Sense | C.b.

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Justice for Sonya Massey

Say her name

She was a beautiful woman with two kids who was unrightfully killed by police officer Sean Grayson

She called for help and she met the end of her life by the same people who were supposed to help her

Fuck the cops and fuck anyone who tries to defend this man’s abhorrent actions. He deserves the same fate if not worse. He took an innocent woman from this world and he deserves twice as much as the pain

Say her name

Sonya Massey

some photos i took from emerson college’s encampment for palestine. most of these were taken only a few hours before the boston PD attacked hundreds of protestors and brutally arrested 108 students, most of whom were poc, jewish, and/or queer.

anyone who spent any amount of time in the encampment will tell you just how much it brought us all together—there was always food, music, arts and crafts, and hundreds of messages of support written in chalk.

after the BPD was done brutalising us for peacefully protesting, they power washed down the walls of the encampment—all of these messages are gone. theyre trying to erase what happened, but they’ll never truly be able to. everyone saw, and everyone will remember.

Lacey 🎀 — Matt Sturniolo x Fem!Reader PT2

PT 1 <- Read this one first lovelies

Word Count: 3k

Contains: Pregnancy, mentions of sex, Matt being a pervert, A very emotional

woman

Remember when I said I wasn't writing pregnancy?? | lied....

PS: If you like pistachio ice cream you're getting flamed... sorry not sorry

Matt tells you too often to let him do his job, but you don’t listen to him. Maybe you will after a long work shift, but night after night, you wake up to his daughter crying, mumble an “I’ll get it,” and hush the girl back to sleep, clad in your boyfriend's shirt.

The routine you two had mirrored that of a married couple. Matt wanted it to be his job entirely, but you’d convinced him that whoever gets up first puts Lacey back to sleep. Matt never gets up first.

You walk back into Matt’s room holding your shirt. “She threw up on me.” You purse your lips, peering down at the spit stain with a sour look on your face. Matt laughs. “She wouldn’t have thrown up on you if you let me get her.”

You sigh, peeling off your (Matt’s) shirt and grabbing another from his drawer. “I like getting her,” you hum, sinking into bed again. Matt pulls his arms around your torso, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “You won't like it after another year of it.” Butterflies fill your stomach.

Another year. Another year with Matt.

…

The grocery store was the last thing on Matt’s long to-do list for the weekend.

In the morning, before you realized how many things Matt planned for you to do, you agreed to walk. You regretted that deviation now after nearly footing yourself across the city and back. Your temper was short, and your feet were sore.

Matt presses a kiss to your cheek, noticing your tired eyes. “We just have to get baby food, then we’ll go home,” he mutters. You hum, mumbling out a “fine” and entering the supermarket.

The first thing you notice is how long the checkout lines are, and you groan. Matt notices this and laughs. “You get in line, and I’ll go get the food,” he says. You nod, letting out a moody sigh and taking steer of Lacey's stroller, heading to the checkout line.

You stay put in line, rocking Lacey's stroller back and forth, trying to keep the bustling ambiance of the store from waking her up. You fail, but continue to rock her stroller, this time in an attempt to put her back to sleep.

“You shouldn’t rock her like that. Babies get motion sickness too easily,” an old lady, presumably in her late forties, interjects, approaching you.

You shoot her a pursed smile, slowly halting the stroller rocking. “She likes it when I do it,” you quip.

She peeks at Lacey, who rests her head against the stroller's side, a small string of drool escaping her mouth while she clutches the stuffed bear you’d bought for her.

“She’s adorable, how old is she?”

“One and a half,” you reply curtly, not generally enjoying your conversation with the lady because it always leads to you awkwardly confessing you're not her mother and that you're not married to her father. Not to mention, this woman seems particularly judgy.

The lady nods, encouraging you to go further into detail about Lacey, something you don’t particularly want to do.

Matt approaches from the infant aisle to your ease, clutching Lacey's food. “Hey babe,” he smiles.

You let out a sigh of relief as he approached. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it's making excuses to get out of conversing with others. You wave him over, “Hey,” you hum, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. His eyes dart between you and the woman, asking who she is with his gaze. “This is her father?” She asks, returning to Matt. You nod, pursing your lips into a smile. You clutch the bar of Lacey’s stroller and start forward, trying to avoid questions you know are coming:

“How long have you been married?”

“Was the pregnancy terrible?”

“How’d you choose her name?”

All questions you’d gotten—all questions you couldn’t answer.

“It was nice to meet you, ma’am,” you smile. Her eyes glance at your hands as you grip the stroller bar, your left hand specifically. She was looking for a ring. She was looking for a ring and didn’t find one because you weren’t married to Matt nor were you Lacey's mother. The lady's face soured; she paused lightly, pointing to your bare ring finger. “You two aren’t married?”

