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jjmaybae · 12 days ago

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Breathe Babygirl

SYNOPSIS: When you wake up with barely any sleep in horrid pain and start having an attack anxiety, you rush to JJ Maybank who instantly does his best to comfort & help you.

PAIRING: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Stomach illness & anxiety attack.

AUHTOR’S NOTE: I wrote this today to comfort myself tbh but also wrote to comfort anyone else who isn’t feeling well too! Hopefully. 🤍 English was my third language btw.

(Song is optional. Just felt like adding one)

Early morning, the pain was actually hitting you quite hard and panic was steadily rising. It had been a while since you felt this way… the anxiety part. You thought it was gone forever but there it goes again, sneaking up on you like the bitch it is.

Your stomach had felt awful, you weren’t sure what triggered it this time but it ruined your sleep. It had felt like an actual rock was in your stomach, ripping away—it was so sharp and the nausea was at tenfolds.

You gulped and in a very short amount of time, you ran on autopilot looking for one person. Your feet taking you straight out the door despite the crippling pain you felt in your lower stomach, shooting up to the upper abdomen.

Now, you had never done this… so when JJ Maybank, your boyfriend, caught sight of you walking to him while he was out in the garage, surprisingly already awake—his concern and worry skyrocketed. You looked distraught and he had no idea why.

Immediately, he was walking to you and wrapped his arms around you, “Hey baby, what’s wrong? I got you.”

A hug and his voice should have soothed you but it only did a little when you were literally shaking with body tremors now and he felt it, his hold tightening slightly, “Baby?”

You spoke, “I slept like, two hours and I have a horrible sharp pain in my stomach.”

As if on cue, you groaned and continued as he listened, his brows furrowing.

“And I’m so nauseated, Jay. I feel like garbage. I’m tired and it’s making me super anxious… I- I never told you but I used to suffer from bad anxiety attacks… all the time, before we met.”

He knew that you, his girlfriend, had a stomach illness and issues that could make life unbearable at times when flares happened but you always seemed to handle it, despite his protests and arguments. You always masked yourself as okay and it would tick him off endlessly but he tried to control it.

What he didn’t know was that you used to suffer from bad anxiety.

He spoke quietly, his strong arms still wrapped around you trying to will the tremors away, “Why didn’t you tell me?” He almost sounded like he was wearing a frown now for not realizing this but you were so unwell that he couldn’t get mad.

“I thought they were gone for good… it’s been a long time since this happened. To be honest, I’m sort of scared of being ill. It’s not fun having these dumb health issues… but it got so much better, I- I… wasn’t expecting this and-“

Your trembling got worse and your breathing started faltering there. It was always shitty how it would just escalate so fast, the feeling of panic increasing along with the feeling of sickness.

He started rubbing a hand up and down your back, soothingly, “Shh, shh… it’s okay, sweetheart. Focus on me now. I’m right here, deep breaths babygirl.”

You tried but were struggling to focus now and he sensed it, “One, two, three, four, five inhale… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight exhale… c’mon.”

When you felt the tears startle to prickle and the breathing technique not working, you shuddered out a breath. Pulling away just a tad, “I can’t. I can’t… it’s not helping!”

Then when the pain hit even sharper, you almost kneeled over but he kept holding you up—a noise of discomfort coming out as you clutched your tummy.

“Let’s get inside, get you sat. Can’t stand like this,” He suddenly lifted you up like it was nothing while you made that pained face and felt more shaky than ever.

He was always your strong man and this was the time to use that strength. His heart broke though when he saw that look on your face, “Jesus Christ, baby…” He muttered and quickly walked you indoors to put you on the couch. He kept you on his lap, starting to rub your tummy, trying to ease it all.

His hand kept running circles but that stubborn ache wouldn’t let up.

“Nn…” You let out a small whine and he sighed, feeling a bit panicky himself.

“I’m gon’ go get you some medicine? Alright?” He said and carefully detangled from you, standing up but you spoke.

“No! Um…”

His brow quirked and he almost scoffed, “babygirl, you are starting to lose color, what do you mean ‘no’ to meds?”

“I… really don’t like meds, J. Please… can you just make me some tea? Tea can help sometimes,” you breathed out.

He couldn’t help but give in to the request, letting out a large exhale, “tea… yeah, I’ll get you that. Just stay put, I won’t take long.”

He noticed a sense of anxiety in you at the fact of him being gone for a few minutes, he almost struggled walking to the kitchen to leave you.

You hated yourself for being so clingy and needy at this moment, you normally prided yourself on not being that but alas, you were freaked out and it sucked.

You nodded and he bit his lip, “five minutes, stay here.”

He was hesitating but knew you needed something so he finally urged his feet to move to the kitchen so he can make tea.

After some minutes, he came back with the steaming mug, settling right next to you. One arm slung over your shoulder as you leaned to him in your shaken state and the other holding the mug.

It was ginger tea, for the nausea and discomfort—he hoped it would do the trick.

He carefully handed it but when he saw your tremors at work still, he put his hand over yours holding the mug to steady it.

“Drink,” He said, assuring he’d help you hold it. His hand was as warm as the mug and it felt nice, safe.

Once you finished with the tea, he pulled you closer and moved his free hand to your tummy to rub soothing circles as you fully leaned on him, head burying to his side.

“Tea’s gonna help, baby. Just relax with me now… deep breaths again.”

You nodded, trying to do exactly that.

After about forty minutes of hell slowly fading over, he felt relieved to feel your shaking stop completely.

He lifted your face a bit to take a look at you. He saw how exhausted you seemed, needing sleep. The weary look ok your face made him sad.

“Is the pain gone? Nausea?”

You nodded, “yeah, JJ… it’s gone. Tea helped.” Sighing in relief and so did he, “good, you need sleep babe.”

“I do, two hours was not enough.”

He changed the position, carefully laying himself on the couch and bringing you slowly with him, to lay right on top of him—everything was done with the uttermost affection for his girl.

“Sleep, I’ll stay with you.” He whispered softly, taking his fingers to thread through your soft hair.

You melted at that simple action, it meant everything. You nuzzled your head into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and holding on.

You closed your eyes, “thank you, love you.”

He smiled to himself, taking his free arm to wrap around you as he held you close while you two rested.

“I love you too… also, there’s no shame in needing some help and comfort, darlin’. I want you to always get me, ok? No more, doing it all on your own bullshit.”

“Jay…” you mumbled.

“I mean it. I know you can handle your shit most times but I got you anyway, so just listen for once?” His voice was stern and it made you feel something.

You sighed, knowing he was concerned and maybe a little irritated. Not at you per se but with the situation.

“Okay.” You simply replied, feeling more and more relaxed to the way he was gently playing with your hair and holding you with the other arm. He tugged you closer with just that one arm.

“Damn, you’re really not well today if you just agreed with no complaints but fuck, I’m takin’ that babygirl.”

You let out a quiet chuckle, tightening your hold on him.

“Yeah, yeah… no sass today. I know.”

“As much as I love your fire sometimes though, good. Better not sass me with this.” And that made you grin just a little to yourself.

“I’m shuttin’ up now, sleep… shh.” He placed a kiss on top of your head then closed his eyes and you felt yourself slowly drifting off to a peaceful and much needed rest. With your boyfriend and you cuddled up and cozy.

#i am running on 3 hrs of sleep lol so sry if this isn’t amazing.#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #rudy pankow #outer banks #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank scenario #jj maybank oneshot #my writing #jj maybank fanfiction #obx #outer banks fanfiction #fanfic

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zombyjuice · 24 days ago

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INTROUDICING - JUICY LUCY !

