#they are NOT going to comp you a hotel room for that shit

[thehours2002]

barbara forgetting to put her shoes on in the abbott ep last night may be hands down the best gag of the whole season

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: i know the game and fight were like two weeks ago but i couldn’t stop thinking about it lol. just a fun little thing - enjoy! (and literally as i go to post this, bb gets added back to the skills comp as he should’ve been in the first place so go defend your fastest skater title, mat😘)

word count: 4.5k

tw: oral (m recieving), cursing, chicago blackhawks slander, dirty talk

summary: after mat’s fight during the blackhawks game, you’re both worked up with extra energy to get out of your systems

“Fuck you!” You jump to your feet, screaming, adrenaline rushing through your veins. “Go fuck yourself!” Your stomach turns watching Mat fight, but you also can’t ignore the throb between your legs.

Unconcerned with the fact that you’re solidly in enemy territory, your shouting gets louder and louder. Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch Mat scrap with Chicago’s number 43. Mat shifts and drops Blackwell to the ice, the refs and the other players skating over quickly.

“That’s right,” you crow, the people around you starting to boo. “Get fucking wrecked!”

Mat skates off, helmet gone, hair flattened to his head and jersey half off. He scowls and tugs the jersey back over his head and you pump your fists in the air. “That’s my man!” You jump up and down, flipping off a few Chicago fans that are shouting at you.

“Girl,” Alexa, Noah’s girlfriend, tugs at the hem of your vintage Islanders sweatshirt, laughing, “you’re going to get us killed. Sit down!”

You drop back down into your seat and shoot her a grin, “what a way to go out though!” You laugh and take a sip of your beer, turning in your seat when a Chicago fan a few seats down leans over to shout at you.

“Real classy behavior, lady,” he sneers and you flip him off with a bright smile.

“God, where to even start with the classy as hell Chicago Blackhawks organization?” You tap at your lower lip thoughtfully. “Patrick Kane? Jonathan Towes? Corey Perry? So many options to choose from.”

“Gonna bring up shit that doesn’t mean anything?” The man snaps.

You lean halfway out of your seat, getting a little louder, “your team sucks ass from top to bottom.”

“Suck my dick, bitch.”

Alexa coughs into her drink and you shrug at the man, shouting, “at least I’m supporting a team that hasn’t been sued twice for covering up sexual assault.”

“Oh my god,” Alexa mutters, covering her face.

“Fuck off, bitch,” a second man, sitting next to the first, shouts at you.

With a little three fingered wave at the men, you turn back to the ice, settling into your seat. “Oh, I love when men can only think to call me a bitch in the face of actual facts,” you sigh, heartbeat still pounding from Mat’s fight and the confrontation.

A few Chicago fans in the general vicinity are looking at you, booing and flipping you off. You return the gestures happily, with a sarcastic smile on your face.

“You’re batshit insane,” Alexa says, looking impressed and a little awed. “I’m terrified of you.”

You knock her shoulder with yours and tease, “as long as you love me more than you’re terrified of me.”

“Jury’s still out,” she snorts.

The game ends in tragic fashion during overtime, but you’re still so proud of Mat, buzzing with energy to see him when he gets back to the hotel. You and Alexa had booked a room in the same hotel the boys were staying at, spontaneously deciding to take the trip to see the boys play since neither of you had been to Chicago. The team flies back to Long Island tomorrow afternoon and your flight leaves just a few hours later, so you’ve got a few hours with Mat tonight before you have to go back to your own rooms, knowing he’ll have left packing to the last possible second.

Alexa’s lounging on her bed, scrolling through her phone, when there’s a knock on the door. You jump up from your spot on your bed and rush to the door, yanking it open and nearly knocking Noah out of the way in your hurry to jump into Mat’s arms. He laughs and catches you easily, wrapping his arms around your lower back as your legs hook around his waist.

“First career fight?” You grin at him, peppering his face with kisses. “So fucking hot, baby.”

“Y’know,” Noah comments dryly from behind you, “I had assists on two of our goals.”

You turn your head and grin at him, “you want a kiss too?” Mat’s hands grope at your ass, pulling you tighter over the growing bulge in his jeans. You wriggle happily over him, enjoying the low groan that vibrates against your shoulder.

“Not from you,” Noah laughs, dropping a kiss to the top of Alexa’s head. She snuggles up against his side and laughs a little.

“Let’s get out of here,” she says, “before these two forget they’re not alone.” Shooting you a wink, she grabs Noah’s hand and drags him out of the room, the door falling shut behind them.

“Thank god,” Mat huffs, leaning his forehead against your collarbone. You kiss the top of his head, rubbing your fingertips into his scalp. “I’ve been waiting to see you all night.”

“Well you’ve got me for the next few hours, completely uninterrupted,” you reply, holding onto him like a koala. “Let me see your face, I need to make sure no damage was done.”

Mat pulls away from you, grinning that crooked grin you love so much. He looks a little tired, but the only damage from the fight is a cut on the bridge of his nose and a little cut on his forehead. Not nearly as bad as you were thinking. “Do I pass inspection?” He teases, bouncing you a little in his arms.

You hum, “you’ll do,” before kissing the tip of his nose and then slanting your lips over his. Mat deepens the kiss, licking over your lower lip so your mouth will fall open. You groan into his mouth, grinding your hips down over his erection. The kiss is a little frantic, all teeth and tongue, and you’re out of breath when you break apart. “Put me down, I wanna reward you,” you pant, unhooking your legs from around his waist and letting them fall to the floor.

“What?” Mat’s mouth is back on yours, arms still wrapped tightly around your back, your chest pressed to his. You wiggle against him, grinding your hips over his, more than happy to feel him harden under you.

“Wanna - mmmph-“ your words are muffled by Mat’s mouth, captured by his lips and tongue. You pull back with a huge effort, palms flat on his shoulders for leverage. “Wanna suck you off,” you murmur, Mat’s hands trailing up the back of your shirt, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip and tugging at it.

“Yeah?” Mat asks, eyelids heavy over his eyes. He shifts and wedges his leg in between yours, pressing his muscled thigh right up against your throbbing cunt. You whine and your hips move over his leg, the seam of your jeans pressed exactly where you need it. “Wanna suck my dick, baby? What if I wanna watch you get off on my thigh?”

“C’mon, Mat,” your voice comes out breathy, “been wanting to suck you off since you fought. I’ve been soaked thinking about it.” You grind over his thigh as you plead, knowing you’ve won the upper hand when Mat’s fingers dip below the waistband of your jeans to squeeze your ass.

He sucks a mark into the skin behind your ear and you sigh. “Me fighting got you all hot and bothered?” He asks the question against your skin, brushing his nose against your earlobe and you nod.

“Beyond fucking hot, Mat,” you scratch your nails against the nape of his neck. “Glad I got to see it.”

You wiggle again and a little whine forms in the back of your throat. Mat’s mouth curls into a smile against your neck. “Love it when you beg,” he says, a little hoarse. “My girl is begging to suck my cock, what’s fucking better than that?”

“Actually letting me suck your cock,” you gasp, Mat’s fingers digging harder into the flesh of your ass. “Let me, Mat, c’mon.”

He finally shifts his leg, planting his feet solidly, and you grin, breaking from his grip and falling to your knees in front of him. You’re eye level with the bulge behind the fly of his jeans and you grin up at him wickedly. You run your fingertips lightly over his zipper and feel his cock throbbing through the denim. “Can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” you smirk, fingers working at the button and zipper, pushing at the denim until you can trace your index finger over the imprint of his dick through the fabric of his briefs.

“Fuck!” Mat’s hips buck forward and he grabs at your hair with one hand, tangling his fingers in the strands. His cock twitches behind the fabric and you push his jeans and briefs halfway down his thighs, freeing his cock so it bobs up towards his stomach. You lean up on your knees to press a kiss to the head of his cock and Mat groans, grip on your hair tightening. “Baby, babe, please, don’t tease me,” he babbles, hips thrusting minutely.

“It’s a reward,” you grin up at him, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and squeezing slightly, “for fighting. Going to take my time with you.”

Your hand strokes him slowly, palm rubbing against his tip, gathering pre-cum and smearing it down his shaft. His cock throbs in your hand, in time with the way your clit throbs as you touch him. You shift on your knees, pressing the heel of your foot in between your legs and Mat doesn’t miss the movement.

“Going to get off just by touching my dick?” He teases, widening his stance and leaning his upper back against the wall. You hum, focused on getting him fully hard. It doesn’t take much work and within seconds, he’s like hot steel in your hand.

“We’ll just have to see,” you murmur, leaning in and taking the head of his cock into your mouth. A strangled moan leaves Mat’s lips and his hips start to thrust, forcing you to press both of your hands against his hips to keep him in place. You hum around him and swirl your tongue over his slit, enjoying the way he’s babbling your name over your head. He groans, the noise choking off as you take him deeper into your mouth, keeping your lips wrapped tightly around him.

Your nails rake over his skin, fingers sliding over the ridge of bone and then the smooth skin of his lower stomach, until you’re able to rub your fingertips through the light trail of hair under his belly button. You wrap one hand around the base of his cock and take him deeper, swallowing and enjoying the way Mat’s cock bobs in your mouth.

“Baby, come on,” Mat mumbles, “gotta go deeper. Let me fuck your throat. Wanna feel you swallow me.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, tears hovering at your waterline from the stretch of your jaw, and blink innocently at him. Your throat relaxes and he grins, looking a little dazed, when he realizes you’re giving him permission. His other hand comes up to cradle your face, releasing your hair with the other hand so he can hold your face in place while he thrusts his hips forward, sliding his cock deeper down your throat with each movement. The head of his cock bumps against the roof of your mouth, the back of your throat, slides against your tongue with his erratic thrusts.

Saliva drips down your chin, tears rolling down your cheeks. Mascara streaks down your face, stinging your eyes a little.

Mat’s head is dropped back as he rolls his hips, his mouth running constantly. You’re not even sure what he’s saying at this point, too focused on keeping your throat relaxed and not gagging around his thick length. Your hands grip at his ass, nails digging into his skin and he hisses, practically whining when you swallow and your throat tightens around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck. Jesus Christ, fuck me,” he groans. “Love how you look with my dick in your mouth, look so pretty.”

You moan around him, lifting up a little on your knees and leaning in, deep throating him until your nose is pressed against his skin, your chin tucked up against his balls. His scent - a little bit soapy, a little bit sweaty - invades your senses and you feel your panties dampen further. You shake your head a little, brushing the tip of your nose against his skin and Mat’s fingers tighten on your face, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

“Gonna come, baby, gotta -“ he mutters, choking off. He leans his hips back a little, trying to pull out of your mouth, but you hold onto his ass, pulling him closer to your face. Mat grunts, his balls tightening under your chin before he comes down your throat, hot and thick.

You swallow for what feels like forever, Mat’s cock still thick and hard in your mouth. He finally pulls back and you drop down to sit on your heels, wiping at your mouth. Saliva and cum make your chin and hands sticky, but you grin cheekily up at your boyfriend. He looks wrecked, jaw slack and eyes nearly closed.

“Didn’t manage to come just from sucking you off,” you rasp, throat sore and voice hoarse. You reach up to gently stroke over his cock and he leans his hips forward, pushing into your grip.

“Bet that sweet pussy of yours is soaked for me, huh?” Mat says, reaching out to wrap his hands around your biceps and haul you to your feel, your hand falling away from his cock. With his grip on your arms, Mat crushes you to his chest, kissing you sloppily. His cock presses against your stomach, half-hard, and you press against it, making Mat groan into your mouth before he sucks on your tongue.

You hum against his mouth, melting against Mat’s chest. Your clit throbs and you clench around nothing, desperate for a little friction. “Mat,” you gasp his name a little and he knows exactly what you want. His hands slide up your arms and wrap gently around your neck and the back of your head, keeping your face close to his so he can kiss you while walking you backwards to the bed.

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he murmurs into your mouth. You can feel his body vibrating with adrenaline and once the backs of your knees hit the mattress, Mat pulls back to quickly get rid of his clothes, kicking the fabric in all different directions with a a hungry look in his eyes that makes you giggle. Mat grins down at you and leans over your body, pressing his bare chest against your clothed one. “Regular post-game energy has nothing on post-fight energy,” he promises, nipping at your pulse point.

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and roll your hips, pressing your cunt against his cock. “I can’t wait to find out,” you murmur, arching your back when his hands slide up your shirt to grope at your tits.

Just about an hour later, you roll off of Mat’s chest, sweating and panting like you’ve just run a marathon. “Fuck,” you breathe, thighs sticky and trembling.

Mat turns his head and gives you a lazy smirk, “told you.”

You kick a little at his ankle, shifting and shaking your head at the way your core is clenching around nothing, the feeling of Mat’s cock stuffed inside of you still present. “You need to get into fights more often,” you mumble, watching him wince as he pulls the used condom off of his dick. He twists a knot into the latex and rolls off the other side of the bed to pad into the bathroom. You blatantly stare at his ass, wolf-whistling when he bends slightly to toss the condom.

“I’m feeling very objectified,” Mat teases you, standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. He tries to keep a straight face, but can’t help his lips from turning up at the corners. You drag your gaze over his body, from the top of his head, over his bare chest complete with chain resting against his collarbone, down to his dick hanging between his legs, and back up.

“Mmm,” you hum, still flat on your back, still shaking slightly. “It’s not my fault you’re so objectifiable. Maybe if you were uglier…”

You trail off into a shriek, body jostling when Mat pounces on the bed, covering your body with his and planting sloppy, wet kisses on every inch of your skin he can reach. “Nooo, stop! Oh my god, you know I’m ticklish,” you shriek-giggle, pushing at Mat’s shoulders, trying to wiggle out from under him. He keeps you caged in with his arms and legs, laughing.

“Gonna keep objectifying me, Squeaks?” He asks, marking you up with hickies across your neck and chest.

“Yessss,” you laugh, pressing your chest into his face. “It’s my favorite hobby.” You hook your leg around his hip and dig your heel into the muscle of his ass, getting him to thrust his pelvis forward, bumping against your clit. A spark of pleasure lights up your nerves.

“Cool,” he laughs, flicking his tongue over your nipple. “You can keep doing it after we get some food, I’m starving.” He bites at the underside of your breast and rolls off of you again, leaving you cold in the middle of the bed.

“What?” You sit up, watching him reach for his pants and dig his phone out of the pocket.

“We had like one slice of shitty Chicago pizza after the game,” Mat explains. “And then we rolled around in bed for an hour. I’m starving, babe.”

You’re about to complain, but as soon as you open your mouth, your stomach growls and Mat smirks at you. You huff, “okay, yeah. Let’s order some dinner.”

He turns back to his phone, tapping away at UberEats, and you flop back against the pillows, grabbing for your own phone where it rests on the bedside table. Once you’re settled, you rest your feet in Mat’s lap, his left hand landing on your ankle and thumb tracing an arc over your instep. You wiggle your toes and he pinches lightly at your skin. “What do you want?”

“Mozzarella sticks,” you say absently, gaze flickering onto your lock screen. It’s covered in notifications - the girls’ group chat, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok. What the hell is going on?

Another message comes in from Sydney, making your phone vibrate in your hand. Since you don’t have a password on your phone, you can see her message on the screen: she’s going to be banned from the arena 😂

Who’s going to be banned from the arena?

You tap open the group chat and scroll back to the top where the messages started half an hour ago. Holly sent a Twitter link followed by: our girl! 😂

A sinking feeling forms in your stomach, but you tap on the link, unsurprised when it opens up to a video. A video of you, just a few hours earlier, yelling at the game.

“Oh man,” you groan, watching yourself - filmed from an unflattering angle, of course - jumping and cheering for Mat, before turning and snapping at the Blackhawks fan.

“No mozzarella sticks?” Mat asks, mistaking what you had said as directed at him. He’s still scrolling through UberEats.

“No, um, yes,” you shake your head, looking up. “I do still want mozzarella sticks, but…”

You tap on the hashtag and start scrolling through Tweets, even as texts from the girls continue to roll in. The video is everywhere - Spittin’ Chiclets, B/R Open Ice, Barstool Sports. Fuck, even Frankie’s retweeted it, adding his typical all-caps word vomit captions: GOTTA GO THROUGH THE ISLAND OUR FANS ARE GREATER THAN ANYONE ELSE ANS READY TO GIVE YOU A VERBAL BITCH SLAP LOVE YOU LADY B

You roll your eyes at his caption, pulling the notification screen down and checking to see if he texted you too. He did - a string of cry-laughing emojis and clapping emojis.

“But what?” Mat finally drops his phone to the mattress and leans back on an elbow to look at you. “What are you looking at?”

You squint at him. “Have you not gotten any texts or notifications?” You ask, surprised that the guys’ group chat isn’t blowing up.

“Probably,” Mat shrugs, “my phone’s been on do not disturb since before my nap this afternoon. I wasn’t really thinking about looking. Why?”

You flip your phone around, showing him the screen. Mat squints at it, watching the video play for a few seconds before he lets out a chuckle of disbelief. “Is that you, Squeaks?”

“Yep,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I, um, got a little heated when you fought. Is Lou going to kill me?”

Mat’s got your phone in his hand now, scrolling through the Tweets and laughing. “No way, you don’t work for him. I don’t think he knows what Twitter is anyway.” He keeps scrolling. “Oh shit!”

“What?” You lunge forward and snatch at your phone. Mat pulls it back and clicks his tongue at you.

“Jeez, you gonna yell at me now too?” He jokes before reading the caption of a Tweet. “Listen to this ‘trashy Long Island fan berates Blackhawks fan.’ Babe, you freaked on the wrong fanbase.”

“I’m trashy?” You yelp indignantly. “Me? They’re the fans that are supporting an organization FULL of sexual abusers! Give me my phone, I want to defend myself.”

“No way!” Mat holds your phone in the air away from you. “Why expose yourself to more shit?”

“Because I’m not the one in the wrong here,” you grumble. “What are the guys saying? Does anyone know who I am? I mean, I wasn’t quiet about cheering for you.”

With your phone still in his hand, Mat picks up his own and taps over to the messages. “Oh, damn. Almost fifty texts from the guys.” He chuckles as he scrolls through them, reading you off the best ones. “Bo says to suit up for next game, we could use your passion. Dobber says two minutes in the box for unsportsmanlike conduct. Ah, nice, Frankie says pizzas are on him next time we’re at Borrelli’s.”

“Pizzas are always on Frankie,” you grumble, draping yourself over Mat’s back to read his phone screen over his shoulder. The guys are mostly sending more videos from different angles and chirping you. While Mat’s distracted by the group chat, you snatch your phone back, returning to Twitter where the fans have figured out your connection to Mat - it’s not like your relationship is a secret, your Twitter is public and your Instagram switches back and forth between public and private when you’re starting to feel overwhelmed - but you don’t love that you’re getting this kind of attention.

You really should’ve controlled yourself better. But you didn’t and now you’re scrolling through hundreds of Tweets that are calling you Long Island trash. There are others mixed in that are supporting you, cheering you on for being a loyal fan and girlfriend, but jeez. The Chicago fans really are kind of nasty.

“Stop looking at that,” Mat plucks the phone from your hands when he sees your forehead crease and wrinkle over your nose. “Are we gonna have to delete your account like Dobber?”

“No,” you huff, chest flushing with emotion. “I just…I should’ve been a little more controlled, but I got so worked up!”

Mat cups your cheek and grins at you, “I like when you’re worked up. It’ll blow over in a few days, but for now, it’s really fucking cool that my girlfriend is so passionate about me fighting.”

You wrinkle your nose up at him and he laughs again, “seriously, don’t worry about it.” He frowns a little. “Fans’ll be talking about our game again by tomorrow. We’re fucking it all up.”

Pressing your cheek against Mat’s shoulder blade, you wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry, Mat. I know you guys are working so hard, things will turn around soon, I’m sure.” You press a kiss to his skin, blowing a little raspberry. “Want your trashy Long Island girlfriend to give you another blowjob?”

That draws a laugh from Mat, exactly what you wanted to do, and he reaches back to rub his fingers over your scalp, massaging gently. He waves his phone in the air, “think you can do it before dinner gets here?”