You sigh awkwardly, stopping dead in your tracks and biting your lip. Who does this lady think she is? “No, we—“

Matt interrupts you, snaking an arm over your shoulder. “Our rings are at the cleaners,” he bites, “The rings are being cleaned because me and my wife have obviously been married for a long time.” He gestures to Lacey as he says this. You flush at Matt’s statement but hold eye contact with the lady, who is now also flustered. She grudgingly spits out an apology. Once she’s out of earshot, you laugh and turn to Matt.

“So, Matthew, when were you going to tell me we’re married?” You smile, and Matt shakes his head. “I have never in my life met a bitchier fifty-year-old woman,” he jeers. You laugh, and then your expression fades to a serious one. “No swearing in front of Lacey!” You chide, raising a finger to his lips. Matt bites his lip playfully, “She’s not sleeping?” You shake your head in response, “She woke up when you went to get the eggs.” Matt leans over the stroller and looks at a very awake Lacey. Once she realizes his attention is on her, she smiles and holds her teddy out to him. “Hi, baby,” he coos, ruffling her thin hair.

You and Matt move up in line, close to the section where last-minute candies are displayed in the store's desperate attempts to drain consumers' money. Fortunately for the business, you are one of those consumers. Matt watches you as you pull a chocolate bar out of the display box, then another, and another, and another.

“Can you buy me these?” You ask, holding the sweets up to him. Matt laughs. “Yes, I’ll buy you those.”

…

“You know, that woman in line was so rude!” You pout, bringing up the incident for the sixth time as you reach Matt's door. Matt laughs, “Why are you letting her get to you this much baby?”

You frown. “I don’t know…” You pause for a second before continuing your rant. “She could’ve just kept her mouth shut! There was no reason she had to ask so many questions about our personal lives,” you huff, “And her perfume smelled bad.”

Matt chuckles at your pettiness and keys open his apartment door. “You have the perfume she was wearing,” he grins, creaking the door open. You step inside.

“No, I don’t. That perfume smelled horrid.”

“It’s the second one to the right on your perfume shelf. You wore it on our first date.”

You blink at his persistence but shake your head. No way you’d wear a perfume that pungent. “Come here,” Matt says, walking to your shared room. You follow behind him, and he points to a small vanilla bottle. “That’s the perfume that lady was wearing,” he points with a smirk on his face. You grab the perfume and spray it on the ball of your wrist. When you bring your arm up to smell it, your eyes widen. It was the perfume the lady was wearing, and the smell made you want to hurl.

You gulp back the contents of your stomach and push Matt to the hall. “Go get Lacey; she’s still in her stroller,” you blurt.

Matt nods and leaves the room. Once he’s out of sight, you make a beeline for the bathroom and empty your guts into the toilet.

You grip the toilet's edges and throw up your breakfast and lunch… to the smell of vanilla.

You stand and flush the toilet, contemplating what the hell just happened. You find the sink and wash your hands and wrists, making sure the soap erased all of the vanilla scent.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. That perfume was one of your signature scents; you wore vanilla and daisy perfume. You’d been leaning into newer scents lately, but there was no way the smell of vanilla would ever make you hurl.

Your train of thought is interrupted by an energetic Lacey. She stomps into the bathroom and grabs your damp hand, leaving you to forget what you were thinking about.

“Show time! Show time!” Lacey repeats, pulling you out of the room with as much force as she can muster. You laugh and walk out with her, and Matt smiles from the sofa when he sees you tread into the room. “We’re watching Tangled,” he announces, patting the spot next to him for you to sit. He pulls Lacey into his lap, and you nestle your head into the crook of his shoulder.

“Whose choice was it?” You joke. Matt smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple, then one to Lacey's. “It was the choice of this little princess,” he smiles, wrapping his arms around Lacey's torso and hugging her close to him.

Lacey falls asleep after the second musical number. That’s when you and Matt stop watching the movie, given it was Lacey’s favorite and you’d seen it several times.

Matt moves Lacey to her crib and meets you in your shared room. Too tired to shower, you peel your shirt off, ready to switch into a nightshirt but pause. “Matt… look at me,” you say, turning to face him.

Matt immediately raises a brow. “Not like that!” You huff, “Stop being perverted!”

Matt raises his hands in innocence. “You're standing there without a shirt on telling me to look at you, and I’m the perverted one?”

You feel your cheeks flushing and bite your lip. “No, like— do you notice anything different?”

“You look beautiful, Y/N.”

”Yeah, but—“

Matt cuts you off. “Your body is perfect exactly like that.”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “No—Matt! Do my boobs look bigger?!” You exclaim.

Matt's eyes widen at your outburst. He takes the opportunity to study your chest (for far too long) before nodding, “Yeah, they do look bigger.”

He approaches behind you and cups your tits with his palms, giving them a slight squeeze. You wince at his motion, sucking your teeth. “Fuck. Sorry! Did that hurt?” Matt immediately drops his hands.