-🍧🧚🏼‍♀️ obx's fairy. pope or jj? she can't choose. The oddball kook. Sarah's half-sister. skirts and stockings. dimples. squeals. kisses. animals and marine life. pastel sunsets and foggy mornings. watches Family guy and shows off her pretty pj sets with Jj and tries to study and takes naps with pope. piercings, over explaining, hair dye, glitter, pale green, pretty pink, and fruits. iviri - more about lucy -

next up... blaire

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cloveswifey · 2 years ago

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Made it out

Pairings: Cato Hadley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hunger Games, mentions of death, blood

Type: Fluff?

Words: 1.0k

Cato had never imagined that he would be volunteering for the Hunger Games. He had watched the games for years, cheering on the contestants from the safety of his living room. But now, here he was, standing on the stage and accepting the honor of representing his district in the games.

As Cato walked off the stage, he spotted his girlfriend Y/N in the crowd. They had been dating for two years, and he couldn't imagine his life without her. He made his way over to her, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Hey," he said softly, taking her hands in his. "I'm going to do everything I can to win this thing and come back to you. I promise."

Y/N's eyes were filled with tears as she looked up at him. "I know you will," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But please, be careful. I don't want to lose you."

Cato pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. "I'll be careful," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I'll do whatever it takes to make sure I come back to you."

Y/N pulled away from him, wiping her tears away. "I know you will," she said, her voice firm and confident. "But you need to go now. The train is waiting for you."

Cato nodded, taking one last look at Y/N before turning and walking towards the train. He knew that the days ahead would be filled with danger and uncertainty. But he also knew that he had something worth fighting for – the love of his life, waiting for him back home.

As the train pulled away from the platform, Cato settled into his seat and closed his eyes. He couldn't wait to get back to Y/N, to show her that he had won the games and defeated all of his opponents. But for now, all he could do was focus on the challenges that lay ahead, and hope that he would make it back to her safe and sound.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Y/N sat in front of the television, eagerly waiting for her boyfriend's interview to begin. This was the only interview before the start of the Hunger Games and she wanted to see Cato's face, hear his voice, and find out what he was thinking before he entered the arena.

Finally, Caesar Flickerman's bright face appeared on the screen and the interviewer began his introduction. Y/N's heart raced as she watched her boyfriend enter the stage. Cato was now standing next to Caeser, looking taller and more confident than ever.

Caeser greeted him with a big smile and asked him how he was feeling. Cato responded, "I'm feeling ready for the challenge of the games. I'm physically and mentally prepared to give it my all".

Caesar Flickerman, sensing that the audience wanted something more personal and emotional from him, dove deeper and asked Cato more personal questions.

"So, Cato, tell us what you would do if you won the games?" he asked.

"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do, Caesar. I'm going to win for my family, for my district, and for Y/N," Cato said, looking directly into the camera.

Y/N's heart swelled up for a moment. It felt amazing to hear that from him.

Caesar asked, "And who is Y/N?"

Cato smiled and his eyes sparkled with affection, "Y/N is my girlfriend. She's the most important thing in my life. We've been dating for two years now and I love her more than anything else in the world."

Y/N blushed, feeling happiness and butterflies in her stomach after hearing those words. It was like the entire arena and television audience had disappeared and it was just the two of them, connected by their love for each other.

As the interview came to a close, Cato looked into the camera and addressed Y/N directly, "Stay strong and have faith, Y/N. I'm doing this for us."

Tears rolled down Y/N's face as she watched Cato exit the stage, feeling grateful and confident in Cato's ability and promise to come out victorious.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Y/N watched anxiously as her boyfriend, Cato, entered the arena of the hunger games. She knew he was a fighter, but the thought of him being hurt or worse, losing his life, sent shivers down her spine.

As the games progressed, Y/N watched every moment, glued to the television screen, anticipating every little sound and movement on the screen. Each day, she hoped that Cato would survive and make it out alive.

Finally, after weeks of waiting, Y/N saw Cato emerge from the arena, victorious. He was battered and bruised, but alive. She could hardly contain her excitement, running towards the train station where he was to arrive.

As he stepped off the train, Y/N could barely contain her emotions. She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, tears streaming down her face. Cato held her tightly, both of them feeling each other's warmth.

"How did you do it?" Y/N asked, looking up at him in amazement.

"I did it for you," he said, beaming. "I had to come back to you."

The two walked back to their home in District 2, holding hands tightly, taking all the excitement in. When they arrived, they sat on the front porch, cuddling and talking.

"I'm just so glad that you're back," Y/N said, holding Cato's hand. "I couldn't handle losing you."

"I never stopped thinking of you," Cato whispered, stroking her hair. "It was you that kept me alive."

They sat for a few more moments, taking in every little detail of their surroundings before finally, they leaned in for a kiss, held tight and passionately.

"I love you," Y/N said, looking deeply into Cato's eyes.

"I love you too," Cato replied, a smile spreading over his face. "Always will."

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missmouse43 · 6 months ago

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can you write a fanfic or oneshkt anout kiara getting hurt amd jj being protective of her

Jiara Ficlet #5

Word Prompt: Frantic (Read on AO3)

First off, I’m so flattered that you would even ask. I’ve never had someone send me a request before 🫣 As luck would have it, I just so happened to have the perfect word prompt for this.

Angst, Hurt/comfort, Protective JJ.

Mentions of blood and injury.

437 Words

I hope you like it 💖

Finding Kiara face down on the ground and unconscious has to be the scariest moment of JJ's life.

He sprints towards her as fast as his legs can carry him, shouting her name in a blind panic, before collapsing on his knees at her side. As he pulls her into his arms, he's terrified of what he might see. He doesn't know the extent of her injuries or even if she was still alive.

The possibility turns his blood cold.

The first thing he notices is bright red oozing from a shallow gash on her left temple. The injury is reminiscent of JJ's run-in with the blunt end of a machete a few years ago. She's got some bruising on her face and right arm, perhaps from the fall, but other than that, externally, he couldn't locate any other injuries.

He cradles her limp body to his, shaky, unsure fingers lightly smacking her cheek, then growing in force the longer she doesn't react. "Kie, wake up! C'mon, you gotta wake up! Kiara!"

The fear constricts his chest like a vice, consuming every fibre of his being. The thought of living a single day without her is a fate worse than death. His fingers are still frantic as he searches for a pulse. Tears of relief flood his eyes when he finds one.

JJ chokes on a watery laugh before carefully brushing away the curls stuck to her forehead and pressing a kiss to her brow.

"You're okay. You're gonna be fine," he whispers, a reassurance more to himself than her. But saying the words out loud fills him with renewed vigor. Those treasure-hunting thugs were still hot on their trail, and JJ couldn't protect them both out in the open like this.

It was clear that one of their pursuers had knocked her out. If JJ had to make an educated guess, he'd say she'd been pistol-whipped. He's not sure why they let her live, and he doesn't care about their reasoning. All that matters now is getting her somewhere safe where he can treat her wound.

As carefully as he can, JJ hoists Kiara up into his arms bridal style and spins in place, surveying their surroundings and searching for any possible shelter.

His heart's beating so fast he's sure it's about to give up on him, but then Kiara begins to stir in his arms, her soft, groggy voice asking for him, and it grounds him. He touches his lips to her hairline, soothing her with a promise: "I got you, baby. I got you."