A challenge.

You grin against his back, hands sliding down his stomach to wrap around the base of his cock. He jolts in your grip, stomach muscles bunching. “Place the order and we’ll see,” you mumble against his back, kissing and biting at his shoulder. His arm moves and you can see over his shoulder that he’s pressing the order button.

“Time starts now,” Mat teases, leaning back against you and giving you more access for your hands to stroke him.

You just barely manage to bring Mat to his finish before his phone chimes with the delivery notification, but it’s intensely satisfying to watch him yank on the hotel robe and slippers with his face and chest all flushed before he runs down to the lobby. You take the time that he’s gone to clean yourself up, showering quickly before getting into your lounge pants. By the time you eat and hang out for a bit, Mat’s going to have to go back to his own room, so you’re trying to curb the temptation to go another round.

Your phone is still going crazy with notifications and when you open Instagram, you notice that Mat’s shared a story. Immediately suspicious, you tap on his little circle, groaning when you see the video of you shouting. He must’ve shared it while he was in the elevator, the fucking menace.

Underneath the reshared video, Mat added his own comment: my favorite trashy long islander 👊🏻💪🏻😂

You swipe up and tap out a reply: i hate you

“Love you too, Oscar,” Mat’s voice echoes through the room. You look up and there he is, carrying the bag of takeout.

“Oscar?”

“Like the Grouch? You know, because he lives in a trash can,” Mat’s grin is shit-eating, “and you’re trashy.”

You fling a pillow at him and he ducks, cracking up. “I’m sorry!” He chokes out, not sorry at all. “But it’s hilarious. Video gets funnier the more you watch and some of those people on Twitter really are quick with the comments.”

“I’m never coming to another game again, Mathew,” you inform him, faux-snootily. He hands you over the foil tin of mozzarella sticks.

“Yeah you are,” he presses a kiss to your temple. “You’d never forgive yourself if you missed me fight again.” He wiggles his eyebrows and takes a bite out of one of your mozzarella sticks.

He’s right and he knows it.

“I’m going to have to private my insta again,” you comment on a sigh, looking down at the notifications piling up.

“You’re gonna be old news in a day or two,” Mat replies. “Something else will happen at a different game and hockey twitter will move on.”

By the time you land in New York the next afternoon, Mat’s right. You’re old news because the team’s fired Lane and hired Patrick Roy as their new coach.

[dracolunae]

Summary of today:

Got on a train, had a little delay followed by 1:40 hours of layover. Next train to Paris comes in 20 minutes late. I get on, I have to squeeze through several compartments full of people on an overbooked as hell train. I find my seat, 2 other people are sitting there. I do not get my window seat but I do get the seat next to it so whatever. We go for maybe an hour and then we stop. We were not supposed to stop. We are not at a station. Train attendants rush past to the front of the train. Intercom comes on “we had an accident involving a person so we will be stopped for an indeterminate amount of time”. This is most likely code for “someone jumped onto the tracks in front of the train and committed suicide.” We stay stopped. The hours tick by. We’re past the time we were supposed to arrive in Paris. We stopped only a short bit after entering France. Estimated delay: 120 minutes. 2 hours. It’s past midnight now. The intercom comes on again. “We are cancelling our stop in Paris. We are going to Metz instead. We will tell you more later.” We don’t move for another 30+ minutes. My mum gets me a hotel room in Metz. Finally: movement. Another hour of train ride to Metz. The intercom crackles back to life: “There will be a train for you to sleep in. I do not know when or where it will arrive.” We arrive at the station “We still don’t know when or where the train will be. Please exit this train.” I go “fuck this shit I’m not sleeping in that train, I’m going to the hotel”. I get my hotel room, it’s so nice to not be stuck on that fucking train anymore. All the early morning trains are unavailable. The only trains from here to Paris are TGVs. Very expensive. I read up on compensation for delays and cancellations. I buy a TGV ticket for 9 am because that’s the earliest one possible. I can’t claim comp yet because I have not yet arrived in Paris. Almost cried from frustration several times. Fuck the Deutsche Bahn.

[nancydrewwouldnever]

The Receipts - Vegas, Baby! (Sept 2016)

So, this ask made me realize I wanted to step out of order in the timeline and do a fun stand alone moment – the Las Vegas couples’ trip of 2016.

Now, the Las Vegas trip is interesting because it exists on different levels. There’s the simple didactic level of dates and events, but then there’s also the level of fandom distraction and after-event gossip. So, let’s go!

In September 2016 Chris and Jenny were in L.A., as his MA house had begun undergoing extensive renovations. While I’m sure there were also business meetings to attend, it seemed it was mostly to do with getting out of the way of construction crews.

Now, to set the scene before the short Vegas weekend trip: a lot of shit was going down in fandom, because Jenny’s twitter feed was painting a not so cohesive picture of the “loving” couple. They seemed to be there, but separately there. We’ll get into all this when I get around to writing up September 2016 in full. But, suffice it to say, a lot of discussion was going on. We were also on pins and needles because it had been announced she was doing one of her comedy shows on Saturday, September 17th at the Largo Theatre in L.A. Everyone was taking bets on whether or not he would show up.

Thursday, September 15, 2016:

In fandom: It was a huge day. HUGE, for Jenny. Perhaps you may or may not remember, Chris and Jenny attended one of his friend’s weddings in Rhode Island over July 4th weekend. Well, fandom knew he had been there that weekend, but we didn’t think she had. Not until this specific day, when a helpful Anon went to a certain blog (guess) to point out that there were photos on a wedding photographer’s page. Photos of Chris and Jenny there together. Thanks, helpful Anon who may or may not but in almost all probability was Jenny herself. Well, that was like the Hiroshima bomb of distraction for the whole weekend for the fandom. It was all we concentrated on, the dissection of those wedding photos which were by that point over two months old.

In social media: Jenny made an IG post of being in a hotel room that had a phone in the bathroom. She seemed charmed by this fact. She deleted the post the same night. (Sorry, I don’t have a screencap, but have seen it. It was nothing special. An old style phone on a wall). We should have known this was bait.

In reality that we did not know yet: Chris and Jenny, Tara and Jason, Scott and his bf(?) and Guillermo and his wife had flown to Vegas for a weekend stay at Caesar’s. The phone in the bathroom was in a Caesar’s suite.

Also, in irony I cannot make up, September 15th was Jenny and Dean’s wedding anniversary. You know, Dean, the man she was legally married to for the whole of round one.

Friday, September 16, 2016:

In fandom: We are still arguing over the ramifications and meanings of wedding pics that are over two months old. We have no clue.

In social media: It was quiet. Too quiet.

In reality that we did not know yet: The friends group is enjoying their weekend comped trip to celebrate the double birthdays of Scott and Tara. They are staying, once again, in suites and rooms at Caesar’s. Dinner is, once again, at Nobu in Caesar’s. After dinner the group takes in a performance of “O” by Cirque du Soleil at the Bellagio

(photo released after trip finished)

Saturday, September 17, 2016:

In fandom: What do you think we were doing? We were still arguing about those damned wedding pics.

In social media: It was quiet! Like the calm before a storm.

In reality that we did not know yet: The friends group (or only Jenny? this is murky) returned from Vegas back to Los Angeles. Before leaving, Chris had to take this promo pic, which would be released on the 20th.

Here’s where it gets interesting. That night was Jenny’s comedy show at the Largo Theater. No one turned up for it. Not Chris. Not a single member of that group who had just been with her for three days. Huh.

Then, on Sunday the 18th, shit hits the fan, at least for fandom:

And then:

So, you can imagine how the fandom train suddenly did this:

It looked like Jenny had a win. Or did it? Here’s where it gets really interesting, the aftermath:

Oh dear, a little too much fun in Vegas…

And then, the real fallout, a little later:

(Star Article excerpt from Octobert 21st print edition can be found at Celebitchy)

So, perhaps what happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas?

Maybe, just maybe, it follows you around, like an overboard fuck buddy turned girlfriend.

(Edit: I had to go in and edit the days of the week of the trip after initial post. Didn't realize I was looking at a calendar of 2017 instead of 2016, d'oh.)

[aerodaltonimperial]

Jack AU: Jack and Darby are room mates in a hospital

(The only hospital drama I’ve seen is Grey’s, and that place always on fire or being robbed or bombed or held up at gunpoint or planes coming down so…)

At first, Jack is alone in the room, which is great, because he kind of hurts all over and likes to be able to groan about the pain without anybody listening. But after a few hours, it seems like the rest of the victims are being moved out of surgery, and he ends up with a roommate.

He doesn’t complain, because a hotel collapsed. An entire hotel collapsed, and he’s lucky they could get everyone in; sheer numbers alone should have made it impossible. But it does mean that they have to double people up in rooms. Jack’s new roommate is unconscious, so it’s still quiet.

That’s fine. As long as the guy doesn’t up and die, anyway.

++

His roommate doesn’t die. Honestly, that feels like adding so much more trauma to a day Jack is already going to need extensive therapy for. He watched the topmost floor implode on itself as the rest of the building supports went down like dominoes, one after another. So the guy not flatlining in the first hour is actually great news. He even ends up opening his eyes, which are blue where Jack can see around the swelling.

But the nurses are running through the halls, and Jack’s pressed the button on his bed three times without answer. Since they’re both hooked up to machines announcing their continued existence, they don’t seem to be as important as the other people who, uh, might be faring worse.

“Hey,” Jack tries. The guy’s on oxygen, so talking is not gonna happen, right? Dude got out of surgery—he’s got to be in pain, more than Jack is. Does he need more meds? He’s got the IV in, shouldn’t a nurse be coming by to make sure he’s okay? Are all the staff members used to dashing through the halls like this? “Uh, you… you need anything?”

The guy stares at Jack over the oxygen, so Jack continues, “I’ve tried hitting the button, but, I think people are really busy? Cause the hotel collapsed? I assume you were there, too.”

He gets a nod. Progress; his roommate can still hear. That’s something.

“Sorry,” Jack says. He isn’t sure what else to say. “Can I do anything to help?”

The guy holds up one hand and sort of waves it a few times. Like he’s asking Jack to keep going. “Oh, I should keep talking?” A nod. Well, Jack can do that. His legs on fire, but talking is a good distraction. “Okay, sure. Uh, I’m Jack. Nice to meet you, under better circumstances at least. I don’t know why you were at the hotel, but I was there for a work conference. Ironic, huh? Do you think I’ll get Workers Comp for this?”

His roommate’s shoulders shake a few times. A laugh! Jack hadn’t expected that. This guy is tough as nails—probably has to be with all those tattoos. There’s a whole heap of black ink running up his left arm and disappearing beneath the flimsy hospital gown.

“So, anyway, I’m Jack,” Jack continues, “and I’m here because as the hotel collapsed, one of the umbrellas from the pool area hit me. It’s not even a cool injury. Oh, is that in bad taste? Shit, probably, but, like, it totally isn’t. A pool umbrella pinned me to the fence. Like, of all things. Do you think the universe is trying to tell me something?”

More shaking. More laughter—Jack’s on a roll here. It’s been awhile since he’s met someone who genuinely found him funny. He could get used to the warmth sliding up his chest, the pride.

When he glances over again, the guy’s watching him. Jack shrugs a little. “I’d ask your name, but…”

The cart he’s hooked up to is on wheels, and all the IV tubes and cords seem decently long. Jack scans the room. Then he reaches for the wall and drags himself, bed included, a few inches over. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to reach the paper and pen on the little table between them. Things have been so crazy no one even bothered to put the privacy curtain up.

He hands the pen to his roommate. “Can you…?”

The guy reaches for it. Holds it terribly, but probably better than Jack could. And he scratches letters on the paper until he stops. Jack squints. “Darby? Well. Nice to meet you, Darby. Thanks for not dying and giving me more PTSD.”

That’s definitely a smile reaching up into those eyes.

++

It takes forever for the nurses to come back, and when one does, she’s very haggard. Jack can’t really blame her. He can see stretchers lining the hallway, so they really ran out of room following the disaster.

Darby is in and out of sleep for the first few hours. Jack pieces together that he was in surgery, and it was rough enough that the nurses are a bit surprised he’s still doing okay. Surprised, but grateful. And by grateful, apparently they are just going to ignore him now in favor of the people not doing okay. Which… okay, again, Jack wants to give them a lot of credit for saving lives, but pain medication is helpful, y’know?

He talks to Darby when the other is awake. Tells a lot of stories. For some reason, Darby seems amused by the dumb shit Jack gets up to and all the situations he seems to find himself in. Jack’s recounting of the time he got food poisoning while stuck in a bus depot seems to positively delight him.

When he dozes off again, Jack only feels a little guilty staring at him. It’s totally not his fault that Darby is, despite the hospital gown and the oxygen mask and, you know, the fact that his stomach was apparently repaired in OR3, kind of really hot.

Listen. It’s been a really bad day. Jack’s determined to find that silver lining somewhere.

++

“Uh, no,” Jack says. “The Marvel movies are so overrated. It’s all reliance on special effects now. Really, the CGI team should get all those awards, not the actors.”

Darby is doing that thing again where he’s laughing and shaking the tubes running into the machine beeping along with his heart. He lifts up one hand, index finger extended.

“Yeah, okay, like the first ones were pretty good,” Jack says, because he’ll give him that. “The emotional impact with the beginning should be acknowledged.”

Darby closes one eye, stares meaningfully at Jack with the other.

“I know, I know,” Jack says. “Way too many now. I can’t keep up with anything. And they aren’t in order anymore? Are there, like, multiverses in everything now? Who can understand all of this?”

Darby offers a thumbs up.

“Well, sure, it’s all better than Snyder’s Justice League,” Jack says, and sighs.

++

Darby’s pain meds wear off, and Jack has to hit his call button six times before a nurse shows up to help. An hour later, they make Jack get up and try to put weight on his leg, which ends up being a real shitshow of pain but he manages it. Darby claps for him, which is nice.

There’s a lot of commotion outside their room. Jack thinks quite a few people died. Actually, he doesn’t like to think about that, so he tries not to. But when he falls asleep, he has a nightmare about it. Dead bodies everywhere, the hotel on fire. And the meds in his IV keep him out when he ought to be waking up, which prolongs the horror. When he wakes up, it’s because a hand is shaking his shoulder vigorously.

Jack comes to with tears in his eyes and his throat raw. Darby has pulled his own bed closer so he could wake Jack up; it’s his hand on Jack’s bicep. Jack grapples for the man’s fingers and squeezes them, trying to avoid the tape and the needle. God, he had to have been screaming himself hoarse.

They end up falling back asleep with their hands joined, elbows balanced on the side rails.

++

The nurse pulls the tube out of Darby’s throat the next morning, which nearly makes Jack gag. Fuck, that’s awful, but Darby recovers faster than Jack would have. He hacks for a few moments, and then looks at the nurse blearily. “You fixed my stomach?”

“From where the pipe went through you?” The nurse asks, eyebrows hiked. “Yes. We did.”

“So I can drink coffee when I get out of here?” Darby continues, all rough and out of use and sandpaper-y.

She doesn’t seem to follow, and neither does Jack. “Eventually? Yes.”

“Okay.” Darby turns to Jack, one hand still holding his throat. “When I get released, you wanna get coffee with me?”

“Are you…” Jack blinks. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Darby grins. “Yeah.”

“You’re insane,” Jack tells him seriously.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

Jack smiles back. “Yeah, I wanna get coffee with you.”

“Sweet,” Darby says, as the nurse just grumbles at the ceiling.

++

It takes five weeks, but they get coffee. Jack makes sure they don’t sit near any umbrellas, and Darby holds his hand the whole time. They take a selfie and tag their location as the hotel that collapsed. It’s the dumbest shit Jack has ever done. They end up on the local news, and Jack doesn’t even care. He’s too busy on WebMD trying to figure out when Darby can attempt strenuous exercise again after extensive surgery.

(“It doesn’t really need to be that strenuous,” Darby points out. “I’ll just lay against the pillows, and you can do all the work.”

“While I’m not against this,” Jack replies, “I’m worried about ripping your stitches out.”

“Everything you say just makes me more excited about this,” Darby tells him, and Jack thinks he’s being serious.)

[dangerous-disposition]

self-indulgent steddie au #1:

imagine if you will, group housing & events coordinator Steve getting a turnover from the sales manager, gonna say it's robin for the sake of this, for a band coming to town in a few months for a local festival. she asks steve if he listens to metal and steve is like "....no?" and she's like "okay cool."

when he gets the details for the group, everything is already incognito. the name of the band and all the members in it are under aliases. steve is immediately skeptical of the level of anonymity, especially since a google search would reveal everything (he knew they were performing at the local festival, he knew the dates of their stay, and that they were a rock adjacent band so he knew exactly which stage they would be playing), but whatever, he doesn't actually care??? so he puts the rooming list in, assigns the comp upgrade to the alias marked as "front man", and tucks himself in to read the riders. it's... not a lot because it's all really standard shit--pre-reg, pre-key, marked envelopes in a bigger envelope to be handed to the manager, specific brand of pop to be provided in the rooms--steve rolls his eyes bc of course they require the brand that the hotel doesn't have a contract with--but the riders are so comprehensive. whoever prepared them pays very close attention to detail, and if it didn't make steve's job harder he would be impressed.

anyway, so he reaches out with the confirmed rooming list and a note that he would reach out closer to the actual cut-off date to finalize and confirm details about the stay. he provides his work number to be contacted if they would like to discuss or confirm anything at all. the standard procedure for a group that is still 2 months out from their cut-off date. starts compiling his notes off of the riders to prepare for the huge group coversheet he's going to have to prepare for a 10-room block ugh

something something, somehow steve begins dealing directly with, u guessed it, eddie, the front man, but he doesn't know eddie is the front man somehow, like i'm thinking it's something like Chrissy is the manager, but in the system there was a typo and her name was input as Chris Cunningham, and when Steve called her number, Eddie picked up and just rolled with being called Chris?? maybe??? this is where the au gets a little fuzzy for me bc i cannot imagine being this fuckn unprofessional to in-depth so like...JUST SOMEHOW THEY START TALKING, and of course it is strictly business at the start of it, but eddie is a flirt in a way that's...not creepy like steve has gotten used to from clients. it's never overbearing, never expectant, just...nice. something something steve starts flirting back a bit

anywho, steve ends up kinda down fuckn bad for this guy, which he knows is stupid bc he's a client and the manager of a famous metal band, and he would lose his job if he actually made a move. especially on the clock what the fuck. that doesn't stop eddie from asking if steve would maybe grab drinks with him when they're in town (they're staying over the weekend, so steve would be off the clock, and what he does in his free time is his business, so long as he doesn't return to the hotel with eddie and spend the night) and steve says he'd consider it, but basically says yes

shit comes to a head a bit though when steve does his "hey, it's the cut-off date, let's officially finalize these details" email, even after two months of chatting back and forth with who he assumed was the manager. colour him surprised when the Teams call connects and Chrissy Cunningham is on his screen and he gawks at her for several seconds trying to understand like "wait...what?" immediately she catches on to the root of his confusion and she explains to him in a long-suffering, exasperated tone that the front man of the band uses her phone a lot because his own usually gets lost or broken, so steve had been talking to a rockstar for two months. chrissy goes "he does this every time" (meaning chatting with the hotel staff before she even has a chance to finalize shit bc he's always on her phone) but what steve takes that to mean is "he flirts with and asks out the hotel staff everywhere they go" and steve is........ he refuses to call it heartbroken bc that's fuckn dramatic for a flirtation with a man he hasn't even seen (bc yes, steve still hasn't tried to google them bc even now that he does care a bit, he didn't want to spoil the surprise), so he settles on Disappointed.

there's a convo where eddie calls steve except from his own phone like "so it looks like i was found out" and steve was like "yup" and eddie's like "are we still on for drinks?" and steve is like "nope. it's not worth my job to play groupie for the night" and obviously this misunderstanding plays out for a bit bc uh Tension, obvs.

somehow this all resolves itself which again, i'm fuzzy on the details bc the thought of being this unprofessional is too far beyond me, but steve and eddie go for drinks and hit it off really well and steve is truly down bad for this guy which is STUPID bc now steve knows just how famous eddie is at this point. just bleh. steve takes eddie back to his place (again, he's free to do what he wants in his free time with whoever he wants, he just can't go back to eddie's hotel room to do it) and obvs they have a Grand Ol'Time there

and something something they make it work, first saying they can be kinda friends with benefits to make it seem like NOT a long distance relationship, until steve confesses that he's stopped dating ppl and wants to discuss exclusivity. turns out eddie hasn't hooked up with anyone since he and steve went out so like...yeah. they're dating, and this is wear my thoughts on this AU end.