You shake your head, “No, I don’t know why I did that,” you fabricate, lying through your teeth.

Matt pecks butterfly kisses down your neck. “Let's go to bed.”

…

Lacey rarely disagrees with you. She disagrees with Matt plenty, but when it comes to you, you're her biggest role model.

She does not want to leave the park. You don’t know how to get her to leave the park without putting your foot down, and something you're incapable of doing is being stern with Lacey.

“Lace, c’mon, let's go to daddy.”

“No.” Lacey crosses her arms. ”Hunny, it's time to go home.” You try.

“No.”

“Lacey—“ The toddler ignores you, and your lip starts to tremble. Where is this flood of emotion coming from?

You try one more time before Lacey’s constant rebuffs break you, and crocodile tears start streaming down your face.

“Y/N?”

Matt's hand is on your shoulder, urging you to get up from your crouching position. You stand up and attempt to wipe your tears away with the back of your hand.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He questions, picking Lacey up to hold her at his hip. You sniffle. “She wont listen to me.”

Lacey protests loudly as Matt picks her up, babbling little “no’s” repeatedly. “Lace, do you want ice cream?” Matt coos, effectively pacifying the toddler who loudly babbles in response.

Matt is confused, judging by how many chocolate bars you’d purchased earlier, he guessed you were on your period, but he heavily doubted anything Lacey said or did would make you this emotional period or not.

“Y/N, is everything at work okay?”

You nod, urging him that everything is fine. It’s the truth. Matt doesn’t quite believe you, skepticism laced in his eyes.

“Do both of my girls need ice cream?” He asks. You nod.

Pistachio ice cream is disgusting. This was something you and Matt both agreed on: If you order pistachio ice cream, you're over the age of fifty or you have broken taste buds.

So when you lean over the counter and ask the clerk behind the glass for a large pistachio ice cream, Matt stares at you with a mix of confusion and amusement but follows in ordering Lacey a kiddie-sized vanilla.

“You ordered pistachio ice cream,” Matt teases, bopping Lacey's nose with his finger, and she laughs. “She ordered pistachio ice cream, Lace, isn’t that weird.”

It’s obvious Lacey doesn’t know what he’s saying, but she still giggles at her father's antics. You cross your arms playfully, “shut up.” You huff, spooning the ice cream into your mouth.

You and Matt walk slowly out of the park because Lacey’s on foot. You're halfway done with your ice cream when you stop abruptly, and the pieces finally connect in your mind.

You’d been moody - period moody but weren’t on your period. You threw up at one of your favorite scents and ordered pistachio ice cream for god sake.

Holy shit.

“Matt, I think I’m pregnant,” you blurt.

Matt stops dead in his tracks when your words process in his head. His mouth falls into a slight ‘o’ shape, and he grips Lacey's hand slightly tighter.

You look at him and wince at his initial reaction, starting to feel a lump form in your throat. “I-is that bad?” You ask.

Matt swallows harshly. “No-no, baby it's not bad, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

He picks up Lacey, who’s looking back and forth between the two of you in confusion, and buckles her in her stroller, gripping the handlebar with one hand to give his full attention to you.

He studied your face; your eyes were reddish as you looked up at him. You breathed, waiting for Matt to break the silence.

“Let’s stop by the pharmacy on the way home, yeah?” Matt grips your hand, giving you an encouraging squeeze. You nod, knowing your voice will betray you if you try to speak.

You hesitate at the pharmacy’s entrance once you get there. Matt takes quick notice of this. “You stay here with Lacey; I’ll go in - I’ll be thirty seconds.”

“Ok.” You smile lightly at him and take a turn with the stroller.

…

You subconsciously lock yourself in the bathroom when you get home. You didn’t mean to lock Matt out, but you didn’t have the courage to do this with him.

You’re internally freaking out and trying to ground yourself by telling yourself “It’s just peeing on a stick.” This does the opposite of calming your heart rate.

You view the test. Two lines - positive. You freeze in place for a moment before Matt creaks the door open, “Baby, you’ve been in here forty min…”

Silence stifles his words once he sees the positive test in your grasp. “You're pregnant,” he smiles.

Your mind is overwhelmed with new information, and your mouth runs dry, unable to speak. You hug Matt tightly, clinging to him, knowing that's what you need to calm yourself down. “I won't be a good mother,” you mutter into his chest.

Matt's look hardens. “Have you seen yourself with Lacey? You’re a natural. You put her to sleep, feed her, you have the most controlled temper I’ve ever seen, and she loves you, Y/N.”

You frown. “Are you forgetting I’m here?” Matt continues, “I was a single dad for a year; you're going to have support baby.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I'm going to take care of you.”

A small smile creeps onto your face with Matt's encouragement. Matt notices your change in face and smiles, “We're going to have a baby.”