Seconds later, he spots their escape and takes off running.

@atomicbluebirdpost

#jiara #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jiara ficlet #jj maybank fic #kiara carrera fic #obx fic #my fic #laura writes #random word prompt #what even is this scenario I put them in??? I have no idea lol #honestly can't believe I finished this in one day #thank you for inspiring me!!

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dalgitxt · 3 days ago

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II. BONFIRE

Content warnings: Underage drinking, angst, use of language (let me know if I missed any) Now playing: Australian street - Sitcky Fingers Header credits to oppalus.

Astrid slowly opened her eyes after sleeping for almost the entire duration of the flight. She would only wake up to eat something or go to the restroom.

Her head felt heavy, and her body was still fighting to wake up. It took a moment for the memories to come back to realize that now she was arriving in a new country.

She pushed herself upright in her seat while trying to stay awake. A flight attendant noticed her and approached her with a gentle smile. "We are about 30 minutes away from landing in Melbourne. How are you feeling?

When she arrived to the gate, she was assigned to one of the flight attendants since she was a minor. The flight attendant's name was Grace and was a dark haired girl in her mid 20s. She was grateful that Grace didn't bothered her during the whole flight and only approached her when it was necessary.

"Thirsty." the flight attendant handed her a bottle of water.

"The CPS agents asked me to keep an eye on you before you go to the arrivals gate, according to them, your sister will be waiting for you there." Astrid nodded while taking a long sip.

The plane arrived just after sunset. She couldn't believe that she was arriving two days later to Australia due to the time zone change and the long flight.

Once she stepped into the terminal after passing immigration, her eyes started to scan the crowd for anyone who might look like her older sister.

And there she was.

Rebecca stood by the arrivals gate, clutching a small piece of paper with "Astrid Crestmont" written in bold letters. Astrid didn't need it to recognize her sister, she could clearly see the resemblance with her mother and that almost made her cry.

Astrid stepped into view with a backpack that contained a change of clothes, her small notebook and pictures from their parents. They were the only things that the CPS agents could grab in a short amount of time while going to her house.

Rebecca hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward with a smile. "Astrid?" she said, her voice uncertain.

Astrid's grip on her bag tightened. "Hey, sis."

"Welcome home." Astrid almost wanted to laugh. This wasn't home for Astrid, and it would never be. "You look...different."

Astrid forced a smile and nodded. "Well, it's been nine years. People change."

The tension between them was clear, an invisible wall of unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Neither of them knew how to break the silence. Thankfully, the awkward moment was interrupted as a man in a suit approached them.

"Hello, I'm Agent David Lee. I work with Child Protection in Victoria, Australia." he kept a professional yet calm tone. "We will be conducting random visits to your home over the next few months to ensure you're capable of being Astrid's legal guardian." he explained to Rebecca.

The agent continued to explain more things to Rebecca, who was nodding the entire time and writing certain things on her phone.

"Thank you, agent. We'll be in touch." Rebecca said with a smile. "Let's go, we still need to drive to Shorehaven."

The drive back to Rebecca's place was filled with silence. From time to time, Rebecca tried to make small talk but was useless. Astrid just stared out the window, her mind swirling with anger and grief. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but the words wouldn't come.

"I know this isn't what you wanted. I didn't think this would happen either."

Astrid turned to her, her voice sharp. "Then why did you stop writing back? Why did you just disappear?" Astrid knew that Rebecca wasn't referring to that, but still, she needed to say something after many years without a proper answer.

Rebecca flinched but didn't answer right away. "It's complicated," she finally said. "We'll talk about it later." Astrid scoffed.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." She didn't want to fight, she was too tired.

The rest of the drive was silent.

Rebecca finally pulled into the driveway of a beige coastal house. The place was near the beach, but was still connected to a street with other similar houses. For a moment, it reminded her of home.

"This is my place." Rebecca said, stepping out of the van. "Your room is upstairs. It has a private bathroom and a small closet. My room is downstairs in case you need anything." Astrid followed her inside the house. "We can go to the store tomorrow to buy clothes for you and things to decorate your room."

The house felt cozy, with surf photos and trophies from surf competitions on the wall. There were no pictures of her family or something that could remind her of Outer Banks.

It felt like stepping into a stranger's life.

She went straight to her new room and shut the door behind her. She leaned against the door and in the quiet unfamiliar space, she let the tears fall, the weight of everything finally crashing down on her.

Rebecca stayed in her living room, not knowing what to do next. From the moment she received a call from an unknown number, her whole world went upside down. She was unsure how to approach her, but she knew she had to do something to help Astrid.

The following day, Astrid stayed in her room, refusing to step out. She hadn't spoken to her sister since their small argument the night before, and now the silence between them was heavier.

The day was just getting started but Rebecca couldn't take it anymore. She pulled out her phone and called Manu, her best friend.

When Rebecca first moved to Shorehaven, she stayed with a foster family until she turned eighteen and was able to get her own place. Manu's family has helped her since she was fourteen years old, she even think of them as her second family.

"Hey, Manu." she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I need your help."

"Oh, hey! Wait, your sister arrived yesterday, right? I'm sorry I couldn't be there, I had to prepare everything for the training session for the team." Manu said. "What's going on?" Manu's voice was calm, with just the right amount of concert.

Rebecca glanced to upstairs, then back at her phone. "Yeah, I know it's been a day since she got here but I don't know what to do."

Manu was silent for a moment. "I get it," he said, his tone softening. "She's been through a lot. Moving to a whole new country after your parents died it's difficult to process, especially someone so young."

Rebecca nodded even if he couldn't see it. "I know, and I don't want to push her, but it's almost noon and she hasn't eaten anything. I ordered some stuff for her room and some clothes, but I don't know if she will like it" Manu could feel the desesperation on her voice.

"Maybe she can talk to my sister, Poppy. They are the same age, I think they will get along well. Today is the bonfire, maybe she can go with her." Manu suggested.

Rebecca knew Poppy. She has known her since the moment she arrived in Shorehaven when Poppy was seven years old and was already dominating the waves. Rebecca treated her as her own litter sister, and it felt as a betrayal to Astrid.

This whole process wasn't new to Rebecca. A year ago, Manu and Poppy's mother died and Rebecca went through the same process since their mom always treated her as one of her own.

"Right, the bonfire. I don't think I can go, my job only gave me a week and today is my last day before going back to work." Rebecca sighed.

After graduating college, she began working as a marine veterinarian in order to be able to afford her surf competitions and her place near the beach, since it was located in an expensive and tourist area.

"Don't worry. I will be there to make sure that no one is hungover the following morning." Manu said.

Rebecca hesitated for a moment. She wasn't sure if pushing Astrid into a huge party on the beach was the right call, but it seemed like a great opportunity for her. "Alright, let's do it."

Rebecca hung up the phone, letting out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. With a deep sight, she made her way upstairs to Astrid's room, mentally preparing for the conversation ahead.

"Astrid? Are you awake?" Rebecca gently knocked the door.

She stayed there for a couple of seconds but there was no response. She decided to open the door and found Astrid sitting in her bed while seeing the ocean from her window.

"I know you left your phone there. I bought you one, it has my phone number, and the contacts of Poppy and Manu. Manu is my best friend, he is a surfing coach and Poppy is his little sister, she is your age. In case there is an emergency and I'm not around, you can call them." Rebecca said while giving the phone to Astrid.

"Thank you." she muttered. If she had any energy left, she probably would've said something she might regret later.