[chaseadrian]

mirror on the ceiling - part 1

You have exactly one week to stop a big baddie and his entourage of others. Holed up in a hotel room in Vegas, you and Adrian are working undercover as a couple of doe-eyed honeymooners. And though you initially tried to have anyone else to fill the role of your faux-spouse, once you're in the thick of it you find yourself surprised by him at every turn. (CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3)

pairing: adrian chase x f!reader tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, fake relationship via undercover, adrian knows his shit, unprotected sex, fucking without feelings (as far as you know) word count: 6.8k+ a/n: okay i intended this to be just a little one off but then i got carried away and now if my attention span doesn’t betray me, it’ll turn into a series. hope yall enjoy! and yes, i took advantage of some hotel stereotypes but I did do some research into the hotel they’re staying at so it’s at least somewhat accurate lol minorly edited because i finished this as im literally heading out the door to go to vegas 

The attendant opened the door as you and Adrian greeted him with a smile, roller suitcases sliding behind you on the marbled floor. The hotel was bustling with tourists, guests, and employees rolling carts this way and that. You and Adrian both looked up at the ceiling, marveling at the high arches and pointing at the different illustrations that painted them. 

He slipped a hand in yours as you approached the counter, the woman at the desk looking up from her computer to greet you. 

“Hi, welcome to the Venetian Resort. Checking in?” 

Adrian slipped his hand out of yours to pull his credit card and ID out, “Yup! Here ya go.” He slid them across the counter to the clerk and she nodded, taking them and turning back to her computer. 

You slung your arm around his shoulders, pressing your cheek to his arm and beaming up at him, squeezing him to you. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and adjusted the backpack on his other side. 

“Alright Mr. Chance, we have you in the—oh! The honeymoon suite, congratulations to you two.” She slid the cards back and pulled two from under her desk, sliding them through a little black machine on the counter and handing them to Adrian as well. “As you know, we’ve charged a refundable deposit of $150 to the card, and the key cards allow access to all recreational rooms in the resort. And—”

She reached under her desk and pulled out two vouchers, “As a thanks for choosing the Venetian for your honeymoon, here are two complimentary vouchers for a couples massage in our spa and all amenities in the mini fridge will be comped as well. Would you like your bags brought up for you?” 

You reached out for the vouchers and stuck them in your bag, smiling at her without loosening your grip on Adrian, “No, thank you. We appreciate it!” 

She flicked her hand off to the side and the approaching bellboy redirected to one of the other clerks behind the counter, “Perfectly fine. The elevator will be through that doorway to the left. We hope you enjoy your stay, and have a wonderful honeymoon.” 

You and Adrian both offered a goodbye wave as you walked off together into the elevator, hitting the button for the tenth floor and waiting as other guests squeezed into the space. 

The minute the door to your suite was closed you dropped Adrian’s hand and abandoned your suitcase close to the entrance, moving to unscrew the bulbs in the lamps and check each one. 

Adrian, on the other hand, did a swan dive onto the bed and sunk right in. 

“Holy shit, check this out.” He pointed up at the ceiling, where there was an ornate mirror fixed right above the bed. 

You gave the mirror a cursory glance, turning your attention to Adrian, who was kicking off his shoes and fluffing up a pillow, “Babe, we’re supposed to be undercover.” You mumbled the last word out of the corner of your mouth as you slid your hand behind the tv to check for mystery wires or obvious cameras. 

“I am!” 

There was a rustling sound over on the bed, and when you looked, Adrian was wriggling under the covers with a smile on his face. 

You rolled your eyes, “Stop acting like a child and check the bathroom. The main rooms are fine, from what I can tell.” 

Adrian groaned and flung off the blankets, darting to the restroom and shouting at you a second later, “All clear!” 

He ducked his head out, “Hey they got a hot tub with jets in here.” 

The sound of rushing water started a moment later, and Adrian’s clothes flew out of the bathroom just as quick. 

You plopped onto the couch with a sigh, staring at the already unmade bed, and pulled your phone out to send a text to Harcourt. 

Checked in. 

It wasn’t that you necessarily had a problem with Adrian, but you knew being undercover with him was sure to be a challenge.

When Harcourt assigned you two together, you were quick to speak with her in private and try to make a case for anyone else. 

“He’s gonna blow it, Em.” You sat against a desk, staring through the glass window to the main room where Adrian and Chris were keeled over with laughter, “I just know, he’s gonna blow it. Why can’t I go undercover with someone else? Just logic it out for me, please.” 

She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers, “Economos is our tech guy, we need him running point on security. Chris is too recognizable, and Adebayo is as smooth as unchurned butter. If you’re worried about Adrian blowing it, you’d be worse off with her.” 

Harcourt sat on the desk next to you, “Look, if there was anyone else, they’d be right there next to you, but sorry. Adrian’s it.” 

You nudged her shoulder, “What about you? It’s 2022, a couple of wives aren’t as much of a sight anymore.” 

She shook her head, “You know I have to—”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just kidding. You’ve gotta keep us all wrangled.” 

You both laughed, but she looked at you in earnest with her brows furrowed, “You sure this isn’t gonna be a problem?” 

“No, Em. I’ll make sure of it.” 

And it wouldn't be a problem. Adrian was a dumbass, but he could do the job. You knew this in your bones, but your mind was never fully sure. Especially when his first instinct right now was to take a fucking bath. 

You walked over to the room door and grabbed your suitcase, rolling it over to the coffee table and unzipping the aerial map you had of the room. 

Holding it up to the light, you saw it shine brighter through a square in the paper, right where the coat closet was. You swung the door open to see a handful of wooden hangers and an ironing board. Hazarding a guess you stuck your hand behind the ironing board and felt blindly until your fingers hit a thin manilla folder. They plucked it out of the dark and you sighed with relief. 

“Adrian, I got it.” You walked into the bathroom with the folder open, scanning the pages, “Alright. So the itinerary says—Jesus, fuck, are you naked?” 

“I’m in the bath.” He was leaning against the sloped backing of the hot tub, arms outstretched over the edge to keep him from floating around in the water. 

“It’s a hot tub, idiot. And do you know how many germs there are in those?” You held the folder against your brow ridge as you stared at the floor, “Can you just put something on, please?” 

He groaned and you heard him sloshing out of the tub, muttering to himself about how he was “gonna take a shower after,” and, “everywhere has germs but everywhere doesn’t have jets.” 

You stood there, tapping your foot until his bare feet made their way into your eyeline, “Okay. Better?” Slowly, you raised your gaze and saw the bottom of a white cotton robe. 

“Much. Can we go over this now?” 

Adrian gestured for you to take the lead, following you out of the bathroom and hopping onto the bed as you made your way to the couch. 

“Hit me.” 

You spread the contents of the folder out on the coffee table. Itinerary, profiles on the target’s entourage, a profile on the target himself, flight plans, potential room changes, master keys for your floor and the target’s floor, everything Economos gathered on the target all compiled into a neat little guidebook. 

“Okay. Stauder is landing at a private airstrip in Kingman, Arizona tonight just before 5:00, that gives us a two hour window before he actually gets to Vegas. But, his security will be waiting for him in the adjacent rooms when he gets here. According to Economos, they always fly directly into Vegas, and their flight lands at 5:47.” 

Adrian slid off the bed and walked over to you, sitting down on the couch and leaning forward to examine the spread before him. “So once the cleaning crew is outta there, we’ll have maybe an hour to get in and get out before they show up.” 

“Right, and Stauder is bringing in his first guests tomorrow morning so we need the room secured by then. And he’s only at the Venetian for this week before he rounds up and takes everyone back to LA. We gotta get them all taken out or it’s mission failure, got it?” 

He nods, and walks over to his luggage to take out a pair of jeans and a loose short sleeved button up, adorned with palm trees. “I’m still listening.” He turned his back to you and dropped the robe. 

Your breath catches in your throat, and relief washes over you when you realize he had the wherewithal to put his boxer briefs on under the robe. Still, your gaze lingers as he pulls the jeans up and slides the buttoned shirt over his frame rather than unbuttoning it and going through all that fuss. 

“So,” The task at hand catches up to you, and your eyes dart to your watch. You’ve got just over half an hour before you should be heading up to the room. “Allan Stauder. Former arms dealer, current mutant dealer. Gangs, terrorist groups, militias, he’s the go to guy when they need extra muscle in the form of a superhuman attack dog.” 

Adrian plopped on the ground to put on fresh socks, staring up at you like you were telling the most interesting story he’d ever heard. 

Harcourt had been brief on the details, keeping her explanation succinct. Allan Stauder was a bad guy, he was helping other bad people, and the team had a chance to take them all out in one fell swoop. Since the butterflies—though that was before your time—Harcourt had never led the team astray and you all trusted that she wouldn’t now. You were all more interested in the how of it all than the gritty details of the what. 

But you had those details now, and Adrian was all in as you went through it together. 

“Looks like he’s meeting with four different groups this week. Right now we need to worry about the ones coming in tomorrow. Rosella Ferreiro and her partner Simon Haas are meeting with Stauder tomorrow night, they run the fentanyl ring for the entire upper east coast. This is their first time meeting with Stauder, so if we intercept them beforehand, he should just think they blew him off. And Economos should be able to use facial recognition to follow them via security cameras. One thing I love about Vegas, they take their security seriously.” 

Once he had his shoes on, Adrian was sitting down right next to you again. He laughed, and leaned in closer to read the profile on Rosella and Simon. 

You pulled the profiles for the entourage, skimming through them and cross referencing the names with the provided itinerary. One thing Harcourt had emphasized was how punctual Stauder was, always the same times, just a different hotel with each visit. The occasional room change when he thought someone was onto him, flights cycled around several air strips within a two hour drive of Vegas. He was careful, but there was a method that could be followed if someone just paid close attention during his bimonthly trips to the city. 

“Who else am I killing?” Adrian pushed away the paper he was reading, looking at the ones you had lined up in front of you. 

“Okay. Vendel Klement runs a human trafficking ring out of Phoenix, his right hands are Ian Morrish and Cecelia Merchant. They fly in on Tuesday morning. And last but not least are Desmond Wagner and Arnaud McAdams, the heads of two domestic terrorist groups working out of Atlanta and Chicago. Those two are, apparently, acquainted. They’ve been spotted meeting with Stauder together on multiple occasions, and they both come in on Friday. 

“Now, according to this, Stauder flies them all out to his main base in LA once he’s sure they’re legit. I guess this is something of a test? If you last the week, you get a superhuman employee? Wagner and McAdams have been seen with him the longest, so I guess there’s some sort of trust built up there. I don’t know. But if I’m right, we should wait to take them and Klement’s crew out until they’re all together. Stauder might get suspicious otherwise. But, as long as we do our jobs, they’ll all be dead by next Sunday.” 

You looked again at your watch, it was just about time to go. 

Adrian hopped up, swiping the master key and going to grab his backpack. He rifled through it to pull out several small mics, shoving them in his pocket and offering an arm, which you took after shaking out all your nerves.

You knew you could do the job, you’d been doing it for at least a decade now. And sure, you’d been shot once, stabbed a couple times, and even waterboarded, but that was nothing compared to the paralyzing panic you felt at the start of every mission. Everything that happened during, well, that was part of the job. Whatever cuts, scrapes, bruises, and scars you got were just a reminder that you were doing the job. And when they healed, it was because you’d finished a job well done. But this? Standing in the doorway at the precipice of a new challenge, a new monster, a new potential failure?

That didn’t feel like the job. It felt too close to normal life. Crossing the point of no return on a decision that would put you in a solid track that couldn’t be changed from that moment on. Like the moment before you plunge into cold water, like the shock of the water has already taken hold before it ever touches your skin. That was this moment. There, with your arm in Adrian’s, about to plant mics in the hotel room of the next person you were meant to kill. 

It’s not like you really had a choice. This was the job, sure, the job you’d agreed to do. But still, that logic couldn’t stop the earworm that kept reminding you that you could turn around. Could give up, and go home. Despite the fact that it would disappoint the team, despite the fact that what you were doing was fundamentally good. That point of no return always set you alight with a feeling that was unlike anything you’d felt before. Like tiny hands gripping tight to every single one of your nerves, holding you down, gluing your body in place. 

You looked up at Adrian, trying to keep that panic from showing on your face. 

He leaned down to you before opening the door, and whispered, “Hey. We got this.”

Fuck, if Adrian could read the panic on your face, everyone else would too. You just needed to take the step. Just open the door. Walk out. Do the job. 

He reached in front of you and grabbed the door handle, opening it for you and pulling you out with him. 

“So, what do you wanna get for dinner, babe? I’m starving from traveling, there’s a nice diner style restaurant about half a mile from here. We could take a nice walk down the strip, I don’t really feel like driving.” 

Adrian guided you down the hallway, and you felt your nerves subsiding. You leaned into his touch, “Yeah, that sounds really good. I could definitely go for a burger right now.” 

The two of you approached the elevator, and he laughed as he pressed the button, “Mm, my stomach is rumbling.” He patted his stomach and hit the button for the 30th floor. 

The elevator jolted up, and you watched the numbers climb as you got closer and closer. The feeling of the elevator carrying your weight alleviated your nerves and you felt yourself shifting away from that panic and into mission mode. You squeezed Adrian’s arm when the elevator dinged, the door opening to an empty hallway. 

This time you led the way, pulling Adrian along down the winding hallways until you reached Stauder’s room. You threw your arms around his neck and feigned playfulness, as though you two were just eager to get into the room that was definitely yours. 

He reached behind him blindly with the key, and fumbled with the door until you two practically fell in. Adrian shut the door with his foot, and you two broke apart when he pulled a few mics from his pocket to give to you. 

You made your way to the bathroom, looking for the built in tissue dispenser that was on the side of the counter. You reached a hand in and stuck the mic in the corner. 

The other mics were placed around the room at your discretion, Adrian just stuck them where you told him to. Behind the foot of the couch, on the bar that held up the curtains, on the back of the safe in the closet, everywhere you usually put them when you needed to listen in on a target. 

Neither of you thought it took that long, but when you two left the room, you saw Stauder’s security rounding the corner just as the door shut. 

Adrian looked at you with mild panic behind his eyes, but you threw your arms around his neck and pressed your lips together before either of you could give anything a second thought. 

His arms wrapped around your body, following your lead as you turned so he was pushing you against the door, pretending to fumble with the door handle and giggling when you did. 

It was a bit surprising how good of a kisser he was, how his mouth moved instinctually with yours, tongues sliding against each other as the kiss deepened and deepened. His free hand pressed harder into your back, squeezing your bodies together as he knocked the door handle with his hand, having given up on looking like he was trying to get in the door. 

You were getting lost in the kiss when someone clearing their throat next to you shocked you out of the moment. 

There were two burly men standing there, dressed in black t-shirts and blue jeans. 

Adrian waved a dismissive hand at them and moved his head to catch you in the kiss again, “We’re busy, thanks.” He mumbled against your mouth. 

“You lovebirds got the wrong room.” One of the men grunted, crossing his arms. 

Adrian groaned, and pulled out of the kiss to look at the room number on the door, “Oh, fuck. Sorry fellas.” He grabbed you by the wrist and ran a few rooms down, making it a point to look at the door and wave at the guards, “It’s this one!” 

He yanked you to his mouth by your shirt, tapping the door with the key card and getting you two inside, lips still together. 

You were the one that broke the kiss when the door clicked shut, quick to check the room for occupants. It was empty. 

Adrian had fallen against the door, sliding down to sit on the carpet, “Phew. Close one, huh?” He laughed, “Hey, you're a really good kisser.” 

“Thanks, you weren’t that bad yourself.” You slid down next to him on the floor, “Now we just gotta wait here until…fuck knows.” 

He looked at you, “We could play I Spy. I’ll go first…I spy with my little eye…something red.” 

You shook your head in disproval, but played along anyway because what the fuck else were you to do for now? 

After a few rounds, you stood up to take a peek out of the eyehole. The perspective allowed you to see both ways in the hallway, and it was barren. 

“Okay, we’re good. But we gotta walk around to the elevator the other way because I don’t know how close a watch those guys are keeping.” 

He tossed an arm around your shoulders and gave you a loving grin, “Lead the way, babes.” 

You responded by wrapping your arm around his waist, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt and keeping him close. 

“I think maybe we should just order some room service, yeah? This place has to have burgers right?” He silently nodded in agreement and you leaned up on your tip toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek as an excuse to look behind you. No tail yet, but that didn’t mean you were totally in the clear. Those guards could be waiting for you at your actual room, or by the elevators. You didn’t let yourself calm down until you were back in your room on the tenth floor. 

Adrian ran and jumped on the bed, falling on his back like a starfish, “That was exhilarating, I definitely worked up an appetite.” 

You immediately pulled out your phone and shot Harcourt another text. 

Settled into the room. It’s pretty fancy. 

She responded a minute later with a thumbs up right as you were setting up the laptop that you’d pulled from Adrian’s backpack. Your phone buzzed with another text from her. 

You guys get a chance to look out your balcony? View is great. 

It meant she and Economos had been able to intercept the mic feed from the room. So not only was it on your laptop, they were also receiving live feed. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing that you and Adrian were no longer alone on this. Not that you ever had been truly alone, but now that feed was a palpable source that connected you and Adrian to the rest of the team. They were somewhere in the hotel, Adebayo and Chris in one room, Economos and Harcourt in another. Each pair was on different floors somewhere between the tenth and thirtieth. 

You closed the laptop for now and took a look at your watch. 

“We’ve got about an hour before Stauder gets here.” Adrian stole the words right from your brain, “So, about that room service?” 

Laughing, you grabbed the menu from the coffee table drawer and walked over to the bed, diving and landing on your stomach above Adrian’s head. 

“Yes, room service. Here. Take a look.” You pushed the menu into his hand, already having decided on a cowboy burger and fries the second you saw it on the list. 

Adrian ran a finger down the pages, looking through it at least three or four times before he stabbed at an item with his finger. 

“Got it. Coconut shrimp and eggplant parmigiana. You want me to call?” 

You gestured a “go ahead” to him, and he picked up the phone by the bed, eyes darting between the number on the menu and the buttons on the phone, “Plug in phones, who knew?” 

He smiled at you as it was ringing, and you heard a faint “Room service.” from the speaker. 

“Hi, yeah, can we get a cowboy burger, garlic truffle fries, coconut shrimp, and eggplant parmigiana sent up to room 1034? Oh! And two milkshakes, one chocolate, one chocolate with raspberry. Yeah, yeah, you can charge it to the room, sure. Twenty minutes? Okay, that’s fast! Thank you!” He hung up the receiver and looked at you, “They say it’s gonna take twenty minutes. You like chocolate raspberry milkshakes, right? I remember you ordering that a few times when we’ve been out with the team.” 

You stared at him with a smile, reaching over to push him over by the shoulder, “Wow, look at you. Such an attentive husband.” 

He regained his balance on the bed, sitting straight up and laughing along with you. 

“So, what’s the agenda for tonight?” Adrian said, getting up to sit on the couch. 

You followed him, “Nothing, really. We can’t make a move until Ferreiro and Haas land, so tonight I guess we’ll just see what Stauder is up to in his room, see if there’s anything we’ve gotten wrong or plans that have changed.” 

It was hard not to notice that your knees were knocking together with every move, both of you hunched over the laptop screen, staring at the flat soundwaves of each mic feed. Yeah, Stauder hadn’t arrived yet, so you fell back on the couch, clasping your hands together over your stomach and mentally pleading for the food to get there. 

