For The Love Of The Game - Masterlist

For the Love of the Game - Masterlist

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drinking, Mild language, Angst, Minor injury, Smut (Minors dni, marked with **), Enemies to lovers trope!

a/n: This series is now complete :)

✶ Part One ✶

✶ Part Two ✶

✶ Part Three ✶

✶ Part Four ✶

✶ Part Five ✶

✶ Part Six ✶

✶ Part Seven ✶

Drabbles/One-shots (chronological after the main series, excluding the prequel)

Bucky realizing he’s falling in love. Prequel one-shot.

First time**

The fight

Bucky gets injured during a game

Going pro

What You’ve Got

In seven years

💙⚾️Playlist by @buckystarlight

Inevitable (Series Masterlist) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. ot6)

Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, talks of insecurities, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, making out, straddling, unprotected/protected penetrative sex but be safe please! specific warnings will be written on applicable chapters)

Series Word count: ~76.8k

Summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

A/N: I love exes aus, and (athlete) dad Jungkook does things to me and after months of this little family living in my head, I finally got to put them into writing. So I hope you enjoy knowing them as much as I loved writing them 🥰 Also, my knowledge on baseball (and the MLB and the KBO) is quite shallow so for wrong terms and stuff… please ignore!

Prologue (wc: 2.2k)

Chapter 01 (wc: 6.9k)

Chapter 02 (wc: 7.2k)

Chapter 03 (wc: 7.7k)

Chapter 04 (wc: 9.9k)

Chapter 05 (wc: 7.5k)

Chapter 06 (wc: 7.7k)

Chapter 07 (wc: 6.6k)

Chapter 08 (wc: 14.7k)

Epilogue (final) (wc: 6.3k) || completed

masterlist

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agustdyoons

3 years ago

love grows where you go.

synopsis: › determined to make you and yoongi grow closer for your upcoming wedding in two weeks, your parents plan a trip for the both of you that lasts five days long. you know you should be ecstatic about it, considering your longtime crush on your fiancé, but by how you’re positive that he secretly despises your whole being, you don’t find this mini vacation with him something to look forward to. that is until things take an unexpected turn and suddenly, he makes it apparent he doesn’t hate you at all as you reckoned.

pairing: yoongi x reader

word count: 11.4k

rating: 18+

→ fic preview

opening note. hello! this is my entry for ‘the summer bucket list’ collab event by @jamaisjoons with the prompt “watch the sunset on a beach” !! um, i feel unsure about this tbh but that’ll be elaborated in the ending note hehe. but for now, i hope yall enjoy reading !!

Keep reading

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agustdyoons

3 years ago

cyberslut | myg sm au

banner by: @dee-ehn

🖇 synopsis:

— he has no idea who you are… up front, you’re sweet and innocent - but in reality you’re the exact opposite. running your own nsfw account, where your favorite topic is his hands.

[ cyberslut: a person who will act openly sexual on the internet, yet in real life will act prudent and contained. ]

pairing: jock(fuckboi)!yoongi x nerdy(virgin)!reader

fic type: social media au

side ships: (platonic…) vmin.

genre: smut!! college au, secret identity, tutoring au, slight themes of infidelity…

warnings: yoongi and his friends are dicks :/ - yn is way too horny all of the time… there’s a lot of sexting… no full nudity.

*BYR: yn knows yoongi is the guy she’s posting abt… yoongi does not know abt yns acct (until he finds out). yoongi nd yn have never talked before the start of this fic.

status: completed!

A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!

parts:

bonus drabbles…

prologue: homeroom hottie

character profiles: yn, her alter ego, nd besties

character profiles: yoongi nd the boyz

part one: invasion of privacy

part two: private sessions

part three: pretty prints

part four: went viral

part five: malleable substances

part six: fellow fish nerd

part seven: long night

bonus: fuck me

part eight: fucking prude

part nine: under the bleachers

part ten: buzzer beater

part eleven: mentally fucking

part twelve: deductive reasoning

bonus: turn the page

part thirteen: teachers pet

part fourteen: surprise me

part fifteen: emotion sex

part sixteen: sexy mermaid

part seventeen: not finished

time jump: untapped ass

part eighteen: give a fuck

part nineteen: not dating

part twenty: away game

part twenty-one: at your pace

bonus: nervous and excited

part twenty-two: petal

part twenty-three: too messy

part twenty-four: drunk yoongi

part twenty-five: being stupid

part twenty-six: superior couple

part twenty-seven: iconic parties

part twenty-eight: twenty minutes

part twenty-nine: risk it

part thirty: reformed fuckboy

part thirty-one: nice change

part thirty-two: public event

part thirty-three: bars and clubs

epilogue: on purpose

epilogue: fucking nerd

end

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agustdyoons

3 years ago

boyfriend things OT7

first edition - middle of the night

second edition - love at home

third edition - post break up

fourth edition - dancing

fifth edition - there’s nobody else

sixth edition - love in primary colors

seventh edition - one day at a time

eighth edition - kisses

ninth edition - dreams in reality

tenth edition - hugs

eleventh edition - when you lay in between my legs it doesn’t matter

twelfth edition - human and love sound similar don’t you think so?

thirteenth edition - heavier ground

fourteenth edition - you should have turned the page

fifteenth edition - what if your love radiates his name through your gaze

sixteenth edition - peace is closer than you realize

seventeenth edition - coming soon!

1K notes View Post

agustdyoons

2 years ago

Hii! Its me again! The anon who requested the Jihoon x perfect reader. I perfectly understand and I don't blame u at all! It's ok if u don't want to write it anymore. But if u ever decide to finish writing it, here are some of the parts I requested (Tbh, I don't remember much of what I requested):

- Jihoon and the reader are academic rivals

- They get paired up for a project (because they are the top of the class)

- The project makes them closer. Close enough for Jihoon to crush on the reader

- Because he saw her (or them. Depends if u want to write it in a gender neutral pov) with another classmate, he sorta gets jealous

- This leads to him exposing his crush hehe

Tysm for taking the time to read this! <33

Green Tea Latte

Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader (ft. Wonwoo and Soonyoung, mentions of the rest of Seventeen, mentions of Red Velvet's Joy aka Park Sooyoung :))

Synopsis: Jihoon is not the jealous type, but you make him green in more ways than he can handle.

Genre: Fluff, crack, more angst than I was intending, jealous!jihoon, perfectionist!jihoon, hardworking!reader, kind of E2L?, high school!au, FACS class, mild baseball!au

Warning: Use of profanity, mentions of parents passing away 😕 (reader lives with her older brother), food, one joke about polyamory, improper childcare of a doll, jealousy, insecurities, unedited (I apologize . . . I couldn't find a beta reader and I wasn't gonna go back and read all of this because my own work makes me cringe - I'll fix it some day T^T), inaccurate portrayal of high school, jihoon is quite crass at the beginning - I think that's it? Please lmk if there's more!

WC: 9.7K

Permanent taglist: @nanamioo @bibinnieposts

A/N: Anon who requested this 😭😭😭 My sincerest apologies for finishing this so dang late! Thank you for requesting Jihoon btw! Initially, this plot was set out for Jeonghan, but I figured. just maybe I could spin it for Jihoon :) I've struggled for a long time to find a good concept for him, but alas, here we are! I hope it lives up to your expectations 💙 I also apologize in advance - I'm a tad of a masochist, so if the ending isn't what you were expecting, I'm sorry 😅

Hii! Its Me Again! The Anon Who Requested The Jihoon X Perfect Reader. I Perfectly Understand And I Don't

“And last, but not least, we’ll have one group of three: Y/N, Jihoon, and Wonwoo,” Ms. Choi announced, quickly slapping his roster shut with one hand. His eyes scanned the classroom for any signs of confusion. “If there are no other questions, please find your partners and come check out one of the infant dolls. I’ll also give you the packet that contains all the instructions and worksheets for this final project – please review it tonight and have questions ready for class tomorrow.”

With the clap of her hand, students all around you started shuffling around the room to make way to their partners. You, on the other hand, remained seated in your desk in the third row by the open windows, eyes trained on your hands clasped in front of you. The spring humidity seemed to grow increasingly uncomfortable and no amount of fan or breeze could stifle the sweat sticking your hair to your forehead. Was your uniform jacket always this itchy and heavy?

Slowly, you craned your neck to look to the other side of the room to see if he was making his way over. When you caught a glimpse of him, Jihoon was sitting sideways in his seat, one arm resting on his desk and the other slung over the head of his chair. His facial expression, his eyes narrowed at you with the slightest crinkle in between his brows as if he was glaring at you.

His backpack slung loosely over his shoulder, Wonwoo collapsed lazily into the seat in front of you. Despite the loud scraping of the chair against the white tiled floor, you paid no mind to him. A heavy sigh left Wonwoo’s lips as he leaned back against the window and glanced over, pushing up his black-rimmed glasses to better follow your line of sight.

Wonwoo already knew: The final project for Family and Consumer Science was going to be interesting.

Lee Jihoon hated you and he never tried to hide it. The whole senior class, even some of the teachers, knew that he had a strong distaste for you. Jihoon was never really a people person; he was stoic and kept to himself. If not in school, most of his hours were spent on three things: studying, baseball, and music. His only true friend was Soonyoung; everyone else, he was either acquaintances with or good teammates at best. Even then, Jihoon and Soonyoung’s friendship was questionable as the former seemed annoyed half the time they’re spotted together.

You were special, however – to put it nicely. Ever since you skipped the latter half of your first year of high school and joined their class, their second year of high school, Wonwoo had never seen Jihoon so peeved by someone before. Wonwoo had an inkling it had to with the fact that you persistently knocked him off the podium as the number one student in all the courses you shared.

Calculus? If Jihoon got a 98%, you got a 99%.

The competition for Mr. Jung’s creative writing class? If Jihoon got second, you got first for best story – granted, only the two of you and Joshua had entered for extra credit.

Ms. Park’s impossible biology lab practical? Jihoon was happy with his A, until he heard you aced it.

To put it simply, the two of you were academic rivals and never had to work together on group projects until now – with Wonwoo, of course.

“Hi,” Wonwoo cleared his throat. This was his first time interacting with you. He had always seen you around in classes the two of you shared, but never made an effort to befriend you either. It wasn’t that you were cold, most of their classmates got along with you well – similarly to Jihoon, Wonwoo preferred keeping to himself as well. People watching high school students was a rather fun pass time.

“So,” Wonwoo awkwardly tried again when you didn’t respond. He glanced over to see if you were paying any attention to him yet. He frowned and nudged your hand when he noticed your eyes were still lingering on Jihoon. You perked at the brush of his finger against your knuckles.

“Hi,” Wonwoo greeted you again.

“Hey,” you said softly.

Wonwoo scratched the back of his head, “Class is going to end soon – should we go talk to him?”

“Uh, y-yeah, sure,” you muttered. Robotically, you slipped out of your desk and began walking down the aisle, weaving in between desks to get to Jihoon. Wonwoo followed in suit, though not as gracefully, jutting his hip into the edge of a few brown desks every now and then.

You didn’t even have a chance to greet Jihoon, however.

“I’m going to ask Ms. Choi if I can do this assignment individually,” Jihoon deadpanned. Shoving his hands into his pants pocket, he stood up in front of you. His eyes flitted between Wonwoo and you. “You guys can be parents to your own stupid doll – I don’t have a problem being a single dad.”

. . . .

“This is stupid,” Jihoon spat, tossing the packet across the table. Wonwoo slowed the chewing, nervously lowering his red bean bread bun into his lap. He shared a knowing glance with you.

“It is,” you sighed, nodding once. You reached over to the packet and flipped it open a couple pages. “But we have to do it to graduate.”

Jihoon paid no mind to your comment, still clearly upset that Ms. Choi wouldn’t let him do this final FACS project on his own.

“The purpose of this assignment is to introduce you to the challenges and collaboration of parenthood and raising children,” Ms. Choi insisted sternly.

“There are single parents out there, you know?” Jihoon had shot back.

“Lee Jihoon,” Ms. Choi warned.

He lowered his guard and cleared his throat.

“I well-aware that there are single parents out there, but there are not enough infants–”

“They are dolls,” Jihoon interrupted.

“There are not enough infants for students to do this assignment individually,” Ms. Choi continued, ignoring the teenage boy’s snark comment.

“Can I at least trade partners then?” Jihoon asked.