"There is a bonfire tonight. They do it every year to celebrate the start of the surf season, I mean every day is the perfect day to surf but if you really want to catch amazing waves, the summer is the perfect season to do it." she began to explain. "They don't usually surf, they just dance to some music, thank the ocean and eat a lot of food."

Astrid knew where this was going and she didn't like it. "Are you going?" she asked. Her mouth felt dry and her head hurt after spending the whole night crying.

"I can't. I have to wake up early in the morning to work but Manu and Poppy are going. I think it would be a great opportunity to meet them and get to know Shorehaven."

Astrid hesitated for a moment. "Okay. I will go."

Rebecca smiled wide after hearing it. "Amazing!" her voice was filled with emotion. "I will give you a ride to the bonfire at seven." Rebecca said before leaving the room.

"What a mess." Astrid said before going back to sleep.

The beach was already filled with surfers and locals enjoying the music, laughing and chatting. As they approached the gathering, Rebecca spotted Manu and Poppy standing near the fire. Once they saw them, Rebecca said goodbye and left Astrid alone with them.

"Hey! Nice to meet you, Astrid. Welcome to Shorehaven, the best place to surf in Australia." Manu greeted her. "This is Poppy, my little sister." he said with his arm around his sister's shoulders. Poppy had long brown hair with blonde highlights. She looked exactly as a surfer, strong and confident with tanned skin.

"Hi." Astrid shyly said.

"I'm glad you didn't miss the bonfire. Let me introduce you to some people." Poppy said while grabbing her arm and taking her to a group of people near the bonfire.

"Hey, guys. This is Astrid, she is Rebecca's little sister. She recently moved here from America." Poppy introduced her to the others who smiled and started waving at her.

"Finally another American, I was getting tired of hearing Australian's accent and I just arrived here yesterday! I'm Summer from New York." Summer said with a wide smile. She was almost the same height as Poppy, with dark hair and green highlights. "You arrived just before we were going to start a drink competition." Summer said while holding a cup, that she was pretty sure contained alcohol and not sparkling water.

A tall guy with long blonde hair appeared in front of Astrid. "I'm Ari, I'm just glad that Summer can bother someone else," he joked. "This is my girlfriend, Wren. She is actually from another town in Australia called Queensland." he explained.

Wren had short blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. Her presence was undeniable, her sharp eyes scanning her. She was definitely someone who commanded attention, even if she didn't try to.

"Nice to meet you, I'm glad there is another new person here." Wren smiled. "This is my older brother, Baxter. He likes to flirt a lot, so just ignore him."

The guy named Baxter laughed while getting a little bit closer to Astrid. He had pink hair and blue eyes, he was tall with broad shoulders and a manta ray tattoo on his right arm.

"It's a pleasure." he winked, making everyone roll their eyes. Astrid just stood still without not knowing what to say.

"If you ignore him, he will go away." a new person said. "I'm Marlon. I'm actually from Brazil, so I can also understand how you are feeling now." he smiled.

Marlon was shorter than Baxter and Ari but with a great physique. He had brown hair and shiny light brown eyes.

The last person of the group introduced herself. "I'm Bodhi, it's great to finally meet you." Bodhi said, offering a friendly handshake. She was taller than the other girls, with curly brown hair and big eyes. "What city are you from?"

"I'm from Outer Banks in North Carolina, I live in a small town called Kildare County." Astrid said quietly.

"I heard about that place! It is the best place to surf in America according to many professional surfers. My dream is to surf there. I heard that around August is the best month to surf, right?" Ari exclaimed excitedly.

"I'm not too sure." Astrid lied.

She totally knew that August was the best month to surf with consistent waves and warm weather. Meanwhile, November was the perfect month if you wanted a challenge while avoiding the summer rush. And that of course, May was the worst month to surf.

But she couldn't say that.

"You are not a surfer? Wren asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.

"I used to surf when I was a kid, but I was so bad that I stopped trying. I like the ocean, but I prefer to stay in the sand and read a book." Another lie. Wren smiled, being satisfied with the answer.

"Well, if you ever want to give it another shot, we can teach you." Marlon said. "Poppy teaches surfing to beginners, but everyone here is a surfer so we can all teach you, except Summer."

"Oh, fuck you!" Summer exclaimed. Astrid started to laugh for the first time since she arrived in Australia, the others followed her while continuing to make fun of Summer. "I improved while I was in New York, the waves might have sucked but I managed to make it!" Summer tried to defend herself.

"It's all about having fun with the ocean." Poppy said with a playful grin.

As the night progressed, Astrid found herself laughing at their jokes, especially those from Summer, who seemed to have endless energy. She learned more about her and her crazy adventures from last summer. She even started to get tipsy after trying alcohol for the first time.

She started to get closer to Wren, who kept talking to her the entire night about their favorite movies and songs. She enjoyed her company, and appreciated how Wren's intensity was matched by a friendly, welcoming attitude, making her feel like part of the group even though she was still adjusting to everything.

But deep inside, she couldn't shake the thoughts of JJ and John B. Even in a new place, surrounded by new friends, a piece of her heart remained back home, in the place where everything had once felt right.

NEXT >

#surviving summer fanfiction #surviving summer x reader #outer banks imagines #outer banks x reader #jj maybank x reader #obx #surviving summer #outer banks scenarios

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maybejj · 1 month ago

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Have to go out of town for a doctors appointment today so gossip girl part 9 won’t be up until later tonight I apologize in advance !

#I’d rather stay home and create scenarios but life goes on #jj maybank #obx #outer banks #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x reader #social media au

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seasprincess · 2 months ago

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bsf!jj who needs comfort angst

warnings: mentions of abuse

JJ is a troubled boy, anyone who knows his name knows that. Luke Maybank being the main cause of that.

So it’s not uncommon for JJ to knock on your window late at night. Bloodied and bruised due to the fact his father had just gotten drunk.

And that’s how you ended up in your bathroom. Bent over as you carefully wipe his split lip. Him twitching as the cold paper touches his skin.

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask this question everytime and usually get the same answer back. And this time it’s no different to usual.

“No.” He says bluntly. He doesn’t mean it to be harsh. He just isn’t great with his emotions. Evident in many prior situations.

“Okay.” You say softly, not wanting to push it and make things worse. All you want to do is make him feel better.

Your hands pulls the wet cloth away, chucking it in the bin as you look into his eyes.

“Don’t do that.” He says, his talking not helping the split lip as it keeps reopening. Not allowing it time to heal. But JJ never shuts up so that lip will be taking a while to heal.

“Do what?” You’re genuinely confused as to what he means. He is always confusing.

“Lookin’ at me like you feel sorry. Don’t want that shit.” JJ’s hand comes and rubs his mouth. Eyes averting your gaze. Thinking if he looks away everything will disappear. That this nightmare will be over.

“Well I am sorry.” You reply before grabbing his cheeks and making him look at you. Thumbs brushing them softly not wanting to hurt any of the bruises on his face. “I’m sorry your dad doesn’t see how special you are.”

And with that the tears that were threatening to escape his eyes falls down his cheeks. He hates crying, hates it so much. He never cries infront of anyone. But with you. He cares a little less.

Your arms wrap around his head and body as you pull him into a hug. Your shirt getting wetter as his tears pick up. He just cries softly into your chest, arms slowly reaching your back as his breaths stop and start.

You place a kiss on the top of his head as you play with his hair. There’s nothing you can say or do to help him. Just being there for him is enough.