Until that point, it had been gas station sandwiches and continental breakfasts. The drive down had taken a total of seventeen hours, spread across two days. The hotel you’d stayed in was dingy at best, outright disease ridden at worst. It wasn’t until you had thrown yourself on the bed next to Adrian that you realized just how tightly your muscles were wound. And now, your stomach rumbling, the exhaustion of the trip and the panic of securing the room had caught up to you. 

Both of you laid there on the couch, slumped down just waiting for that knock on the door. 

But when it did come, both of you instinctively pulled out your concealed handguns and approached the door with caution. 

“Room service!” 

You put your hand on Adrian’s, signaling that you intended to go first and look out the peephole. 

Distorted by the perspective was a bean pole looking employee, pulling at his collar and rolling his eyes. You turned your head to Adrian and nodded as you put your gun away. He followed suit, quick to step next to you and slide a hand into yours.

He pulled the door open, moving out of the way for the boy to roll the cart into the room. 

He rolled it to the coffee table and walked back over to where you two were standing, eyes flicking between you, “Anything else I can get ya?” 

Adrian let go of your hand to pull a twenty from his wallet and slap it into the boy’s hand, “Nope. Thanks, Jeff.” He’d leaned forward to read the nametag, and Jeff seemed visibly pleased to have been referred to as an actual person for once. 

Jeff nodded at him, muttering a thank you and stepping out of the room. 

Adrian closed the door behind him and looked down at you with a grin, “Alright. Grub time!” He bounced over to the cart, flicking back the curtain to check for stowaways or cameras or whatever else could be stashed in the space. “All good, c’mon!” 

You were quick to make your way to the cart as well, pulling off each metal cover to find your burger and fries sitting on a plate, steam winding up off the food. 

“Shit, this looks good.” You grabbed the plate and set it on the coffee table, patting the seat next to you for Adrian, who moved back and forth between the cart and the table, setting down both of his plates, his milkshake, and then handing you yours. “Oh, thank you.” 

“Sure thing, wifey.” He slid next to you, grabbing a shrimp and shoving it into his mouth, tail and all. “Fuck, that is good. Wanna watch a movie or something?” 

You’d grabbed hold of your burger, and stopped it right before your open mouth, “Yeah, yeah, throw on whatever. I don’t care. I’m fucking hungry.” 

He shrugged and turned on the television, flipping until he found some reruns of a sitcom he’d mentioned a few times. 

You were too focused on the burger to pay attention. The first bite hit your tastebuds and you swallowed probably too fast, the half chewed food sliding coarsely down your throat. 

The two of you sat there, not talking for a bit, as you dove into the food. Slurping down your shakes, picking off of each other’s plates, nodding at each other in agreement that everything was fucking delicious. 

When the plates were getting pared down, you took a deep breath and nudged Adrian with your elbow. 

“Hey, I meant to say thank you for earlier. When you kissed me outside Stauder’s room.” 

Adrian gave you a wink, but really it was more of a blink, “You’re welcome.” 

You laughed, “No, I mean, you were fast on your feet where I wasn’t. Thanks for saving our hide.” 

He took a sip of his shake, waving you off, “Oh, please. It’s nothing. What kind of honeymoon would this be if we got murdered on the first day?” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” You tossed through the remaining fries, picking out the best looking ones to eat, before standing up to go wash your hands, telling Adrian from the bathroom, “Oof, I’m full.” 

“I’m getting there!” He spoke with a full mouth. The coconut shrimp had been polished off almost immediately, and he was shoving the last few bites of pasta into his mouth, washing them down with what remained of his chocolate milkshake. 

You walked over to the bed and climbed on, your head at the foot of the bed, laying on your stomach so you could lazily watch Adrian finish the rest of the food. He fell back against the couch, turning his attention to the television and laughing along with the canned audience. 

After a few episodes, you weren’t feeling so full anymore, and Adrian was laying next to you on the bed, on his back with his head upside down off the edge of the bed. 

“Y’know, I think for a honeymoon, the room should be a lot more messed up.” You let your gaze trail down Adrian’s body, and he lifted his head to look at you, head cocked. 

“Why, from all the sex and stuff? I guess. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been on a honeymoon. Also I’ve never had sex in a hotel room. I don’t like the idea of room service coming in and rifling through the sheets.” He let his head fall back against the edge of the bed. 

“That’s weird. We should probably mess up the room though, huh? Just in case, I don’t know. What if it’s suspicious or something?” 

Rather than sitting up like a normal person, Adrian lifted his arms and slid off the edge of the bed, doing a sort of backwards somersault onto the floor. He sat on his knees, “Okay, we can mess up the room.” 

He put his hands on the comforter underneath you and yanked, pulling them half of the bed—and you with them. 

You caught yourself as you toppled, using Adrian’s shoulder to steady yourself next to him, also sitting on your knees. He moved to yank the blankets again and you grabbed his wrist to stop him, “No. Adrian. Jesus Christ, I forget who I’m talking to.” 

Adrian stared at you as you pulled off your shirt and grabbed his hands, placing them on your chest. “We’re going to mess up the room, okay?” 

He looked down at his hands, and the gears in his head clicked, “Oh. Oh. Well I should probably put up the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, huh?” His hands were heavy on your breasts, and you shook your head. 

“I already did it earlier when you were in the bathroom. Just kiss me.” 

Something in him shifted in that moment—knowing that this was how you intended the night to go—and he darted to your lips, kissing you just as he had earlier. There was no tentativeness in the way he touched you, no warm up period, no hesitation. Once he knew you were in, so was he.

One of his hands left your breast to coil around your back and pull you into him. His other hand slid from where it cupped your breast to lower on your torso, fingers poking under the band of the bra so he could grab at your skin, his thumb running against your hardening nipple, as he kept kissing you. 

Your hands slid into his hair, tugging the curly brown locks, surprised at how soft it was. It had always looked fluffy and soft, but having your hands knotted in it while your mouths were locked and his hands were sliding around your body was an entirely different sensation. 

His fingertips on your back sent shivers down your spine, and he took a moment to pull the blankets all the way off the bed, lifting you onto his lap and wrapping them around your shoulders before diving back in to kiss you. 

You straddled him under the warmth of the blanket, grinding against him as his lips made their way from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, dragging open mouthed all the way to where your jaw met your earlobe. He paused there to suck a small hickey, light enough that it would either fade by the time you were around anyone, and well placed so if it somehow didn’t, you could just hide it with your hair. 

He continued dragging his lips around your skin, down your neck, leaving wet kisses in every spot that made you quake against him. 

You moved a hand from his hair to his chest, pushing him down onto the floor and unbuttoning his shirt with the one hand. You flicked either side off of his chest, but not completely off his body, and ran your hand down his chest, underneath his pecs, and along the lines of his abdomen. 

Of course, you had to know he was cut, but you’d never taken more than the odd second to admire his figure when you were checking him for cuts or making him strip to take a shower after being exposed to some weird hazardous material. 

The sight of him now drove you almost embarrassingly wild. He was so hot, how had you never paid attention? You leaned down and dragged your tongue from his happy trail to between his collarbones, planting a kiss in the pit of his neck and feeling the groan that you’d drawn from his lips. 

He responded by sliding your bra off your chest, a breathy moan falling from his lips when he saw your tits fall out of the underwear. “Holy fuck.” He whispered, bringing his mouth to your chest and alternating between your nipples, his tongue swirling around the taut skin until you were grinding harder against him, and your hands moved to unbutton his jeans. 

You hovered above him as he slid the jeans down his legs, his boxer briefs coming along with them. 

And, okay, you’d seen his dick earlier in the hot tub, it had been nothing to gawk at. Especially when you were trying to maintain an air of professionalism. It was a normal, average dick. But, apparently, Adrian was a grower. 

His erection thumped against his stomach once it pulled from the release of his jeans, pink and thick and you wanted it filling you up now. 

You fell over next to him, unbuttoning your jeans and yanking them off, throwing them without looking where they landed in the room. 

Adrian rolled on top of you, pressing his lips against yours, the hot breath circulating between you two, making you dizzy. The feeling of his cock between your thighs certainly didn’t help, and you bucked your hips up against him, one hand on his lower back, guiding him against you, his head poking at your entrance. 

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and brought his ear close to your mouth, “I want you to fuck me. Right now.” 

The sound that he made was somewhere between a whimper and a whine, and he nodded against your neck, his tongue pressing against the pulsing vein that ran up the side, his lips closing around the wet spot he’d left to suck a deep red bruise into your skin. 

He bit down on the skin as he pressed his cock into you, sliding it all the way in as you gasped into the open air, grip on his hair tightening. 

As he fucked into you, he kept his head tucked into your shoulder, teeth sinking into the slope where your neck and shoulder met. His cock was pure, thick pressure in your cunt, each thrust driving your head harder and harder against the floor, body arching into his touch as much as you could with his weight on you. 

Your bodies slid together as sweat slicked up between them, and he slid a hand up your torso, grabbing one of your tits, feeling the way it bounced with every thrust. Your hand moved from his lower back to his ass, fingertips pressing white spots into the skin and pushing him into you, more and more, keeping pace even as you lost your composure. 

With your breath catching in your throat, you choked out moans and broken repetitions of his name. You could feel his hot mouth against your neck, the way he was biting his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming out moan after moan. 

“A—Adrian, let me ride you.” 

You felt him nod against your neck, and his arms wrapped around you as he rolled the two of you over, sliding down your sides to situate on your hips and hold tight. 

Now it was he who was digging his head into the ground, thick white blankets framing his face. Framing the pained expression as he held on while you ground your hips against him, the feeling of his cock driving you to ride him faster and faster. 

The sensation was maddening, and it was long before you’d lost rhythm and he decided to take over, the grip on your hips tightening further, holding you down as he bucked his hips up into you, again and again and again, his gaze locked onto your tits as they bounced up and down with every hard thrust. 

One of his hands left your hip and slid up your back, grabbing the nape of your neck and pulling you down into a kiss. He bit your lip, and you recoiled, spitting on his lips in retaliation. 

He cocked his head, looking at you with the faintest smile touching the corners of his mouth. Without saying a word, he pulled you back down and fucked you harder, ignoring your pleas as you tried in vain to kiss him. 

Instead, he held you by the neck and just stared into your eyes, as you struggled to keep it together. You screwed them shut, reaching blindly for his arms to grab as he fucked you to your finish. 

“You’re almost there, yeah?” 

His voice was languid, dripping in hot honey and fighting back his own whines. 

You nodded, “U—uh huh.” The words were getting choked in your throat, and not a second later you were squirming in his arms, trying to press against him, trying to kiss him, trying anything to direct the orgasm that was making it hard for you to stay straight. 

But he just held you there, by the neck, his hand sliding into your hair and tugging you back the more you tried to resist. 

He was still fucking you as you were coming down from the orgasm, but he’d let you fall onto his chest, had pulled your mouth to his and was kissing you with broken, unfinished kisses until he, too, was spasming and whining into your neck. 

“You can cum inside, Adrian. It’s okay, just—ah, God, just—just fuck me full of your cum.” You’d whispered right before, when he was trying and failing to ask you if that would be alright. 

He took no time waiting once you’d said it was okay, hips and lips locking against yours as he came, expletives falling out, interrupted by the sound of your name on his tongue, interrupted by more cursing. 

You’d be lying if you’d said that the way he choked out your name didn’t make you want to cum a second time, the whine from his throat sending shockwaves through your body as you rode him through his orgasm. You could feel his cum seeping out from between your legs as he finished with a few more cursory thrusts, small spasms in his body winding down until he was all heavy breathing and slow kisses against your mouth. 

When you slid off of him, he kept you from fully leaving, so you were there laying half on his chest, half off, with his arms tight around you. 

He laughed and gave you a little slap on the shoulder, “We consummated our marriage.” 

You started laughing along with him until you were both a fit of giggles and laughter. 

The moment was interrupted by a buzzing from the coffee table, and you both darted up to check the text. It was from Harcourt.

Had an early check in. Will be at brunch tomorrow morning. 

Rosella and Simon were already here, which meant that your night was far from over. 

You and Adrian looked at each other, thinking the same thing. 

Well, fuck. 

tag list:  @tinalbion, @welcome--back, @miss-whiddlesmort, @vlkyriesgf, @silverdisable, @carlsonione32, @aunty-venom, @redpool, @myguiltypleasures21​ as always if you’d like to be tagged please ask! 

[vroomvroommbtch]

So it goes: Chapter 23 - MI x fem!OC

Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes finding peace in the middle of the mess and the noise can be really challenging, but a surprise trip, a skyline and a Aussie made it possible in the middle of the night, at least for a while.

Pairing: Michael Italiano x fem!OC

Warnings: Smut, fluff, cuddles and kisses are happening, an Irish girl who doesn’t know how to talk without swearing.

Word count: 9.8k

A/N: HELLO AGAIN! Holy shit its taking forever to write a chapter when life happens and you’re an adult, but heyyyy here we go! This is once again long af so bare with me and don’t judge me. Vacations are happening soon so hopefully will write some chapters so it doesn’t take me forever to update. Okay, gonna stop rambling. Just wanted to say a public and big fuck u to Mr. Zak Brown and his orange tractors and thank you for the love and likes, it really means the world. So that’s that and see you soon! 🫶🏻

PD: Should the Irish sisters drag Mr. Brown in some future chapter? Let me know what you think? 👀

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Chapter 23 - Ever since New York.

If Maggie thought Michael had lost her mind when he took her so watch the sunset during their days in Perth, then she had no idea how to describe what happened after Miami.  

It all started the morning after the race when Michael called her at 7am to wake her up. If the one bothering her was any other human, she would have probably destroyed them, but not with Michael. Never with Michael. With him, Maggie just made a big amount of weird noises as answers, too tired and lazy to even think about proper words. She was so dozed off that she didn't stop to think why Michael asked if he could go to her room. It wasn't that he needed permission or anything like that. He had a free pass there any time he wanted, but he knew Maggie would have probably died of a heart attack if suddenly she heard someone was in her room, especially on a Monday morning. If Jas knew Michael wasn't in the room, she would sneak in some way to wake her sister, but that was never on Mondays. That was the only day Daniel could sleep in as much as he wanted, and if he loved to sleep in with Jas, it just turned way better since Olivia arrived. From that day, Mondays were the days when he not only could stay in bed with his future wife, but also when he could spend the morning with his wife and baby, so it was almost impossible to drag Daniel out of bed till it was lunch time. And if Daniel slept in, that meant Jas would also sleep in, which meant that Maggie also slept in. Michael never woke them up, knowing perfectly fine he didn't want the Irish fury of not one but two women, so he never even tried.  

Almost never.  

All sleepy little Maggie knew was that Michael was right over her, that he smelled wonderful, and that his hair was all wet. All her silly little brain could remember was how good it was to feel his face between her legs and how much she loved to stroke his hair, especially when it was wet. She had no idea why, but she loved the sensation of the wet short strands against her skin, and Michael never asked for the reason, but he also never complained. That was probably the reason he didn't complain when Maggie grabbed his right hand and moved it to the elastic of her panties, letting the message be more than clear.  

And damn, how clear it was.  

There wasn't much to say because Michael didn't need instructions to know what Maggie wanted. And like every single second since day one, her wishes were his commands. Her panties and shirt were gone in a second, just like the sheet that was covering her body. In no time Michael was covering her body in kisses, moving down to lay down between her legs as he threw them both over his shoulders, making sure she was gonna stay there as much as he wanted. She wasn't planning to go anywhere for the rest of the morning, but she let him, too, focus in the way Michael was holding and kissing her thighs. And then she felt his tongue moving over her clit and she knew someone at the hotel was going to complain. There was no way nobody was going to say anything when she was a mess of moans as Michael ate her out, making sure she was an absolute mess with every single thing he did. And he was doing it on purpose; he was licking and sucking on her as one and then two moved slowly but precisely inside her, making her legs want to close out of pure instinct. She could feel Michael smiling against her as he asked to be a good girl and keep her legs wide open for him, even if he was doing the job himself. He also asked her to keep it quiet or they would get in real trouble, but there was no way that was going to happen. No when his fingers fucked her perfectly, touching every single spot that made her see the stars. No when he made her walls clench around his fingers until all she could see was white, and all she could say was his name enough times to let the whole hotel know it.  

But her favorite part wasn't the fact that Michael made her come with his mouth to wake her up; it was the fact that there was no way he would leave things like that. Michael always told her he didn't like to start something he couldn't finish, so it was never just eating her out and leaving. He would never leave without making his girl happy at least twice, so he helped Maggie take his own clothes off and went back to his favorite place to do one of their favorite things.  

Maybe was because she still was a sleepy mess, but somehow everything felt more intense. Michael slowly thrusting inside her made her moan so loud that he had to kiss her to keep the whole hotel from hearing. The way he moved so slowly it was nothing but torturous and wonderful as he covered her skin with kisses and praises, making Maggie scratch and hold on into his back harder than normal. She couldn't care less if the marks on his shoulders were going to be visible if he wore a tank top at the gym that day. She couldn't care if every single person in Miami saw it. She wanted everyone to know those marks had her name, just like the necklace around his neck. Clearly Michael was thinking the same as he thrusted deeper and deeper inside her, all while sucked the perfect spot that always made Maggie get goosebumps when he touched it. She had no idea if Michael was doing it to keep himself quiet or to mark her again as his, but she couldn't care less as long as he kept fucking her.  

That morning it took them more than the normal amount of time to get out of bed. Even for Michael it was hard to get out when they were a tired mess of tangled arms, legs and sheets. Maggie felt boneless to the point that not even Michael felt heavy over her. He felt like a big beautiful warm blanket as she hugged him as tightly as possible, not even bothered about the fact that Michael was still inside her. It was too good to be true, so Maggie decided to enjoy the calmness that Michael brought to her with his face hiding in her neck and his soft, sloppy kisses on her skin, but nothing good lasted forever.

While she was already with her eyes closed ready to call it a lazy day and spend the rest of her afternoon tracing patterns all over his back, Maggie felt Michael move and then she remembered who the man over her was. There was no such thing as a lazy day, especially when it was sunny and there was a beach nearby. Damn Australians.

When he finally got out and off her, it felt wrong. She wanted to keep hugging him, and finding excuses to cover his body in kisses, but Michael had to open his mouth to say a raspy 'C'mon baby, its late' that made Maggie almost get mad. Almost. It was almost 8; Daniel was even near to wake up and they were on his week off, so there was no hurry. That's why Maggie asked why they had to leave the bed when they were in their own happy little cloud of love and sex. Michael explained between kisses on her forehead that they had places to go so they couldn't stay in bed. Not losing her chance to change his mind, Maggie took the chance of positions as her chance to wrap her arms and legs around his body, knowing perfectly fine she didn't have much time before she made a mess all over the sheets. She purred in his neck how she wanted to stay there to thank him for the beautiful way he woke her up, then have him for breakfast, and then and just then have a real breakfast because she needed a coffee as big as Michael. But not even a pout while being completely naked helped, which started to become suspicious.

But not even her second offer of a second round was enough, being dismissed by a kiss and 'Take a shower if you want, I'm gonna pack your stuff meanwhile, because we're leaving' that left Maggie with her jaw hanging. She was waiting for the offer to join her. She was waiting for the joke of sharing the shower to save water, but none of it came. First she was kind of offended because he wasn't joining her in the shower, but then the 'packing your stuff' followed by the 'we're leaving' made Maggie forget about the shower offense. They were supposed to stay in Miami. Their plan was to stay in Miami and forget about races and all that while they were getting tanned on the beach. She even had plans to have a girls afternoon with Jas and Olivia the next day, so she didn't get what was happening.

Without complains, Maggie went to the bathroom and went on with her routine, but before she could hit the shower, she was back in the room, wrapped up in a robe asking what was wrong. She found Michael packing her stuff like he promised, and only when he heard the worry in her voice was when he looked up and left what he was doing to walk to her. Wrapping his arms around her body and covering her head in kisses, Michael promised that everything was perfectly fine. He promised he had a very cool surprise and that's where they were going as soon as she was ready. He promised he really wanted a long warm bath with her, so that was what they were doing as soon as they got to their destination.

