#‘do u like them. i brought them myself’

[aka-indulgence]

Yeah I’m here to shoot. … Shoot my sHOT-

[friday-answers]

the thing about me that i will say though, is that... i've never really thought about my pronouns, nor my gender really, i've just went with what i was referred to as i grew up because it never felt wrong at all, and it still doesn't.

but, with creating universe friday and being this anonymous... blob who could be anyone, look like anyone, sound like anyone, being referred to as the 'creator' and with they/them pronouns...

made me realise in a really weird way that i kinda fuck with that. but not entirely they/them pronouns on me, myself (at least not in a way i would push to be referred to as) but when people don't know me.

when people hear my name or a description of me and automatically call me by a 'gendered' pronoun i kind of hate it. not repulsed by it, but in a way that i almost want to be truly anonymous to anyone before they've met me. or even until i'm a lil closer to them. like i wanna be referred to as 'they' in the way you say, "who are they?" when you ask about someone who's gender you know nothing of. anonymity.

idk. there's just something that just feels so right about not being known and being allowed to pretty much have no gender or appearance. i fear this blog is teaching me more about myself than i ever would've expected Erm...

but also i feel like this happens every time the weather gets colder. does seasonal gender exist??? it does now. i just decided.

[seventh-district]

again and again i find myself lamenting that audio roleplay isn't taken more seriously by some people. like yeah, they often have a romantic element, and by nature they usually directly involve/address the listener- and i totally get that those things aren't to everyone's taste. no art or entertainment is universally appealing, and that's okay! but.. it still makes me a lil sad that the "cringe" reputation of asmr/audio rp precedes it. there's a whole lot of talent and creativity being poured into these audios by so many people that i feel goes unrecognized and/or disrespected simply due to the medium that the stories are being told through.

[kuromi-hoemie]

hhhh talking about my writing was fun but 30 tags is not enough.. yes i have 3 major influences but i have minor ones too.. it is a lovechild of my favorite things.. writing is so fun and i have no self control or a concept of pacing myself i will sit there for 16 hours and get hit with every status effect but by god does it all just flow out of me. I've always been a music person yes but i also used to write a lot into early adulthood until The Incident™

but i am ready 2 jump back into it. i think comics are a great middle ground between the two mediums so i don't get As into writing bc i kind of started going crazy last time 🫡 i can take a more structured approach to it that forces me to pace myself and think about it differently. i love art.... i love making things i love knowing how to do things i love knowing how to play things i love having so many creative outlets, even if i don't do a lot of them regularly lol. it is enriching 😳 and nice to know that it's always there to come back to when u want.

[redwinelew]

guys i love your requests but idk which one to start first now...... help

[kuiinncedes]

:p

[batsplat]

holgieee... *head in hands* i don't have anything to contribute but i remember the brief period when he was considered a better prospect than sinner (remember when he won paris masters by beating 50 billion top 10 players? was it 2022? rlly feels like it happened 50 yrs ago... anyways and then he made 2 masters finals back to back(?) like crazy stuff rlly) and ofc there was the also just as briefly the whole new big 3 marketing thing w/ him, alcaraz and sinner because this sport has an unhealthy obsession w/ the number 3 for whatever reason. And ofc as the easily influenced person i am i was fully convinced by the marketing, like this is the future + i can't end up hating all the dominating players like i did w/ the actual big 3 so i shld invest!! then ofc i invested in the flop one... oops. joining u in the failed glory hunter box ig.

also random unrelated dasha fan anecdote but i remember i was trying to defend her play-style once (unfortunately a common occurrence) and somehow at one point one of my arguments was smthing like well maybe some of us enjoy watching double faults at 130 km/h.. anyways love my double fault king and queen.

anyways as always i love your tennis posts (and motogp posts too ofc) so much because sometimes i'm srsly like why do i watch tennis? like watching sports is a choice! its supposed to fun! so why am i constantly screaming, crying throwing up over tennis when i cld just stick to recreationally playing it poorly and have a much less stressful time? but reading your posts about the uniqueness of tennis as a sport, the rivalries, the psychological drama of it all im just like yeah.. yeah! thats why i choose to watch tennis and suffer. anyways all this is to say is although i ofc love all your posts (reading ur revolutionary girl utena posts, nodding and being like i rlly need to start that show... its been on my to watch list for yrs but my inability to start a new show-itis also hit at arnd the same time soo oops.. but also ur posts abt it are so good and i rlly need to get arnd to watching it..), i get especially excited when i see a tennis post because the way you can somehow eloquently put all the feelings i have abt it into words, so much so i just start nodding like a bobblehead every time i read one of them.

anyways this was supposed to be a short holger commiseration ask, idk how it got so wordy... srry abt that lol

no no pls never apologise. apart from anything else idt I could ever reasonably accuse anyone else of being wordy

yeah that 2022 paris run was life changing... I need to go back and watch some of the matches actually, the wawrinka win was deeply deeply satisfying and yeah then all the top ten wins... the djokovic match in particular. incredible. just felt like until around 2023 rg he had all the momentum going his way. I've actually been a long time sinner believer in that I always thought he'd Make It, which unfortunately is a belief that has aged extremely well. with rune I just kinda looked at the game and figured that besides a nasty cramping habit, it was kind of too good to not come off? I kinda feel like with many of the nextgen players who have ended up not being what they were billed as, you can point to something quite firm that's just *off* about their game. zverev for instance you kinda knew even around 2019-20-ish that the forehand really wasn't what it was supposed to be... I just think with men's tennis unfortunately it's so optimised by now that if you have any major technical deficiency, it will come to get you. obviously there's still variance with the playstyles at the top but you kinda need your bread and butter stuff - forehand has to be a weapon (zverev), backhand can't be a major weakness (berrettini, faa, tsitsipas), serve needs to be giving you enough free points and the second serve can't be a liability (rublev), and quite frankly your return has to be elite (all of the above bar zverev). also your movement needs to not suck (fritz). obviously medvedev is in a bit of a weird zone on his own where he's arguably Made It but also not made it in that way, and you could say that he himself falls short in several of these categories... but that was always his magic, right