The realization sinks in, and you laugh, repeating Matt’s words. “We're going to have a baby.”

Matt ushers you to the bed where you sit down. There’s a bottle of Gatorade on the bed stand and one of your chocolate bars. “Electrolytes,” Matt smiles, handing you the drink which you steadily down.

You sit for a moment in content silence before you speak up, “Where’s Lacey?”

”The sitter came and picked her up, thought we needed some alone time.”

You laugh, “Alone time is good.” Matt nods, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “It’s my fault… the shit I said at the hotel.”

You can tell he’s too nervous to admit what he said and smirk, “You mean when you said you wanted to breed me and then begged to come inside of me… yeah, I think this is your fault,” you tease.

Matt laughs wholeheartedly and presses a kiss to your lips, pecking you twice. Then he pecks your forehead, above your brow, and both of your cheeks before he’s back to your lips in a full-on make-out session.

“I love you.” He presses a hand to your stomach.

Matt nudges his nose against yours, tilting his head to get better access to your lips. His lips taste minty from his ice cream sample. You take his scent in, the mix of his shampoo and Lacey's baby powder.

His stubble grazes your face as he leans over you. You laugh lightly into his mouth as the stubble tickles your cheeks. He feels wonderful.

Your hands move from his neck to his cheeks, cupping them. Your stomach felt fuzzy - your head felt fuzzy - and he didn’t stop moving his lips against yours. His hands roam your back and send goosebumps up your spine. When you pull away gasping for oxygen Matt pecks your neck. An innocent action coming from him. His hands prod your waist, sliding from your back to your stomach. He gently squeezes your sides and grips your waist lightly.

“I love you.” He presses a kiss behind your ear. “I love you.” He repeats. Another kiss followed.

You smile, you love it when he’s sappy. You cup his cheeks and press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “I love you too Matt.”

“Since I got you pregnant do you think we should get married?”

You play along, raising an eyebrow. “Get me a ring and I’ll think about it.”

WHITE XMAS | mattheo riddle

summary; mattheo comes to spend christmas with you and your family.

word count; 15,245

notes; I have never played chess in my life, chess girlies don’t come for me. pic was made by @finalgirllx!

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hellooo I have a request for Spencer x bombshell! reader (I'm not sure if you've done this before and if you have I apologise!!) but like they're on a case and one of them gets pretty badly hurt somehow & then the other is really worried about them & stuff and then I'm not sure (I think this could be good but not the way that I have spoken about it and so I'm very very sorry!!)

u r so awesome don’t worry!!

cw canon typical violence and injury

Everything is crisp and quiet at the precipice of the stakeout. You adjust your gun where it’s poised over the roof of an SUV away from a moving officer’s body. The negotiator adjusts the megaphone at their thigh nervously, waiting for Hotch’s go ahead. You’re all waiting for it. A hand raised, sending you in, hostage recovered, a long case coming to a short close. 

“Don’t forget your leg,” Spencer says to you under his breath. 

“Trust me, babe, I can’t forget it,” you say back, glancing quickly at him to your left. He’s facing forward, trained on the window where you’d last seen the unsub. The distance between you both and the danger is small, less than three feet of space. You and Spencer don’t have a clear shot, the agent’s behind you better equipped and better trained, but you can make do in a pinch. 

“Hurting?” he whispers. 

“Half as bad as it was yesterday.” 

“I have a bad feeling.” 

“Yeah?” You follow Hotch’s hand. The negotiation begins. You and Spencer don’t talk again. 

The unsub is sour, the victim terrified. When the screaming inside begins in earnest, the FBI rolls inside, confident in taking down the unsub, if a little worried about the victims wellbeing. You and Spencer sweep in less than ten inches away from each other, unafraid, and you don’t see the sledgehammer until it’s hitting you in the jaw, spraying blood like dark ink over Spencer’s pale cheek. 

—

“I don’t care if that’s what you recommend.” A drag of a soft touch somewhere on your skin. “Sincerely. I want a second opinion.” 

“It’s a mandibular fracture, we have a suitable follow up procedure.” 

“I understand, but I’m doing what she’d want me to do. When she wakes up, she’ll say the same thing, and so there’s no point in starting the paperwork for a procedure she won’t agree to.” 

“I doubt her cosmetic preferences will outweigh functionality.” 

It’s Spencer’s voice, Spencer’s hand on your leg. He’s reaching back to hold you as he defends you. “Respectfully, you don’t know her. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. She needs peace and quiet.” 

The doctor harrumphs but leaves. Quiet is restored, and for a while you doze, the only thing at your attention Spencer’s hand where it climbs. He takes your hand. You know his fingers well where they twine between yours. 

A few hours pass by in sluggish slee, the bed elevated to an uncomfortable sitting position. 

“Hey?” he asks, fingertips to the hill of your shoulder. “Are you waking up?” 