With all those promises and without saying goodbye to anyone, not even an hour later, they were in a car on the way somewhere. But not even then Maggie knew where they were going. She tried to convince him to say something or to drop a small hint, but all Michael did time after time was smile and say she needed to wait. She tried to do it as they got in the car, while they were on the way and again at every single red light, but he was unbreakable. Michael kept smiling at her like it was the most normal thing in the world, while Maggie was thinking in options, but none of them were logical.

Then she recognized where they were going. The goddamn airport.

It took a threat of not having sex for six months to convince Michael to finally talk. Maybe it was the seriousness in her face that made the trick, but also maybe it was the 'If I spent six months of lockdown without your dick, I can do it again'. Whatever was the reason, Michael asked her to just go inside the airport to tell her and she couldn't help but agree and finally followed him. She had no idea why he was insisting so much on them being there to finally open his mouth, but then she understood that it was all so she wouldn't fall on her ass in the middle of the sidewalk.

All he did was to show her his phone to let Maggie know the destination, but when she did, she had to ask five times if he was kidding her. Insane, beautiful, wonderful and always perfect Michael was keeping his word, and after months of making that promise he was finally taking her to New York. He had everything planned; they were going to spend the week there and then fly on Sunday to be back in London on Monday, and it was going to be just them with no interruptions, work or babysitting duties. It was going to be just them because no matter how much they loved their family, Michael insisted they deserved some free time being just them. Maggie said it was insanity, not because she didn't love the idea but because the main reason she was traveling with them was to help Jas and Daniel with Olivia, but Michael insisted it was all fine. Everyone knew, and even Jas helped him make it happen, and as soon as Maggie found out she had no idea what to do except kiss the hell out of him, not really caring if they were in the middle of the airport.

Three hours. Three hours sharing kisses and strokes in a plane. Three hours were Maggie forgot how much she hated the take-out and the landing of the plane. Three hours smiling, joking, talking, and planning the next few days. Three hours of nothing but happiness and joy. If that wasn't enough, those three hours were followed by three days filled with concerts, Broadway shows, endless hours walking, nights and mornings all over each other in bed, visits to some of his favorite places mixed with the places Maggie always wanted to see, little coffee shops, cool pizza places, fancy restaurants secret bars and even one or two doubtful place to get something to eat.

It was three days of nothing but happiness going around the city hand in hand like they were just another couple visiting New York, but there was one little tiny detail who was keeping Maggie awake at night for the last couple of weeks.

To say it was keeping her awake was a very subtle way to say Maggie was starting to get worried. When they decided to take a break, they promised to take six months and then talk, but those six months had passed and gone and there was no sign of Michael wanting to talk about it. Her new therapist –one who told Maggie that it was perfectly fine to take some time off and then come back, and how they weren't the first couple to do it, and neither were they going to be the last– told her to not rush things. He told her that if they were in love then things were going to fall back into place. Maggie wanted to believe in that. She repeated that like a mantra every single day, but the worry was always there in the back of her head.

She knew Michael loved her. He kept telling her every single day. She knew for Jas how Michael kept telling her and Daniel how crazy in love he was with Maggie and how he was still head over heels for her. The boys kept making jokes how both the Australian were a bunch of suckers for both the Irish girls. She knew his answer was always a 'Have you seen her? How could I not love her?' when someone asked if he was still into her. Michael also showed her in every possible way that he loved her, and taking her on vacations and not moving away from each other was one of those demonstrations. Maggie didn't need any of that and Michael knew it, but he did it anyway. Besides, they were sleeping together for the whole week like any normal couple and Michael fucked her every night while repeating how much he loved her, so Maggie knew, but that terrible little part of her brain wouldn't shut up.

But even when she knew Michael loved her, Maggie didn't have the courage to face him and talk about it. She didn't have the courage to tell Michael she wanted to talk. She was too scared that her worst fears would become true and that Michael would tell her that he was fine with things the way they were, so she kept it quiet. Maggie was a bloody coward, so she decided to wait until she got the courage to do it or until Michael decided to do it first. 'Whichever happens first, but please let the second one happen first' was the constant thought in her head as she pretended it was all good.

Truth be told, Maggie was waiting for Michael to say something that week. She thought the week on their own was the excuse to finally be able to have some time alone and talk without interruptions, but it didn't happen. After throwing not-so-subtle hints that she missed him, she waited and waited and waited, but the subject was never over the table.

That was what kept Maggie awake that night. Normally she was too tired after a whole day of walking and a night of going out to have dinner, all to end up over –or under, or both, whichever happened first– Michael, but night, not even that could send her to sleep. She tried, and normally his skin against hers was the best sleeping pill in the world, but that night not even that worked.

Trying to not wake up Michael with all her tossing and turning, Maggie got out of bed, hoping that some fresh air would help her, but it didn't. She spent half an hour on one of the couches on the small terrace of the Airbnb they were staying on, just looking at the skyline in front of her. From that little place in Brooklyn, she could see the East River, the Williamsburg Bridge, and all of Manhattan shining brightly in the distance. She loved it. She loved every single thing about it. She loved it so much that she teared up the first night, not really believing how wonderful it was. She loved it, but she made sure to let Michael know it wasn't as cool as watching a beautiful sunset in Perth, because nothing was as amazing as that.

But it wasn't the same when Michael wasn't there to kiss her forehead and clean her tears. It wasn't the same if he wasn't there saying it was perfectly fine to cry to get it out of her body, and because of how breath-taking it was. And as if it was some sort of magic, she heard the door to the terrace moving, letting her know her plan of not waking him up failed miserably.

"What are you doing here? You should be sleeping, baby" Michael whispered, bringing Maggie back from whatever place she was at the moment and making her turn her head to look at him.

And damn, he was a dream come true. Even in the dim light she could see his tall, big frame wearing nothing but his boxers, and he was perfect. Every single part of him was perfect, from his broad shoulders to his big arms and his toned chest. He was an absolute dream, and there it was again, the urgency to jump in his arms and cover him in kisses for the rest of the night until they fell asleep. Or more like the rest of her life if that was possible, which sounded way better.

But she didn't move; instead, she just offered her hand for him to grab, even when he was a couple of steps away from him. "I know, but I woke up, I went to the bathroom and there's this view and I didn't want to waste it. Thought you wouldn't wake up for the next five minutes" she explained as she looked at Michael slowly walking towards her.

"Well, my girl wasn't in bed and I got scared for a minute. Maybe she ran away" he joked, finally grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together. It was the perfect chance for her to bring up their joined hands to her lips and kiss his knuckles, something that they got so used to doing that it was practically their love language. "Damn, you're cold"

"You know I'm always cold" Maggie shrugged, but this time placing one last kiss on his wrist, right over the little heart tattoo that was always covered.

"Come here you little reptile" Michael stated, making Maggie move forward on the couch so he could sit behind her, placing his legs on both sides so she could rest her back on his chest and cuddle up against his body. "We don't need you to get sick"

Maggie couldn't help but smile as soon as she saw Michael getting comfortable there. She also couldn't help but get all comfy as soon as he placed his arms around her waist. She also couldn’t help but take a deep breath when his warm body made contact with hers, smiling at how wonderful it felt and how relaxing it was. She was convinced Michael was going to carry her back to bed, but the fact that he stayed there with her made her heart melt. "I won't. My coach makes me take all these vitamins and stuff so I don't get sick, so I'll be good. But you? At least I have a shirt on, but you're naked, grá. I don't complain but you'll get sick" she smiled, because she would never complain about Michael's almost naked body against hers, but the last thing she needed was him getting cold and sick thanks to a summer breeze.

"Your coach's a wise man. And I'm fine. I got my own personal Irish heat bag with me" he smiled against her neck, placing a small and soft kiss there.

But even when she was absolutely comfortable and didn't want to move, Maggie escaped from his arms, went running to the bedroom and went back in less than a second with a blanket in her hands. It was probably smarter to go back to bed than stay there, but the bedroom didn't have that room, so she rather spent a couple more of stolen minutes there, especially since Michael joined her. "There. No more cold. Fuck the river breeze" she affirmed as she sat down again between his legs, placing the blanket over their bodies and carefully over Michael's shoulders so he would be covered.

And suddenly that was one of those moments were time seemed to slow down and even stop. Her back was against his chest; his hands were resting over her stomach, face resting against hers; her left hand stroking his leg; and his right hand was on his face to stroke his cheek and jaw as he placed kisses between the palm of her hand, her wrist and her head. It was her own little personal heaven and Maggie didn't want to move from there, even if they had to go back to bed and reality at some point.

"Sometimes I really wish I could read minds" Michael murmured, squeezing her waist a little tighter as he kissed her temple. "I know you just a teeny tiny bit and I know there's something running wild in this pretty head of yours. That's why you're out here on your own and not in bed"

Of course he knew. Damn, of course he realized.

In that moment Maggie had two options; it was either admitting that she wanted them back or inventing a lie good enough to convince him everything was fine. The smartest choice was to say the truth, but Maggie never considered herself a smart woman, so she decided to lie.

"I think I'm a bit homesick" she whispered, resting her head on Michael's shoulder. "I miss my bed. I miss Elizabeth. I miss Belle. I miss my apartment, and I feel stupid for saying it. I shouldn't complain because I'm seeing the world with part of my family and know that's a privilege. I shouldn't complain when I see the rest of my family every couple weeks. I shouldn't complain when you and the boys miss your family like crazy and you get to see them a couple times a year, but here I am, being a noisy bitch"

She did miss her place, her family, her friends, her bed, her cat, her Vespa, and all her things, but more than anything she missed his place. She missed his bed, his basic beige couch, their lazy nights, the sleepy mornings, their giggles, the smell of his food, but adobe all, Maggie missed their life there. What they had at that moment was almost similar, and what they were doing in New York was almost like what they used to have; but she missed London. She missed London but not the city; she just missed her own version of London by his side. The London that wasn't as cloudy and gray as long as Michael was smiling at her. The London that was always beautiful and sunny and shiny, at least in their own little world. She missed all that, but lying was somehow easier.

"You're not a noise bitch, did you hear me?" he stated loud and clear in a serious tone that let Maggie know there was no joke on his words. "You can't compare, Mags. We do it because it's our job, but you're doing it out of love for your family. You could have stayed home and keep going with your life but you dropped everything for your family. That shows the kind of person that you are and you've no idea how much I love you for that. And whatever was the reason why you're doing it, that doesn't change the fact that you've all the right to miss your life and your family. You have the right to do it., sweetheart. Damn, I would be worried if you didn't" he finally finished, kissing her shoulder as Maggie felt a knot growing in her stomach.

She was a fucking coward.

But even if she hated being a coward, she couldn't show it. She couldn't ruin their night and their trip, so she put on a brave face, smiled, threw her head back as much as possible, and kissed his jaw a couple times. "When you're not worried, Mike?"

"About you? I'm all the damn time" Michael affirmed, this time taking his chance to kiss her forehead.

"Because this world it's too fucked up and I'm a pretty little unicorn too good and too pure?"

"That's a way of saying it, but yeah, basically yes" Michael nodded, moving from her forehead to place a kiss on the tip of her nose, making her smile and giggle like a little kid, even if just for a second. "But talking seriously, its normal to be homesick, baby"

"I know. I'm just- I'm kind of scared of not being able to do this for a long time. Like what if I can't handle being traveling for so long? Because I know what that would mean. We both know it" Maggie murmured, running her fingers through his short hair on the back of his head and looking back at the skyline in front of them.

She couldn't face Michael when those words were leaving her mouth. She couldn't do it when she was basically saying she was worried they wouldn't make it. Because if she couldn't handle the pressure and the distance before, why would she be able to do it in the future?

"Remember what we used to say?" Michael whispered in her ear, which made Maggie shiver and nod. "What was it?"

"You're mine and I'm yours"

There was no way she could forget that, no matter how much time passed. It was burned in her heart and her soul for forever, and she didn't want it to go away. She didn't want him to go away.

"So fuck the rest. That's not gonna change no matter where we're, doesn't matter if we travel together or not" he insisted, kissing the small spot right under her ear, sending shivers down her spine, taking her breath away, and the words out of her mouth. "My sweet little Margaret" he breathed, squeezing her waist once more. She loved it when Michael called her like that, so she couldn't help but smile to hear it.

"Normally that phrase comes with a 'What are we gonna do with you?', so I'm here waiting" she shrugged, making a silly voice when she asked the question that she heard too many times in school during the classes she didn't really care about.

"Oh, but I know perfectly fine what I'm gonna do with you. Cover you in kisses because that's exactly what you deserve" he joked, and keeping his word, he started to kiss her neck and shoulder and neck as he ticked her sides, making her giggle and grab his hands between hers so he would stop. "I have an idea, wanna FaceTime Liz? Maybe it helps you feel better" he asked between kisses.

He was definitely insane.

"What? We're not FaceTiming our cat, babe!" she exclaimed as she laced their fingers together under the blanket and rested their joined hands against her stomach once again. "You're a muppet, but thanks for trying"

"Yeah, but I'm your muppet, mo grá"

Maggie would lie if she said the way Michael said 'mo grá' didn't do something to her. Michael knew a couple of words in Irish, just like Maggie knew some Aussie slang, but he rarely used it. He always said Irish was her thing, but there he was, the beautiful bastard using them to make her smile and feel better. But the thing was that it was making something more than that, which was not really romantic. The way his sleepy low voice was saying it made her go nothing but insane.

"Look at him speaking Irish" she purred, squeezing his hands against hers with a big grin on her face, turning her face to kiss his jaw. Instead, she got a kiss from Michael, which was even better.

"You love it" he smiled between soft, sloppy kisses. "How's the arm, you crazy thing?"

"Good. Hurts a bit, but the normal. Worth the pain because I'm in love with it" Maggie smiled, thinking about the new ink decorating her skin.

What happened the previous afternoon was what they liked to call 'The tattoo incident part two', but this time it didn't include alcohol like the one on her birthday. This time didn't involve Michael getting a tattoo matching hers. This time it was just Maggie getting one to remember one of the best trips of her life, but the design of it was the fun part.

It started when they went to Central Park so Maggie could take something off her bucket list. It was as simple as going there and sitting in the grass barefoot, to do nothing. She wanted to lay down there even for five minutes and enjoy the sun on her face, but her brain had another idea. Ten minutes into it she really had to go and take her sketchbook out of her bag to draw. She needed to draw The Plaza and the buildings around it, even if she did it fast as hell so Michael wouldn't get bored. But Michael was far from bored; he was laying down, resting his head on her legs, and he insisted that Maggie could take all the time she wanted because it made him happy to see her happy and inspired. He insisted he loved to see her drawing and creating stuff, so it was more than okay.

After some minutes, Maggie had no idea if Michael had finally got bored or also inspired, but he grabbed one of her pens, and he suddenly started to draw too. The thing was, he didn't do it on a paper, but instead in the ink-free space between her wrist and the tarot card that was tattooed there. Maggie didn't pay much attention to what Michael was drawing, too focused with everything happening around them. That and the fact that Michael had the capacity of making her nervous and feeling butterflies in her stomach as the first day by just touching her arm. But when Michael announced that he was done was when Maggie was finally able to see her arm and she melted.

In the most carefully made and with some beautiful lines -because damn his artistic part and his years and engineer- there was the most adorable draws covering the small free space of her forearm. But what made Maggie melt and cover his face with kisses in the middle of Centra Park was his explanation for each one of his little draws. There was a sun so it would always keep her days bright, and warm, even in the middle of the cold, rainy Irish winter. A smiley face to make her smile every time she saw it. There was a Pluto symbol so she would always remember how he loved her to Pluto and back. There were some hearts, some stars and a moon too. But between all of them, her absolutely favorite one was the world 'Sweetheart' wrote down in the most adorable handwriting Michael could have ever done.

There was no way she would ever let that go away. There was no way she would let that disappear from her skin, so in no time she googled were there was the nearest tattoo shop, put her sneakers back on and dragged Michael by the hand around the Manhattan streets. Absolutely in vain Michael tried to convinced it was a silly idea. He said 'silly' but Maggie knew he thought it was more like stupid, but she couldn't care less. Maggie always said she loved to have the things she loved the most right there in her skin. She loved to have it as close as possible, and there was nothing as close as her body and her skin. That's why she had a tattoo for her parents, another for her grandparents, one with Lily, one with Jas, one made by Daniel himself in a stupid bet she lost against him -and how proud he was of tattooing that little 3 on her future sister-in-law-, and Olivia's name.

And there was Michael.

Michael, who basically owned her heart and her left her arm between The Lovers, the little birthday heart and now those adorable drawings. Michael, who was all over her forearm and goddamn, how much she loved to have him there with her. She was probably out of her mind, but she couldn't care less about it.

"You're kind of insane but I've to admit it looks good. Or maybe it's because everything good look on you"

"It does look good because the best artist in the world designed it for me. Besides looks who's talking about crazy, little heart hiding in your wrist" Maggie smiled, stealing another couple of kisses from him. If they were going to go back to their normal behavior of not being together as soon as they left New York and went back to Europe, then she was going to enjoy every single second and every single kiss she could steal.

"I heard that couples who get matching tattoos together stay together. Other way it would be a pain in the ass getting it covered or removed" he joked, and even in the darkness of the night she could see the little wrinkles in his eyes as he smiled at her, which only made her melt even more.

It also made her die to kiss him for the rest of the night, but insisted, she let go of his left hand and moved it from under the blanket to touch his cheek. Those were one of those little moments where she couldn't even believe Michael was real. She couldn't believe he was there with her. She couldn't believe that a man so wonderful was in love with her. But adobe all, she couldn't understand how he was still waiting for her. They were coming and going and they had so many ups and downs that any writer could write a trilogy out of their love story, but Michael was still holding up. He still believed they could do it. After three years he was still looking at her with nothing but adoration in his brown eyes and Maggie just couldn't believe it.

She didn't kiss him, too scared to look away. She was terrified of blinking and seeing him gone, even if she knew it wasn't gonna happen. Instead, Maggie stroked his face, letting his fingers run through his cheek. "I'm not planning to do neither of those. I love the little heart on my wrist. It's my little heart drawn by mo chroí"

"A heart for the beautiful woman who took mine. Seems logical" Michael shrugged, moving his face to kiss the palm of her hand and her fingers.

Cheesy bastard always knowing what to say to make her legs go weak.

"That was smooth! So cheesy and sappy but so smooth" she giggled, pinching his cheek and finally stealing another kiss. The good thing was that Michael was still there when it was over. He was still there when she opened her eyes. He was still there, holding her against his body. "You know, the other day I was thinking about that thing you said about all the things we never did as a couple. I guess we never were a very normal couple in that case" Maggie finally admitted, letting go of other of the things that were keeping her awake and that were running in her mind.

For the way Michael looked at her, she knew he was confused about why she brought that up. But then that look changed and he just got it. In three years, they spent uncountable hours on planes, visited dozens of countries, and slept more in hotels and Airbnbs than in their own beds, but they never got to travel alone. They never got to spend vacations as a real couple. They were living together before they even knew what they were and before she got to meet his family and the list went on and on and on. Somehow, they did everything the other way around and had skipped so many steps that it was crazy

"It's not our fault the fact that we spent part of our relationship locked down because of a pandemic"

"Yeah, I know. It's just- Damn, you have no idea how many things I wanted us to do" she finally breathed, resting her forehead against his jaw, closing her eyes, totally forgetting about the view in front of them no matter how much she loved it.

But Michael was having none of that. In a delicate maneuver, he grabbed Maggie and accommodated her on his lap so he could properly look at her face, all while his arms rounded her waist protectively as he spoke. "We can still do them. We'll do them. We're starting, right? This is technically our first little vacation together. I know a week in New York might not be much but it's been fun"

"Don't say that cause I love it. I love it in here. Everything about this trip has been just wonderful and that was all thanks to you" she affirmed as she placed hand of her hands on the side of his neck and the other on his bare chest. "It's been fun even if you had to sit through a bunch of Broadway shows to make me happy"

Because not only was Michael a saint who brought her to New York to make her dreams come true; he also took her to as many Broadway shows as she wanted. He told her to pick, he somehow managed to get last minute tickets, and then he sat right there besides her through it all. He said it was the perfect excuse to comfort her after when she was nothing but a mess of tears thanks to how emotional and happy she was when it was done. He joked, saying he went because Maggie would need a shoulder to cry on and a hand to squeeze, but he was there because it was one of her favorite things in the world. He was there just like when Maggie dragged him to museums because she was a little nerd who loved art. He was there because if it made her happy then it was an excuse enough to go.

