This Is Giving Nick Holding Matt’s Kid Until They Cry Or Need A Diaper Change; He’s Like “yup I’m

it really hurts me to see so many gazans asking us for help, though that's through no fault of their own. they've been forced to use a social media site that they're probably not familiar with (because tumblr has kind of faded out of popular consciousness), to interact with us in a second language, to distinguish themselves from the scammers who are taking advantage of genocide, and to ask strangers for help. i don't think there are any cultures where it's easy to ask for help like this, but i'm intimately familiar with how humiliating it can be in arab culture. please be kind, gracious and helpful to the gazans in your inbox. this is a desperate time for them, and in addition to the physical danger inflicted by "israel", the prices of basic resources in gaza are extremely high due to scarcity, and those that manage to escape to egypt are financially exploited by landlords there and have an extremely difficult time finding work due to their unofficial status as refugees. these families will continue to need our help and i hope we can all continue to provide it to the best of our ability.

Reblog to tell zionists to fuck off your blog. If you say you aren't a zionist but still get offended then uhhh sorry hun but this is exactly for you <3

Impress You [S.R.]

Request: Can I request a Scott reed x reader where they’ve been flirting for a while and Monty or someone convinces her to go to the clubhouse cause “it’ll show Scott you’re cool enough for him” or something so she drinks a little to steel her nerves but it’s spiked and when Scott shows up he takes her home and makes sure she’s okay and then asks her out when she sobers up

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Word Count: 1,487

You hesitantly follow Monty into the Clubhouse, unable to stop the nerves that flood your entire being as you duck your head slightly to walk through the door way. At first the entire room is too dark to see, but one flick of the light switch and suddenly you find the door being shut behind you, the boy you didn’t know meeting your eyes when you glanced back at him nervously.

Swallowing thickly, you take another step forward, letting your eyes wander across the small storage room. There isn’t much too it other than an older looking couch, some shelves with baseball gear on it and other random things laying around. 

However, you do notice the lack of people there besides Monty, yourself and the other boy. Especially the lack of a certain Scott Reed, who you’d been promised would be here.

“Uh, where’s Scott?”

Monty’s eyes flicker up from the box he’d been digging through, regarding you with a bright smirk. “Don’t worry,” he assures, though he does the opposite of that, as he pushes himself up to his feet. “Reed’ll be here soon. Now, come,” you tense as his hand falls on your lower back, guiding you over to the couch. “Sit.”

Before you know it, you find yourself wedged between both Monty and the other boy, Jake you’d learned his name was. Monty’s arm is wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you closer against himself as he takes a hit beside you, the smoke causing your eyes to narrow in discomfort. You were suddenly starting to feel both completely out of your league and not to mention, uncomfortable. You’d only come along with Monty because you wanted to impress Scott, as Monty said it would.

But now, you were wishing you hadn’t. Impressing your crush wasn’t nearly enough to sit through this uncomfortable and honestly, scary situation. You weren’t oblivious to the looks Monty sometimes sent you when he thought he caught your attention and you weren’t oblivious to the reputation he upheld either.

“Want some?”

You blink when you realize Monty is now holding the joint before your face. Eyes widening, you turn to meet his gaze; “oh no,” you say softly, unsure. “I’m good.”

“Come on,” Monty encourages, “just a small hit.”

“It’ll feel nice,” Jake encourages from your left.

Jaw clenching, you part your lips to refuse once again but Monty only shoves the joint closer to your face. With a shaky breath, you raise your hand, moving to grab the joint but before you can actually take it, the sound of the door opening catches your attention. For a moment, you’re hopeful that it’s Scott, but your heart drops almost instantly when instead of seeing just Scott, you see Bryce as well.

Oh God. This was a mistake.

Biting your bottom lip, you curl into yourself when Bryce’s eyes fall on you. Subsequently, Scott realizes your there at the same time, but you can barely focus on him at the bright smirk that grows on Bryce’s lips. “I definitely wasn’t expecting to see you here anytime soon, Y/L/N,” Bryce comments, raising a brow at you as he tosses his bag down beside him. “What’d Monty have to do to convince you?”