You can’t make your mouth form words. Your eyes flash open in shock.

“Hey, don’t panic. I’m sorry, I’m going to explain, but please don’t panic.” 

You wait. 

Spencer stands in a rumpled shirt, hair in his eyes, glasses slipping down his nose. “Your jaw is broken, fractured, actually, pretty badly. You’ve had so much pain relief over the last few hours I’m surprised you can even open your eyes, and it’s good you’re struggling to move your mouth because it would only hurt anyways.” He claps your arm gently. “I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere though, okay? I’m right here.” 

That’s not what scares you; you know Spencer’s gonna stay. It’s not a question. 

Your hand strays up to your face. 

“It’s not bad,” he swears, and perhaps lies. 

“Spence,” you manage, a croak that aches and lisps at once. 

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning down. “Please don’t get upset.” 

You blink tearfully. You don’t remember what happened, just the flash of pain and now Spencer looking down at you like you’re wounded. He sits carefully on the side of your bed and grabs you by the waist, two hands on your sides and arms resting on your stomach, like a hug that hasn’t crept forward. 

“You won’t like the bruise,” he says apologetically. 

“Bad?” you whisper. 

“It’s all the way up to your eye. He also chipped two of your teeth… I’m so sorry, angel. It was my fault.” He thumbs your ribs. “I’ll fix everything. I already talked to your dentist, and tonight they’re coming back to talk about your plastics because the blow split your skin, okay? But you're mostly fixed already.” 

“‘M I… still pretty?” you ask. 

“Still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, not half as shyly as he’d usually would. 

You cry panicked, dribbly tears. He rubs shapes into your sides and swears again that it’ll all be okay, and it’s not that you don’t believe him, it’s just that it’s really starting to hurt. 

“Had a bad feeling,” he says, wiping your tears as gently as he can before they can wet the bandaging on your jaw.

“Did you get him for me?” you ask. 

Morgan clears his throat from the doorway to announce his arrival, a coffee cup in hand, pastry bag hanging between his pinky and marriage finger. He sounds like he’s about to laugh, “Did you, lover boy?” He beams at you. “I’ve never seen him pistol whip someone before. You would’ve loved it.”

You groan in agony. Missing out on seeing that is almost as bad as breaking your jaw. 

“I’ll recreate it for you,” Spencer promises. 

“And now it’s time for him to eat,” Morgan says, putting the pastry bag on the bed, “and get some sleep. He hasn’t slept in the two days you’ve been in here.”

“I had important stuff to take care of,” he says, rubbing your side. “While you couldn’t do it yourself.”

“Sleep,” you insist through your achy mouth.

Spencer’s eyes go soft and sad. “I will.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ SWALLOWIN’ MY PRIDE

↳ series masterlist!

↳ summary: in which chris is forced to swallow his pride as he comes to terms with the new that y/n has shared, realizing it’s not just her fault. however when he mentions the alternatives, he fails to see how much it hurts his girlfriend.

↳ pairings: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

↳ warnings: swearing, angst, chris not wanting a kid, verbal arguments, big talks about abortions and giving the kid up for adoption, mentions and descriptions of vomiting, a loooot of angst tbh.

↳ important things to note: this is a heavy chapter so please keep that in mind if you choose to keep reading, i’ve done my part and have warned you about what this chapter entails so please do yours and close out of this fic if you cannot handle those topics. i am not your mother i cannot stop you, but if you choose to keep going despite being uncomfortable with the things i’ve warned you about, you are not allowed to get upset with anyone but yourself. enjoy<3

THIRD PERSON POV

chris was left utterly speechless as he stared at the thin plastic stick in his hand. the only thing running through his mind, was “what am i going to do? i just signed the contract today?” he felt guilty being so absorbed in his doubts about his career but it was something he had worked for his entire life. he knew his concerns were selfish, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop worrying about them.

the words “we’re pregnant, chris.” rang in his ears like a bell chiming, he felt his breath get stuck in his throat and he wasn’t able to breathe. he quickly shifted y/n off his lap so he could begin pacing, he held his head in his hands as his skates clunked against the padded locker room floor.

“what the fuck are we going to do y/n?” chris spits, his voice broken and unsteady as he looks at his girlfriend, her eyes red with unshed tears as she shook her head softly and shrugged.

“i don’t know chris.”

“why weren’t you careful?” chris exclaims, unintentionally putting all the blame on her as her head snaps up, her brows furrowed tightly as she breathes out a listless laugh.

“how is this all my fault?”

“i’m not saying it’s your fault. but why didn’t you just get an abortion?”

“in case you forgot what you were taught in fifth grade health class, it takes two people to make a baby, chris. you were the one that wanted to hit it raw and you promised to pull out but clearly you didn’t. and i didn’t want to abort it without your input because this child is half of you, too. and i would not be able to sit through that alone!“ she scoffs, tears dripping down her cheeks as she stares up at him, guilt and regret chipping away at the slight glimmer of hope that chris would be okay with it that she held.