“It’s important for you to learn how to work with others,” Ms. Choi straightened a stack of papers, clacking the short edge against her desk. “Even if you don’t get along with them. You do not exist in a void, Mr. Lee. Wonwoo and Y/N are good students – give them a chance, you might be surprised.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes when Ms. Choi turned back around.

“Is there anything else you want to clarify about this assignment, Jihoon?” Ms. Choi asked, a stern hand on her hip when she turned around.

“No,” he grumbled.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow then,” she dismissed him. Her eyes flitted to the awkward pair of students standing in the doorway behind Jihoon. “I believe your partners are waiting for you.”

And that’s how Jihoon found himself here: Sitting at a cramped table in the dinky convenience store down the street from school that is always out of Diet Coke because the three of you didn’t get time in class to discuss the project.

“Essentially, we just have to take care of this baby for a month,” Wonwoo fingered through the packet, his eyes skimming over the thick of words, “Do the things on this checklist, discuss our experience as a group, and then turn-in a paper or diagram of our choice documenting our experience?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. You twiddle your thumbs, your eyes occasionally flitting to Jihoon sitting kitty corner to you. You were well aware he didn’t like you and that made you nervous.

“Our experience should be interesting,” Wonwoo commented. He reached for his banana milk and took a long sip.

You furrowed your brows together in confusion. “Why?”

“Because it’s a polyamorous parenthood, duh,” Jihoon answered for Wonwoo. The former choked on his banana milk, coughing up a fit.

You blushed, shrinking back into your seet, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable between the boys. Wonwoo eyed you nervously, noticing the way you clasped your thighs together, sticking your hand underneath your thighs, and shifted nervously in your seat.

“Dude,” Wonwoo warned.

Jihoon shrugged. “Am I lying?”

Wonwoo sighed. Indeed Jihoon disliked you, but did he have to be borderline harassing you like this?

“Don’t say shit like that – It makes it uncomfortable for all of us,” Wonwoo chastised him, not trying to single you out. His gaze flickered to you briefly. You gave him a small smile in thanks for trying with Jihoon. “It’s just a group project – let’s get this done, graduate, and get out of here.”

“How do you want to split up the work?” Jihoon ignored Wonwoo, asking the group instead. His eyes flashed down to his phone. “I gotta get to baseball practice soon, so hurry.”

“We can just switch every day in a pattern? Me for one night, Wonwoo for the next, then Jihoon?” you offered. “We don’t have to worry about the baby during the school day since Ms. Choi said we can return them to her room.”

It was a reasonable suggestion, but it still bothered Jihoon.

“First of all,” Jihoon started, “It’s a doll, not a baby. Second, that’s dumb and inconvenient.”

You winced. Your patience was suddenly running thin. He didn’t like you, but did he have to be so crude? What the hell was his problem?

“I don’t think so,” Wonwoo frowned, also starting to get annoyed with how stubborn Jihoon was.

Jihoon glared at Wonwoo – why was he suddenly siding with you? Did the shy anime-like boy have a crush on you?

“I’m busy,” Jihoon said as if it was obvious. “I have baseball practice nearly every day after school as we’re getting closer to the end of the season, which means sections? Competition is hot – I can’t be hauling that thing around the field.”

“Then you take it during the weekend,” you blurted, finally having enough of his crap. He was the one being unreasonable – as if you and Wonwoo weren’t busy either.

“That’s not –”

“Isn’t it though?” you challenged. “If you’re too busy to do your part during the weekday, the weekend is the least you can do? Wonwoo and I can split the work during the week.”

“We have to spend time together too – as parents with the baby,” Wonwoo piped up, reminding the two of you about the other requirement he spotted. “At least once a week.”

Jihoon groaned, muttering a few curses underneath his breath.

“Let’s just meet on Fridays then and use that time to discuss and gather info and do the reflection,” you suggested.

“Why are you making all the scheduling decisions here?” Jihoon asked accusingly. “You’re not the only one here, Y/N. We have lives outside of school, you know? Fridays are usually baseball games for me.”

“Fine,” you relented, crossing your arms over your chest. “What do you propose?”

Jihoon mirrored your posture, leaning back into his seat. “There’s three of us and seven days of the week. One day, we’ll meet together, so that leaves six. You take the stupid doll for first two days, I’ll take him for next two days, and Wonwoo the other two.”

Your phone buzzed in your lap.

Sooyoung: Where are you?

Sooyoung: Hyun is starting to wonder where you are – hurry!

You quickly shot your co-worker a text that you would be there soon and glanced up at Jihoon and Wonwoo who were still in discussion – though it was more of Jihoon talking at Wonwoo.

“Two days for each person with a third for us to meet together sounds fine to me,” you announced when the chatter died down. You pointed towards the door, rising out of your seat. Your hand wrapped around the navy blue and yellow carseat, holding the infant. “I need to go – I’ll take the baby today and tomorrow, and hand it off to Wonwoo on Wednesday. Text me if you need anything.”

“‘I need to go’,” Jihoon mocked you. He scoffed and sank down into his seat.

Wonwoo frowned. “Why do you dislike her so much?”

Through the convenience store's glass window, he watched you cross the empty street. Your ponytail swung back and forth behind you like a horse’s tail, the keychain of the white character with the glistening eyes and pink cap clipped to your black backpack mimicking the same motion.

“I . . . don’t know,” Jihoon muttered.

. . . .

“What if it’s because you’re jealous, my friend?” Soonyoung pointed his dripping cherry red popsicle at Jihoon. The sun was already setting after a long three hours of baseball practice. Rather than going home right away, Soonyoung somehow convinced Jihoon to go hang out at the park, where the latter ended up venting and recounting his day, updating his best friend on the situation with the FACS final project, finally ending with Wonwoo’s incredibly stupid question.

“What? Am not,” Jihoon protested.

Soonyoung smirked, his tongue, a matching shade of red, flicking out to lip the droplet that was about to drip onto the pavement underneath the swings they were sitting on. “Are too – literally, you were top of the class since middle school until she came along and stole your thunder.”

“Impossible,” Jihoon refused to believe his best friend.

“Justin Bieber said, ‘never say never,’” Soonyoung glanced over at Jihoon and nodded, knowingly.

Jihoon refused to believe though – he knew himself best, right? And he knew he wasn’t the jealous type. He never cared about competition and winning. He was the type to just do his own thing, worked hard, and ended up at the top – until you, obviously.

“Well, why else would you dislike her so much then?” Soonyoung probed. The last small chunk of cherry popsicle slipped off the stick and splattered on the blacktop underneath him. It melted quickly into a puddle on the hot surface.

“What if I don’t dislike her?” Jihoon proposed.

Soonyoung gasped – Jihoon assumed it was just a delayed reaction from dropping the last of his frozen treat, but his next words took Jihoon by surprise.

“Does this mean you like her?” Soonyoung asked, eyes wide. “You’re pulling a tsundere – like, like . . . Kyo Sohma from Fruit Basket or Tsukishima from Haikyuu!”

“What the – no!” Jihoon exclaimed. In his swing, he pulled away from his friend trying to loosen his grip on his arm. “That’s not what I meant, Soonyoung. I don’t like her, but I don’t dislike her – she’s just a person . . . who I find annoying.”

Soonyoung sat back down into his swing, letting out a brisk ‘tsk.’ He slumped his shoulders forward, his hands wrapping around the rusted chains. His lips placed in a pout, his eyes flickered quickly to Jihoon before they turned back to focus on the black top underneath them. “She’s not really though . . .?”

Jihoon’s face hardened, furrowing his brows together, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. What did Soonyoung know about you that Jihoon didn’t know?

Shifting uncomfortably under Jihoon’s intense glare, Soonyoung started pushing himself back and forth on the swing with the toe of his sneaker. “Y/N’s . . . She’s actually . . . uh, really nice? And helpful.” Soonyoung nodded, content with his description.

“And I’m not?” Jihoon asked bluntly.

Soonyoung pointed a finger at his friend. “I didn’t say that – see, you’re being jealous right now.”

Jihoon shook his head. “No, please – just enlighten me. What’s so nice and helpful about her?”

“One time, walking into school, I tripped and spilled my papers everywhere,” Soonyoung straightened his shoulders. “No one helped me pick up my stuff, but Y/N saw and helped, and asked if I was okay.”

How pathetic, Jihoon thought to himself. Soonyoung was such a soft person – so easy to please.

“Soonyoung, that could’ve literally been anyone –”

“But no one helped me, did they?”

“It’s one incident.”

“She had chemistry with me that semester,” Soonyoung continued to explain, hoping Jihoon could see the better side of you. “I messed up my experiment and she stayed behind to help me.”

“Okay,” Jihoon tilted his head, “I guess that’s kind of nice.”

Soonyoung let a beat pass, carefully observing Jihoon’s reaction.

“If you weren’t so peeved by her, I might’ve . . . tried to be her friend more,” Soonyoung sulked.

“Are you blaming me, right now?” Jihoon asked in disbelief.

“Yeah – a little bit. She’s cute.”

“Cute?”

Soonyoung straightened his spine in the swing, refusing to look at Jihoon out of embarrassment – And Jihoon knew. Jihoon knew that sulking, childish look better than anyone. It was that look Soonyoung gave him when Jihoon made fun of him for being a SHINee fanboy when they first met. It was that look that Soonyoung gaven when Jihoon came to pick him up from detention their third year of high school and didn’t talk to him the whole bike ride home. It was that look Soonyoung gave when Jihoon didn’t pay enough attention to him and ignored Jihoon for a whole week.

He was annoying, but Jihoon couldn’t help but cave in because that damned look made his heart ache a little. And as much as he hated to admit, high school was a little lonely when Soonyoung wasn’t around. Jihoon didn’t have that many friends, frankly. Taking in a deep breath with his eyes closed, knowing he had to calm down and approach this carefully before Soonyoung threw another fit.

“D-do you . . . did you . . . like her?” Jihoon finally choked up. He side-eyed his best friend who was hiding his face in the shadow of his baseball cap.

Eventually, Soonyoung gave a small nod that if Jihoon wasn’t watching him like a hawk, he would’ve missed it.

“Fuck,” Jihoon whispered under his breath. “Do you still like her?”

“I dunno,” Soonyoung shrugged in defeat, “She’s cute and she was really nice, but I haven’t talked to her long enough to know.”

Pressing his lips into a tight line, Jihoon got up from his swing and awkwardly made his way over to Soonyoung. His hand hovering over his best friend’s shoulder, he hesitated for a moment, eventually clamping down.

“There, there,” Jihoon muttered.

“Give her a chance,” Soonyoung said after a moment, “For me?”

He peered up at Jihoon again – those damn shining eyes.

“Fine.”

. . . .

So . . .

Maybe Soonyoung was right.

You weren’t that bad.

Most importantly, you did your part of the project and you did it well. Unlike most of his peers he had been in groups for projects, not only were you diligent, but you were thorough – even if it was just FACS class. You paid attention in class and took notes on how to care for infants. You studied them after class and put the skills you learned into use. He watched you swaddle Haeyoung, the name the three of you, mostly Wonwoo, decided to name the doll, with care and feed it the plastic bottle with white-colored fluid that didn’t come out of the rubber nipple as if it was your own child. You didn’t even grimace when you had to change its brown diaper (yes, this doll was programmed to poop – wild). When Wonwoo almost dropped it on its head, it was you who saved it and placed it properly back in his arms. You didn’t even get mad at Wonwoo as Jihoon almost did – you just . . . laughed and told him it was okay.

You were never friendly with Jihoon as you were with Wonwoo, but at the very least, you were courteous and professional. That was enough for Jihoon. He wasn’t expecting the three of you to be best friends at the end of this project anyhow. The things the three of you decided to do was starting to become . . . fun – kind of. Jihoon wasn’t big on ‘going out,’ but morning walks in the park, afternoon coffee shop hangouts, and dinner at Wonwoo’s house were becoming bearable. Jihoon had always chalked this up to Wonwoo being present and serving as a buffer between you and Jihoon. However, one particular afternoon in which your third member couldn’t join the two of you, made Jihoon question the reality of your situation.

Sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair of the coffee shop, Jihoon played with the straw of his iced coffee, waiting for your arrival. He peered at his watch wondering where you were. It was almost 5PM – you had agreed to meet up half an hour ago.

The bell hanging above the entrance of the cafe clanged as a new customer walked it. Shortly after your voice, a little breathless, called out to Jihoon from afar, “Hey!”

Jihoon looked up, tilting his chin in your direction as you made your way over to his table. You looked rather frazzled. Your hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and you sported a white t-shirt with faint, but questionable splotches of yellow and brown.