He just needs you to be there.

a/n: need to give him a hug so bad.

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luizalmeidaaasxz · 2 years ago

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#outer banks #fanfic #jj maybank #oneshots #obx jj #obx fic #obx x reader #jj mayback imagine #masterlist #fic rec #scenarios #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #reading #my fic #obxhub #obx netflix #jj mayback x reader

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pintrestgrl · 5 months ago

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“𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 𝗠𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗗 𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗚𝗢 ...”

jae. she/her. 18. established ‘06. may taurus. lana lover. the color brown. rafes prettiest bambi. multi fandom. winter enthusiast. sleepiest girl. based in san antonio. avid listener. infp-t. cold chaser. shopping lover.

requests : open, feel free to send any thoughts or convo starters as well. i love to chat.

links : girls guide , masterlist , anon board

other socials : sideblog - talkingwithjae, pintrest - thepintrestgrl

©pintrestgrl. 18+ blog, mdni. do not copy, translate, or claim my writing as yours. i do post dark and taboo content at times. please remember you are responsible for your own media consumption.

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sunr1seblvd · 3 months ago

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- you are in love.

you are in love.

summary: the three times jj fell in love with you, and the one time you fell in love with him. warnings: lowk lovesick!jj, swearing (duh), somewhat canon violence, small reference to luke (gross), underage drinking, not proofread, the scenarios aren't in timeline order but who cares a/n: loved writing this! i'm also taking requests or people that just wanna talk in my inbox, so hit me up :) feel free to send me some feedback, i'm always trying to improve. wc: 567

you can hear it in the silence.

10:20 AM - the chateau

it was uncharacteristically quiet for a morning at john b's place. he and sarah were out in charleston looking for clues, kie was stuck working at the wreck (jj wasn't sure how that was a bad thing because of the free food), and pope and cleo were out helping heyward with orders.

so here jj was with you, girl of his dreams since the 3rd grade. you and him sat in the living room on the pull out sofa, half asleep and in your own thoughts.

he wondered what was going through that pretty little head of yours. was it him? was it someone else?

he felt comfortable in the silence. he shifted towards you, looking into your e/c eyes. you looked back into his steel baby blues, feeling blush creeping up on him slowly.

you giggled to yourself, turned around, and went back to sleep.

you can feel it on the way home.

11 PM - somewhere in the obx...

jj and the pogues just found the gold. like...the gold.

everyone was screaming about going "full kook! full kook!" and so were you!

but if you ignored the gold bar in your hand, and the mud, rain, and general dirt on your skin and clothes, you were so much more than that.

"jj, you good?" you asked and nudged him playfully, bringing him out of his romantic stupor.

"y-yeah! of fucking course, baby! you helped john b over here find the gold!" he yelled as the van errupted in cheers.

"yeah, and almost died in the process," you joked, cheesing hard.

if jj wasn't surrounded by all his friends or you didn't smell like actual cow shit, he would've kissed you on the spot.

you can see it with the lights out.

jj knew this was stupid, but he wouldn't be jj if he didn't do this.

it was pouring down, the rain slamming onto your house. he knocked slightly on your bedroom window. he saw a faint light turn on and saw you pull your curtains apart.

"jj?! what the hell- it's pouring down, get in here!" you hissed.

he climbed into your room, knocking down a book on your shelf. both of your head whipped towards your bedroom door, knowing your parents were right down the hall. you turned off the lamp, the only light in the room being the moon.

"what are you doing her- is it your dad?" you whispered.

"yeah, it was..." jj trailed off.

"c'mere," you motioned for him to give you a hug, and you felt his tears blotch onto your tee.

"you're okay..you're okay, shhhh," you murmured, not wanting to alert your parents.

he had never felt more love in that moment than in his entire life.

you are in love.

10 PM - the chateau's dock

maybe you were going insane, or maybe the bottle of beer you and jj were sharing together finally kicked in, but you think jj maybank just kissed you.

sure, you had feelings for jj, but it never really occured to you that he might like love you back.

you both sat at the edge of the docks of the chateau, looking out to the starry night sky. you were crisscrossed towards him, still in shock about what had happened.

"i'm sorry! that was sudden, i'm not mad if you didn't wanna talk to me again-" he rambled and got ready to get up when you pulled him down and kissed him back.

you kissed each other, the only noises around were the crickets and the occasional frog.

you are in love. true love.

#jj maybank #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader fluff #✩ rena's posts !#✩ rena's shows: obx !#✩ rena's characters: jj !

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rothpie · 2 months ago

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❝FIDELITY❞ |part9

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: mentioning miscarriage, blood, mentioning drug and alcohol use, daddy issues

Selly's note: First of all I'm sorry. I wrote this while my heart was broken. I learned my ex left the country. He was the first person I loved. LIKE COME BACK???? We HAVE TO marry!!!!! Sorry for oversharing💗, and if there is a mistake. I didn't re-read this. Love y'all.💗💗

previous - next

Your hands trembled. Your whole body felt numb, yet the shaking tethered you to reality. There was a heavy weight on your chest, as though even breathing had become an uphill battle. A knot in your throat tightened with every passing second, making even the simple act of swallowing painful. You didn’t know what to do. The chaos of the moment was tearing your mind into pieces, your thoughts tangling into a knot so thick you couldn’t unravel it.

You hadn’t done anything unusual. The day had started like any other. You made yourself some herbal tea, watched TV, read a book about baby development. You cleaned the house a little, then opened the packages that had arrived—items for your daughter’s room.

Alone.

Since the moment you arrived in this town, you’d always felt alone, but this was different. This was like falling into a deep, endless chasm, where there was nothing to grasp, no hand to reach for. You could feel your hands flailing in the void, desperately searching, yet finding nothing.

The warm, sticky sensation spreading down your legs sent a jolt of panic through you. Your eyes flicked downward involuntarily, but you didn’t want to look. Yet it felt as if everything around you was betraying you, even the streetlamp outside, which cast its harsh glow on the spreading pool on the floor. You didn’t want to see it. You feared that seeing it would confirm your worst fears. Your eyes filled with tears, but you couldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry. Would tears ease the crushing weight of this fear? You doubted it.

You reached for your phone, but even your fingers trembled. Touching the screen, dialing a number, selecting a name—it all felt like an impossible task. The chaos in your mind blurred your thoughts. Everything was moving too fast and too slow all at once. Seconds stretched into eternities, yet time pressed on, dragging you deeper into helplessness.

You hadn’t wanted this. You had left the island just for this pregnancy, determined to build a life here. And now, was it all going to be taken from you? After all the effort to adjust, after everything?

You glanced around. The silence of the room pressed down on you like a weight. It felt as if the entire world had pulled away, leaving you stranded. You knew there were people—so many people—but none of them were close, not really. Placing your hands on your belly, you clung to the small hope that the motion could somehow quiet the storm of fear inside you. But it didn’t work.

The voices of fear echoed in your mind: What if I’m too late? What if it’s over? What if this loneliness never ends? Each scenario was scarier than the last. You closed your eyes, but even the darkness offered no solace. The images in your head only fanned the flames of your terror.

When you finally held the phone in your hand, you knew you had to choose someone to call. Should it be your mom? Or your dad? Maybe… someone else? But what if they couldn’t come? That thought pushed you deeper into despair. It suddenly felt as if the entire world had turned its back on you, as if every person was out of reach. The weight of isolation was crushing.

