, but neither of you moved. The rain had started again — gentle and steady — and it mixed with the faint hum of the city outside. You lay tangled together under the blankets, the warmth of his arm around your waist keeping you anchored.
“Happy seven years,” you whispered, tracing the fabric of his hoodie.
He looked down at you, eyes soft. “Happy seven years, love. I’d do all of it again — every part.”
You smiled, your chest aching with something that felt bigger than words. “Even the bad days?”
“Especially the bad days,” he said without hesitation. “Because they brought us here.”
You leaned up to kiss him — slow and lingering, the kind that felt like a promise instead of a moment.
When you finally pulled back, you laughed quietly. “I think the fort’s my new favorite place.”
“Good,” he murmured, tucking you closer. “Because I’m never taking it down.”
He didn’t, not for days — because somehow, inside that little fort of blankets and fairy lights, the world finally felt light enough for you both to just breathe.
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The months that followed were quiet in the best way. For the first time in what felt like forever, life began to settle into something steady — something peaceful. The constant weight you’d carried for years, that exhausting heaviness that used to follow you everywhere, had started to lift. The new medication combination was working. Therapy was helping. You were finally starting to feel like yourself again — not just surviving, but living.
Alex had been there every step of the way, of course. Every doctor’s appointment, every long night of journaling or overthinking, every small victory that might’ve gone unnoticed by anyone else — he celebrated it. The first time you got through a week without a major flare, he brought home cupcakes. When you mentioned feeling like your energy was coming back, he booked a weekend getaway to the coast, saying you deserved to see the sunrise without worrying about how you’d feel that day.
Now, standing in your cap and gown, surrounded by your classmates, your chest ached with pride. The university courtyard buzzed with laughter and applause, the sound of hundreds of students tossing their caps into the air echoing like confetti in sound form.
But all you could focus on was Alex — standing near the front row of the crowd, hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted your name. He was clapping so hard his palms were probably red, smiling wide enough that it hurt to look at him without tearing up.
When your name was called, you stepped forward to receive your diploma, the world slowing around you. You’d dreamed of this day for so long — and there it was. You were here. You’d made it.
Alex met you outside after the ceremony, weaving through families and graduates until he found you. Before you could even say a word, he pulled you into his arms, spinning you once in a circle.
“I am so, so proud of you,” he said against your hair, his voice thick with emotion.
You laughed through tears. “You helped me get here.”
He shook his head. “No, love. You did this. You fought for this. You didn’t give up, even when it felt impossible. I just held the flashlight while you found your way.”
You smiled up at him, eyes shining. “You’re such a sap.”
“And you love it,” he teased, kissing your forehead.
Later that evening, when the noise and congratulations had faded, Alex insisted on taking you out to celebrate — just the two of you. He wouldn’t tell you where you were going, only that you should wear something nice and comfortable.
When you finally arrived, it took your breath away.
He’d rented out the small rooftop terrace of a quiet restaurant overlooking the Monaco harbor — your favorite view in the world. The space was softly lit by string lights and candles, the golden glow reflecting off the calm water below. A small table was set with white linen, wine glasses, and a vase of your favorite flowers. The sound of gentle waves carried through the air, mingling with faint music playing from a speaker hidden somewhere nearby.
You turned to him, your heart swelling. “You did all this?”
He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had a little help from the staff. But yeah… I wanted something private. Just us. Somewhere quiet where you could breathe.”
You laughed softly, taking his hand. “Alex, it’s perfect.”
Dinner was slow and easy, the kind where conversation melted effortlessly into laughter and silence felt just as comfortable. You talked about everything and nothing — about your favorite memories from university, about the trips you wanted to take now that you finally had time, about the simple joy of finally feeling okay.
At one point, you looked at him across the candlelit table and said, almost in disbelief, “I forgot what this felt like — to just… be happy.”
He smiled, eyes soft and warm. “That’s all I ever wanted for you, love. Not to fix everything, not to make you perfect — just to see you happy.”
You blinked back tears. “You really have no idea what you mean to me.”