“Took you long enough,” Jihoon muttered.

“Sorry for being late,” you cleared your throat, not hearing Jihoon’s snarky remark. You adjusted Haeyoung’s car seat in the chair next to you. “Um . . . family stuff came up.”

“Sure,” Jihoon replied. He leaned over, setting his elbows on the table. He watched you unzip your bag and pull out a red spiral notebook. Fringes from paper being ripped out of it stuck out on the edges. “Did you want anything to drink before we start?”

You stared at Jihoon blankly. You were thirsty admittedly, but you also knew you probably couldn’t afford anything here. Knowing your situation, Wonwoo had usually offered to buy you something, even if you refused.

“No,” you shook your head and flipped open to a fresh page.

“You sure? You don’t want to get your usual green tea latte?” He pointed at the cashier counter.

You froze in the middle of uncapping your blue pen. “H-how . . . how did you know that was my go-to order?”

Jihoon shrugged like it was no big-deal. “Wonwoo always buys it for you when we come here – and I remember you said once you don’t like caffeine.”

“Uh . . . I’m good – I don’t need any today,” you cleared your throat, positioning your pen over the blank piece of paper. “Let’s just get this over with and go.”

“Okay,” Jihoon replied, repositioning himself in his seat. No matter how hard he tried, however, he couldn’t shake off the weird turbulence swarming in his chest.

. . . .

With some time before dinner, the two of you opted to walk around town with Haeyoung to make up for “family time” that your group didn’t spend last week. Indeed it was awkward, you were two enemies walking around with a fucking doll for heaven’s sake. However, it was oddly comforting walking around mindlessly without feeling the pressure to talk or listen constantly.

Unfortunately, his peace was interrupted sooner than expected.

“So,” you started slowly, “What were you doing before the meeting today?”

Give her a chance.

Soonyoung’s word echoed in Jihoon’s head as he walked with you shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Just . . . some conditioning,” Jihoon grunted.

Your eyes widened slightly. “For baseball?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon replied. He cleared his throat.

“That’s . . . some intense training – no rest,” you commented.

“If you want to be good, it’s what you gotta do.”

The conversation fizzled out pretty fast afterwards as neither of you were sure where to go from there.

“How about you?” Jihoon managed to croak as the two of you crossed the street. He shoved his hands into his black joggers.

“Hm?” you hummed in confusion.

“W-what . . . where were you before the meeting,” Jihoon clarified, “You were . . . uh, late, you know?”

Annoyed that he had to bring that up, you side glanced at him before answering. “I was at work.”

Jihoon raised his brows in surprise. “Oh? You work.”

“Yeah,” you replied curtly.

“Where at?”

“M-my . . . older brother’s restaurant.”

“Your family owns a restaurant?”

You shook your head, swallowing your saliva nervously. “J-just . . . my brother.”

“Do your parents work there too?” Jihoon asked bluntly. Genuinely, he was confused. Assuming your older brother wasn’t that much older than you, most young adults didn’t have enough money to own a restaurant at this age.

You stopped walking altogether, your chin dipping into your chest as your gaze fell onto the pavement before you.

“Are you okay?” Jihoon asked curiously, dragging out each word.

“I . . . don’t . . . my parents aren’t around anymore,” you finally answered him.

Shit.

“Oh,” Jihoon scratched the back of his head, “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you muttered immediately, “Don’t feel bad . . . they’ve been gone for a while – it’s w-whatever. I just . . . try to help out my brother when I can and he pays me some so I can . . . have money . . . for stuff.”

Jihoon let out a soft hum. His stomach flipped out of guilt. The two of you continued to walk in silence a little longer, the afternoon sun casting a shadow across town. It was almost supper time, most of the streets empty as people have lingered into nearby restaurants or driving home. The soft hum of engines sounded in the distance. Did Jihoon try to make conversation with you? Does he just keep walking in silence? If he talks to you, what does he talk about? Certainly not your parents.

Thankfully, however, you seemed to answer his questions for him.

“So . . . um, baseball,” you started, your grip tightened on the stroller. It was now Jihoon’s turn to side glance at you. “H-how’s the season going?”

“Good,” Jihoon replied simply, “Ish.”

“Ish?”

“I mean, it could be going better, but we’re working through it and nothing is set in stone yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had a fair amount of wins, but also losses,” Jihoon explained, “I’m . . . not sure if we’re going to make it to sections.”

“Um . . . what are . . . sections?” you asked stupidly. You didn’t play sports – not competitively at least. You didn’t have the time nor money for it.

“They’re like . . . when you play against teams from different cities, not just other schools in your district,” Jihoon nodded, satisfied with his explanation, “So like . . . we played Bangtan High, but in sections, we might play a team from Anyang.”

“Oh,” you hummed, the pieces starting to come together.

“You don’t play much sports, do you?” Jihoon found himself chuckling.

You shook your head.

Give her a chance.

Soonyoung’s voice echoed in the back of his mind again. An idea started to form in Jihoon’s mind. You were making an effort to talk to Jihoon, perhaps not as friends, but . . . acquaintances – and perhaps this was a good chance for Soonyoung. Admittedly, Jihoon did feel bad for preventing him from being friends with people he wanted to be friends with.

“You should come to one of my baseball games,” Jihoon suddenly offered.

Heat traveled up your back and colored the tips of your ears. You felt warmth spread across your cheeks, immediately, tearing your gaze away from Jihoon. You thought he hated you; now, he was suddenly offering you to come to one of his games?

He didn’t seem to notice, however, his mind still lingering on Soonyoung.

“You should come,” Jihoon repeated himself, “The next one’s on Tuesday – I can get you a ticket. First experience on me.”

Jihoon turned to you, the corner of his lips twitching up ever so slightly.

Jihoon was smiling at you.

Lee Jihoon, your unintentional rival, your arch nemesis, was smiling. At. You.

When his single dimple on his left cheek peeked through, it sent your heart in a flutter.

What the actual fuck was happening.

. . . .

Soonyoung was ecstatic to see you.

He was nearly bouncing off the walls of the dugout when he saw you in your bright blue t-shirt, sitting in the front stands. Typically, the boys weren’t allowed to leave the dugout before the game started, but a few members have already stalked off to the audience to greet their significant others. Since it was your first game and Soonyoung would not stop gushing about your presence, Jihoon decided to go greet you, indeed raising a few eyebrows.

“Hey,” Jihoon called, catching your attention. He raised a hand to wave at you, Soonyoung trailing not too far behind. “You made it.”

You got up from your spot on the bleachers to meet him at the fence. With a nervous chuckle, you replied, “I did – didn’t want a free ticket to go to waste.”

“Where’s Haeyoung?” Jihoon asked. Typically, you took the doll on Mondays and Tuesdays.

“I handed her off to Wonwoo,” you told him, “We traded days – figured a baseball game wasn’t quite the place for an infant.”

“Plastic infant,” Jihoon corrected.

Surprisingly, a soft chortle escaped your lips. Prior, these kinds of comments annoyed you whenever Jihoon referred to Haeyoung as fake.

“Hi Y/N!” Soonyoung interrupted.

You turned to the excited and lanky boy. You smiled, “Soonyoung, right?”

“You remember!” the said man exclaimed.

“Long time, no see,” you greeted him, “How have you been? You play?”

“I do,” Soonyoung replied, “And I’ve been doing pretty good.” He eyed Jihoon for a moment. “I heard you and Jihoon are working on a project together – I hope he’s not giving you too hard of a time.”

“Hey!” Jihoon protested.

Your smile transformed into a grin as your gaze traveled down to your shoes. “He’s . . . quite alright actually.” You nodded. “He does his part.”

“I’m glad,” Soonyoung smiled. He stared at you a while longer. Though you didn’t seem to notice, Jihoon could’ve sworn there were stars shining in his eyes.

“This is . . . my first baseball game,” you told the both of them shyly.

“Oh?” Soonyoung replied in surprise. “Jihoon didn’t tell me that.”

Said boy grit his teeth and elbowed his friend in the ribs. “I . . . got her the ticket.”

“Oh?” Soonyoung said a little louder this time, surprise lacing his voice.

“He did,” you confirmed nervously. You gripped the canvas strap of your satchel.

“Boys!” their coach called. Jihoon looked back to see him gesturing for the ones at the stands to return.

“Well,” Soonyoung shrugged, “Enjoy the game, Y/N – I’ll . . . see you later?”

Jihoon tugged at his elbow, carefully watching your reaction. Eyes wide, you blinked twice, a look of surprise gracing your face. He wasn’t sure if it was just the sun or if you were blushing at Soonyoung’s request.

“Uh . . . yeah,” you replied softly, “See you later.”

Soonyoung’s face immediately lit up, his lips curling into a pleased smile – the kind that caused his eyes to disappear. Jihoon and him jogged back to the dugout, though it was only Soonyoung who excitedly waved back at you.

. . . .

“It’s a homerun! Kim Mingyu saved Sebong High with a winning homerun in the last minute!” the sports announcer exclaimed. The crowd around you erupted into a loud cheer as the ball soared out of the field. Boys dressed in white and blue streamed out of the dugout onto the fields, hugging the tall batter.

Never been at a baseball game before, you assumed it was a good thing. Awkwardly, you got up from your spot in the front and joined the crowd in standing, though you weren’t cheering – you weren’t the type to celebrate loudly. Your eyes flickered at your classmates and a few parents hugging one another and jumping up and down, hard enough you could feel the vibrations through the metal bleachers. You were so lost, you failed to notice the enthusiastic player running in your direction.

“Kwon Soonyoung!” you heard some girls nearby squeal. They rushed to the fence, grabbing on tightly to the black railing, waving at him.

He didn’t pay any mind to them, however – his eyes were trained on you.

“Y/N! Y/N! Hey!” he called, jumping up and down. The girls threw you a dirty look as you carefully made your down closer to him.

“Congratulations,” you greeted him.

“We won! We won!” he cried cheerfully.

You let out a hearty laugh at his child-like excitement and nodded.

When he calmed down, he smiled shyly and let out a sigh of relief. He took off his cap and placed it back on his head so it was backwards. “Hey, if you aren’t busy,” he looked back at the team, now throwing Mingyu up in the air, “We’re going out to pizza after if you want to join.”

The smile on your face fell.

“Only if you’re comfortable though,” Sooyoung added, noticing your nervous expression.

“I . . . uh, that’s sweet, Soonyoung, but I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you replied softly.

“You won’t be!” Soonyoung protested, “The team members bring their significant others all the time.”

Your cheeks grew aflame immediately.

“Not that we’re dating or I’m interested in you in that way or – err, I mean!” Soonyoung ran a frustrated hand over his face, “Uh . . . I mean, I am, but also . . . I just want to . . . it’s your first game and I wanted to invite you along – as a friend.”

“I . . . are you sure?” was all you could croak out at this time.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung replied in a small voice. He pointed at a black-haired beauty in the crowd. “Jeonghan is Seungcheol’s friend and he tags along all the time – albeit, I’m not sure if it’s because he actually wants to hang out or he just wants free food.”

Being the weirdo who skipped a grade, you never quite fit in anywhere. You hardly had any friends your age because you didn’t have classes with them. The older kids you did have class with didn’t quite welcome you either. It was the first time anyone from school was asking you to hangout for fun and you did take the evening off from work to come to this – and Soonyoung mentioned free food?

“Please?” Soonyoung begged. “It’ll be fun.”

With your hands clasped in front of you, you sucked in a sharp breath and nodded. “Sure,” a nervous chortle escaped your lips, “Why not?”

. . . .

And that was how you found yourself wedged in between Jihoon and Soonyoung in a tight booth at the local pizza parlor. Nibbling on the tip of a slice of sausage pizza and your cheeks puffed and full, you while carefully the rest of the baseball team run loose. The boy that Soonyoung had pointed out to you earlier, Jeonghan, had challenged Mingyu to a pizza eating contest, the two disgustingly stuffing their faces. Seungcheol, the team captain, sat at the edge of the booth opposite to you, watching the two with an uncomfortable expression on his face – somewhere between a grimace and a grin. In the booth behind you, you could hear the younger members of the team, Chan and Seungkwan, bickering about whether or not frozen yogurt was the same thing as ice cream.

“Sorry,” Jihoon grumbled next to you.

You gulped down the remnants of pizza in your mouth. “It’s fine.”

He slumped over, resting his head on his hands. “They’re . . . usually this loud. You get used to it.”