“i just signed a good contract baby, i can’t miss my games for this shit.” chris sighs, his heart rate slowing down, but his mind was still racing, leaving him blind to the internal battle his girlfriend was facing.

he felt sick, he had everything mapped out for the next five years and this baby completely threw a wrench in everything that he had meticulously planned. there was no way a baby this early in his career would look good, it’d make him look reckless and uncaring about his job.

“do you not think i’ve been thinking about that, chris? that’s the only thing i’ve been thinking about since i found out or even had the slightest idea i was pregnant, i have been terrified of derailing the life plans you’ve set up for yourself and i don’t know what the fuck to do but what i do know, is that we’re pregnant and we have to make a decision about this. so until you’ve processed this, you can stay with one of your brother’s, i will be waiting at home.” y/n replies, her voice gradually getting quieter and breaking even more as she finishes. wiping her tears, she quickly exists the room, the need to vomit overcoming her.

her mind wouldn’t stop racing. it brought every possible scenario to the surface and she was beyond scared. what was she going to do? chris sure as hell didn’t seem to want the baby, and she thought she didn’t either but talking about it to chris had her realizing that she wants a family more than anything.

as she knelt in front of the toilet , she couldn’t help but laugh internally. finding out you’re expecting a child was supposed to be a joyous and happy time. finding out that you’re carrying a life that is half of yourself and the person you’re in love with, the person you’re fully committed to for life, was supposed to have you feeling over the moon. and instead, it had y/n’s stomach twisting with guilt, regret, heartache, and distress.

ash she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet, she sat on the edge of it, letting her tears fall as she let the feelings of hopelessness and loss fully consume her heart. would she really see this pregnancy to term if chris didn’t want anything to do with her and the baby? if she did, would she let chris back into her life when he decides he wants a family? or would he seek a family somewhere else?

“how the fuck am i going to survive this without him?” she whispered to herself, quickly exiting the public washroom and making a beeline for the front entrance.

chris on the other hand, was stoic as stared at the wall opposite of him, the thin plastic stick beside him taunting him and his mind, almost as if it was telling him that he was acting selfishly. instead of comforting his girlfriend, who was as equally terrified of their recent news as chris, if not more? he blamed her. he yelled at her.

he callously told her to abort their baby to be. to get rid of the life growing inside her as if it meant nothing. as if it wasn’t the product of two people that loved each other deeply. even if it wasn’t planned or considered, that child to be was still the result of chris and y/n’s love. of the fact that they held each other so closely that they made love without any preventative measures. but chris couldn’t look at it that way, he didn’t want to.

his focus was on his career, hockey was everything to him. it made him everything he is. but was hockey really the only thing that mattered to chris? as he mulled over the answer, images of y/n sobbing as she held the freshly positive test, of her sobbing and scared in front of him waiting for him to pull her into his arms in the middle of that locker room flash through his mind. he felt guilty, he hadn’t even hugged her as she sobbed, he so badly wishes he could rewind the clock a few minutes so he could react differently but he couldn’t.

he knew he wanted a family at some point in his life, but now? it was so early. he wanted to bask in all the glory of being the newest and youngest star on the bruins without the responsibilities of his personal life hanging over his head. but that wasn’t possible.

as his team made their way down the hall, chris shoved the test into the side pocket of his hockey bag and plastered a fake smile on his face. the team cheered and hollered as they had won the game. chris joined in on the festivities, briefly forgetting the decision he had to make as the team got dressed in their suits and dress clothes, deciding to hit the bar in the lounge above the rink nd celebrate their win and landing bracket in the playoffs.

y/n was in the complete opposite state, she sat at the table, the meal she had prepped hours ago as soon as she got home after leaving the game early sat on the table in front of her. it had grown cold and stale as she tried to bring the urge to eat to life but she couldn’t bear the thought of choking back her food. she hated eating without chris. she knew he wasn’t going to join her after she told him to stay with one his brothers, but out of pure muscle memory she made a plate for him and it sat across the table from her, taunting her, as if to say “this is what your future will look like if chris decides he doesn’t want the baby.” and it broke her heart into a million shards.

could she really handle a life without him? they’ve been together for so long as it is. was it worth it to go through everything that they have already, just for a child to tear them apart? she didn’t know the answer to that and she didn’t want to. she hoped that somehow, chris’ mind would change and he would have this great epiphany and realize he wants this, the family life with y/n.

she knew how important this spot on the bruins’ team was to chris, she knew that more than anybody else. but was it more important than a life with the woman he called his soulmate? was his career more important to him than his relationship?