He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “I think I do.”
The night was winding down when your phone buzzed on the table beside your plate. You almost ignored it — you didn’t want to break the moment — but when you glanced at the screen, your heart skipped.
It was an international number. One you recognized.
You frowned, answering quickly. “Hello?”
A cheerful voice came through the line. “Hi, is this YN? I’m calling from Williams Racing — we wanted to discuss your recent application for the head of marketing position.”
Your breath caught. Alex’s head snapped up, watching you carefully as your eyes widened.
“Yes, this is her,” you managed, trying to keep your voice steady.
The woman on the other end continued, “We were very impressed by your portfolio and your interview a few weeks ago. After a lot of consideration, we’d love to officially offer you the position — starting next month, if you’re still interested.”
For a moment, you couldn’t speak. You mouthed wordlessly to Alex, who was already grinning like he knew what was happening.
“Are you still there?” the woman asked gently.
You laughed, breathless. “Yes! Yes, I’m here — I would love to accept. Thank you so much.”
They went over a few quick details before ending the call, and when you hung up, your hands were shaking.
Alex didn’t even let you put the phone down before pulling you into his arms, spinning you around just like he had that morning. “You got it?!”
You nodded, laughing through tears. “I got it! I’m the new head of marketing for Williams!”
He set you down, cupping your face in both hands, his grin unstoppable. “You’re incredible, you know that? My girl — graduating and landing her dream job in the same day? You’re unstoppable.”
You laughed again, overwhelmed by how full your heart felt. “It doesn’t feel real.”
“It’s real,” he said softly, brushing a tear from your cheek. “And you deserve every second of it.”
You leaned in, kissing him under the warm glow of the lights — slow and certain and full of every unspoken word you didn’t need to say.
When you finally pulled away, you whispered, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
He shook his head, smiling. “You would’ve done it anyway. But I’m really glad I got to watch.”
Later, you danced barefoot on the terrace, the city lights glimmering in the distance and the soft hum of the ocean below. Alex twirled you once before pulling you against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head.
“This feels like the start of something new,” you murmured.
“It is,” he said quietly. “The start of everything you’ve been working for. And I’ll be right here — cheering you on, just like today.”
You looked up at him, your heart full to the brim. “Seven years,” you said softly.
He smiled, leaning down until your noses brushed. “And a lifetime more.”
The rest of the night unfolded like a dream — laughter, kisses, promises whispered into the dark. When you finally walked home hand in hand, your diploma in one arm and his jacket around your shoulders, you realized something that made your chest ache in the best way:
You’d spent years fighting to feel normal again. But with Alex, “normal” had turned into something extraordinary. And for the first time, the future didn’t feel heavy — it felt wide open.
cw: fem!reader, logan sargeant twin sister, complex parent relationship, shitty & manipulative mom, grid mom nicole piastri, good friends!grid, good brother!logan, soft max verstappen, adorable alex albon, some soft james vowels slander, yn use. logan calls reader ‘ynnie’. alex calls reader ‘sunshine’. probably some typos.
smau + written mini series
a/n: this feels like a fever dream. i haven’t slept and i’ve been working on this for two days straight and my brain is still going. send help.
multi part fic, maybe four total.
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logansargeant, ynsargeant | october 2021
liked by oscarpiastri, williamsdriveracademy, alex_albon, and others…
logansargeant your favorite twins signed to williams driver academy! thank you for having us (both).
ynsargeant: dream come true
williamsdriveracademy: we’re so excited to have you (both)!
oscarpiastri: williams has no idea the chaos they’ve opened themselves up to
| ynsargeant: pfft, you love our chaos
| oscarpiastri: ynsargeant ‘love’ is a strong word
alex_albon: welcome to the family!
| logansargeant: alex_albon thanks, alex!
| ynsargeant: alex_albon thanks albon!