“Yeah?” you asked, dabbing the corner of your lips with a napkin.

“But . . . it’s kind of fun, you know? To watch,” Jihoon continued to explain. “Are . . . you doing okay?”

You nodded while taking a sip of your Coke. Shyly, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Jihoon ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the small gesture. “I’ve never been out like this before,” you admitted in a small voice.

“Huh?” Jihoon got up from his position on the table, supporting his chin with his fist.

“Yeah,” you drew your bottom lip in between your teeth. “I don’t really . . . ‘hang out’ with people from school.”

“Oh,” Jihoon frowned. “That sounds a little lonely.”

You shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “You get used to it.”

“What do you like to do for fun then?” Jihoon inquired further.

You opened your mouth as if you were going to say something, but then closed it right away again. Peering down your half-eaten pizza, you curled your shoulders forward and trapped your hands in between your thighs, and muttered, “I don’t really do much outside of school and work to be honest.”

Jihoon remained silent for a moment. Before he could register the words that were coming out of his mouth, he asked, “You wanna watch a movie with Soonyoung and me this weekend?”

. . . .

For the next few weeks, you find yourself spending more time with Jihoon outside of your group project – the movie was just one of many hangouts to come. Typically, you spent your lunch hour by yourself, doing work in the library rather than in the crowded cafeteria with the few acquaintances you knew. It was quieter and it gave you a little extra time to study. It was also less claustrophobic, giving you more room to breathe and be comfortable, not always on guard. Before you knew it, however, according to Jihoon at least, upon Soonyoung’s insistence, the pair of friends started joining you in the library for lunch. It was certainly weird at first because you weren’t used to someone talking to you so much, but you grew accustomed to their company. Listening to Soonyoung babble was fun and admittedly, his banter with Jihoon every now and then was entertaining. Through these talks, you found out Soonyoung lived only a block away from you, and Jihoon a few blocks away from Soonyoung. You never thought you would be one of those girls, but you found yourself bathing underneath the spring afternoon sun on the white bleachers at the baseball field, waiting for them to finish practice to walk home together. Indeed, the many admirers who came to watch them regularly eyed you curiously, but you pretended not to mind, opting to read your textbooks or work on the calculus homework instead, while they did their thing. Truthfully, you still didn’t quite understand the game despite the number of times Jihoon tried to explain it to you.

Sitting in the library in the early morning, earbuds plugged into your MP3 (yes, you still had one of those), trying (key word, trying), to revise your final paper for your modern literature class, you wondered how the last few weeks of high school came down to this: Hanging out with your high school rival and his best friend. At this point, were the three of you acquaintances? Friends? Gripping the red pen in your hand, you shook your head of such thoughts, reminding yourself to focus on the missing commas in the paper in your hands. Suddenly, sweet guitar strings started playing through your earbuds, Justin Bieber’s voice coming through, “One touch and you got me stoned, higher than I’ve known . . .”

You smiled softly to yourself, biting the inside of your cheek at the sound of the song. It was yet another change you weren’t expecting: You actually liked Justin Bieber’s music now because of Jihoon. Had it been just a month from now, you would’ve rather eaten bricks than listen to his music. The memories of the walk home when Jihoon introduced you to the artist trickled into your mind.

“What do you mean you don’t like Justin Bieber?!” Jihoon exclaimed. Immediately, his hand already flew to his back pocket, searching for his phone.

“Here he goes again,” Soonyoung chuckled.

“C’mon,” you rolled your eyes, “The last time I listened to him, the lyrics of Baby weren’t that deep.”

“He’s evolved – grown,” Jihoon defended childishly. His eyes were glued to his phone, scrolling through his Dotify playlist. “And admit, as terrible as the lyrics were, Baby was legendary.”

“He’s a big fan,” Soonyoung leaned over and whispered. You nodded in acknowledgement.

Jihoon paused in his stride and unzipped a side pocket of his bag, digging for his earbuds. Pulling out a tangle of white wires, he ran his hand through a loop and straightened it, plugging one end into the audio port of his phone. Placing one bud in his ear, he offered you the other side.

“Here,” Jihoon insisted.

“I don’t think you’re gonna–”

“Just listen!” he protested, already trying to shove the piece in your ear.

“Okay! Okay!” you giggled. You adjusted it and crossed your arms, waiting for him to hit play.

The look on your face was priceless. You winced back in surprise, the devilish grin wiped off your face. You had stopped walking altogether, Jihoon and Soonyoung watching you curiously.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Jihoon sniggered.

You nodded slowly. “He’s definitely . . . grown since Baby.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Admit it! It’s good!”

You shrugged and handed the earbud back to Jihoon. “It’s not what I expected from Justin Bieber, but yeah –”

“Sucker!” Jihoon screeched gleefully.

The memory was interrupted with the loud plop of a plastic cup in front of you. Green liquid filled the clear container, condensation forming droplets on the outside, the clinking of ice sloshing against one another seeping through your headphones. You looked up to see Jihoon waving at you.

“Ice green tea latte with oatmilk because you’re lactose intolerant – just like you like it,” Jihoon announced when you pulled out your earpiece.

Hesitantly, you reached for the cold drink and brought the straw to your lips. You peered up at him through your lashes. “T-thanks.”

He pulled out the wooden chair across from you and collapsed into it with a loud groan. “You’re welcome. I figured you might need it,” he pointed at the paper, “You said you were still working on the paper when I texted you last night at 11.”

The heat that creeped up your spine came faster than you could register. Had it been anyone else, you might have not thought much of it, but this was coming from Jihoon. He remembered you were working on your paper, remembered your drink of choice, and bought it for you knowing you would be tired. It was Jihoon. You shouldn’t be this flustered.

“Thanks,” was all you could muster to say again.

Jihoon nodded and reached for your MP3. Eyes wide, you lunged for it, but he snatched it before you could get to it. A smirk spread across his lips.

“Justin Bieber, I see?” he teased.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, ripping the device out of his hands.

“I’m culturing you, Y/N,” he sang.

“It’s one good song,” you retorted, “Does not mean I like Justin Bieber as a person.”

“Didn’t ask you to,” Jihoon shrugged, “He just has nice music.”

“You just like sad boy music,” you shot back.

“And if I do?”

“What are you doing here, Jihoon?” you asked, starting to get annoyed by his presence.

“Oh right,” Jihoon sat up in his chair, “Soonyoung was wondering if you wanted to come to the baseball game on Friday.”

“Oh?” you perked up, setting your drink on the table, “I was planning on it anyhow.”

Jihoon held up his finger. He ignored the nagging voice at the back of his head telling him to do something different than Soonyoung asked. “It’s the last game before sections.”

“Sections . . . playing other cities?”

Jihoon nodded. “Which means it’s an important game.”

“Okay,” you dragged out the last syllable, not sure what he was getting at.

The boy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s tradition to ask someone special to wear their jersey to the last game.”

Your mouth fell agape slightly, the heat returning to your face.

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon continued slowly, carefully observing your reaction, “S-soonyoung wants you to wear his jersey.”

When you awkwardly agreed, Jihoon couldn’t help the way his heart dropped to the pits of stomach.

He was supposed to dislike you, not feel like this.

. . . .

And that was how you found yourself standing at the front of the bleachers wearing Soonyoung’s jersey, his last name printed in large white block letters, ‘KWON’ and the number ‘05’, on the back. You tucked it into a pair of jean shorts, a matching blue cap covering your face upon your co-worker and friend, Sooyoung’s insistence. She had also tagged along for today’s game.

“You look cute,” Sooyoung commented, holding onto the railing.

You tugged at the front of the jersey. “Thank you.”

She linked arms with you. “Don’t be so nervous.”

You couldn’t help but be with all the fans staring holes into the back of your head sitting behind you. “I-I’m just . . . not used to this.”

“Soonyoung asked you to wear it for a reason,” she reassured you, “Wear it proudly.”

“Sooyoung,” you started slowly, “W-why did he ask me to wear it though? And . . . not Jihoon.”

A look of surprise crossed her face. “Wait –”

“Y/N!” Soonyoung’s cheerful voice cut off your friend.

You both turned your attention to the tall boy running and waving your way, this time Jihoon trailing behind him. You and Sooyoung clambered down to the black railing.

“Soonyoung,” greeted him softly. You gestured to your friend next to you, “This is my friend Sooyoung – she goes to a different high school, but wanted to tag along today.”

Sooyoung waved cheerfully at the pair of friends who returned the gesture. Soonyoung let out a small chuckle. “Wah, our names are almost the same – different by one letter.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jihoon snorted.

Sooyoung frowned at the shorter boy.

Nevertheless, A satisfied smile graced Soonyoung’s face. “You look nice.” He was looking at you.

“Thank you for letting me wear your jersey,” you told him. Your eyes flickered momentarily to Jihoon who was standing silently behind Soonyoung. He paid no mind to you whatsoever, looking off in the distance, perhaps at the score sign.

“Thank you for wearing it,” Soonyoung replied. “To be honest? I was kind of worried you wouldn’t.”

You knitted your brows together. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Soonyoung let out a nervous chortle and looked away. “Y/N . . .”

“Let’s go back,” Jihoon grumbled, tugging at Soonyoung’s arm. The latter frowned, but Jihoon returned it with a stern look. “Focus on the game, Kwon.”

Soonyoung turned back to you momentarily. “I’ll see you – y-you guys after the game?”

You nodded.

“Win or lose, pizzas on us,” Soonyoung smiled.

“Good luck,” you told them, though Jihoon didn’t seem to acknowledge you.

When they stalked off, your friend turned to you, her eyes wide as if she was about to explode.

“What?” you asked dumbly.

“You seriously don’t know why he asked you to wear his jersey?” Sooyoung deadpanned.

You shook your head slowly.

Sooyoung collapsed into your side, burying her face into your chest. “Oh you, sweet summer’s child.”

. . . .

It had been a week since the baseball game and a week before graduation.

Since then, Jihoon has been extra bitter around you. He was curt and short with answers. When you asked him to study together for other classes, he was quick to turn you down, explaining that he had to practice even more for sections. You had chalked it up to him just being stressed with baseball and the end of the year coming up, but you couldn’t help but he was avoiding you. Thus, you did what any rational, young adult would do: you confronted him.

Jihoon had invited you and Wonwoo over to finish up the reflection for FACS class. Wonwoo had curfew and headed home early. He had left Haeyoung behind with the two of you since it was Jihoon’s to take the doll anyhow. Seated at his desk, Jihoon was bent over his phone tapping away at a game of SUPERSTAR Pledis.

“Hey,” you called, pushing yourself from your lying position on his bed.

Jihoon let out a nonchalant hum.

“Are you . . . mad at me?” you asked.

Jihoon paused his game and let out a scoff. He spun around in his desk chair, irritated. “Not everything’s about you, Y/N.”

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” Jihoon continued with a roll of his eyes, “Why would I be?”

You shrugged. “You’ve just . . . been kind of distant.”

“Maybe because I have other things to do that don’t involve you?”

That’s when the mechanical cry of Haeyoung started to sound.

“Look what you did,” Jihoon grumbled. Using the toe of his sock-covered foot, he reached over and began rocking the car seat.

You couldn’t give a damn about the doll at this moment, absolutely taken aback by Jihoon’s rudeness. “That was uncalled for . . . Look, I don’t know what happened or what I did, but if you could just, I don’t know, be mature, and tell me, maybe we can talk it out and work it out? You’ve been upset since the baseball game and I’m just trying to understand why. I thought maybe it was the end of the year coming up, but that clearly doesn’t seem to be the case.”

Despite the doll’s cries, Jihoon stopped rocking the car seat and turned to you. “Mature? I’m older than you, Y/N. What do you even know about me?”

“Does that matter when you’re acting like a child?” you exclaimed.

“Do you always have to be better than me?” Jihoon exploded. He stood up from his chair, unable to contain his discontent anymore. Truthfully, he knew you were right about him being cold towards you, but it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with him.

He didn’t realize it then, but the more he dwelled on it, Jihoon was jealous. And what made it worse was that he wasn’t just jealous of you this time, but he was jealous of his best friend, Soonyoung, when that should’ve never been the case. As much as he wanted to deny it, Jihoon had feelings for you and he was sure Soonyoung did too – he wouldn’t have just thoughtlessly asked you to wear his jersey at the last game. It was a tradition reserved for couples, or couples who were to be. Unlike Soonyoung, Jihoon didn’t have the guts to ask you to wear his jersey, and when he finally did, it was already too late. He was always like this: one step behind in everything he wanted, you included.