"See? Our first trip together and it's been wonderful so far" Michael smiled as he covered her forehead with kisses that were like a healing for her messy head and beaten heart. "And I was counting on the Broadway shows when I thought about bringing you here. But I never said I didn't like it. Besides if sitting almost three hours on a theater room every night it's what it takes to see you smiling so big, then I'll gladly do it every single night. If you sit with me for ninety minutes to watch a Liverpool game then I'm happy to do this with you"

"You owe me a Liverpool shirt. And you promised to take me to the stadium one day" she remembered him with a little smirk on her face as she looked up at him.

And there it was, another little hint of her 'things we should do together in a future as a couple' that Maggie dropped because she was too scared to say the words.

What a fucking, terrible coward she was.

"And I will. One day I will take you there. And I haven't gotten you a shirt just yet because I love when you steal mines. But what about you thinking about all the things we never did together? I mentioned it weeks ago"

Well shit.

"I know it was weeks ago, but the other day I was reading this post that showed up out of nowhere in Buzzfeed about the most important 'first' in a relationship and I remembered what you told me" she lied, hiding her face on his check and resting her head on his shoulder. It wasn't an absolute lie. She saw the post on the internet, but that wasn't what made her think about it. She just never stopped thinking about it.

"What did the post say about those first?"

"I mean, it was a big list, but mostly normal stuff. First time saying I love you, first time staying at each other's place, meeting the families, doing each other's laundry, cooking, sharing a hangover, introducing each other as boyfriends and girlfriend, wearing each other's socks, first trip, first time burping in front of the other, blablabla" she listed, naming a couple of the items on the list, at least the couple she remembered on the long fifty-five points list.

"We did all that. Except stealing your socks because they're too small" he joked as he stroked her waist and her back. "I remember perfectly fine all those first times. Especially when you told me you loved me, when I met your parents, when you stayed for the first time at my place, but I think my favorite one was when you burped for the first time in front of me. I never loved you more than in that exact moment"

She couldn't help but slap his chest as soon as he started to laugh. Maggie had to admit it was her fault, but even mentioning it. She let her guard down for a damn second, and there he was, bringing it up. "Shut up!"

"Actually, nothing was as good as the first time you farted in front of me. But that day I knew our thing was real. My favorite part was you trying to act like nothing happened" Michael laughed, and Maggie just knew he was going to mention it. It was their secret, and Michael swore secrecy, but she was still ashamed about it.

"I'm sorry if I was trying to keep going while I was on my fours and you were fucking me!" she exclaimed as she hid her face even deeper in the croak of his neck, feeling her cheeks suddenly burning and turning a bright shade of red.

"Everything about it was just pure and true love, Mags" Michael insisted as he covered her head and forehead in kisses, trying really in vain to calm himself after all the laughs.

Maggie loved to hear him laugh. There was nothing more she loved than to hear his contagious laugh resounding in any room he was in, but in that second all she wanted was to hide under the blanket and kick his wonderful ass. "Ugh I hate you, just shut up for a bloody second"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't let it pass. But no joking, you know the first time I realized I was so crazy about you that I knew I wasn't going to get you out of my mind any time soon?"

That was the question that made Maggie finally get out of her favorite hiding place to make at Michael. The curiosity was too much to not do it, but she made sure to make a point before she let him explain. "If you say anything about farting or burping, I swear to God I won't touch your dick for a month"

"It's none of that" Michael smiled, kissing Maggie's index finger as she was using it to threaten him. "It was when I realized I couldn't forget your name and you know how terribly bad I am with names. Also when I asked Dan and Jas three hundred times about your family's names when I was gonna met them the first time. I told them it was all about being a good friend with Jas, and it was true, but it was because of you"

"You suck with names. You're good with everything except names" Maggie smiled, finally reaching out to touch his cheek. But then she realized the timing of when that happened, and her heart just melted once again. "We weren't together when you met them. That was way before we started seeing each other"

To say that was way before they started to say each other was an understatement. That was almost a year before. Maggie wasn't even there when Michael met Aoife and David met Michael for the first time. She wasn't there, but Aoife made sure to let Maggie and everyone know how charmed she was by the three Australian men. Aoife already loved Daniel by that time; she loved him since the day they all met him, and the same happened with Blake and Michael, even if Daniel insisted, he was the favorite of the three friends. It was in those little moments when Maggie remembered and realized for how long Michael liked her and how he was literally waiting for her since the beginning.

"I know. I just couldn't fuck it up in front of the girl I liked so much so I had to get it right, baby girl. And I still like you so damn much, Mags. I like you and I love you so much" he confessed, shrugging like it was no big deal when for Maggie was everything. It meant everything to hear those words coming from him after everything that had happened and was still happening.

"I love you too, sunshine. And I still really like you too" Maggie whispered, getting lost in the way his eyes were shining, but mostly in the way he was looking at her with nothing but adoration and love. "You should go back to bed, grá. It's really late and its way pass your bedtime, big boy"

"I'm fine. I'm in New York with my girl and there's this incredible view in front of us, so I can stay here for a few minutes more" Michael affirmed, kissing her forehead before he kept talking. "Five minutes and we go to bed. Besides, how long its been since we have been just you and me for more than half an hour?"

"Italy"

"Yeah, you were stuck with me there. It was the less romantic thing in the world"

It wasn't romantic at all to be locked down with Michael while he got in lockdown for having covid, but she wouldn't have change a thing. In fact, Maggie wouldn't have changed the decision she made when she stayed with him that week.

As soon as they found out Michael had covid she decided she was going to stay with him. Jas Blake tried to talk her out of it and even Daniel tried, but Maggie was nothing but a stubborn idiot, and it was way worse regarding Michael. The thing was, she didn't ask Michael for his opinion. She knew perfectly fine he would say no to her offer to stay with him making her company, so that's why she decided to make it a secret, at least for him.

That morning Maggie found out how easy was to get the key for a hotel room with a little lie and some words in Italian. She thanked all her lucky stars for how easy it was for her to learn some new language, at least not until that day. It took her some of her best Italian skill and some batting of her eyelashes to get the card to Michael's room, but she got it. She got it at 5am when she knew he would be sleeping and couldn't hold the door close so she wouldn't get it. She got it, and, in as much silence as possible, she got her bags there and went straight to bed, hugging his waist and kissing his back and shoulders as soon as she lay there. As soon as Michael woke up thanks to her body next to hers, he asked if he was having a fever dream, but Maggie affirmed that it was none of that. Then he murmured that she shouldn't be there, but with a little 'I know but I don't care. Now let me sleep' Maggie went back to sleep too, because it was 5am and she was tired as hell.

But even when Maggie had antibodies and even when she was vaccinated, Michael was trying to keep his distance, which was impossible. Maggie made so many times the 'And then there was just one bed' that it was ridiculous, but it was true, so he couldn't keep much distance when it came to going to bed. He couldn't, especially when there was Maggie, snuggling close to his body, looking for some warmth even in the damn Italian spring. He couldn't say no when she was all sleepy, waiting for her good night's kiss and moving to rest her head on his chest. He couldn't say no, especially when they had nothing else to do more than be around each other for seven days. In the end they got out of it victorious, with Maggie not getting it, and Michael recovered without any complications and that was all that they really cared about. In the end, it was a really ridiculous but fun story to tell.

"You made it the less romantic thing in the world! You were the one escaping from me" Maggie smiled, playing with his necklace and the ring hanging from it.

"Excuse me if I didn't want to kiss you so you wouldn't get sick. But I can kiss you now if you want"

There was no way she would say no to him and that proposal, so with her free hand she brought Michael closer and gave him a kiss as slow and loving as possible. She loved how his lips tasted, the way their tongues played together, how his stubble scratched her skin, and the way his hands held her tighter, grabbing handfuls of her shirt and moving her body closer to his, even if they were impossibly close. But adobe all, she loved to feel his smile against her lips so much. She loved to know he was happy with her because that was all she wanted.

"You can't lock me up with you and pretend me to not kiss you. How can I not snuggle the hell out of you, especially if you're under the water" she smiled back, kissing him once again. But then something changed. Suddenly Michael gave her one last kiss, and then kissed her forehead and there was no need to say anything for Maggie to know she had ruined it. His whole expression changed so she knew the moment was ruined. "What? What did I say? Did I fucked it up? Of course I fucked it up. I always do, goddamn" she breathed, letting her head fall into his shoulder again. She couldn't say a damn thing without ruining it, and she hated herself for that.

"No, baby, you did nothing wrong. I just-" he breathed, moving away to look at her face as he explained what was happening in his head. "I don't even wanna count how many times I couldn't be there for you when you needed me. I still think about your pretty face over FaceTime when you got covid and it still hurts. You were feeling like hell and Jas was telling me how you kept repeating that you just wanted me and how much you missed me and I could do nothing about it. Same when your ankle got hurt and again when your wrist. That shit still haunts me"

Maggie was expecting many things, but by far, the last one she imagined was that. It was very bad timing, and there was always something happening when she got hurt or sick and Michael couldn't be there. It was very good timing that she was available when something happened with Michael. It was no one's fault, and she thought it was more than clear. That was how things were in their relationship and it was fine. It was like an unspoken rule, so Maggie never said anything or blamed Michael. She never even thought about mentioning it. Things were like that and it was fine, or at least she thought it was fine.

"Babe, it is how it is. Your job is your job. Besides your job is to take care of the man my sister loves and that guy's also the father of our niece, so it's fine" Maggie insisted, holding his face between her hands. But even when Maggie said those words, she could see it was still bothering him. Heaven knew for how long it had been bothering him without saying a thing, but she couldn't blame Michael, not when she was the queen of bottling things up in her chest. "Hey, I promise it's okay, sunshine. This is how we met. I got myself into this crazy beautiful mess that we have knowing perfectly fine there was a big chance of having a bumpy ride and even with that I've never regret doing it. I fall in love with you knowing perfectly fine how things were, so I'd never blame you for not being around when you're busy. Besides you were always there for me. I know you were calling and texting Jas all the time to know how I was. You always do that when we're not together. I call that being there for me even in the distance, so I promise it's all good. She'll be apples, right?"

She has no idea which part of her speech was that made Michael kiss her, but when he did it, he took her breath away. This time it wasn't one of their all-smiles kisses; this time it was all about making a statement. This was away letting her know how he felt. Whatever it was to show Maggie that he loved her or to remind her of the same thing, she knew. The way his hands moved under her shirt to stroke her skin sent shivers and goosebumps all around her body. The way his lips moved against hers made Maggie turn into a breathless mess right there on his lap, and if he wanted to stay there five hours more instead of five minutes, she would have said yes without even thinking twice.

"Did I told you lately how much I love you?" Michael whispered after they broke the kiss, but he didn't move more than the necessary distance from her.

"While you fucked me when we got home from dinner and then like not even five minutes ago" Maggie giggled, remembering perfectly fine how much fun they had as soon as they reached the bedroom and imagining how the neighbors were going to complain about their activities.

For the way Michael smiled, he was thinking about the same thing. That was one of those nights that they took so much time worshipping each other's bodies that it felt like the night was gonna last for forever. It felt like they were going to stay there for eternity and Maggie wouldn't have complained if that was the actual case. "Well, I love you even more than when we were in bed. And even more than five minutes ago"

"And I love you to the moon and to Saturn" she replied as she moved her right hands from his cheek and moved it down to his chest to play with his necklace once again.

"That's a Taylor Swift lyric, isn't it?"

"You couldn't be happy with my love confession, right? You had to push it" she joked, leaving the ring to be able to slap his chest with the best fake annoyed face she could put on.

"C'mon, Swiftie, let's go to bed. It's really late" Michael laughed, tapping her waist and then taking the blanket off their bodies so Maggie would get up from his lap.

"Wait, hold on" Maggie stated, stopping Michael with both her hands on his chest so he wouldn't get up because suddenly she had a terrible idea. She had a terrible bad idea. "Fucking in a terrace while looking at Manhattan at 2am was in your list of things to do as a couple?"

She didn't need any lights to see his face lighting up. She didn't need any light to see the malicious smirk appearing on his handsome face. She didn't need to read minds to know he loved the idea. She didn't need any word of affirmation to know he was on board with it. She didn't need anything at all, just to feel the way his hand tightened its grip around her waist and her leg as he kissed her temple and whispered three magical words.

"Turn around, sweetheart"

---

Taglist

@jamminvroomvroom @starlightoctavia @dr3lover @monte-carlando

[myhockeyworld87]

Bubble Wrapped - Part 15

Word Count: 3,021

POV: Reader

Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist

Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning, Pens, Jackets, Canes, Islanders

Notes: Well, here we are onto another part of Bubble Wrapped. I’m honestly not sure if this story is relevant anymore (or if I am at least as a writer), but I’m posting it anyhow. When last we left this story our reader had just had a great night with Mat Barzal, only she didn’t know that Mat deleted Tyler’s phone calls and voicemail. Let’s see what happens now. As always feedback is welcomed. Happy Reading!

Your time in the bubble was coming to end and you couldn’t say that you were mad about it. The staff was overworked and all needed a break. Each room needed a thorough cleaning. And you were going stir crazy from being in the same place for the last ten weeks or so. It would be so nice to get out of this hotel. The problem was, where would you be going?

Tyler had all but begged you to come to Edmonton. You thought Mat wanted you to do the same if they won this last series, but he’d somewhat changed his tune the last few days. He’d never officially come out and said not to come, but he wasn’t dropping hints at every turn as he had been. You chalked it up to the series being tight and his mind shifting solely to hockey, as it should, though Mat still spent all of his free time with you. Which meant you had less and less time for Tyler. It would definitely be a sticky situation for you if both teams made it to the conference finals and you decided to go to Edmonton. You were sure to be pulled in both directions.

There was only one person you could talk to about this dilemma and that was Carly. “I just don’t know what to do Car. If I end up going, I’m going to have to choose between them and I’m not sure I can.”

“You’re going to have to do that no matter what.” Ugh, you hated when she was right. “If you don’t, I have a feeling neither one will stick around. Mat walks around here following you like a lovesick puppy and Tyler,” she shrugged her shoulders. “Well, he’s surprising the shit out of me. I never thought the man could be loyal to one woman, but damned if he isn’t to you.”

“Is he? Do we really know? He’s all the way on the other side of Canada. For all, we know he’s getting it on with some waitress over there.”

“First off, the way he calls here constantly tells me he’s not. Secondly, there are pretty much only men in that bubble. And third, I’ve seen the number of gifts he’s sent you. Guys only do that for one of two reasons. He’s either done something horrible, which in your case he hasn’t because technically you’re both free to be dating, or he’s madly in love with you. And sweetie, that boy is madly in love with you.”

“You’re not helping.” It was worth pointing out, considering she was making your decision harder. Your phone rang then, Tyler’s name popping up on the screen.

“Speak of the devil, or should I say, boyfriend.”

“Shut up,” you said swatting at her shoulder. “Shit, Mat’s bus is pulling up right now.”

“Go in your office. I’ll cover for you before he sees you.” You ducked in before anyone on the Islanders team even got off the bus. It wasn’t that you were avoiding Mat. It just seemed that you hadn’t been able to talk to Tyler with Mat being around all the time. Obviously, Carly knew this and was trying to help you out.

“Hi Ty,” you answered cheerfully as you plopped down at your desk.

“Hey baby, I’ve missed your voice. I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever.” Apparently, your absence had been noted by him as well. “Did you get my messages?”

It was kind of funny that he mentioned that. There was a missed call here and there from Tyler but never a voicemail. “Actually, no. I wonder if there’s something wrong with my phone.”

“I’ve left you a few. Haven’t you got any of them?”

“Let me check.” You switched him to speaker and checked but there were no voicemails from him. “Nope, not a one. I’m going to have to call the company.”

“Or I can just send you a new phone if you think yours isn’t working.”

“Ty, you don’t have to do that.” It was a nice gesture but completely unnecessary.

“But I like doing things for you. Babe, haven’t you got the memo yet, that I want to take care of you. I mean I’m sending out the signals…I think.”

You had to laugh for you’d definitely caught on to that, but it was even funnier since Tyler was noted for sending out bat signals of his location for women to slide into his DMs. Now, he was sending out boyfriend ones just for you. “You’re sending them out just fine, especially since you’re not sending out any bat signals.” Tyler laughed.

“That’s going to forever haunt me. But just so you know there aren’t going to be any bat signals flying out any time. And if you decide to make us official, they're banned for good.” He really was pulling out all the stops to try and win you. This Tyler was one you could fall for hard, and it scared you. “Which is kind of what my voicemails were about. You know, me telling you how much I missed you and that I really want you to come out here if we beat the Avs. Think we can make that happen?”

Edmonton was the last thing you wanted to think about, but at the same time, you needed to make a decision, and not about if you were going to travel across the country. “You know what?” Tyler hummed in response. “I think I am going to come.” No matter what happened with Mat’s team, you needed to see where things with Tyler were at and where they could go. It wouldn’t hurt to make sure Tyler was sincere in his offer of a relationship as well.

“Really?” Tyler seemed surprised.

“Yes, really, but I suppose you need to win a game first.”

“Consider it a win baby.” The Stars were playing game seven tonight, well tonight for you but this afternoon for him. If he won, you’d be heading to Edmonton in a couple days and if they lost, well Tyler would be coming here. Either way, you’d be figuring things out. “Speaking of which, I should be going. I hate these afternoon games. Will you be around so we can talk afterward?”

You were pretty sure there would be more than talking considering that the two of you hadn’t done anything over the last few days, and that was because of Mat. Let’s face it real sex was so much better than phone sex, but you did miss Tyler. “Yeah, I’ll make sure I am.” Tyler smiled over facetime and you found yourself returning it with one of your own. “Play well, Ty. I’ll be cheering for you.”

“I’ll do my best baby.” He puckered his lips to give you a kiss through the phone and you mimicked him. “Until tonight.”

“Bye Ty.” You leaned back in your office chair, trying to figure out a way you were going to tell Mat you couldn’t see him tonight when the man himself came bursting through the door. “Mat?”

“Sorry (Y/N),” Carly said following behind. “I told him you were on the phone, but…” she didn’t suppress the eye roll, but you could see relief written on her face when you weren’t on the phone.

“It’s ok Car, I just got done.”

“Oh well, I’ll talk to you later.” She gave a little wave then closed the door behind her.

“So, what do I owe the pleasure of you visiting me here?” You asked Mat who looked a little sheepish after barging into your office.

His hand went and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just missed you…thought I’d come say hi.”

“I just saw you a couple hours ago.” The two of you had spent yet another night tangled in each other’s arms; the sheets barely covering your bodies.

The confidence he exudes on the ice once again took over his countenance, now that he knew you weren't talking to Tyler. “Though it felt like forever.” A flirtatious glint was in his eye as he spoke. “You know I don’t think I’ve ever been in your office.”

“No?”

“No.”

You stood up and sauntered over to him. “Well, welcome then.” You let your fingers walk up his chest until you got to his jaw. The stubble there coming in nicely from his playoff beard. Which you had to say looked good on him. You brought his head down to yours and kissed his lips. It was heated right from the start, as his tongue swept in to tangle with yours. Mat quickly took control grabbing your hips and pressing them against his. He was hard and just that simple movement made you wet.

“I want you,” Mat growled in your ear. The deep rumble vibrating through your body and sending a shiver down your spine. He was bunching your skirt up before you could even respond. “Do you want me too?” You whimpered out a weak yes, as his hand trailed up your inner thigh. When he reached your core, you knew he’d find you wet and wanting there. “I see you do.” Two fingers rubbed your clothed clit, your hips bucking into his hand. Even though you only knew Mat for a short while, he knew how to play you almost as well as he played hockey. Touching and tweaking you in ways that drove you wild.

“Mat, please,” you moaned out forgetting where you were.