Your hands were cold and clammy. As your fingers hovered over the screen, trying to pick a name, you felt frozen. You couldn’t move them. It was as though your brain had redirected all its attention to the fluid trickling down your legs and the stabbing pain in your abdomen. Panic consumed you, leaving you paralyzed and unsure of what to do.

A quiet voice in your mind whispered, Everything will be okay. But it was impossible to believe. That voice was so faint, so far away, drowned out by the louder, darker thoughts. Reality felt so distant that even hope seemed like a luxury you couldn’t afford. While your mind scrambled for answers, your body refused to move.

You tightened your grip on your belly, as though holding on harder could anchor you to something, anything. Alone in that dark, silent room, you had never felt smaller. The outside world was shut off from you, leaving only your fears, your thoughts, and the suffocating weight of solitude.

Since moving to this town, you’d thought a lot about loneliness. But now, you truly understood its meaning. Loneliness wasn’t just sitting in silence. It wasn’t merely being by yourself. Loneliness was not having anyone to reach when you needed them most. It was feeling as though your voice couldn’t reach anyone, as though you were invisible.

The trembling didn’t stop. Your eyes darted around, trying to focus on something, anything, but everything was blurry—not because you couldn’t see, but because you couldn’t concentrate. Nothing made sense in that moment.

You searched for a way out. But maybe the only thing you could do was wait. That thought terrified you even more. Waiting... it made you feel so helpless, so powerless. But what else could you do?

Tears welled up again as you struggled to breathe. But each breath felt heavier, each inhale pulling the loneliness deeper into your chest. That loneliness, like a black hole, seemed ready to devour you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the pool of liquid spreading on the floor. You couldn’t face it. If you didn’t look, maybe it would stay a bad dream. Maybe this was just paranoia playing tricks on your mind.

Even though you could feel the warm liquid dripping down your legs, you clung to the hope that you’d wake up. That you’d open your eyes in bed and thank God it was just a nightmare.

You wanted to wake up. You didn’t want to believe this was real. Not after everything you had done to adjust to this new life. Not after leaving the island to start fresh.

You had left everything behind. Everyone.

For a life with your baby.

You had wanted this baby. Even with your initial doubts, you had wanted it. And for what? To have it taken from you?

Your eyes shut tight as your hand clenched the phone and your other hand pressed harder against your belly. You wished the pain would stop, that the ache—so reminiscent of a menstrual cramp—would just go away.

Only days ago, you’d noticed your belly start to show, a tiny swell that made you smile. You had cradled it with your hands, talked to it, even though you didn’t care if it could hear. You wanted it to know you were there. Just a few days ago, you’d been excited about buying clothes for it.

For this?

For it to be taken away?

When you finally opened your eyes, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock. You wanted to block it out. You wanted the sensation in your legs to disappear. For a moment, you convinced yourself it was all in your head. But the warm trickle that followed was a harsh slap of reality.

Your trembling eyes drifted downward. The sight of the blood pooled on the floor knocked the breath out of you. Your heart skipped, as if an elephant had perched on your chest. Your legs gave way. Falling to the floor hurt, but it was nothing compared to the pain in your chest.

You had never seen them. They’d only been with you for five months, but the thought of that bond breaking—of losing them—felt like your heart was being ripped out.

When you love something so deeply, does it always have to be taken away? Is that just the way life works? Had everything led to this moment?

Had you fought with your family, with Rafe, for this? Had you left your entire life behind, moved to this town, just to lose your baby?

Even your family had started to share your joy. They were thrilled for you, as ecstatic as you were. And now, for what? For this?

Were you supposed to mourn?

To learn a lesson, did you really have to fall this hard? You hated it. You didn’t want to learn any more lessons. Not if they hurt this much. If growth meant falling like this, you were ready to stay exactly the same—stagnant, unchanging, and safe.

The moment you felt a fragment of clarity, just enough to push panic aside, you called 911. You couldn’t afford to lose more time. It felt like your mind had snapped back into place, even if only temporarily.

But you had no idea what you were saying. Your words felt foreign, disjointed, even as you tried to describe what was happening. They assured you they’d come to your home. They told you not to hang up.

Then you realized—you needed to call your family. You needed them with you. Right now, you just wanted to be back in Outer Banks, in your own house, surrounded by the people who had always been there for you.

If you were there, you wouldn’t feel this crushing loneliness. They would be by your side.

You didn’t even know how many times you tried. Your fingers repeatedly dialed your mom’s number, then your dad’s, over and over again. Each time, you were met with the same recorded message: unreachable.

Still, you kept calling, clinging to that faint hope that someone, anyone, would answer. But each attempt ended the same way, the monotone voice echoing the same result.

And then, without thinking, your fingers moved on their own. They dialed his number. In that moment, you didn’t care about shame or pride. All that mattered was that you needed help. You needed Rafe. Even if the chance was slim, even if it was just a sliver of hope, you needed him to answer.

As the phone rang, your heart pounded so violently it felt like it would burst out of your chest. Each ring amplified the fragile hope blooming inside you. Your lips moved as if uttering a prayer: “Please pick up.” You needed someone—anyone—to be there, to tell you that everything was going to be okay. Tears streamed down your face as the call rang on, unanswered.

He wouldn’t ignore you, you told yourself. He wouldn’t turn you away. He’d come. You knew he would. He had to. You prayed he wasn’t still angry, that he didn’t hate you for not terminating the pregnancy.

When the call ended without an answer, you didn’t stop. Your trembling hands hit redial without hesitation. Shame and pride were irrelevant now. You needed him. If he wouldn’t come, you needed him to reach your family. You were utterly alone otherwise.

Alone. The word echoed like a hollow drumbeat in your chest.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. The racing of your heart, the chaotic swirl of your thoughts, even your tears—all stilled in the suffocating silence of your own helplessness. But you didn’t give up. You called again. And again. Your trembling fingers barely functioned, struggling to tap the screen. But you kept trying.

Fuck pride. You needed help. You needed someone by your side, someone to hold you, someone to tell you it wasn’t the end. Your lips quivered as you let out a stifled sob. “Please…” When the call went to voicemail yet again, your shoulders shook with the weight of another unanswered prayer.

Wasn’t this his baby too? Didn’t it matter to him? You hadn’t made this baby alone. Surely he would care. You didn’t need him to grieve with you. You just needed him here. And he would come. Rafe was a lot of things, but when it came down to it, he wouldn’t leave you stranded.

Not you.

You had to believe that. You clung to that hope like a lifeline, begging for it to still be true.

Another sob tore through you, reverberating through the empty room. This time, it came from somewhere so deep inside that it left your chest heavy, crushed under the weight of despair. You prayed he’d answer.

You weren’t strong enough to endure this.

You didn’t want to do this alone. You fought to steady your trembling lips, desperate to string together the words you’d need to say if he picked up—when he picked up. But once again, the line went dead.

This time, it felt like a door slamming in your face. But it wasn’t just rejection—it was the crumbling of a trust you hadn’t even realized you still held onto. Deep down, you had truly believed he would answer. That he’d help you. That he wouldn’t leave you to face this on your own.

As the silence deepened, your hands fell to the cold floor, sticky with blood. You didn’t even care. You felt like everything you wanted, everything you’d dreamed of, was slipping through your fingers. Did you not deserve happiness? Had you done something so wrong to deserve this?

You wanted to scream. To set the house on fire, to rip apart the tiny baby clothes you’d just bought.

You nearly buried your face in your hands, but the sight of blood on your fingers stopped you. Frantically, you wiped them on your nightgown, trying to erase it. You wanted it gone—needed it gone. You wanted to forget everything that had happened today.