“Y/N wins this, Y/N got the highest score that,” Jihoon mocked, continuing out of fury, “You’re so irritating, you know that? Ever since you joined our class, you know how annoying it has been trying to compete with you? I tried to keep my distance, but you slowly started seeping into my life with this project – fuck, even my best friend is whipped about youn now. What’s so great about you, anyways?”

You shrank back in his bed as each and every word pierced you. You had thought just maybe high school wouldn’t end so terribly after all. These past few weeks with Jihoon and Soonyoung were fun. Even if it was fleeting, for once, you had friends: People who get you and enjoy your company. But alas, you were wrong; everyone was the same. Like you feared, you got too attached to what was a façade, trusted too much, and got hurt.

“Do you really think I enjoy being in this . . . this made-up competition with you?” you started. Standing in the middle of his room, you clenched and unclenched your fist, boring holes into Jihoon’s forehead as he leaned awkwardly against his wooden desk with his arms crossed over his chest, one hand clutching the elbow. His narrow eyes watched you carefully, his expression was blank and unreadable, as it always has been.

Only then did Jihoon finally notice that Haeyoung had finally quieted. It was quite ironic. The silence was all the two of you desired after hours of the stupid doll child crying, yet it made the air thick and suffocating. There was no hint of relief or relaxation like he had imagined - the tension was like a rubber band pulled taught on the verge of snapping to its separate ends. All the words he wanted to tell you at the tip of his tongue had evaporated into thin air. He didn’t have to be told to know he really went too far this time.

Your lips crumpled into a bunch, your chin wrinkling in the process. Jihoon was truly frustrating. A man of few words, holder of the best poker face you’ve seen, he hid his heart hidden in the depths of school uniform. You tried to be understanding - not everyone was as honest about their feelings as you. It didn’t mean he made you any less upset, however. All you wanted was him to communicate with you clearly. You just wanted one word from him. You just wanted him to answer your question. One minute his actions were pulling at your heartstrings, the next he was throwing you under the bus to be rolled over. Perhaps you didn’t know him as well as he had led on.

One flutter of your lashes and the first tear escaped your lower lid and rolled down your cheek. You let out a small cough to hide the whimper in your throat. You’ve had enough. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“I’m done, Jihoon,” you relented, your voice barely above a whisper. “When this assignment is over tomorrow and after we graduate this weekend,” you sucked in a sharp breath, “I hope we never meet again.”

Jihoon had half-expected you to storm out of his room in a dramatic fashion. Instead, you silently dug into your bookbag and fished out a clear plastic case covered in blue and pink stickers, ‘Jihoon’s Sad Boy Mixtape’ written in bold black marker across the front. His heart sank as you dropped the cassette onto his navy blue sheets and turned your back to him.

Your hand rested on the cool stainless steel door. You pulled it open a crack before you paused. You knew it was unrealistic, but you had a sliver of hope he would come after you. Yet Jihoon stayed put by his desk. Alas, it was only a moment for the films.

“Goodbye, Jihoon,” you said.

The shake in your voice was the last straw for him, but Jihoon was too late. As he lunged after you, hand outreached, you stepped out of his room. He could hear your footsteps rushing down the hall, then slapping down the stairs of his home.

Jihoon was always one step behind you.

Today, he was one hundred steps behind.

. . . .

Graduation was anything but fun.

Standing out in the overgrown grass of the football field, the blades tinkling their ankles, with the sun beating down on them in their black gowns absorbing every ounce of heat – it was unbearable. Yet, for Jihoon, it was worse with you sitting next to him throughout the whole ceremony, not a single word falling from your lips. Your expression was unreadable: From the principal’s introduction to the class president’s fruity speech to tossing your caps in the air. At the end of it all, you silently left in search of your brother while all your classmates cheered and hugged.

Jihoon knew better than to chase after you today, but he did anyway. He wanted to make things right – he couldn’t bear the thought of you having a grudge against him moving into the next chapter of your lives. His hand wrapped tightly around your wrist just as you neared the parking lot, Jihoon jerked your back.

“Hey,” he greeted you.

Your gaze only hardened, though you didn’t fight back.

“C-can we talk?” Jihoon asked.

“I can’t imagine what you have to say to me, Jihoon,” you said coldly.

He didn’t either. He didn’t prepare for this, but here he was.

“I’m . . . sorry,” Jihoon muttered. His eyes dropped to the asphalt burning under his leather shoes. “I shouldn’t have said all those horrible things to you – y-you’re . . . my friend, b-but . . .” He let out a frustrated sigh, unable to say what was on the tip of his tongue.

I like you.

It wouldn't make sense to tell you - at least not now after he told you you were annoying.

Your heart sank. As much as you wanted to forgive him then and there, your desire to save yourself from the pain of disappointment was greater. You cleared your throat and pulled your hand from his grasp. Jihoon peered up at you, melancholy clouding his eyes.

“Congratulations, Jihoon,” you said, you pressed your lips into a tightline and looked away briefly. You saw Sooyoung and your older brother searching for you in the distance. “Good luck in college – I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Those were your last words before you walked out of Jihoon’s life.

. . . .

Or so he thought.

College was never a topic that either of you discussed, choosing to talk about lighter things from complaining about your math teacher to the kind of music you liked to listen to. Jihoon did not expect to see you here in the flesh, standing in front of the university student union, let alone holding hands with Wonwoo.

“W-what are you guys doing here?” Jihoon stuttered, unable to keep his eyes off your intertwined fingers. He noticed the way you adjusted your hand to hold Wonwoo tighter. When did this happen? You and Wonwoo didn't even seem close when you did the project together. Were you friends with benefits? Dating? For how long? So many questions ran through Jihoon's mind.

“Jihoon - hey,” Wonwoo started. He tucked his free hand into the pockets of his jeans. Briefly, Wonwoo’s eyes flickered to you as if to silently ask if you were doing okay. “You go here too?”

Jihoon nodded, his eyes traveling up to your face. Though, you refused to meet his gaze, opting to stare at the pavement instead. “I do . . . uh, aerospace engineering major . . .”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened in surprise. He pointed at you. “Y/N is too.”

You already knew. You just decided to keep your distance, in hopes you could go through college without having to interact with him. That would not be the case as fate would have it.

“Hi,” Jihoon raised his hand slowly to greet you. The corner of his lips twitched up into an awkward smile – that damned dimple on his left cheek that made your heart flutter all those months ago made an appearance, still sending your heart surging through your chest. “It’s been a while.”

Instinctively, you inched closer to Wonwoo before replying to him. “Yeah – long time, no see.”

Silence, then a beat.

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “Uh, well, we’ll see you around then, Jihoon? We have a class soon.”

“Course,” Jihoon replied softly. Wonwoo waved 'goodbye,' while you quickly jogged to his side. A pang shot through his chest as he let out a heavy sigh.

“See you around . . . Y/N.”

377 notes View Post

agustdyoons

1 year ago

Baby Fever - Max Verstappen

You walked through the Red Bull garage, keeping your head down as to not make eye contact with anyone. It was your first day back after taking the past week off due to not being able to look at anything or anyone Red Bull related recently. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the one person responsible for your pain and heartache. Funnily enough, he was also the person responsible for your impending arrival in around seven and a half months time.

—

You didn't know how to feel, the verdict for the rest of your life sitting on the bathroom counter. Scott was sat downstairs of your shared home in Milton Keynes, completely unaware of what was unfolding upstairs. You had had your suspicions for a few weeks, but Scott had made a firm point that he never wanted children and he never would.

As the seconds agonisingly ticked by, you wondered what you were going to do if it turned out to be positive. You'd have to tell Scott before you both left for the next race, and you'd have to tell Christian so you could plan maternity leave. You might even have to stop travelling to races. If it was negative, you would forget about it and move on.

Checking your watch, you saw that the time was up and it was time to reveal your fate. You turned the test over, clapping your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. The two lines were clear as day, and there was no denying it, as well as the three others you took afterwards.

You had to convince yourself that it would all be alright and Scott would be completely fine with this. Your mind even played the part of the story where he was happy, no, overjoyed with this. But, before the tale could end, the footage skipped back to the realistic outcome.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you took a few deep breaths and reassured yourself that, no matter what happened, everything would be fine. You trudged downstairs, the tests in your hands behind your back. "Scott?" You called out, even though you knew he was in the kitchen typing away at his laptop. "In here, babe," he responded, not taking his eyes off the screen as you walked in.

"Are you free to talk for a second?" You asked, sitting down opposite him at the table.

"I will be in just a minute," he said, finishing typing out what you assumed was an email and clicked the mouse. "OK, I am all yours," Scott said, resting his head on his hands.

"I-" you started, but you couldn't find the words to say it. Instead, you placed all of the tests down in front of him and tried to read his facial expression. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He looked up at you as he held one in his hands. "Are you serious?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. You nodded slowly, aggressively picking at the sides of your fingers it of the pure fear and nervousness. "What are you going to do with it?" he asked, his tone cold as it stabbed your heart.

They way he called your child an it cut deeper than anything you had ever felt before. "I don't know," you whispered, looking down at the table as tears slipped down your cheeks. He should be comforting you, telling you it was alright and he wasn't mad.

"I know what I want you to do with it," he bit, throwing the tests at you from across the table. It was at that point you knew exactly what you were going to do. Your maternal instincts kicked in, and you realised the dream you had never had.

You wanted to keep your child, whether Scott was going to be there or not. "I want to keep it, Scott," you said, looking at him through glassy, reddened eyes. "I want to watch our child grow and bring them up to be the best person they can be," you told him.

"Well you're on your own then," he said, standing from the table and swiping his laptop from the surface. After all of these years of being together, he decided he was done when you needed him most. "So we're done," you said, your voice unwavering.

"If you're keeping it, then yes," he spoke, before ascending the stairs. Either way, you knew you were done with him. If you did decide to be rid of the baby, you didn't want to be with someone who would treat you like that. If anything, it was for the better that you saw Scott's true colours.

That very same night, you packed your bags and left for a friends house.

—

Seeing Scott on your first day back was inevitable, but you still wished you could have avoided him completely. You caught him looking at you, but that took your attention away from the other pair of eyes that were lingering.

Max had liked you as soon as Christian introduced you to the team and as part of the media team. You were stunning, and he couldn't take his eyes off you. You were easy to talk to and media duties quickly became the best part of his week.

There was, of course, the factor of Scott that was stopping him from asking you out. People had encouraged him, but he didn't want to be a homewrecker. Sure, he hadn't heard great things about Scott and he wasn't a fan of the guy when they had spoken, but you seemed to love him and he didn't want to get in the way of that.

He thought you looked different after your week off. You weren't as well kempt as you normally were, and your face was pale and sunken. It was the weekend of Australia, and you were wearing a thick jacket that just wasn't needed.

Thankfully, the media office was empty as you sat and fought back the tears. You needed to stay to provide for your impending new arrival, but it was going to be one of the hardest things you would ever do. Seeing that piece of shit everyday was going to hurt.

People had been casting dubious glances at you as you walked around, and you heard the whispers of why Scott had been at work and you hadn't. You heard that people had asked, and he had just said you were sick. He didn't have the guts to tell them that you were pregnant and he broke it off when he found out.

You heard footsteps approaching the door and wiped the stray tears away as you tried to make yourself look busy. "Hey, Christian said he wants to talk to you," Checo's press officer popped her head around the door. "OK, thank you," you smiled, giving yourself a minute to compose yourself before going to see your boss.

This wasn't a surprise since you had emailed earlier in the morning asking to speak to him. You strolled through the Red Bull building, earning more quick glances as you smiled at them. You didn't want to let them believe that you were bothered by them in any capacity.

Taking one final deep breath, you knocked on the door of Christian's office and heard a muffled 'Come in' from the inside. You opened the door and saw Christian sat at his desk. You knew the meeting would have to be short - he was a very busy man.

"Take a seat," he said, leaning back in his chair and pointing towards the two black, leather chairs in front of the desk. You sat down, crossing your legs. "So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"In a few months, I'm going to have to take some time off," you started, Christian nodding along as you thought he was getting the hints. "Scott too then, I'm guessing?"

"No, no. Just me," you said, averting your eyes to your hands. Deep down, you knew he would ask and it was only natural to - it takes two to tango. But you didn't think it would be this awkward to tell people.

Christian raised an eyebrow, "You're pregnant, right?" he confirmed.