“Please what babygirl?” He slipped his hand inside your panties now. His bare skin against yours. “Please stop?” This time his thumb pressed against your nub, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you groan in satisfaction. “Or please continue?” He slid two fingers easily into you, working you into a frenzy.

“Fuck me,” you managed to croak out, as he worked his fingers in and out of your slippery folds.

With a few more thrusts, he stopped. “With pleasure,” he growled, as he twisted your body, bending you over your desk. There was nothing you could do but clutch the edge as he slid your panties to the side. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Mat glide his shorts down to his knees. The sight made you bite the side of your lip, something that drove Mat insane. Cock in hand, he pumped it a few times before slipping the head inside you. “Fuck you feel so good.” He barely got the words out before he thrust hard into you. Your grip on the desk tightened as he pounded into you.

“Fuck,” you hissed out as his cock slammed in again. This was a different side of Mat you were seeing. He’d always been a fairly gentle lover, but this quick coupling was showing you something you didn’t know you wanted.

“You like that babygirl?” You didn’t have to answer, for Mat knew you did. “What about this?” His hand came down on your ass, and you groaned when it connected with your flesh. A gush of wetness was Mat’s answer. “Yeah, you do.” He slapped you again. The sound echoing in the office. He repeated the action a few more times before you pushed back against him as your orgasm hit. Mat followed as your pussy fluttered around him; thrusting deep and cuming inside you. “Fuck,” he moaned out before collapsing on top of you.

It took a minute for him to recover. His hand immediately going to the red mark he made. “Shit, babe.” His hand rubbed slow circles soothing the heated flesh. “I didn’t mean to go that far.”

You got up and turned around to face him, though his hand never left your ass. “Don’t apologize. I liked it.” You kissed him sweetly, letting him know there was no need for an ‘I’m sorry.’ “I may not be sitting down the rest of today, but it was so worth it.”

“Fuck, (Y/N). You drive me insane. You know that?” You were already shimming your skirt back down, ready to get back to work. “How long are you working? Can we do dinner and well…maybe this again tonight.”

“Yes, to dinner,” you answered remembering that you’d told Tyler you’d call him after his game. “But I promised I’d work the night shift tonight.” The lie slipped easily off your tongue and you hated it. Though at the same time you had no intention of telling Mat the truth. The frown on his face let you know how displeased he was. “Don’t pout. I’ve been with you every night since you’ve moved into the hotel. It had to happen sometime.”

“True. I guess I’ll settle for dinner then.”

“Great. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”  

Dinner was an uneventful but nice affair. You and Mat just having a nice conversation in your suite over a meal. It was always easy talking and being with Mat, while the chemistry between the two of you was undeniable. You could see yourself being with him after this bubble was over. Days would be filled with working and meeting Mat for lunch, while your nights would be roaming around New York City eating at the trendiest spots until you ended up tumbling into bed together every night. Ideally, it was the kind of relationship you always wanted, had Tyler not been in the picture.

As dinner wrapped up, Mat began to pout, not wanting you to leave and go to work. It was still early, but you wanted to watch Tyler’s game. It was close to eight by the time you finally got Mat to leave, telling him that you’d see him in the morning and make it up to him before he had to play tomorrow night. With a few parting kisses, he left and you went to the lobby, just to make it look good.

“What are you doing down here tonight?” Logan asked. You’d finally found him a suitable job within the hotel, covering the night shift desk. It wasn’t like anyone was checking in so it made the odds of him screwing things up much easier.

“Just thought I’d check and see how things are going tonight.” The enormous big screen television which had been placed in the lobby was on, playing the Stars games. They weren’t fairing too well at the moment, and it made you nervous that Tyler’s team wasn’t going to win. You found yourself plopping down on the couch with Logan to watch the game. The lobby was quiet as Tampa Bay had already won their series and were on their way to Edmonton. While the Bruins had checked out yesterday. By tomorrow night this place would be practically empty. Both remaining teams, the Islanders and the Flyers were packing up their stuff and would head out as soon as their game was over. They’d either be flying to the last part of the bubble or heading home. While you would get started on returning the hotel to normal, though plans for that had already commenced. You’d already spoken to the owners about the next step, which would be taken care of by another team, allowing you some much needed rest. Once they found out you were heading to Edmonton, they offered to fly you on the private jet and have you stay in one of the suites at the hotel. Of course, they owned the JW Marriot so it really wasn’t a problem. Carly was going with you and of course, they wanted you to take Logan. There was no harm in it as the kid just loved hockey.

The only thing you needed to worry about were the two men that seemed to be vying for your heart. Right now, one was playing and the other was supposed to be packing, so it gave you some alone time. Well, except for Logan beside you, who was so engrossed in the game, he probably didn't even know you were there.

Your nerves were shot after sixty minutes of play, though they were about to be fried even more as the game went into overtime. Minutes ticked by until a player you hadn’t really even heard of until this game ended up scoring for the Stars and sealing their way into the Western Conference Finals. You jumped up off the sofa screaming along with Logan. The two of you hugging and then high-fiving. “Guess we’re going to Edmonton,” Logan said smiling excitedly. “Are we leaving tomorrow?”

“No, Logan. We still have work to do.” His face turned into a pout. “Only for an extra day though, then we’ll be flying out.”

“Sounds good and hey, you get to see Tyler. That’s pretty exciting. Do you think he’ll sign a jersey for me?”

“I think I can make that happen. Now, as long as you’ve got everything handled. I’m heading back upstairs.”

“Are you gonna talk to Tyler?”

“Yeah, don’t worry I’ll ask about the jersey.” Logan had one thing on his mind and you knew that he would hound you until you asked Tyler about it.

“Thanks, (Y/N).” You headed up the elevator to your penthouse suite to await your phone call from Tyler.

What you missed was Matt watching the whole encounter between you and Logan. “Logan, man,” Mat sauntered into the lobby going up to your hotel clerk as if they were long-lost friends. “Is (Y/N) on duty tonight? I had a little gift for her.”

“Oh man, you just missed her. She was heading upstairs to talk to Tyler.”

Logan didn’t catch the frown on Mat’s face or the grimace that followed. He had a feeling that you weren’t working tonight since you’d been in the office earlier today. Just as he thought Tyler was the reason you were avoiding him tonight. Hearing Logan confirm it, made his blood boil. It seemed like no matter what he did, he couldn’t keep you and Tyler apart. He turned and headed back to his room, without even a goodbye to Logan. Mat needed a plan, one that would keep you from Tyler for good.

[fuck-customers]

Here's a fuck co-workers with a twist! The twist being…I am the co-worker. And I genuinely feel bad about my fuck up because I passed a huge problem off for someone else to deal with while I get to sit at home for my weekend. It wasn't intentional! But I could've…NOT fucked up.

So, I work night audit by myself. We have a big event in town, so the hotel is pretty busy and not even FIVE MINUTES into my shift, there's a huge problem with a room's deadbolt having gotten flipped after the door was shut and no one inside to open it. This is just BAD LUCK, like it happens every once in a blue moon. The room occupants are loud and drunk, so I shove them into the nearest available room until I find out what I need to do about this. While I am trying to solve this problem, I still have people checking in and other people just generally Needing Things. I am, in a word, frazzled. Just kind'a panicked because shit is going wrong. I don't do busy nights well, which is why I don't work weekends. It takes an hour, but I finally get some breathing room and get the door unlocked. Awesome. Time to get these guys moved back to their room, so I go back, hand them their old keys, let them know everything is good to go.

It's not good to go. The guys decided they didn't WANT to room together and took my giving them their old keys back as permission to split between the two rooms. Which would have been fine for a night. Except…they wanted the whole weekend they were booked for. Ehm. No. One problem with a deadbolt, that I fixed in a relatively short amount of time, does not a free three-day stay in a room equal. One night, we comp that shit, sure. Thing is, this Problem did not become apparent until LATER. Now, my coworkers have to explain to these dudes, uh, no, you gotta move into ONE room, otherwise someone is paying for the second for the next two nights. And I totally, genuinely feel bad! I've never passed on a huge problem like this before! These guys were not very nice to me, either, so I can only IMAGINE the shit my coworkers are going to catch trying to get this fixed. Their BOSS is even worse, hopefully he won't get involved, like, holy shit…

So, my AGM gives me a call later that afternoon and she wants to get "my side of the story" for this whole fuck up, right? Well. Nah, she's mostly just kind'a making sure I know, hey, you fucked up, don't do that shit, this is A Problem and she's the one whose gonna catch shit for it. And considering I was, like, 80% leaning toward "You're fired" when I answered that call, I suppose I should be grateful that's all it was. Even if I was kind'a HOPING she would fire me. Ngl, I hate my job. Don't fuck over your co-workers, guys! It's not nice!

[otomegema]

title: Convergence Theory, ch. 2 pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don’t even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: mature tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

It had been a logical move to allow Gojo to take down your number, entering it into his contacts with an obscene amount of heart and wishing star emojis by the brief glance you caught over his shoulder. It looked like he was already banking on your acceptance of the deal, but when you parted, your to-go sushi in a small plastic bag, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until tomorrow evening at the latest.

Or maybe even never.

But now, back in the hotel you were being comped for while in Tokyo, you wished silently that you’d never given that man your cell phone number.

Honey

Baby

Future-pretend-love-of-my-life

Have you made a decision?

He wasn’t human. It was barely 6am, did he wake up this early for lessons every day? You groaned, nearly swatting the phone off the nightstand in the dark.

You shot back a fast reply.

-oh I’m sorry

-I’m still recovering from getting electrocuted the other day

-Some asshat led a curse to me

You rolled over, managing to get at least another decent half hour of sleep in before the phone chimed again, lighting up the darkened hotel room.

\(★ω★)/

YOUR asshat

Should you choose to accept this mission

You threw off your covers, forcing yourself up to sit against the stack of pillows behind you as you tapped out a reply.

-My pretend asshat

-Mother will be so proud

The dots of his reply began immediately.

So is that a yes?

You sighed, rolling your eyes to yourself.

-Day isn’t over -Hasn’t even started tyvm

The dots began. Stopped. Began and stopped again, this time not reappearing. You tossed your phone onto the bed and teetered up and over to the coffee maker. The pot was finishing brewing by the time your phone chimed again.

You’re so slow.

The addition of punctuation and the sudden lack of emoji seemed almost like a warning flare that Gojo’s patience was waning. But you hardly knew the man and really, what did you care? A favor for a favor was what he offered. You didn’t owe him anything.

I have other options too.

His text continued and for a moment you frowned, wondering if his intention was to have that sound like a threat. You felt heat rising in your throat— he didn’t want to play that game.

So no pressure. Genuinely.

Oh. Good. That was better. You felt the tension uncoil as fast as it had grown.

Tho I AM your only hope for advancement <3

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Your thumbs worked rapidly, shooting out your reply in no time.

-Ah yes, your finest quality

A quick appearance of dots.

My special grade ranking? (･ω<)☆

You smirked.

-Humility

You’re no fun.

Text me when you are done being boring.

This was probably the most you had ever spoken to Gojo, despite having seen him on and off from a distance for the better half of your life. He was hard to miss. Every event at the main house would have him and his immediate family at the forefront. No one ever stopped talking about Gojo Satoru and his accomplishments and his strength and his skill as a sorcerer.

It was nauseating, having to pretend to nod and smile like it was all some great blessing just to orbit near him. It was bad enough he read like a sun to your abilities, as if he needed to be made to think he was anymore of the center of the universe.

Your palm itched. The desire to tap back a response now, a firm denial, very strong. But not stronger than your excitement at the possibility of being a first grade sorcerer. It was everything you had wanted. Prestige, recognition, tougher missions and the pay and rewards that came with them.

You were no weakling. Sure the telemetry technique took you out of commission, but it was hardly your greatest feat. You had finally been able to manifest the cursed technique lapse, blue. Granted, it was a one off and exhausted you so fully afterwards that you nearly fainted on the spot… but your tolerance was getting better. The precision of your manipulation of your cursed energy would never be on par with Gojo, but you could, some day, maybe even manage to shoot the technique off twice.

Reversal Red was next to impossible. And Hollow Technique? Truly impossible. The Six Eyes was needed to even attempt it. Most of your practice had been devoted to perfecting your long distance teleportation skills, fine tuning your telemetry technique and working on establishing your domain. That one was easier. The Unlimited Void crushed your opponent beneath an overload of sensory information, information you could easily channel and tap into with your own unique skills as a Limitless user.

But like all things, you were only second best. And barely. It was a joke. Comparing yourself to Gojo. He was on a level you could never achieve— unless.

You grabbed your phone, hastily dialing the new number and wincing at the loud, cheerful greeting from the other line.

“Good morning, moon of my soul, tenderest heart, darling—!“

“I haven’t even said yes yet, you monster.”

“Ah! A name of my very own? Be still my trembling heart!”

“I wish to make an amendment to the agreement.”

There was a lengthy pause. You could practically hear the slow spread of that sly smile. Content as the cat who caught the canary.

He knew he was about to win.

“Let’s hear it.”

“If you are putting my name forward for first grade, that means you have someone else in mind to be the second backer and someone in mind for me to shadow on missions and train with, yeah?

“I do.” Gojo said, his tone surprisingly serious.

“Have them put my name forward instead. I want to shadow you.”

Gojo laughed, a short mirthless thing, “What makes you think I have the time?”

“You have enough time to play pretend, I’d think any fiancé would leap at the chance to be with his lovely wife-to-be and keep her safe.”

Gojo hummed.

“Why me?”

This was an oddly familiar conversation.

“Purely selfish reasons. You are the best Limitless user. I am a Limitless user. I want you to teach me.”

“You aren’t on my level.” He said, no malice in his words, just simple facts.

“Then teach me what I can handle.”

There was another pause.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re my girl.”

The bare utterance of the endearment sent a shiver up your arms and not an entirely pleasant one either. His girl. God, how would you even begin to explain this fake engagement to your parents? Who knew the depth of your jealousy and bitterness over Gojo since you were— what? Five? Younger?

“Since I am just your ‘pretend’ girl, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Your funeral, babe.” Gojo said, “But I’m glad we resolved this early! Because we are having dinner. Reservations are made, I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something pretty!”

Your words caught in your throat, stuttering across your tongue and unable to force out before the line cut off and he was gone.

You pressed the edge of your phone to your temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Something pretty? Shit.

-Something pretty? -Too vague. I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.

A dress! Something for the evening. A Line.

V Neck def

Show off what puberty gave ya (＾〃＾)

Chiffon with ruffle lace

And grey-blue

-Why?

To match my eyes <3

-Where in the world do you expect me to find that specific dress in the next few hours

Downstairs with hotel staff I had it dropped off <3 <3 <3

-That’s creepy

(つω`｡) </3 </3

-Enough with the hearts -How much? I’ll pay you back

It is a gift <3

-How’d you even know my size

A gentleman never reveals his secrets

┐(‘～` )┌

You sighed and set aside your phone to call down to the front desk. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone brought up a large white box, tied with a grey-blue ribbon. You set the package on the small counter in your room’s kitchen and opened the lid, brushing aside soft tissue paper.

The dress was ridiculously soft, made of fine, nearly translucent layers of chiffon. It was a lovely color, the sight making you suddenly think of the feeling in the air before a thunderstorm, the smell of rain. The ribbon matched.

You looked for a price tag and found none, but folded away at the bottom of the box was a hand written receipt. You paled at the figure displayed on it.

-Gojo, I can’t possibly accept this.

Don’t be stupid. No one would believe I was serious about a woman unless I was positively spoiling her rotten. s’not like it broke the bank!

-Forget the first-grade rec

-Pay my bills

Too late! Negotiations are closed :)

-So what the hell am I doing at this dinner?

Eating Duh and being seen with yours truly easy peasy right?

You sipped your coffee, keeping the mug well away from the dress. It was certainly nicer than anything you had ever owned in— well. Ever. It was hard to argue that there were clearly going to be some additional perks to this arrangement you hadn’t previously thought of.

Plus we gotta go over some ground rules

-Thought you said negotiations were closed

-This mean we can revisit my bills?

g2g

Students need me!

Ttyl babe

The ease in which that man showered you so soon with endearments was nauseating. Had he ever even had a girlfriend before? Or just those usual moon-eyed women who fawned and petted him?

And now everyone was gonna think you were one of those girls. You drank your coffee faster, relishing in the way it burned down your throat and overpowered the bad taste in your mouth.

“First-grade… first-grade. Remember the first-grade.”

And training. You’d squeeze every possible benefit from this arrangement out that you could. Sorcerers worked in teams, but at the end of the day, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Let them think what they want when you were seen tonight. You would come out on top.

***

The day passed quickly and you found yourself standing in front of the hotel mirror, twisting back and forth to get a feel for the movement of the dress— and half practicing staying upright in the heels that had arrived not even a moment later.

They were high enough to be appealing, but low enough to keep you from falling over on your face. Gojo had texted an explanation that he figured you were out of practice in wearing anything other than sneakers and combat boots and to consider them training wheels.

You’d wanted, once again, to punch him in the face.

The kind of girl he liked was a stilettos kinda girl, you guessed, huffing to yourself as you sat down and twirled one of your ankles, stretching the muscle. Even the low heels were not entirely comfortable, but you’d manage.

Checking your makeup one last time, you picked up your own worn purse and slung it over your shoulder. Women who wore these kind of dresses and came in on the arm’s of other men and women like Gojo never had anything more than the smallest clutch— but you weren’t those women.

You made your way down to the lobby and were surprised to find a chauffeur waiting outside with a very very sleek European car of some kind. You weren’t great about those kinds of things, only noting the seats were made with soft black leather and there was even a divider built in like in a limo to give the passengers privacy.

The chauffeur ushered you into the empty car and you sat back with a sigh as silently he delivered you to the next destination. You had, in some small place, hoped Gojo would already be present.

Why he felt the need for such spectacle was beyond you, but maybe this was what was expected of a clan family son when he courted a young woman. It felt— weird. Nice, but weird. The drive was not overly long, the car coming to stop.

You knew this restaurant. Some fancy French-Japanese fusion place that charged a hundred dollars for a single plate with a broiled pear covered in wasabi or some weird shit. Already you felt your stomach churning with anxiety and encroaching regret.

This was gonna suck.

This was gonna suck so bad.

The chauffeur opened the door and you barely managed not to wobble on the pavement. Feeling stilted and exposed as other guests and couples regarded you with open curiosity and veiled judgment.

Clearly they were used to seeing the same people come and go from this restaurant and you were not one of them.

You clutched your bag tighter to your arm, hand reaching inside instinctively to find your phone and text Gojo you were out. This was over. Find someone else— when your surname was shouted from the door.

All eyes turned as if in sync to Gojo, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt tucked in. He didn’t even have a tie or a jacket, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes even as he looked right at you.

A few people tsked their disapproval, but they may as well have been ghosts for all the attention Gojo paid them. When you didn’t immediately make your way over to him, Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and strode over to meet you.

He grinned, the lowering of his chin and the slow rise back up an obvious indicator he was sizing you up and didn’t care if you knew.

He whistled.

“Ow, ow!”

“Shut it— you know this dress could cover my rent for half a year?! And these shoes! I could buy a used car with this ensemble.”

“You even drive?”

“Not the point.”

He laughed again, loud and careless.

“Figured since you were dawdling you might need an arm to lean on.” Gojo said, offering your his elbow without removing his hands from his pockets, “Or perhaps…”

He feigned a gasp, “Are you feeling shy?”

“I’m leaving.” you deadpanned, managing half a turn before his hand was on your waist, turning you back. He took your hand, the feeling of his palm on your side still burned into your skin as he hooked your arm in his own.

You allowed it, leaning on him only a little. He looked pleased, smugly so, as he led you inside and to a table that was already set for two.

There was a wine glass sitting by your own plate. The one by Gojo’s was turned upside down and set to the side… a can of soda sitting, bright and out of place, in its spot.

“… where did you even get that.”

“Vending machine.” Gojo said simply and even kicked your chair out a little for you to take a seat. How flattering.

“Wine is for you, if you want it. Figured it might help take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to wait for the server to return and simply tipping the bottle of red into your own glass.

“What about you?”