y/n, truthfully, had began to believe it was. he would call off dates and anniversary dinners to go hang out with the team, he would come home late the nights he promised to be home early. he put so much of their time together on the back burner, and maybe this child was the wake-up call she needed. maybe she wasn’t cut out for the life of dating a superstar hockey player.

sighing, she cleared the plates off, putting the leftovers in an air-tight container and leaving them for her or, hopefully, chris to eat another day. she quickly loaded the dishwasher and started it before cleaning the rest of the kitchen. as she had finished, she flicked off the main kitchen light, leaving the light above the stove on so that when chris came home, if he had made up his mind yet, he wouldn’t be surrounded by complete darkness. but she knew in the back of her mind, chris coming home tonight was just wishful thinking.

as she laid in bed, she scrolled through instagram, chris’ story updates catching her eye. pressing down on his profile circle surrounded by a pinkish purple ring, she was met with the sight of chris and john shot gunning beer in their suits, leaving her slightly hurt that instead of talking about things with her or his brothers he chose to party with his team. she knew that making an appearance at the after parties was important, she had just hoped their situation was more important. but refusing to let herself dwell on what she meant to chris, she rolled over and willed herself to sleep.

it had been a few days since her confession to chris and she had yet to hear even just a single word from him. and the silence was killing her. after her doctors appointment, which confirmed that she was in fact two months along, she had received texts of congratulations and more from his family so she assumed he had said something and maybe he wasn’t completely ashamed of what was happening, but she had a gnawing feeling of doubt in her stomach telling her that wasn’t the case.

“matt i don’t know what to think.” chris sighed, looking to his more level-headed brother for advice in this situation.

“well chris, do you really want her to abort it? like can you live with the fact that you’re putting her through that, you know that she’s completely all for it, but it’s different when it’s the one going through it. so would you be able to live with the fact that you’re pushing her to take away this chance, both of yours and hers, at a family right now?”

“well when you word it that way-“

“and who’s to say that you won’t be looking at having a family the same way down the line if, let’s say, she aborts the baby now and this entire thing happens again? would you put her through it twice? when you could just as easily implement all the later plans with your career that included a family into your plans for now. it would be much easier to maneuver things around right because the ink on your contract has barely dried yet. you do it later down the line and shit could go up in flames. but if you’re still dead set on pushing her to an abortion, by all means do it. it’s up to you man but from the way you’ve talk about it, y/n wants to have a family so what you’re doing is most likely killing her, and if you pushing her to do this wrecks your relationship, you won’t find another girl to love you the way she does. and i know you didn’t actually ask for it, but my opinion is that you’re being a fucking idiot. you and i both know that all you’ve wanted with y/n is to raise a family. you talked about your future kids’ names with her two months into the start of your relationship. so i’m not sure why you’re doing all this shit, chris.” matt rambled, his words cutting directly into the flesh of chris’ heart, he knew matt was right. every word he spoke nothing but truth clinging to it. so why was he putting both him and y/n, mainly y/n, through all of this? sighing, chris nodded and thanked him for the advice before plucking his keys off the counter of matt’s kitchen before heading out the door and climbing into his car.

chris made quick work of driving home to y/n, he felt so unbelievably guilty for leaving her alone with her thoughts for as long as he had. as he stepped into their shared home, he felt like an intruder, he didn’t feel like himself, because in what world would chris, the same chris who is so unbelievably and irrevocably in love with y/n, push her to terminate their child? chris should’ve been ecstatic and sobbing over the news. instead he let his job cloud his judgement and focus, and he felt terrible.

“baby?” chris calls out, quickly climbing the entryway stairs and standing in the main hallway, waiting for y/n to answer.

“in here.” she calls back, her voice tired and strained from all the crying she had done. as chris rounds the corner into their room, his heart breaks at the sight of her curled up on his side of the bed in his hoodie.

“i am so sorry y/n, i’ve been an asshole.”

“i’ll say.” she whispers, shifting back to her side of the bed as chris climbs in beside her.

“i want to apologize for blaming you, it’s not your fault. and for suggesting an abortion without actually hearing what you want. if you want one, i’ll support you. i talked to matt and he made me realize what a jackass i’ve been. if you genuinely want this baby, then i do too. i love you, and i want you to be safe and happy. and if having a family makes you happy, then i’m willing to raise this baby with you because in all honesty, i do want this baby.”

“what about your career?”

“we’ll figure that out when we need to.”

“okay. i love you.”

“i love you forever and a day, y/n. i’m so sorry i’ve been so shitty, i was scared and lashed out on you when i should’ve acknowledged that you were scared too, i shouldn’t have let you deal with it on your own.” chris hums, wrapping his arms around her as she dries her tears and rest her head against his chest.