"Yes, but Scott and I aren't together anymore," you told him, hearing another knock at the door. You stood as you figured the person on the other side also had an important reason to talk to Christian, and approached the door. "Congratulations," he said, and you simply smiled at him.

Opening the door, you saw the Dutchman on the other side. "Hey, Max," you quietly said, gently pushing past him and down the corridor. "Hey, Y/N," he replied, and he couldn't help but worry about you immediately.

He noticed the tears brimming in your eyes and you weren't your usual, happy self. "Is she alright?" Max asked, entering the room and sitting in the same place that you had.

"She's going through some things at the moment," Christian said, not wanting to tell everything about your problems to Max. "I heard some rumours about her and Scott, but that's the most I know,"

"They're not together anymore, but she's pregnant," Christian said, letting Max connect the dots. Christian carried on with whatever the meeting was supposed to be about, but he couldn't concentrate. It was obvious that Scott had left her, but whether it was because of the pregnancy or not was still ambiguous.

—

As the weeks had gone by, it had become increasingly easier to do work, and it had given you something to focus on instead of Scott. Christian had allowed you to work less and you were going abroad less. But, you had insisted on coming to Monaco.

You loved the lavishness of it all and the sparkle of the marina at night was magical and mesmerizing.

Max had been looking out for you more, but you thought he was just being nice since the news spread about the soon-to-be mini Red Bull team member. He was always asking if you wanted a drink or a snack, or offering his drivers room if you needed a quiet moment around the track.

You had woken up on the morning of the Thursday in Monaco with horrendous morning sickness. You had thrown up a few times, but got ready for work and headed to the track as usual. You and the team had planned for Max and Checo to do some challenges at the marina for YouTube.

The first half had gone great, and the two of them were having a blast. It was hilarious to watch and you knew that fans would love it. For about half an hour, you were having a break and you took the time to sit in the corner of the dock, trying to bypass the sickness you felt.

You ran your hands over the small bump that you had as a way to soothe yourself. "Hey, you alright?" you felt a hand on your shoulder as Max sat down.

He had been watching you more than he usually would over the past couple weeks. Even if you didn't need taking care of, he still wanted to make sure you were alright since Scott wasn't around to do it. From afar, he noticed that you looked very uncomfortable.

You were sat completely motionless, staring at the water and rubbing your stomach lightly. "Yeah, just feeling a but nauseous," you smiled, looking at him. His smile had a magical quality that could put you at ease. You were glad to be spending more time with Max recently, and you were slowly getting to know each other.

"Here, this might help," he said, handing you a bottle of water that he had gotten for you before he came. "I noticed you didn't drink anything since the start of the shoot, and you need to stay hydrated," he told you. You were glad you had Max to think of these things, since you didn't have Scott to.

"So you've been watching me?" you teased, playfully nudging him as his cheeks burned an intense red. "I'm just making sure you're alright, not that you can't do that yourself, but-" he rambled, and you couldn't help but giggle at him.

His rambles were cut short by a sharp intake of breath from you as another wave of nausea rippled over you. "You can go back to your hotel if you want, I'm sure these guys will be fine without you," he said, the worry for you returning.

He hated seeing you in pain, and he wished he could just take you in his arms and hold you until it went away. But, he didn't think you could ever feel the same. You didn't think he would want to be with you if you had another man's baby on the way.

"I'll be fine. Besides, my hotel is on the other side of the city and I don't feel like paying for a taxi," you explained, trying to ignore the sickness.

Max had three options. He could: pay for your taxi, offer to take you to his apartment that was just around the corner, or he could leave it and let you stay. He decided to shoot his shot and ask if you wanted to go to his to relax.

"I could take you to my apartment. It's just around the corner and you can have a lie down," he explained, and you couldn't ignore the butterflies that came to life in your stomach when he offered. "Thank you, Max, really, but I can't just leave work," you said.

"I'll sort it out," he said, wanting nothing more than for you to let him help you, to let him take care of you. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course," he said, standing and offering his hand out for you to take. You took it, and a small part of your heart screamed at you to keep hold. But, your head got there first and forced your fingers to unclasp from his.

"Are you sure because-" you started.

"Y/N, don't get stressed, it's not good for the baby. You relax and I will take care of it," he told you, turning away out of embarrassment. Had he been reading up on pregnancy and babies? Yes. But, he didn't want to make it obvious. He had subconsciously made it his duty to keep you calm and relaxed at all times.

He led you through Monte Carlo, taking you down side streets and shortcuts to get you there quicker. The pair of you entered a lavish looking apartment complex and the doorman greeted you with a nod. He belled the elevator and you headed up to the top and to the penthouses.

The doors slid open with a ding and you were met with a very modern set up. Your favourite part was instantly the large, floor to ceiling windows that provided the most incredible view of Monaco. You could see people beneath you, as well as the marina with all of the yachts lined up. For a moment, you wondered which one was Max's.

"My room is through here," he said, walking towards one of the doors and opening it to reveal a grand master bedroom, "There is some comfier stuff in the wardrobe, so grab whatever you want, and the bathroom is through there if you want a shower," he explained, giving you a mini tour of the room.

"And you can eat or drink whatever you want, make yourself at home. If you need anything, call me and I'll be back as soon as I can," he smiled, leaving you to get comfy and the elevator dinged to tell you he was gone. You wandered through to the master bathroom and, for a bathroom, it was breathtaking.

The shower was huge and the bath in the corner of the room was massive. You couldn't resist the shower, so you set it running and found a clean towel in the cabinet. After stripping off your clothes, you stepped into the stream of hot water.

The water was so soothing and eased the nausea a great deal. You squirted some of the shampoo that was on the side into the palm of your hand and worked it into your scalp. The suds slid down your back as you washed it out of your hair, before repeating the process with the conditioner.

Once you were out of the shower, you towel dried your hair and slipped your shorts back up your legs. You didn't feel like putting your Red Bull polo back on as it was too small now that you had a baby bump, and it wasn't the most comfortable.

Trudging back out to the bedroom, you opened the wardrobe and picked out one of Max's hoodies. You had seen him in it a few times, and it was one of your favourites. You pulled it on and it was soft against your skin.

It had been a long day, so you led down on the king sized bed. It felt weird that you were lying on Max's bed, so you were considering moving to one of the spare bedrooms or the couch. Before you could make the decision, you drifted off to sleep, the scent of Max filling your nostrils.

—

Max ran back to the marina since he was a few minutes late, but the crew thankfully weren't bothered. They asked about where you had gone, but he just said you weren't feeling too great so he took you back to the hotel.

"You have it bad, mate," Checo teased, appearing next to Max as he arrived.

"Pfft, no I don't," Max tried to play it off, but the Mexican knew his friend too well. "I was just being friendly," he tried to explain away why he had taken her back.

"You didn't take her back to the hotel, Max. You took her to your apartment," Checo said, and Max looked flabbergasted. "Her hotel is too far away, and your apartment isn't. It's the only logical place," Checo further explained. This guy was clever.

"Yes, I did. She's pregnant, she deserves a nice place to rest," Max said, unable to make eye contact with his fellow driver. "Normally, I'd believe you, but it doesn't help that you told us how you feel,"

"How did you know?" Max asked.

"Well, for one. You look at her like she's the only person in the world and you have taken it upon yourself to look after her, which I admire by the way. And, you told us last week," Checo told him with a smirk. He didn't tell them, did he? He didn't tell anyone, apart from when-.

Shit.

"The party," Max concluded. When he was drunk, he overshared a lot. And, he wouldn't be surprised if someone had prompted the answer. As if he had read Max's mind, Checo said, "Charles asked you if you liked Y/N, and you went on this whole spiel about how much you liked her and you wanted to ask her out,".

Max looked mortified, and Checo was getting a huge kick out of his discomfort. Before they could continue the conversation, they were called over to the dock to carry on filming.

—

Finally, the shoot had finished and Max had found it a lot duller without you there. He zoomed home, but was surprised to return to the apartment and find it completely silent. You were still there, since your shoes were still on the shoe rack.

"Y/N?" he quietly called out, but was met with no answer. You weren't in the kitchen, and you weren't in the living room either. He saw that the bedroom door was slightly ajar, even though he had left the door closed when he left you there.

He entered, and the sight made his heart stop. You were led there, tangled in the sea of crisp white sheets and snuggled up in one of his favourite hoodies. Your hair was almost haloed around your head. Even if he felt creepy, he allowed himself to watch you for a moment.

You looked completely peaceful and there was nothing that could harm you when you were comfortably cuddled up in his bed. He didn't have the heart to wake you up, because you needed the sleep and he wanted to leave you be.

It took every ounce of his being to resist the urge to shuffle into bed next to you and wrap his arms around you while whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Instead, he quietly took some different clothes out of the wardrobe and went to start on dinner. He wasn't a very good cook, but he had the stuff for pasta and it was one of the few things that he knew how to make.

He was working as quietly as possible so he didn't wake you up, but his mind kept wandering back to the image of you asleep in the other room.

After around half an hour, dinner was ready and Max would have to wake you up. He tiptoed over to his room and found you curled up in a tiny ball, arms wrapped around your torso as if you were protecting the child growing inside you.

Gently, yet hesitantly, he tucked some stray strands of hair behind your ear, before moving his hand to your arm to gently shake you. "Y/N, liefde, dinners ready," the nickname slipped out, but you were still asleep.

After being shaken for a bit, your eyelids fluttered open to see Max kneeling down next to you. He was wearing sweats now, and his hair was tousled perfectly. "I made dinner and I hope you like pasta," he smiled, his hand lingering on your arm.

"Yeah, I do. I hope it's alright I slept in here, I sat down and I was out like a light," you said, sitting up. "Yeah, it's not a problem. It is the comfiest bed in this place," he laughed, helping you up out of the sunken mattress.

As you plated your food, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. His hoodie hung off your frame perfectly, and you could still see the outline of your bump. Your hair was still slightly wet as it cascaded down your back.

The pair of you sat down on the couch and you tucked yourself into the corner seat. "This is really good," you said, taking the first bite of pasta.

"Thanks, it's one of the only things I can cook properly," he joked.

"How was the shoot?"

"It was alright, the others aren't as fun as you are, though," Max complimented. It was true, he was a lot more bored without you prompting them to do things. "I'm sure you were fine," you told him.

The pair of you finished your meals and you took the plates to the sink. When Max heard the sound of the tap running, he turned his head to see you washing the dishes. "You can leave that, I'll do it later," he called, wanting you to come sit back down.

"It's alright, it's the least I can do," you said back, already finished on the first dish anyway. You finished scrubbing the dishes and let them sit on the rack to dry. Padding back over to the corner seat of the couch, you plopped down and shuffled about a bit.

"So, how's the baby and everything?" he asked apprehensively. He really wanted to know more, but he didn't know if you trusted him enough with that kind of information. "They're good. I have my next scan next week, and I'm getting some pictures," you beamed.

He loved how enthusiastic you were when talking about your child and he could tell how much you loved them already. It just made his feelings for you develop even more and it made him admire you and care for you so much more.

He had always wanted kids of his own and he was great with them, but he had never find the right person. Sitting there then, he couldn't help but think that that person could have been you.

"Can I see them when you have them?" he asked, struggling to maintain eye contact in case she said no. "Of course, I'll show you when I next see you," you said.

"Are you sure you're supposed to be flying?"

"Yeah, the doctor said I should be alright for now," you explained, glad that he was interested. Nobody had ever shown this much interest towards you and the baby apart from your friends back home, so it was nice for you to talk about it.

As you sat there, something was creeping up on you and it wasn't being quiet. Your heart was thumping out of your chest whenever you looked at him and it felt like sparks were forming whenever he touched you. Sitting here with Max was something you could get used to.

For a few more hours, you and Max talked a flowing conversation and the room was filled with laughter for the whole night. You checked your watch and saw how late it had gotten. "I'm probably going to have to head home now," you said, standing and approaching the door.

"You can stay, if you want," he offered, desperate for you to stay the night. That would mean you would be the last person he saw before he slept and the first person he saw when he woke up. He'd let you sleep in a bit and make sure you had the best breakfast so you were ready for the day.

"I wish I could, but all my vitamins and stuff are back at my hotel," you said, wanting to stay more than anything. "Can I drive you?"

"Yeah, that'd be great." you nodded.

The pair of you headed to the garage and drove back to the hotel. Max swiftly rounded the car and opened the door for you. "Thank you for today, I really needed it and I've had a great time," you said, standing outside the hotel.