and my thing is with rune I STILL think he does have all the fundamentals in place. there's nothing *technically* off about the serve or return, the backhand's a thing of beauty and the forehand... well, it's not bad enough you feel that it should be terminal. in 2022 and early 2023, it felt like he had so much to his game that if anything he had too many options and hadn't really figured out what kind of player he needed to be to win. I still remember that rome 2023 final with med so clearly where you could see quite visibly and drastically how he completely reshuffled his playstyle every few games upon receiving coaching - and it was such a radical shift that it must have been really tricky to play against. and he was getting a lot out of his tactics to just hang in points for as long as he could!! especially obviously against an opponent not renowned for generating his own pace, in particular on sluggish clay. that day, he didn't have the legs to fight it out... but it also still felt he had that Magic Touch about him. that ineffable factor that allows you to take all those top ten wins in a row in a masters, that odd extra something that makes it feel stupid to bet against a player until they're actually down and out. that belief you have with the big three or sinner/alcaraz that they just will find SOME way to win a match, even when they have no right to. and I suppose my belief in that should have already been fraying given he'd lost two tight matches to rublev at ao/monte carlo but. well. idk you could still blame the legs, still conclude it wasn't THAT consequential a loss

and he did have that magic touch!! him plus medvedev were basically the only show in town in men's tennis for the clay season pre-roland garros that year. rune's match against sinner at monte carlo (take me backkkk), that crazy one against bvdz in the munich final, the loss to foki in madrid with the 'personally I have nothing against the spanish people' thing, that crazy djokovic match in rome, the crazy ruud match, the medvedev match... idk there was just something so FUN about that, this guy who clearly is extremely talented but also an incredibly obnoxious brat who keeps getting involved in these stupid matches involving stupid drama... it was fantastic! ultimately the most depressing way you can look at it is that he's too interesting for current men's tennis. he's not got the discipline on the court and then he keeps having endless endless coaching drama off it... his head isn't on straight enough for this sport, and also he's not been treating his body well enough. unfortunately, this might just be the sport of the sinner's of this world... extremely disciplined, hard-working, unemotional, robotic. lacking in personality. not interested in much outside of the sport. no angst. quasi-disinterested, which is how I'd also describe myself with him at the top of the sport

anyway yeah! tennis! tbh I've massively disinvested myself in men's tennis since the start of the year - I actually think that sinner quote about sitting in the aeroplane back from ao and thinking about what he could have done better in the first two sets of the final kinda helped because it just definitively broke something in me - but obviously I'll never stop following it entirely. and women's tennis has been amazing for me this year because the girlies who could give me med-level anxiety have completely fallen off the radar with injuries, so I've just been able to enjoy the top level of the sport in like. a partisan way but not painfully heartbreakingly so. and I do think it's a special sport!! and I mean... thank god it's possible for players like dasha to actually have a high level career in wta tennis, like man what if I want to watch ultra-pushers without a serve do well. what then. it'll always be MY sport in the way nothing else is. I wish that the actual current sport, the current professional state of affairs, would give me more to work with... but in terms of raw potential, I really do think there's nothing that's quite like it. I wasn't ever planning on talking about tennis on here... I mean god knows, I wasn't even really planning on talking about motogp on here, one thing just sort of led to the other. I have like... extremely extensive notes and essentially essays in my notes about some of these things stretching years and years back, which at most have in the past been at times shared with friends or put in extremely condensed form on twitter. it's cool to have gotten a small audience with this stuff!! I'm a big believer in sport being Not That Serious but also kind of extremely serious and a fun and worthy subject of analysis. maybe one day I'll be able to dfw this stuff and shoehorn it into more serious work, or maybe I'll just continue putting it on tumblr dot com

[screamingay]

somehow these current roommates we have are the worst that ive known yet and last semester we literally had a girl who smoked cigs IN her bedroom. list of grievances below lol

[clarabowmp3]

the module just called me homophobic what

[spaciebabie]

Spacie I feel like you an some of the other fnaf artists are like the cool kids at the playground,specifically in the sandpit, and yall are like eating sand and building cool things and I want to join but I'm so spooked by yall that I'm just watching while eating gravel and drawing in the dirt

This is a very specific feeling/situation, but yea

I LITERALLY FEEL LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME TOO BRO!!! i feel intimidated by some of my moots and other artists cuz i think they're so cool and making awesome stuff meanwhile im making mud cake and eating worms but ya hafta remember that we all just folks havin fun at the end of the day! my mud cake is great and so are your drawings in the dirt!

interact! join in! i nor any of the fnaf artists i know are gonna bar ya from joinin us in the sand pit! someone could end up really liking your stuff and/or you could end up makin some really good pals!

[birdricks]

they rlly r being super heavy handed w the messages this season huh 😭

[faaun]

i feel like i have rly strict boundaries w ppl eating my food but i feel like i shouldn't but i like . recovered from an ED and i hate having my food messed w / having less food than i thought but i feel like i shouldn't care/just get over it

[tortademaracuya]

It feels undeserving 👍

[nejackdaw]

Woke up and started thinking about Quill and that first campaign again. The ending was so agggghhhhhhh head in my fucking hands

[marsharkit]

oh im pissed off

[rafestify]

need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

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