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↳ this story is far from over, let me know if you want a part three <3 there’s gonna be so much angst i actually feel bad which is crazy bc i never feel bad for writing angst

“MOVE ON”

Chris finally decides to try get over his ex

Warnings: Mentions of Y/N, fluff I guess, reader being a small fashion/makeup influencer, slightly shy!reader, mentions of drinking, kinda a cliffhanger

A/N: I have not wrote in a while, I’ve been focused on writing my book and not fanfics, so this may be quite shit.

It had been 2 months.

2 whole months since Chris’s ex had broken up with him.

And he was still moping around, barely leaving the house, and annoying his brothers, and they’d had enough.

Chris looked out the car window with a confused look, currently dressed in some basic jeans and a white shirt with a hoodie around his waist. Matt had told him, “Dress casual, we’re going out to eat,” but when the car pulled up in front of a lively house, with music blasting so loud you could hear it down the street, Chris realised he’d been tricked.

“Dude, I’m not going into that party.” He told Matt firmly as he turned off the car. “Yes, you are.” Was Matt’s response, leaving no room for argument. Nick butted in as he opened Chris’s car door for him, “You’ve been annoying us all week with your constant whining. Now you can go annoy others.” Chris rolled his eyes, but reluctantly got out the car and followed his brothers into the loud house.

As they walked in, Chris and his brothers were greeted by a lot of familiar faces. He gave a few waves and polite hello’s, but eventually snuck off to get a drink.

Walking up to the makeshift bar in the kitchen, his eyes immediately landed on the case of Pepsi’s left open, and he grabbed one before heading out the backdoor for some quiet. When he stepped out, he was met with a cool breeze, and then he saw a girl stood on the other side of the decking, drinking some colourful drink. He quickly tried to look away, not in the mood to talk to some girl he didn’t know, but she turned around and caught his eye. He gave a polite, but awkward, smile. “Hi.” He said, trying not to let his lips curve up at the sight of her shy smile. “Hi. You’re one of those triplets, right?” “Yeah, one of those triplets.” he repeated with a slight grin. “Which one are you? No, wait, let me guess.” She said, stepping up to Chris for a closer look.

Chris stared down at her as she tried to figure out who he was, giving her a lopsided grin as his hair falls over his eyes. “Are you.. Matt?” She finally says, making him let out a small chuckle and shake his head. “Nope. You want another guess, or?” He teased slightly, “..Are you Chris?” She guesses again, making him nod as he takes a sip of his Pepsi. “Yep. I’m Chris. And you are..?” He says, now feeling slightly bad he doesn’t know who this girl is. “I’m Y/N.” She says with a little smile, then quickly, and shyly, adds, “I’m not that known. But I do fashion and make up stuff on YouTube.” “Oh, that’s cool. I’ll have to check you out some time.” He responds, his eyes flicking down to her lips as her tongue darts out to wet them. He looks back at her eyes, then smirks a little at noticing her eyes flit down to his own lips.

After a while of talking, the two were now sat on the edge of the deck, watching the sun set together. Y/N was now in Chris’s hoodie, since it was cold, at least that’s what Chris kept telling himself. Chris finally piped up after a while of silence, “Soo.. how old are you?” He looked down at her head resting on his bicep. “Just turned 21.” She responded, lifting her head to look at him, and that’s when they realised how close they were. Her eyes flicked to Chris’s lips, and Chris’s flicked to hers, and then before either could say or do anything, Chris leaned forward.

Her lips were soft against his, her hands going to the ends of his hair and tugging gently. Chris groaned into her mouth, his own hands grabbing her hips and pulling her to straddle his lap. She moaned into his mouth at the sudden movement, and tried to press her tongue into his mouth. But Chris finally realised what he was doing.

Without warning, Chris pulled away and pushed her off him, standing up. “A.. are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” Y/N asked nervously, standing up and fidgeting with the sleeves of her his hoodie. “I have to go.” Is all Chris murmured in response, before quickly heading back inside. Y/N stood there awkwardly for a moment, before realising she still had his hoodie. She grabbed her glass and quickly followed him inside, pushing through the crowd of drunk and tipsy YouTubers, desperately trying to find Chris.

She finally saw the back of his head, and tried to push towards him, but the music changed, and suddenly another influencer friend grabbed her and dragged her to the dance floor, and Chris disappeared from view.

A/N(again): I wrote this in half an hour, and then Tumblr glitched and deleted the whole ending so I had to redo it😭

This is not proofread, if you see any, please inform me of any mistakes, misspellings, etc.

I will probably do pt.2 tomorrow, if you guys want it:)

Israel is disgusting.

Did you see the video that shows where the ambulance that went to rescue 6 year old Hind was from the car she was trapped in?

Mere meters! Meters! The paramedics would have been able to see the car from where the ambulance was before it was struck by Israel.

The paramedics were there. Hind was moments away from being rescued. Israel is fucking monstrous. They lured paramedics in so they can kill them before killing the child.

There are no words to describe how inhumane Israel is. Fuck Israel.