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williamsf1team | october 2022
tagged: logansargeant, ynsargeant
liked by logansargeant, ynsargeant, alex_albon, and others…
williamsf1team the sargeant twins will both be taking to the track this weekend in austin for free practice 1, making history as the first americans to join a grand prix weekend since 2015!
ynsargeant: so exited! thanks for the loan, alex_albon!
| alex_albon: ynsargeant please don’t crash my car
logansargeant: thank you for the opportunity!
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f1updates | november 2022
liked by fan, fan, fan, and others…
f1updates williams racing team principal jost capito said both logan and yn sargeant have been signed to williams for the 2023 season, pending they have the necessary fia super license points! whoever finishes higher in the f2 championship will be partnered alongside alex albon, the other will be the team’s reserve driver.
fan: that’s… a choice
fan: holy sibling rivalry
| fan: fan seriously. they’re better than me and my brother because we would 100% sabotage one another if there was an f1 seat on the line.
fan: it’s giving team principal who can’t make a decision
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williamsf1team | december 2022
tagged: alex_albon, logansargeant, ynsargeant
liked by logansargeant, ynsargeant, alex_albon, and others…
williamsf1team introducing your 2023 williams f1 team drivers: alexander albon and logan sargeant! alongside the pair is yn sargeant as our reserve driver!
logansargeant: thank you!
alex_albon: it’s going to be a great season!
fan: okay but yn literally finished one singular point behind logan in the f2 championship but had a more consistent performance across the season. i’d have picked her in a heartbeat
| fan: fan the tp said whoever finished higher. they’re just following through on their word
ynsargeant: it’s an honor!
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ynsargeant | december 2022
tagged: logansargeant, oscarpiastri
liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and others…
ynsargeant your favorite trio is headed to f1!!! mama, we made it!!
logansargeant: the paddock isn’t ready for us 💁🏻♂️
oscarpiastri: 2023 rookies forever!!
mamasargeant: i’m so proud of you, my babies!
nicolepiastri: you’re all amazing! see you in melbourne 🤍
alex_albon: should we be afraid? because i’m a little afraid.
| ynsargeant: alex_albon we’re harmless!
| oscarpiastri: alex_albon she bites
| logansargeant: alex_albon can confirm
| ynsargeant: alex_albon oscarpiastri logansargeant it was ONE TIME!
fan: the 2019 rookies are about to meet their match
| fan: fan they won’t know what hit them
lilyzneimer: WOO HOO!! my besties!!!
| ynsargeant: lilyzneimer leave oscar and marry me
| lilyzneimer: ynsargeant immediate yes
| oscarpiastri: ynsargeant please stop trying to steal my girlfriend
| ynsargeant: oscarpiastri never!!
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logansargeant, ynsargeant | NYE 2022
liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri, fan, and others…
logansargeant i don’t know about you, but we’re feeling TWENTY-TWO
ynsargeant: everything will be alright if YOU KEEP ME NEXT TO YOUUUU
alex_albon: happy birthday!
oscarpiastri: happy birthday to two twenty two twins
liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, nicolepiastri, and others…
ynsargeant time with my honoury mama piastri at our koala’s home race!
nicolepiastri: love seeing you both! 🤍
oscarpiastri: please stop trying to steal my mum and my girlfriend
| ynsargeant: oscarpiastri no
fan: nicole piastri is mum to all the 2023 rookies
| fan: fan i want her to be my mum, too
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ynsargeant | story australia 2023
tagged: alex_albon, logansargeant, oscarpiastri
tough weekend for the williams’ boys but KOALA HOME RACE POINTS!!!
replies
alex_albon: your sympathy is overwhelming
| ynsargeant: i do feel really bad, okay? i’m just so proud of oscar 😭
mamasargeant: take care of your brother!
| ynsargeant: i always do.
oscarpiastri: could be better
| ynsargeant: so could your car 💀
| oscarpiastri: strong words from a reserve driver
| ynsargeant: ouch
| oscarpiastri: too soon?
| ynsargeant: way too soon
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williamsf1team | miami 2023
tagged: logansargeant, ynsargeant
liked by logansargeant, ynsargeant, alex_albon, and others…
williamsf1team in honour of their home race, yn sargeant drove in fp1 in miami, rocketing up into p4 behind both redbulls and the mercedes of george russell!