The phone was still in your hand, your fingers gripping it like it held a flicker of hope. Rafe hadn’t answered. Your family hadn’t answered. Their silence only pushed you deeper into yourself. Your tears began to dry, replaced by a hollow ache gnawing at your insides.

After your final attempt, you let the screen go dark. The reflection of your tear-streaked face stared back at you from the blackened screen, ghostly and unfamiliar. Your lips still trembled with silent cries, your voice barely audible even to yourself.

Then, the phone buzzed. The unexpected vibration made you flinch. The screen lit up, and your heart stuttered before racing into overdrive. A message.

When you saw the name, a fraction of the emptiness lifted. JJ. His name sat there like it belonged, as if the chaos hadn’t touched it. You opened the message, holding your breath.

How’s it going with your new street animal buddies? Found yourself a soulmate yet?

It was stupid. Ridiculous. But somehow, in all its absurdity, that sarcastic tone cracked something open inside you. A tiny window of light broke through the storm.

And yet, the relief was fleeting. Looking at the message, then back at the blood pooling on the floor, your emotions surged in a tangle of anger, helplessness, and unrelenting fear.

You needed him. Right now. Without thinking, your trembling fingers scrolled back to his name.

The name on the screen made your eyes well up. JJ. So ordinary, so simple. Yet, at that moment, it felt like your only tether to life. He’d come. He would, wouldn’t he?

With trembling hands, you pressed the call button. As you held the phone to your ear, the silence was broken only by the erratic pounding of your heart. Each ring sent a jolt of panic through you—what if he didn’t answer? “Please…” you whispered, barely audible. “Please pick up…”

It felt like you were losing your mind. Was this real? Had he really sent that message?

“Hey, Princess. I noticed we’ve upped the calls lately. Can’t manage without me, huh—”

The distant sound of sirens reached your ears, and your lips quivered. Even JJ’s voice, with its usual cocky tone, felt like an anchor. Just hearing him talk, hearing that familiar teasing edge—it was everything. It made you feel as if you’d already done all you could.

“I need you here.”

The words came out shakily, and there was a pause on the other end of the line. One hand rested in your lap, the other gripping the phone, both stained with blood.

To be honest, you were terrified. Not just about what might happen but about losing the baby.

“What’s wrong?” His voice had lost its playful tone, replaced with a sharp seriousness. He was waiting for an answer, but you felt too drained, too scared, to put your fears into words. Saying the possibility of a miscarriage out loud felt impossible.

How did he always know? How could he tell when you needed him the most? Was he like this with everyone, or just you?

When he said your name, you tried to take a deep breath, but it came out broken and shallow. The sirens were getting closer. “I’m bleeding.” The weight of the words nearly crushed you as they left your lips, leaving you lightheaded—not from pain, but from the sheer gravity of it.

You were so used to him being there. The idea of him leaving, of him not being there, was unbearable. “I called everyone, but—”

“I’m on the way. Did you call 911? Listen, I’ll be there, okay? Don’t worry. I’ll get there as fast as I can. You’ll be fine. You’re going to be fine. I’ll meet you at the hospital. Okay? I need you to say something.” His words were quick, determined, unwavering.

You nodded instinctively, even though you knew he couldn’t see it. Even if this was your fate, you didn’t want to accept it.

“I’m scared.” A sob escaped your lips as the sirens grew louder. They were on your street.

“I’m coming. Everything’s going to be okay.”

—

Last night was ordinary. A night that fell short of expectations—not that Rafe knew what he was expecting anymore. He had become a ghost of himself, far from anything resembling pride.

Had he ever been proud of himself, really?

He couldn’t focus on the future or the present; he was stuck in the past.

His eyes had searched for you everywhere. There wasn’t a corner of the Outer Banks he hadn’t roamed. The beach, parties, the country club—he’d scoured them all, just to catch a glimpse of you.

He even shopped at the grocery store near your house, the one far from his own. Almost every day, he’d find himself there, grabbing a drink, some crackers, whatever he could justify, just to linger for a chance to see you.

He missed your presence. Your scent.

He missed the moments in bed with you—not the sex, but the times he held you in his arms, kissed you, and just existed in your warmth. He missed looking into your eyes, the overwhelming urge to tell you he loved you.

But Rafe was a coward. He couldn’t admit that to anyone, not even himself. And you? You already knew. You didn’t need to hear it from anyone.

He hadn’t told his father. He hadn’t told anyone—Topper, Kelce, Sarah, even Wheezie. Not that anyone else could really understand.

You were the only one who truly knew him. And he’d lost you. Because he was a coward.

He missed the sound of your voice. If he could go back, he’d want you to talk more in those old videos. He’d spend hours talking to you if he had the chance again.

He couldn’t adjust to your absence.

When he threw himself into alcohol, he didn’t think much about it. When had he ever truly sat down and thought anything through? All he knew was how to make impulsive decisions that wrecked his life.

He couldn’t stand Topper and Kelce’s phases of chasing random girls, calling them over, laughing at nothing. Rafe’s mind, body, and soul belonged to you. He couldn’t bring himself to touch or even look at anyone else.

Every time he closed his eyes, every time he tried to sleep, the only image in his head was your face.

He hadn’t touched another woman. Not that he tried. He knew he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be the same. They wouldn’t be you.

There was a time when he thrived on quick, meaningless flings. He hated attachments—blamed it on his childhood. He figured it was because he didn’t know what it meant to make love. He never let emotions into it. But with you, it was different.

It was intoxicating—better than anything drugs had ever made him feel. It was addictive.

He loved whispering “I love you” while he was with you. It made him feel like less of the mess he knew he was. But even then, he hadn’t said it enough—like the idiot he was.

You had been gone from his life for almost four months, and the void was unbearable. Not even when he’d tried to quit drugs had he craved their presence the way he craved yours.

It was like he was a teenager nursing his first heartbreak. And yet, somehow, this was the mildest punishment he thought he deserved for his cowardice.

He’d worked so hard to get Ward’s approval, to finally be seen by his father. Ward was noticing him now, for the first time. He could see Rafe’s potential, and Rafe knew it. For once, it wasn’t Sarah he was looking at—it was him.

For the first time, Ward saw Rafe accomplishing something for Cameron Development. For the first time, Rafe gave his father the impression that he was capable of more. After years of begging for attention, Rafe was finally getting it.

But it had cost him you.

He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his father’s approval. He couldn’t face that rejection again. Ward had finally placed a hand on his shoulder, and Rafe didn’t want to feel that hand pulled away.

He hadn’t wanted to lose you, either. That was never part of the plan. It just… happened. Too fast. And he’d been too scared.

Scared of seeing that disappointment in his father’s eyes again.

Everyone around him noticed his spiraling depression, even Topper and Kelce. Though he never opened up to them, they could tell something was wrong. If they noticed, then everyone else must’ve, too. Not that Rafe cared. Nobody dared bring it up to him anyway.

Under Topper and Kelce’s relentless pressure, he found himself at a party. Not to have fun. Not to let loose. But to see you. He spent the night searching for you, glancing around like you might walk in at any second.

He looked for your old friends, the ones he’d seen you with before. He hoped you’d be there, even though he knew it was unlikely. You were pregnant. You probably wouldn’t come. But the possibility, however slim, was enough to drag him there.

That same possibility kept him shopping near your place, day after day.

For the chance of you.