“Just some motivation,” Monty smirks, standing up from his spot beside you which instantly causes a bout of relief to flood you.

It’s then that your eyes finally settle on Scott, meeting his gaze as he never tears his own off of you. You can’t be sure, but he almost seems panicked rather then happy at the sight of you and his lips are curved downwards in a deep frown as he hesitates on following Bryce inside. His hand is left resting on his backpack strap, as if ready to leave any second.

You really hope he doesn’t. 

“Here,” Bryce calls, pulling your eyes on him and the cup he holds towards you. “Something better than the weed.”

As your eyes land on the red solo cup, you hesitantly reach forward, knowing better then to argue given that you know these guys won’t be persuaded otherwise. But as you settle back in your spot, you stare down at the dark liquid, hesitating on pulling it up to your lips.

Just then, Bryce moves towards you and you feel your breath get caught in your throat when you realize he’s moving to sit next to you, replacing Monty. But before he can, a figure practically crashes down next to you. Your eyes widen when you realize it’s Scott, your lips parting when he presses himself against you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Yet, it’s different then how Monty had. It’s almost protectively.

“Woah,” Bryce laughs, holding his hands out before him as he raises a brow down at Scott. “If you wanted to sit Reed, you could’ve just said so.”

You watch as Scott swallows nervously, “my legs were tired.”

“Sure, buddy.”

Scott turns to look at you then, taking a chance to lean forward the moment Bryce and Monty are distracted. “Don’t drink out of the cup,” he warns in a low whisper, causing your entire body to freeze. “Just follow my lead.”

You nod as he pulls away, just as Bryce crouches down before you.

“So, Y/N,” Bryce smirks at you, raising his free hand to let it rest on your knee. “Finally decided to take Monty up on that offer?”

“Yeah,” you laugh slightly, unable to hide how nervous you are. “Monty managed to convince me.”

“With the promise of our dear friend Scott,” Monty laughs, causing your cheeks to burn at his words. You tuck your chin into your neck when you feel Scott’s eyes fall on you, biting your lower lip. “And see,” Monty calls, pulling your eyes back on him. “I kept my promise, didn’t I?”

“Y/N, you haven’t drank any of your drink,” Bryce calls, brows furrowing up at you.

Shoulders tensing, your lips part to say something, but you find any words stuck in the back of your throat. What were you supposed to say? 

“That’s because Y/N has to still drive home,” Scott speaks up, “don’t you?”

Meeting his eyes, you nod; “o-oh, yeah. I actually have a big test tomorrow in chemistry, so…”

“Test?” Jake questions from beside you, speaking up in the first time in a long time. “I’m in your class, there’s no test.”

Shit. How had you never noticed him before?

“Well then,” Bryce laughs, “drink up, Y/N.”

“Actually,” Scott cuts in, leaning forward. “Y/N meant that i’ve got a big test in chemistry tomorrow that she’s helping me study. So, we probably shoulder stay much longer.” Scott stands up then, his hand slipping into your free one to pull you up to his feet. You follow his lead without hesitation.

Bryce straightens out in response; “you sure, buddy? I don’t remember you mentioning anything.”

“And since were you two acquainted?” Monty questions, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“She’s been helping me with my grades lately,” Scott explains, and you blink at the quickness. He’s definitely making it seem believable. “So, sorry to dip, but we should probably head out. Y/N?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod, turning. “Yeah, totally,” taking a step towards the door, you smile hesitantly back at the other three. “Thanks for inviting me though.”

When you turn back, Scott already has the door open, his hand slipping into yours once again as he hastily pulls you out and shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t stop walking until you’re a safe and appropriate distance away from the storage closet and of course, Bryce and Monty.

The moment he stops, you let out a breath of relief; “thank you,” you whisper, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Did you really go in there for me?”

Raising your eyes, you pause at Scott’s words, meeting his eyes. You hesitate on replying at first, unsure of what to say. But then, remembering how it probably saved you from something that could’ve been much worse than it was, you realize you probably owe an explanation. “Yeah, that and that I wanted to impress you, get you to notice me,” you explain ashamed. “Monty said that if I went there, it’d impress you, catch your eye so…”

Scott sighs, shaking his head. “You’ve already caught my eye,” Scott mumbles, causing you to blink up at him once again. “A long time ago. I just… I can’t believe Monty would do that.”