"No problem, I'll tell the door people to let you in if you ever want to use the apartment or anything,"

"I'll get this washed and back to you as soon as possible," you said, tugging at the soft material of his hoodie. "Keep it, it looks good on you," he smirked, and, for a moment, his mind wandered to a scenario where it was on the floor.

"Thank you, Maxie," you blushed. You placed your hands on his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek, before dashing through the doors of the hotel lobby, leaving Max stood there with the biggest grin on his face. He had spent so long loving you from afar, that it was heavenly to imagine loving you that close. It was almost scary.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. He caught a glimpse of you skipping up some stairs to the left of the foyer, so he ran inside the hotel and followed you. Just as he rounded the corner of one of the many corridors, he saw a door closing and the navy blue and orange hoodie going through it.

You heard someone knocking on your door, and you found it weird. Standing on your tiptoes to look through the peephole, you saw the Dutchman stood outside the door. "Miss me already?" you laughed, opening the door.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to go to dinner with me one night next week?" he asked, fear taking over his body. Maybe you only saw him as a friend, but how would he know if he didn't try. "Yeah, I'd love that," you smiled, trying not to squeal with happiness.

Your feelings for Max may have been relatively new, but that didn't discredit how strongly you felt for him. Maybe it was just because you were hormonal, but something deep in your heart told you that wasn't the case.

—

You had just exited the doctor's office after going in for a routine scan. Everything was perfectly fine and you had the pictures safely secure in your bag. Just as you hopped in the car, your phone buzzed. To your excitement, it was Max asking about the evenings dinner schedule. He said he was going to pick you up at half five so you could be at the restaurant for 6.

Your heart sang at the thought of getting to go out with him outside of work and you couldn't wait to see him. Of course, you said it was fine, and tried to contain your scream of excitement as you started the car.

Now, you were planning what you were going to wear and how you wanted to do your hair. You were trying to tell yourself that he was still just being friendly. Friends went out on dinners, right? But did they go to dinners at nice restaurant and give people the keys to their apartment? You didn't know.

When you arrived home, you sprung into action of ripping through your entire closet, trying to find something that you A) wanted to wear, and B) something that fit you. You were progressively getting bigger, but you could still fit into the majority of your clothes.

In the end, you picked a long, flowing blue maxi dress. You kept the makeup light, opting for a few swipes of blush and so flicks of mascara. You had washed your hair and had just let it fall around your face in beachy waves.

At twenty minutes past five, the shrill doorbell of your house split your ears and caused you to spring up from the couch and open the door. There was no doubt that it was Max on the other side, but actually seeing him there made you want to pinch yourself to make sure it was really real.

He was wearing a navy blue button up (he looked great in navy) and a pair of slacks. Not seeing him in Red Bull merch was a shock, but a wholly welcomed one. "Hi," you grinned, welcoming him into the house.

As Max peered around, he saw empty spaces on the walls where you must have had pictures of you and Scott. He hoped that there would be pictures of the two of you up there if things went how he so desperately wanted them to.

"Let me just grab my purse and we can head off," you smiled, your heels clicking on the floor as you approached the coat rack where your bag was. Plucking it off the rack, you found Max holding a framed photo in his hands. He was stood next to the coffee table, so you knew it was one from when you were younger.

"How old were you in this?" he asked, assuming it was only a few years ago. It was recent, at least. "I was about nineteen?" you said, trying to count the years back in your head.

"Really? You have not changed a bit," he said, analysing you every feature in the picture, then comparing it to the real you. It was astonishing how you hadn't aged a day over all of those years. If anything, you looked more alive and glowing now than you did in the picture.

"A lot has changed about me, Maxie," you sighed, thinking about how naive you were back then. If someone had told you that you would be a single mother-to-be, and the child's father was an absolute piece of shit, you would have laughed at them.

"And it's all for the better," he complimented. You turned away to cover up the blush that was already creeping up onto your cheeks and walked to the door. Exiting the house, you locked the door behind you and started walking down the stone path to the car.

Max skipped in front of you, opening the car door for you. "You look breathtaking tonight," he softly smiled, and you were too close to melting to the ground. "Thank you," you smiled. You hadn't been complimented on your appearance in a while, even when you were still with Scott.

The drive to the restaurant was short and sweet, and it was a lot nicer than you expected. The outside was clad with windows and the lighting was warm yet intimate. This place was nice. Really nice. As soon as the wait staff saw Max, they led you right through to a cozy booth in the corner.

As you walked, Max tentatively placed his hand on the small of you back and it felt like electricity was pulsing through your veins. You had it, and you had it bad for him. For Max, just getting to take you out to dinner was dizzying after pining after you for all that time.

The plates had just been cleared away, and a thought struck you. "I've got something to show you," you giggled, reaching into your bag and producing the photos you had gotten today. Passing them to him, you noticed how his eyes lit up at the sight of them.

Running his fingers over the features of your child, he felt an overwhelming sense of love fill his heart. Everything about them was perfect, and they looked just like you, even if it was still early on. He mentally reprimanded himself for loving something so small so much, since he didn't feel he had a right to.

The child wasn't his, and nor were you. Something that felt like a pang of jealousy rippled through his body. This was what he had wanted for years, and there was no one better in his mind for him. He didn't care that the child wasn't biologically his, that didn't matter. What mattered was that he would love them like his own and give them, and you, the best life he could possibly provide.

But, he left like he was getting way to ahead of himself. They were only on their first date, and he didn't want to rush anything.

"Wow," was all he could manage to get out as his eyes were transfixed on the tiny face of your baby. He left his mouth slightly agape. You found it adorable at how bewildered he was at the child, and those three precious words were thrown at the front of your mind and you had to swat them away before you blurted anything out.

It was the hormones, you were sure of it.

"Have you thought of any names?" he asked, wanting to know as much as you were willing to tell you. What you didn't need to know, was that he had been brainstorming names the night before. He couldn't help himself.

They were all Dutch names, so he didn't think you'd like them. "Not particularly, I haven't thought about it much to be honest," you told him, "Have you got any suggestions?"

Max pretended to look like he was thinking, and as if he didn't have ideas already. "Is it alright if they're Dutch?"

"Yeah, of course,"

"Aleta is nice, that was popular for a while. Ruben is also nice, not as popular but still," he said, itching to talk more about babies. He had a very bad case of baby fever at the moment. "I like those, a lot," you smiled, enjoying talking about this with someone and, for a few short seconds, it felt like you were two parents talking about your first child together.

"Can I get you two any coffees or desserts?" the cheerful waiter asked, his notepad out ready for your order. "That warm chocolate fudge cake is sounding way to good, so I'll take that, please," you smiled, handing the dessert menu back to the waiter.

"I'm alright, thank you," Max shook his head when the waiter looked to him. "I will take a cappuccino, though," he said. The waiter walked away to the kitchen, ready to hand in your order.

"The things I would do for a coffee," you half complained, half joked, missing the buzz that caffein gave you. "Oh, sorry, I didn't even think," he panicked, ready to call the waiter back over and cancel the coffee. "No, no. I didn't mean it like that. You can have whatever you want,"

A few minutes later, the waiter was back with Max's perfectly brewed cappuccino and set it down in front of him. You found it odd that he didn't touch it for a short while. "You going to drink that, or are you going to tease me?" you laughed.

"I was waiting until yours got here,"

"Oh, start, it'll get cold,".

It wasn't long before your hot chocolate fudge cake was place in front of you, chocolate sauce oozing off the top. You wasted no time tucking into it, and you could tell that Max was staring longingly at it. "You want some?" you asked, seeing as he looked at his now pitiful cappuccino.

"No, it's yours," he shook his head, struggling not to just steal the plate off of you.

"Come on, I know you want some," you said, holding the fork out to him. Without a second glance, he took the bite and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. The gooey, chocolate, fudginess was one of the best things he had ever tasted.

"Can I have some more?" he mumbled, earning a hearty laugh from you. As cliche as it sounded, everyone else in the restaurant faded away and all he could hear was the angelic sound of your laugh through the noise.

In the end, you ended up sharing the cake as Max couldn't get enough. He paid the bill, much to your protest, and you headed out to the carpark. The night air was chilling as you walked towards the car, and Max couldn't help but notice the shivers you were having.

Without a second thought, he shrugged his jacket off and draped it over your shoulders. "The car is literally right there," you said, but you admired his gesture a great deal.

"I know, but I can't have you or the baby getting cold." If it wasn't for the darkness of the night, you would see him getting as red as a tomato. "Well thank you, Maxie,"

Max drove you home, dropping you off on the doorstep. "Can I take you out again one night?" he stumbled over his words. He enjoyed taking you out and spoiling you, and he wanted to carry on doing so. "Yeah, I've had a lot of fun. Thank you for dinner, Maxie," you smiled, wanting to bring him in the house, but you both had work the next day.

"Anytime, anytime," he smiled, turning to walk back towards the car.

"Max!" you called out after him, jogging down the stone paving. You draped the jacket back around his shoulders and cupped his cheek with one hand. You swiftly kissed him on the cheek, saying a quick, "Goodnight, Max," before you closed the door.

—

Over the past couple of weeks, you and Max had been on a multitude of dates, most of the time it was more than once a week. You saw each other pretty much every day at work, and talked most evenings over the phone.

You had gone on all sorts of different dates, from movies, to dinners, to boating afternoons. He had even tried to teach you to play golf, but you weren't much good.

You had a dinner date scheduled tonight, but you really weren't feeling up to it tonight. You had been nauseous and had a heachache all day, so you didn't want to leave the house. Max had asked Christian to send you home early, and he had done exactly that.

However, you didn't want to cancel your date, so you invited him over to yours for movie night. You wore a pair of sweats and the hoodie he gave you; you had the snacks and drinks all set out on the coffee table.

You had already told him to just let himself in, so the sound of the front door opening made ropes of happiness lash your entire being. "Take a seat and get ready for the best night of your life," you smiled as he sat right next to you.

Max knew any night with you would be one of the best, but tonight was the night he wanted to make his move. What the move was? He didn't know yet.

As the movie rolled on and you munched on the snacks, your neck was starting to hurt due to the position you were sat in. You let your neck muscles soften as you rested your head onto Max's shoulder, and you felt him tense up a bit.

But, he was back to being relaxed almost instantly. As the movie went on, Max slung an arm around your shoulders as he tried to build up the courage to tell you he liked you. But, something was still holding him back. He didn't necessarily know if you felt the same.

It was as if you had read his mind, as you plucked up the nerve to grab his hand. You laced your fingers together, and his hand was a lot warmer in yours. He started gently running his thumb up and down and, even though it was small, it was still a soothing gesture.

You stayed like that through the whole movie, until the credits started to roll. Neither of you were really focusing on it, though. You turned your head to rest your chin on Max's shoulder, and you just admired him. He also turned to look at you, a smile spreading across his lips when he met your gaze.

There was no better time, so he leant in until your lips connected. It was instant sparks, until the kiss deepened. You had both been waiting for this, and you didn't want to be the one to end it. Fortunately, Max pulled away and looked at you.

A million thoughts raced through his mind and he wanted to dive straight back into kissing you. "I really like you," he muttered, letting his hand linger on the side of your face. He had just taken the plunge into ice cold water that he had been teetering on the edge of for years.

"I really like you too," you said back. Max had just emerged from the surface of the water and euphoria filled his veins. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked, pulling you closer to you. The feeling of finally getting to hold you in his arms was beyond winning any race or championship, and he never wanted to let go.

"I don't know, Maxie. It's not that I don't like you, because I really do. Like, a lot. But I don't want to rush you because I need something that's forever because I don't want to bring a child up in an environment where there's someone coming and going. They need stability," you explained.

You knew Max would never hurt you on purpose, but you needed a safe, warm, loving environment for your baby. "I get that, and I want to give that to you. You deserve someone to love you, and the baby more than anything else in the world. I want to be that person, and I completely understand if you don't want to accept and wait, because I'll be here," he said.

That was when you had an epiphany. It was like this feeling that everything was finally falling into place and that you were in the right spot in life. You had never felt anything like this with Scott, and your heart was yelling at you, screaming at you to let Max into your life as more than a friend.

Something in your gut knew he was the right one, and you'd be stupid not to accept that. "I want to be your girlfriend, Max. I'd be an idiot not to," you smiled, and the elated look on his face told you you had made the right decision.

He kissed you again with all the love and compassion he had pent up since he first saw you, and he never thought, not in his wildest dreams, that he would get to have you like this. It was pure perfection.