ynsargeant: thanks for the loan (again) alex_albon!
| alex_albon: ynsargeant we just need to get you your own at this point.
| ynsargeant: alex_albon hard agree
fan: AMERICA RAH RAH RAH!!
fan: WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER!!!
fan: putting that tractor in p4 is impressive. someone needs to give her a seat
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ynsargeant | story miami 2023
tough weekend for my 2023 rookies
replies
fan: ‘tough’ they’re both driving tractors
oscarpiastri: can i blame the car?
| ynsargeant: yup
logansargeant: no luck at the home race
| ynsargeant: we’ll try again in austin!
alex_albon: i need to know how you managed fourth in fp1
| ynsargeant: i just… drove?
| alex_albon: show me in the sim next week
| ynsargeant: sure?
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yn -> mama sargeant
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f1gossip | miami 2023
liked by fan, fan, fan, and others…
f1gossip yn sargeant and who appears to be her mother were seen arguing heatedly outside a hotel after the miami gp.
fan: this is like, a crazy level of privacy invasion
fan: who yells at their own child like that
fan: logan nowhere to be seen
fan: okay but can we talk about this being the first time we’ve ever seen them in public together? their mom is always with logan
| fan: fan right! i’ve seen yn with nicole more than her own mother
fan: okay but what were they arguing about
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alex -> yn
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f1updates | austin 2023
liked by fan, fan, fan, and others…
f1updates it’s been a long season for sargeant and williams fans. crash after crash for car number 2; some due to mechanical issues but a lot due to the driver. how long can williams go on like this?
fan: they put the wrong sargeant in the car
fan: american fans everywhere are so ashamed
fan: god i need austin to bring a better result
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williamsf1team | austin 2023
tagged: logansargeant, ynsargeant
liked by logansargeant, ynsargeant, alex_albon, and others…
williamsf1team logan will be out this weekend due to illness; yn sargeant will be driving car number 2 in austin this weekend!
ynsargeant: ready to do my brother proud!
fan: is logan okay?
| logansargeant: fan flu a, strep, and covid but i’ll live!
fan: williams podium? 👀
fan: i’ve been waiting for this moment. yn fans RISE!
| fan: fan american pride through the ROOF rn
fan: first ever american, female f1 driver. EVER
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you looked at your ringing phone and sighed heavily, knowing you needed to answer, despite wishing you could throw the damn thing in the river.
“hello, mother,” you greeted, exasperation evident in your tone.
“you shouldn’t be racing your brother’s car,” she started her lecture. “it’s not right.”
“my entire job is driving when alex or logan cannot,” you explained. “that’s why they pay me.”
“you’re supposed to be his supporter, not his competitor.”
“he is ill, mother. so ill that he was told he was not to drive. what would you have me do instead? say ‘nah, that’s alright, i’ll just quit my job’? i mean, come ON.”
“you can’t out score him. or alex,” she demanded.
“why not?”
“because he has never out scored alex. you can’t be seen as better than him.”
you resisted the urge to tell her you WERE better than your brother. “i am expected to race my best for the team. again, that’s my JOB.”
“your JOB is to be a good sister, a good daughter,” she countered.
“i AM. it will still be points to sargeant in car number 2.”
“but to the GIRL sargeant,” she scoffed. “it would emasculate your brother and undermine all he’s ever worked for.”
“jesus christ, mom!” you lost your composure. “i gave him the fucking seat, just like you asked! i sandbagged last year for HIM, for the FAMILY! i gave up my dream for HIM. can’t you let me have one fucking race?!”
“you sound like a brat right now, yn,” your mother chided. “you’ll do the right thing if you want to come home for christmas.”
without another word, the line clicked off and you resisted the urge to scream. digging your palms into your eyes, you did your best to collect yourself before someone found you.
“sargeant?” a familiar accented voice called. “what are you doing out here?”