“Do what, Scott?”

Scott pauses, “just… just don’t go in there again, Y/N. Stay away from Monty and Bryce unless you’re with me, okay?”

You nod with ease. “Okay.”

“And don’t think you ever have to impress me, Y/N,” Scott whispers, taking a step towards you. “I already think you’re amazing.”

Flushing slightly, you lick your lips. “I think you’re pretty amazing as well,” you say, unable to hide the smile that grows on your lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

-

Let me know what you thought? Remember, reblogging always helps!

Requests are open for Scott Reed and Jeff Atkins!

"B-but Palestinians can get their freedom with peace not violence 🥺🥺" no. Screw your feelings. The armed resistance against colonizers and murderers is what will give Palestinians their freedom and what will eventually achieve real peace.

An enemy that bombs and uses white phosphorus against civilians doesn't know nor practice what your broken moral compass describes as "peace". Freedom was proven throughout history not to be achieved through kneeling and asking the oppressor to kindly stop. Freedom needs to be taken by force. Your little Utopian way of thinking doesn't work in the real world. Your feelings don't matter because you're not the one living under occupation. Your feelings don't matter because you're not one of the thousands of children who lost their limbs. You're not one of the children who became orphans due to this genocide. You're not the mother who lost her child to the carpet bombing. You're not the father carrying the remains of your child in plastic bags. You're not the newlywed woman who lost her husband. You're not the one at risk of either getting killed any second or losing your loved ones in the blink of an eye!

"Peace" is not really a thing you see during a live ethnic cleansing!

✯INTRODUCING.....✯

MUWAP WEEK

As a thank you for 1k followers, I want to do something called Muwap week. Basically, all of next week I’m going to post a fic! There’s no specific time, but I’m hoping I can keep up with it! Below will be the titles of the fics, the summary( besides malevolent), and two lines from the fics!

✯

Kill bill: y/n can’t bare to see Matt with someone who isn’t her. It becomes fatal.

“I tried… I really did. But you made it so hard…”

“Put it down, it doesn’t have to be like this!”

Ex for a reason: y/n realizes that Chris still has feeling for dessi despite being in a relationship with him for two years.

“I love you…”

“No you don’t. You love the fact that I look like her!”

Best friends brother: Nick has a crush on his bestfriends brother and doesn’t know how to tell her.

“How would you feel if I slept with Chris or Matt!?”

“I might be grossed out but if you were happy I can’t do anything about it.”

Malevolent: Turns out I'm living in a horror film Where I'm both the killer and the final girl. So who, who are you?

“I’m your bestfriend! You know I would never do anything like that!”

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Make it up to me then.”

Freshlove for the fit: a live stream that turned bittersweet

“You want to watch?”

“You’ll let me?”

✯

AHHHHHH IM SO EXCITEDDD!!! I HOPE YALL LOVE EACH FIC!! COMMENT WHICH ONE YALL ARE EXCITED FOR!!!

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @mattslolita

Just a reminder for people cause I haven't seen many peope posting about it:

If you can, please braid your hair today in honor of Cole Brings Plenty. Cole was a Lakota actor who was found murdered with his hair cut. Rising Hearts has asked that everyone, indigenous or not, wear braids to honor him and remember those that have suffered the same.

If you can't braid your hair, then share posts of others!

Now is also a good time to share some support to indigenous charities, if you're able

https://www.risinghearts.org/

https://landback.org/

https://mmiwusa.org/

https://narf.org/

https://ndncollective.org/

https://www.niwrc.org/

so proud of my favorite boys

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.”

Just a reminder of how shitty these ppl r !! If u won’t support Palestine bc of, idk, the fact that it’s basic human fucking decency to do so and because you want innocent civilians dead, then maybe your rotted brain might process that Israel and the American government funding this genocide affects YOU too 🫵🏻🥰