The more he didn’t see you, the more he drank, as if alcohol could drown out the ache. Nothing could fill the emptiness you left behind, but he still clung to his glass, hoping—maybe if he drank enough, he’d hallucinate you.

He didn’t know how much he drank. It didn’t even feel like a party. Topper and Kelce flirted and joked with girls, but Rafe didn’t bother looking their way. He just drank and searched.

You were the one who used to go to parties with him. You were his girl. And Rafe? He was yours. It wasn’t an open relationship; he wouldn’t have shared you with anyone.

You used to pull him onto the dance floor. He’d groan and complain at first, but you always got your way. And once he gave in, he didn’t hate it. Not when he was touching you. He loved every moment he could hold you.

Even now, he could hear your voice in his head, persuading him to dance. Him pretending to resist. You insisting, until he finally caved. What an idiot he’d been. He should’ve just said yes every time. Done anything you asked.

His regrets were endless. His self-loathing, boundless. For being such a coward. For being a failure, yet again.

You had believed in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself. Your faith in him had given him the courage to ask his father for opportunities, small as they were. And with you, he’d felt like he’d succeeded, just a little.

Now he hated himself for choosing his father’s approval over you—and the baby.

The thought of you moving on, raising a child without him, was unbearable. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you with your swollen belly, or playing with your child—his child. And the thought of not being there...

He hated himself for fearing his father more than losing you. For crawling for scraps of his father’s affection like some pathetic creature.

Which he was.

And now, for the rest of his life, he would hate this moment—and himself—for choosing so poorly.

Rafe thought he’d made it home thanks to Topper and Kelce. He vaguely remembered stumbling through the front door and collapsing into Wheezie’s arms. The idea that the tiny girl could hold him up was almost laughable. Somehow, he’d managed to make it to his room.

Wheezie had laid him down on his bed before leaving. You’d have to be an idiot not to notice something was wrong. She knew her brother too well. She hadn’t seen him this quiet, this withdrawn, in a long time.

You were always there with him.

When you were around, Wheezie could hear your laughter coming from Rafe’s room. Even when Rafe was being his usual insufferable self, you made him bearable. She never thought he had that side to him. Frankly, she wasn’t even sure it existed until you came along.

When Rafe opened his eyes the next morning, a sharp, pounding headache greeted him like a cruel companion. The remnants of last night’s party echoed in his skull. Sitting up in bed, hungover and disoriented, fragments of the night before started to drift back into focus—crowds, noise, laughter. The sunlight filtering through the curtains hit him square in the face, intensifying the pain. All he wanted was to throw up and stay in bed for the rest of the day.

He didn’t remember much, just that he went to the party and drank like it was his last night on Earth. Alcohol had been a more reliable friend than Topper or Kelce that night.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he tried to shake off the fog. The smell—his own and the room’s—was rancid, like a stale cocktail of sweat and regret.

He kicked off the covers, intending to get up, when his eyes landed on a single pill and a glass of water sitting on the bedside table. Without thinking, he swallowed the pill and drained the glass.

Stumbling to the window, he threw it open, letting fresh air seep in. He took a quick shower, practically praying for relief from the headache that felt like it was splitting his skull in two. The cold water shocked his system, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to crawl into a dark room and hide there for a week.

Out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his neck and caught a glimpse of his reflection. Dark circles framed his eyes, his face bore the fatigue of a man who hadn’t truly rested in years. The weight pressing down on him wasn’t just from the alcohol; it was everything else. Everything he’d tried to suppress. “You really are a master at screwing things up,” he muttered bitterly at himself.

His gaze drifted around the room—clothes tossed haphazardly on the bed, an empty bottle lying on the floor, a lighter on the nightstand. Even the carpet under his feet made his skin crawl. He needed to pull himself together, maybe eat something, grab a coffee. But first, his phone.

It sat there on the edge of the table, an unspoken threat. Reaching for it, a wave of unease washed over him. He didn’t know who he’d talked to, what he’d said, or worse, what he’d texted. His fingers trembled as he picked it up and unlocked the screen.

Notifications flooded in—group chats, Instagram likes—and then, there they were. Three missed calls.

From you.

His breath hitched. He stared at the screen, the timestamp mocking him. Midnight. One after the other. His thumb hovered over the call log, uncertainty gripping him. Why had you called?

And why at midnight?

It couldn’t be. Not you. Not after everything. You never made the first move, especially not in the middle of the night.

For a moment, he considered calling you back. His thumb ghosted over your name. Should he? Maybe. Or maybe not. What if it led to the same arguments—about the baby, about why you didn’t want to stay, about why he let you go? He could still feel the weight of everything left unsaid between you, haunting him like a shadow.

He dropped the phone back onto the table, running his hands through his hair. Deep down, he knew these questions were rhetorical. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, he hadn’t stopped thinking about you—or the life you might’ve had together.

Rising from the bed, he moved to his closet, grabbing the first shirt he saw. A hollow ache settled in his chest as he debated whether to call. The courage he’d relied on last night felt a thousand miles away.

Just then, the phone buzzed. Another notification. His heart skipped. Was it you? No. Someone else. But the fleeting hope that it might’ve been you twisted something inside him.

Setting the phone down again, he took a deep breath. *Calm down,* he told himself. But calming down was impossible. The unease coiled tighter, mixing guilt and longing into a cocktail of misery.

Without thinking too much, he hit your name and let the call go through. The ringing filled the room, amplifying his heartbeat. What if you were asleep? What if he woke you? He hated the idea of disturbing you.

The line clicked off before you answered. His worry deepened. What if something had happened to you? His fingers hovered, then dialed again, this time with more urgency.

The second call rang longer. Each tone ratcheted up his anxiety. And then, finally, the line connected.

“Hey,” Your voice was quiet, cautious.

For a moment, Rafe’s words stuck in his throat. He tried to speak, but it felt like someone had stolen his voice. Finally, he managed, “Hey… uh, you called me?”

It sounded weak, tentative. But hearing your voice, even like this, sent a pang straight through him. He missed you more than he could put into words.

A pause. The silence stretched, making him wonder if you were about to hang up. Then you answered, “I was drunk.”

The words hit him like a slap. Drunk? That was it? Just a drunk dial? The thought made his stomach twist. Was it really that meaningless?

“Are you okay?” he asked, this time more firmly, though it took everything not to press harder.

“I’m fine.” But your tone was too quick, too dismissive. He knew you better than that. He could always tell when you were lying. But he didn’t push. Maybe he didn’t want to know the truth.

“Alright,” he said, not knowing what else to say. He wanted to keep you on the line, to hear more, to find some excuse to hold onto this moment.

“Okay,” you said, your voice faltering briefly before you caught yourself. “I have to go.”

And just like that, the call ended. The short beep that followed felt like a final blow, sealing the unbearable silence around him.

Rafe stared at the phone. Drunk. The word echoed in his head. It collided with another thought, one that sent a chill through him. Did she…?

Had you gone through with it? The decision he’d pushed you toward but never truly wanted? He’d convinced himself it was the right thing to do, but now the thought made his chest tighten unbearably.

He slumped back into his chair, burying his face in his hands. He didn’t know how to feel—relief, regret, or something else entirely. But one thing was clear: he hadn’t stopped loving you. And that realization hit him harder than anything else.

He glanced at the phone one last time. Your name was still there on the screen, a painful reminder of everything he’d lost.

He thought about texting you but stopped. No words felt right. Maybe silence was all he deserved. After all, what was left to say when you’d already walked away for good?

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