“verstappen,” you greeted, wiping the traitorous tears from you face before turning to look at him. “just getting a moment of silence.”
he studied you, not judging, just observing. the red rimmed eyes, the phone clenched in your right hand, your red nose.
“i get it, you know,” he said softly. “the pressure to conform to what someone else wants. knowing that the punishment for not meeting that expectation is loss of love.”
“i don’t know what you-”
“you don’t have to lie, kid,” he laughed gently, kindly. “i see you. but i also can keep a secret like none other.”
you were silent for a few moments, finally feeling comfortable and still. “he doesn’t know.”
“i’d bet not,” max agreed. “you’re too good a sister for that.
“a bit of advice, from a vet to a rookie?”
you nodded, welcoming it.
“do what makes you happy. be true to yourself. they’ll always find a reason you aren’t worthy in their eyes. fuck ‘em.”
“thanks, verstappen,” you said, sniffling again. god, how good it was to be seen for the first time in your life.
“max,” he corrected. “just max.”
“yn, then.”
“i’m here, if you need to talk.”
“thanks, max,” you said genuinely.
“anytime.” he went to walk away, but paused and smirked. “give them hell, kid. prove them all wrong. i expect to see you with me on the podium.”
you laughed as he walked away.
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f1gossip | austin 2023
liked by fan, fan, fan, and others…
f1gossip only hours after it was announced yn sargeant would be racing in her brother’s stead this weekend, she was seen in tears during a phone conversation. what is happening?
fan: my baby
fan: i hate how often she’s seen crying when good things happen to her
fan: wanna bet it was her mother on the other line? i haven’t forgotten those miami photos
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williamsf1team | austin 2023
tagged: alex_albon, ynsargeant
liked by alex_albon, ynsargeant, logansargeant, and others…
williamsf1team a flawless qualifying in austin that will see car 2 starting p5 and car 23 in p10. well done, alex and yn!
logansargeant: that’s my twin!!
oscarpiastri: go, yn!
fan: mega drive from yn!
fan: no way that’s the same tractor logan and alex drive every weekend.
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ynsargeant | close friends austin 2023
nicole taking on mama duties at my debut gp and home race because my own can’t be bothered!
replies
nicolepiastri: i love you so much, my girl! always proud of you
| ynsargeant: thank you, mama nicole 😭
oscarpiastri: i’m not even mad
| ynsargeant: that’s pity you’re feeling
alex_albon: sunshine :(
| ynsargeant: don’t start.
maxverstappen1: remember kid: fuck ‘em. drive like hell.
| ynsargeant: see you on the podium
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f1 | austin 2023
liked by fan, fan, fan, and others…
f1 yn sargeant made history this weekend! the reserve driver is the first ever american woman to drive an f1 race and scored an impressive p3 at her debut race AND home race, AND clinched fastest lap. fantastic job!
fan: RAH RAH RAH!!!!
fan: oh logan has to be gutted rn
fan: GIRL POWER !!!
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williamsf1team | austin 2023
tagged: ynsargeant
liked by ynsargeant, logansargeant, alex_albon, and others…
williamsf1team historic drive from yn sargeant this weekend! a well earned p3!
logansargeant: my twin!!
alex_albon: go, yn!
fan: she’s everything to me
fan: someone better give her a seat asap
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ynsargeant | austin 2023
liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer, and others…
ynsargeant p3… it still doesn’t feel real… thank you to the team for an amazing race and my brother for all his support. i told you i’d make you proud.
logansargeant: i am the most proud
oscarpiastri: MEGA!!!
lilyzneimer: THAT’S MY GIRL!!!
ynchildhoodbff: YEAH BABY!!!
nicolepiastri: proud mum over here!! 🤍
williamsf1team: brilliantly driven!
fan: my wife
maxverstappen1: great race, kid! show them who you are.
| fan: maxverstappen1 mr verstappen, what are you doing here?
| fan: maxverstappen1 oh this is so sweet wtf
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enjoy!
check out my other driver smaus op81, cl16, and ob87.