—

"Y/N! Come on, we need to go!" Max shouted up the stairs to you as he stood in the kitchen, fidgeting on the spot out of nervousness. "Max, we don't need to be there for another forty five minutes," you yelled back, finishing wrapping the hair tie around your hair.

"If we're early, they might let us in sooner," he bartered, standing near the front door to try and hurry you along a bit. "They run on appointments, not first come first serve," you told him, heading down the stairs.

"Please?" Max pouted, as if he were a small child asking for more sweets, "I'm just really excited," he said as you walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I know, so am I," you smiled, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"If we go now, we can go get ice cream," he bargained, placing his hands on your hips and swaying you from side to side. "Can I get a sundae?"

"You can get whatever you want," he reassured, hoping it would win you over and let him take you earlier. "OK, we can go," you said as he bounded out of the front door and to your car door, opening it for you.

Slipping your arms through the sleeves of your coat, you hopped in the car with him. He held his hand on your thigh throughout the entire drive, and it was his small actions of affection that made you fall even more in love with him every day.

Once you had parked the car, Max practically dragged you through the doors of the doctor's office and checked in. He sat in the chair fidgeting until you were called in. "Max, calm down," you said, placing a hand on his bouncing knee.

"Sorry, I'm just really excited," he grinned, unable to stop himself from smiling.

"I'm glad you are." It was refreshing to see someone so excited to be with you as this was the first time you had brought someone to your scan. The nurse came out and called you in and you led down on the bed like always.

"How are you feeling?" the nurse asked, squirting the gel onto her hands.

"I'm great thank you," you smiled, watching as Max looked bewildered as he gazed around the room. "Who's this?" she asked.

"This is Max, he's my boyfriend," you said. She knew Max wasn't the father since she was one of the first people to hear about what Scott had done, but she liked the look of him. He seemed put together and polite.

Instinctively, you lifted your shirt and held your breath as she rubbed the cold substance on your belly. As she manoeuvred the machine over your stomach, Max gripped your hand in glee. His eyes were glued to the screen and the look on his face was priceless.

On the screen, you could see the body of your child and it was one of the most magical experiences of your life. Peeking at Max, you could see he had tears in his eyes. "Maxie, darling, don't cry," you said, the sight of him crying nearly setting you off.

"I'm sorry, I'm just-" he started, unable to find the words to describe how happy and elated he felt. Seeing that small foetus on the screen filled his heart with so much love and light he was almost full to bursting.

"It's pretty magnificent, huh?" you asked, averting your eyes back to the screen.

Max still hadn't uncovered the ability to speak, and just nodded with his mouth slightly agape. You printed off two more sets of pictures, one for you and one for Max, and left the doctor's knowing that your baby was perfectly happy and healthy.

"Ice cream time!" you squealed, clapping your hands.

"Of course, how could I forget?" he smiled, shaking his head.

—

Max had disappeared upstairs for around twenty minutes, but you didn't really question it. He mentioned something about a phone call, so you just let him do whatever. "Liefde? Can you come here for a second?" he shouted down to you.

"Coming!" you replied, pausing the TV show you were watching and trudging up the stairs. "Yeah?"

"I'm in here!" he called, his voice carrying from the bedroom. You walked through and saw that there were no lights on anywhere. The bathroom door opened and you saw some candles were lit on the inside.

From somewhere, Max emerged with a huge bouquet of blood red roses in his hands. "How on Earth have you-" you started, trying not to burst into tears at his gesture. Suddenly, a figure dashed out of wardrobe, downstairs and out of the front door.

"I had a bit of help," he laughed, and you could tell by the sound of the giggle that it was a certain Aussie helping him out while he was in the UK. "Clearly," you playfully scoffed, taking the roses from him and inhaling their sweet scent.

"What's all this for?" you asked, capturing his lips in yours and giving him a compassionate kiss. "Ik hou van je," he spoke in Dutch, and you just blinked at him. He had been teaching you bits of Dutch, but that was not part of your vocabulary yet.

"What's ik?" he asked, teacher Max coming out in full swing.

"I," you slowly said, not able to connect the dots and see where he was going with this impromptu Dutch lesson. "And what is je?"

"You," you said, squinting at him as you thought.

"Translate it on your phone," he instructed, the cheeky grin on his face becoming more prominent and hard to conceal. "Ik hou van je," he repeated as you typed it into the translator app.

Refreshing the page and using different translators, they all gave you those three precious words as the answer. You flashed the phone at Max to get confirmation, and he simply nodded. "Ik hou van je," he repeated a final time.

"I love you too," you said as the words on the screen were blurred with tears of pure, unbridled joy. Scott had never made you feel like this, even when you first made your declarations of love to each other. Max was special.

"Let me put those in a vase," he said, plucking the roses out of your hands and running downstairs to water them and set them on the side. You strode into the bathroom, seeing the tub filled up with bubbles and candles dotted around the room.

He had even sprinkled some rose petals on the top of the froth.

You had just finished stripping off and were about to step into the bath, when you heard rushed footsteps behind you. "Hey, wait for me. The last thing I need is you slipping," Max said, taking your hand and helping you sink into the water.

It wasn't long before Max was clambering in behind you, pulling you flush against him so your back was to his front. His hands instinctively moved to rest on your swollen stomach, gently massaging the area.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes and fully relax as Max peppered a few kisses in your hair. "Je bent geweldig," he softly mumbled.

"In het Engels, alsjeblieft," you responded, your brain not being in the mood to try and recall your Dutch. "You're incredible. I can give you some synonyms if you want. You're perfect, amazing, magnificent, spectacular," he started to list, "Do you want me to carry on?"

"Yes, but you probably shouldn't, my ego is inflating a huge deal right now," you smiled. Scott never did these kinds of things, and if you were still with him, you'd be sat in silence, watching TV or something.

Max was brilliant, and he thought the world of you. There was no better way to spend evenings than with you in his arms and relaxing, away from the prying eyes of the world.

—

You had just reached the seven month mark and were getting ready to take maternity leave. You were desperate to stay at work to see Max close out the season with a title, and were planning to go to Abu Dhabi with him for the last race.

The doctor had said you could fly and be fine, and you knew Max would be watching you like a hawk for the whole thing.

Today was one of those days when the nausea was lingering throughout, and you were counting down the days until you could leave - even if you could leave whenever you wanted. Max had woken up early with you as you sprang out of bed and were reminded of how much your child loves you.

Having him by your side was the best thing that had happened to you for a while, and it was amazing to not have to go through it alone anymore. He had tried to convince you not to go to work and to stay at home, but you refused. You wanted to carry on your day as normal.

You noticed his eyes on you all day, and he was checking up on you all the time and you couldn't catch a break. Before the end of the season, you were having a meeting with Max, Checo, Christian and some other people in the team.

You had needed to finish something off before the meeting, so you were a few seconds late and all of the chairs in the boardroom were full. You were happy to stand in the corner, but someone wasn't. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted someone standing up. "Y/N," he called, nodding at the chair.

You sat down and Max stood behind you, and you could feel his eyes on the back of your head. Roughly around halfway through the meeting, another, massive nauseous wave washed over you and there was no suppressing it this time.

"Sorry, I'll be back in two minutes," you managed to get out before rushing out of the room and towards the nearest bathroom. Fumbling with the door, you managed to get in just in time and threw up in the nearest toilet.

The door opened up instantly, and your hair was pulled back behind your neck and a hand was rubbing up and down your back softly. It wasn't long before you were done, and you looked up at Max through glassy eyes. "You go back to the meeting, I'm fine," you said, forcing a smile.

"Not a chance, mijn liefde," he said, grabbing some toilet roll and gently dabbing around your mouth. "You're going home, come on," he said, tugging you into a hug.

"It's alright, I'll be fine," you said, the nausea going away after letting it all out.

"No, Y/N. I'm not taking no for an answer, I'm taking you home," he instructed quite forcefully. There was no point in arguing, so you walked out with him, hand in hand. You had only told people in Red Bull and a few close friends about you, but you weren't ready to tell the world yet.

As you walked past the boardroom, Max nodded at Christian and it was enough for him to know that you were going home. Max got you home and escorted you through the door and down onto the couch. "You stay there, and I'll be back in half an hour," he kissed you on the lips, then planted a soft kiss in your hair.

"And you stop making your mommy sick, it's not fair," he laughed, gently rubbing your stomach before he left. Then, there you were, left in the house until Max got back.

—

After the boardroom incident, Christian had forced you to go onto maternity leave early, and he promised he would still pay you for the extra time taken off. Now, you were in the private terminal of the airport, waiting for him to return to your shared apartment in Monaco.

You had flown over to live with him once you had gotten off work, and he was still trying to convince you to be a full time, stay at home mum. Through walked Max, his backpack slung over his shoulder and his features more sunken after his flight from Abu Dhabi.

His stature immediately straightened up when he spotted you walking towards him, "I missed you so much," he whispered into your hair as he held you in his arms. Now, you had him all to yourself for a few months.

"We've missed you more," you said as he moved his hands to your stomach.

"Have they been causing you any problems while I've been away?" he asked, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "No, she hasn't," you smirked, waiting for him to get the hint.

"She?" he beamed, hoping he had heard you correctly. You zealously nodded at him, watching as his face contorted into the happiest expression a man could have on his face. "I love you so much. I love both of you so fucking much," he breathed, holding you as closely and as tightly as he could have.

"I love you too, Maxie,"

—

"Shit I am tired," you huffed, leaning back in the pillows of your hospital bed.

"You did incredibly, lieve," he beamed proudly, kissing you on the forehead. He had just undergone the most magical experience a man could go through, and he was so glad you had allowed him to be here.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Max asked, and you were slightly scared.

"Is this something I want to hear right now," you moaned, that question almost never had a happy ending. "Yes, it is. If not, I completely get it and I respect your decision 100%, but I want to give her my last name," there had been no indication that he wanted to do this, but now it seemed like the best decision you could make for her. He thought he was moving too fast, but it might as well have been now over never.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, and Max thought you weren't happy about it. It was quite the opposite. You wanted this more than anything. You had someone who was willing to give himself to you and your daughter. "She is your daughter, Max. She's a Verstappen," you happy cried, gazing at her as she slept in the cot in the corner of the room. "And I want you to be one too," he stated, shifting off the chair beside your bed and onto one knee on the floor.

From his pocket, he produced a small, black, velvet box and opened it to reveal the most stunning ring you had ever seen. "I know it's soon, but I want to prove to you that I will be here for you, and our daughter forever and that I love the two of you more than anything in the world," he said, trying to choke back the tears, "Will je met me trouwen?"

There was no confusion with what that phrase meant. "Yes, Max. A million times yes," you said as he slipped the ring on your finger. There was no doubt in your mind that this was the right thing for not only you, but for your daughter.

Had he been bombarding you with a lot fo life-changing decisions? Yes, but he couldn't resist the perfect opportunity.

You shuffled up on the bed and pulled Max on with you, resting your head on his chest and letting your weight rest on him. You had had a long few hours, that was for sure. So much had happened, and you were completely drained and needed a lot of sleep to replenish your energy.

"Have you guys decided on a name?" The nurse who was drafting the birth certificate asked.

You took one look at Max and your little angel in the corner, "Aleta Verstappen," you proudly spoke. The nurse smiled and asked for the spelling, which Max happily gave her. It wasn't long before you had fallen asleep and dreamt of the life you had built.

—

You and Max were woken up by the shrill cry of your daughter ringing through the house. "You stay, I'll go," Max sleepily grumbled, rubbing his eyes and shuffling out of bed. This was your first night back at home since Aleta was born, and you were still unbelievably tired.

The cries stopped shortly after, but as Max reemerged in the doorway, the screeches continued. You went to get up, but Max turned and went back. Yet again, the cried stopped, and your heart nearly did when Max walked into the room with Aleta held to his chest. It was the most perfect sight.

"Max, she needs to sleep by herself," you told him, nearly falling back to sleep.

"It's just one night, liefde," he said, and you were too tired to argue with him. He led back next to you, your newborn snuggly cuddled to his chest. It wasn't long before she was back asleep, and so was Max. Everything was perfection, and the two people in front of you were what mattered the most to you.

You never thought perfection truly existed, but you were proven wholly wrong as you led there, the difficulties of the past month showing themselves as completely worth it.

A/N - Do we want a bonus chapter? Or have we had enough after 10k+ words <3. BTW I haven't proof read this...

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