“I don’t drink.” He said, cracking the tab on his soda with a loud pop. Several eyes filtered your way, whispers behind hands and napkins as Gojo all but drained the can in one gulp.

“So— ground rules?” you said, unfolding a cloth napkin and settling it in a half folded triangle across your lap the way you saw other women doing.

“Straight in, huh? Alright. Terms.” Gojo lifted one finger, “As already discussed, you and I will be ‘courting’— dating. Whatever the fuck. I’ll take care of arranging the dates, you show up, act sufficiently smitten and in about a year give or take, we break up.”

Gojo lifted a second finger, “Two. In exchange, I have two first grade sorcerers who will back your promotion. And, as requested—“ Gojo’s voice dropped a fraction, almost grumpily, “—you’ll come with me on my missions for your first semi-grade probation.”

“Now ground rules. At any point either of us wants out, it’s done. No questions asked. But don’t think that means you get to ditch and just keep that first grade appointment. I’ll make sure you end up right back at a grade two.”

You sipped your wine, giving your mouth something to do than form some very choice words at that moment. Gojo noticed, his smile almost a snarl, but the expression quickly vanished. You had a funny feeling trying to hoodwink or swindle him would end very poorly for anyone.

“And when you develop feelings for me—“

“If.” You amended quickly, but Gojo ignored you.

“—when you develop feelings for me. You have to tell me and again, the engagement is over. You can keep your rank. No harm no foul. I can hardly blame you for falling for me.” Gojo said with a wistful sigh. You were grateful for the arrival of the first course, forcing you both to fall silent for a moment until they departed.

You had no idea what was on the plate. Some kind of salad? It was hardly a mouthful. Gojo didn’t even touch his silverware and feeling less than impressed with the cuisine, you didn’t either.

You drank your wine.

“Barring sickness or injury you are required to appear for every date I set. Including the ones where you have to meet other members of the main family.”

You frowned, but didn’t object.

“Wait— what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is the engagement off when you develop feelings for me?” You said lightly, trying to play off your smile as wistful.

Gojo scoffed, his reaction almost enough to hurt your feelings… just a little bit.

“Non-issue. I don’t do feelings.”

“God, you sound like a fuck boy.” The words came out before you could stop yourself, the last syllable off your tongue right at the moment the server had returned to reclaim your plates. An eyebrow was raised and you hid your face down with a flustered cough.

By the time you looked back up, you got the joy of seeing Gojo staring at you from over his glasses, a broad and deeply amused grin on his face.

“Not non-issue. If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule. End discussion.”

Gojo shrugged, again not touching the newest course which was, to your extreme annoyance, some kind of grilled pear.

“You should slow down.” He warned in a sing song voice as you poured another glass.

“I’m not a baby— okay. So we got terms, we got ground rules. Anything else?”

“You can’t refuse my gifts.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply and he simply smiled and hummed with a shrug.

“It’s for appearances! Oh. Speaking of appearances—“ Gojo sat up, fishing something from his back pocket and sitting it on the table. You stared at the simple black box, fearing a vein might burst in your forehead at any moment.

“What is that.” You stated more than asked.

“Open it.” Gojo said, his voice light and encouraging as he nudged the box closer, “Come on, open it. Open it. You know you wanna, sweetie, light of my life, fire of my lo—“

You snatched the box up if only to stop him from finishing that sentence.

You swallowed hard, the sounds of the room fading out as you flipped open the box and found, sitting upon a small satin pillow— a… key?

You lifted it from the box, noting it even had a little custom keychain made to look like a white cat with a tiny blindfold.

“It’s to my apartment!” Gojo announced with a giddy laugh, clasping his hands together in a way that was entirely un-adult like.

“… I have my own place. Thank you.”

“In Kyoto. This is here, in Tokyo. Where you will need to stay for this all to work, remember?”

“Where will you stay?” You asked dryly, vaguely hoping his answer would be something other than what it was no doubt going to be.

“Very funny. You’ll have your own room—if you want it.”

“Why—“ your voice nearly broke and you had to take a moment to clear it, “Why uh— why wouldn’t I be wanting my own room?”

“Feelings are off limits, naturally. But if you want to take me up again on that offer from back in the day…”

The surge of cursed energy that rippled off of you was so strong Gojo nearly toppled backwards, his laugh gaining a somewhat nervous lift to it if only for just a moment.

“I’ll have my own room. My own locked room.” You bit out, feeling your face flushing hot and hating every second Gojo seemed to be enjoying your utter mortification, “Unless that is a problem.”

“Nope. Not at all. Probably for the best ultimately, I’ve been told I have a bad habit of dickmatizing folks.”

“… I’m sorry, you what.”

“Dickmatizing! Ya know. Like hypnotizing but with—“

“I got it!” You groaned, pressing your face into your hand. When did it get so damn hot in here? You snatched up your wine glass and finished off the contents, feeling even hotter.

“Is that all?”

“Unless anything comes to your mind, then yep.” Gojo finished, ignoring yet another course. You were almost tempted. The dish was some kind of meat, but the sauce drenched over it smelt sharply of something bitter and sour at the same time. You stomach recoiled at the thought and yet rumbled in protest to its growing hunger.

“So what do you think?”

“You’re disgusting?” you said flatly.

“I meant about the deal.”

You glowered openly at him. It was going to take a lot of practice to turn that deprecating expression you felt naturally pull unto your face at his sight into something loving and tender… but for first-grade ranking? For lessons on your Limitless? Fuck. Fuck you’d do it.

You poured the remainder of the bottle into your glass and polished it off in one shot.

“I accept.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Huh?” You barely managed to get the questioning sound out before Gojo was up and out of his chair. You scrambled up, head rushing with the wine and the weirdness of this entire conversation. By the time you managed to catch up with him, he snaked out his arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you flush and warm against his side.

You about threw him across the room, but your attempts at a grapple were thwarted by the sudden thrumming of the familiar Neutral Limitless ability, stalling your moments to such a small speed you felt suddenly frozen.

The impulse to toss him passed and instead you let him escort you outside where the car was still waiting.

“Take us to the place, ya know the one.” Gojo said to the driver and in a surprising show of gallantry, actually held the door open for you to get in first.

“And open the back window. If she throws up, I’d rather it be on the pavement.”

You elbowed him in the chest— accidentally of course.

***

The car drive was a bit longer, taking you away from the glitz and glamor of this side of Tokyo and to what looked arguably as one of the most hole-in-the-wall noodle joints you had ever seen. The street kitchen was small, the counter open outside with a few bar stools. The smells of teriyaki and spices and cooking oils were heavy in the air and made your mouth water.

Gojo perched on one of the stools and you came to sit alongside him, watching as he ripped open a set of chopsticks and rubbed the splinters off.

He ordered quickly—yakisoba and yakitori. Along with several packages of mochi they kept behind the counter in the same kinda plastic bags you’d find at a convenience store.

Gojo had been right— you should have slowed down. The world had a light haze to it… a slight tilting. His hand on your back felt massive and overly warm as he guided you back to sitting straight.

“Eat, ya lush.” He ordered, piling noodles and chicken unto a smaller empty plate for you from his own, “C’mon.”

Gojo popped one of the mochi bags and dumped the sticky sweet confection right on top of your yakisoba. You grimaced, picking the sweet off and trying to wipe some of the sauce from it before you took a generous bite.

The food was greasy and delicious and abundant and cheap and your mouth was in heaven. Even having not used your Limitless since yesterday, every taste still felt heightened. Maybe it was the way your cursed powers tried to compensate from the wine, but everything somehow was more delicious.

You attempted to snag another piece of yakitori from Gojo’s plate, only to have your chopsticks blocked with a clack.

“Ah ah ah— hands off.”

“What’s yours is mine, right?” You chided, only to be dodged again in a movement faster than your eyes could perceive. Did he just use his Limitless to counter you? Feeling emboldened, you activated your own, the faint pulse of the energy so close together giving you the sort of deflecting feeling one experiences when holding two sides of the same magnet near together.

Repelling, shifting. Trying to shove the energy into a way that the two forces would collide rather than deflect.

You were concentrating fully. The minuscule movements invisible to even your eyes, but the feeling was there. A sort of blindsight where you didn’t need the Six Eyes to tell you what was happening— but it would have definitely helped. You flicked a glance up and lost your control, your chopsticks shooting away and nearly cracking one in two.

Gojo chuckled. It was the expression on his face that had distracted you. His eyelids were half dropped, his smile soft as he readied himself to deflect you again. Your energy was no match for his… but it matched. It was made of the same stuff. Controlled the same way. He could see, with the sharp clarity of his Six Eyes, every tiny precise movement you made with your cursed energy. A mirror of his own abilities in miniature.

He was playing with you. And all the sudden you felt as if a small knot in your chest had shaken free, the coil coming undone.

Was there anyone else on this Earth you could do such a thing with?

Feeling strange and suddenly shy, you drew your energy back in and refocused on eating from your own plate, grumbling at your loss.

A second later, Gojo’s chopsticks moved over your plate, dropping another helping of noodles in.

A small concession. A victory in it's own right, even if it had not won the yakitori.

“Sober up, will ya? But don’t eat too fast. I’m not cleaning up vomit, no way, no how.”

“You’re always so vulgar.” you murmured, speaking around a mouthful of noodles and mochi. Gojo turned and stuck his tongue out at you. A confirmation or a reprisal, you couldn’t be sure.

But regardless, it did something to you he had never managed to do before.

It made you laugh.

[yimra]

Ayy yimmy, waz up, it's ya boi, anime van man Dan (let's call me Dan, it's close to my actual name). I just wanted to say haiiii from my Vegas hotel room, I turned a little under 5000 into 21000 tonight and the hotel comped me a room for the next 3 days, I'm about to get really liquored up but wanted to tell you before I got too drunk. Anyway, was thinking about trading in my van for one of the new electric vw busees that are coming out since I think I can mog free charging from a lot of places. I talked to a vw dealership about them but I guess those dumb kraut bastards are only selling them with three rows of seats in America and don't have any plans on selling any wholesale to upfitters like Westfallia or winnabago so I have to take matters into my own hands and rip out the interior and seats and punch out a roofline and make it longer myself. I think if I go electric I can be a real scum bag and get free range from all the free spots you can charge from. But a lot are in parking garages so I gotta keep the height down, so I was thinking of a pop-top style camper so I can stand and shit. Also I found a generator that can put out 220v so I can carry that around and charge my bussi if I get in a hudrle gurgle. And solar panels too I suppose. I just gotta make sure those twats at vw don't void my batteries warrantee if I rip those hospital beds they call seats out. Okay I had this ask open and just now, and while I was gambling down on the floor earlier this chick was trying to talk to me the whole time i was playing and now I'm like, 99% sure she works for the casino because she came to my room, knocked, and was dressed in a really half assed cosplay of a girl from my favorite anime that my waifu is from (not dressed as my waifu, just another girl from the show) and asked me if I wanted to go play some more (in other words "come play these rigged games uwu") so I was like bitch how tf you know my room #? And I just shut the door. I'm comped for three days man sure but if she does that again, anime van man Dan is out

God bless and I been hearing mixed things on

THe vw electric van I feel like the big panel vans are the best move for awhile, you don’t want to be stuck with first year model woe’s Dan the anime can man. But I like ur concept on making it more based king.

[xzho-writes]

*inhales cutely uwu* (ignore that)

ÀAAAAÀAAÀAAAÀÆÆÅHFDHDHSHGDGSHSSÄBCBXBXHZJGSHSJABBBANANANNA

okay i was going through docs in my comp and holy s h i t 😃

I found an old diluc fic where fatui harbinger S/O (note: who was favorited by the Tsaritsa) had a mission with Scaramouche to retrieve a high rank fatui runaway with notes to all the upcoming plans, and accidentally booked a house next to ahem the Mona Megistus and then Mona found out, told Jean, and then Jean the next day takes a whole fucking army to the house.

Scaramouche escaped but S/O was stuck in a sticky situation, (long story short, Mona left to find Scaramouche, Kaeya had his sword to S/O's neck, S/O had a polearm to Jean's neck.) And then HOLY SHIT DILUC came in through the back door, amber as well, and both of them aimed at S/O.

S/O ran away, got heavily injured at the dawn winery, and was taken back by Diluc and into Solitary confinement with Klee :D

Anyways, after questioning, they escaped confinement and during the long run to grand goth hotel their legs got burnt and electrocuted by Lisa and Amber.

Scaramouche (who is very ooc) helped them and then when Lumine came to look for them he poisoned them like he did in Inazuma.

But before he led them to the room where they got poisoned they made a pit stop to where s/o was and then after a 5 minute fight LITERALLY ELECTROCUTED S/O'S LEGS HAHAHAHHSHDHD

then Lumine and Paimon died (not literally)

(i forgot this part so excuse me if this is wrong lol)

From what I remember, S/O was on their way to Liyue but their cart got stuck and it was fucking POURING so they went to a nearby building for shelter BUT GUESS WHATTTT!!! It was the dawn winery.

Diluc (after CAREFUL CONSIDERATION) let S/O stay cause plot things ya know 😋✌️

okay so when they wake up K A E Y A and V E N T I are there bc i think they wanted wine but when they saw S/O in Diluc's bed (no they did not fuck I had to tell my Wattpad viewers that) and Diluc having tea whilst watching them they stayed until S/o woke up :D

after stuff yknow CHILDE COMES TO YHE WINERY, SNATCHES S/O, RUNS TO LIYUE, EVERYONE COMES TO GET S/O BACK THEN HAHA STUFF YKNOW

on the bright side, the first night S/O was there they found Marie and whilst Scaramouche was on a carriage they took Marie and then Scaramouche pushed S/O off the cart and took Marie with him AND ELECTROCUTED YHEIR LEGS MORE LIKE DAMN THEM LEGS LEAVE EM ALONE DILUC HAS TO CARRY THEM EVERYWHERE

anyways later later Lisa gets a letter about how Jean is kidnapped and if they give S/O they get Jean

haha 2 months being grounded (fun fact: Jean saw S/O get tortured for willingly staying in Mondstadt)

OAJY OKAY

since S/O and Venti became friends the Tsaritsa, who thinks S/O suffered enough, tells them and Scaramouche to go stir up trouble in Mondstadt for a scheme i think

GAMEPLAN:

Kidnap Diluc > Make Kaeya think you're going after him > Get captured > Try to get information out of Venti whilst Scaramouche becomes Klee and goes bombing Springvale.

Ehh venti got drunk, S/O was weirded out by Venti so they escaped lol

(later diluc and s/o get stuck in a room and then i left it at a cliffhanger)

I typed that shit in phone ;-;

Anyways it was 12k words long HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHDHGD....

OH MY FUCKING GOD THERES MORE

i found this old venti x reader fic with Scaramouche slander and i literally fucking slapped myself LMAO LIKE

"how dare you make this shit-"

Anyways i love you (/p) ten, thanks for reading :)

-🥀

oh wOW this was a lot to unpack—

i’ve gotta hand it to you 🥀 nonnie, your asks are always so interesting cause i never know what wild ideas you have up your sleeve hAHJXSBSB 😭

this was also a very loaded and interesting plot but i take it you had to condense this a lot seeing as your word count was 12k! (scara pls give y/n a break, their legs are a breath away from being zapped outta existence 💀) diluc deserves kisses for taking care of s/o

i both condone and support scara slander, it’s a very love-hate relationship with that dude hdidjejdjdn

[superpixie42]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @witchygirl99​ !! 

Your Modern AUs are what finally got me to try them on the whole, so here is a little twist on “There Was Only One Bed” Modern AU Ficlet :) 

Fanservice Hotel and Suites is in the Puppy Kisses Collection on AO3

Rated G, 2226 Words

Inuyasha Takahashi loved working overnights. Sure his gig as hotel housekeeping was far from a dream job, but the pay was enough to keep his cabinets stocked and the rent on his studio covered. Plus overnight in such a small hotel really meant most nights he basically got paid to do homework in the break room unless there was an emergency. That is until the idiot owner thought hiring a five-foot-nothing hundred-pound-soaking-wet girl named Kagome as the new night auditor was a good idea. What if they go robbed? What if some Saturday night drunk got handsy? Sure she radiated spiritual power, but that wouldn't mean shit to a human.

So that's why instead of enjoying his quiet alone time in the break room, Inuyasha found himself compelled to start sitting at the front desk with her. But, truth be told, she really didn't need his help. After seeing how she handled the first drunk, the first obvious philanderer, the first "hey can I pay cash please don't ask why" without needing any help from him he could have gone back to his old routine with a clear conscience.

But he didn't want to.

In the three months since Kagome took over the front desk Inuyasha had grown not just accustomed to her presence, but to her as a whole. Kosei had worked the desk for the two years Inuyasha had been in the hotel and in those two years they'd shared maybe six words.

Kagome? Minimum of six words a minute.

She didn't just talk to Inuyasha, although he'd probably talked to him more than anyone else had in years, she was also texting so many people at once he was sure the screen on her phone was going to snap from the rapid fire click-click-click of her thumb nails on the screen. She even talked back to the characters in the 800 books she’d read since the term started. And, most interestingly, she talked to the guests.

Kagome, like most customer service folks, had a little script she ran through with everyone: how are you, what are you staying for, is this the card you want on file, oh that's a nice car, etcetera etcetera. A good mix of polite, personable, and actually getting the check-in process done. But, unlike most overnight folks, Kagome was more than happy to have actual conversations with anyone about anything at any point in the narrative. Inuyasha was mildly impressed at her ability to keep a conversation going while typing away without so much as glancing at the screen. While some folks clearly weren't interested in Kagome's chit-chat, those who were gave themselves the opportunity for the occasional perk or upgrade. Kagome always knew just how much she could modify a reservation without the owner having to worry about any lost revenue or missed markups: suite upgrades, drink vouchers, even passing along online promo codes for local attractions. Kagome may cost them a $20 difference in room fees but she more than made up for it with the glowing reviews and return business.

Which is why-- after all he’d learned about her and all the work he’d seen her do-- Inuyasha was so confused at this moment. Why was Kagome downgrading this reservation from a double to a single? Sure it was only a few dollars, but the two well dressed business folks standing at the desk had clearly reserved a room with two beds. He knew there were plenty of rooms open, he'd just cleaned them, so why downgrade from a double right next to the elevator to a single at the far end of the hotel? Sure the guests seemed happy enough to get comped room service breakfast for the "inconvenience" but it was an inconvenience Kagome had manufactured.

“What was that about?” he finally got to ask her once the guests were in the elevator.

“What was what?” she asked, the picture of innocence continuing to type away at the computer.

“You know what,” he said, “there are tons of doubles open, why did you move them?”

She stopped typing and looked at him like he’d just asked her ‘what’s 2+2’ .

“I moved them to one bed so they could have sex, obviously,” she answered, turning back to the computer and resuming her typing.

“So they could WHAT?”

Kagome rolled her eyes, “It’s a hotel Inuyasha, people have sex here all the time.”

“I know I can smell it when I clean the rooms, should get fuckn’ hazard pay after some of the parties we’ve had here,” he rubbed his temples to stave off a memory-induced headache. “What I mean is, why would two coworkers who clearly booked separate beds suddenly have sex if there was only one bed?”

Kagome giggled to herself and pushed her rolling chair away from the desk, turning to give Inuyasha her full attention. “One,” she counted off on her pointer finger, “it was a corporate account booking so I doubt they had any say. Two,” she tapped her middle finger, “they were clearly into each other they were giving off signals you could see from space. And three,” she pushed at her ring finger with as much dramatic emphasis as possible, “you should have seen her eyes light up when I mentioned the room switch. Maybe they don’t have sex tonight, but I can atleast be proud of myself for creating the opportunity.”

Inuyasha scoffed, “Keh, all you did was make sure those two are uncomfortable as hell and get no sleep tonight.”

“Wanna bet, smart guy?”

“Bring it on- mark them as late checkout and I’ll clean the room tomorrow. I bet you $5 the only thing that happens in that room tonight is them cursing your name.”

Kagome stuck out her hand and shook his clawed one, “Deal.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Inuyasha didn’t even bother looking at Kagome as he threw a crumpled up five dollar bill at her head from across the lobby. Her sing-song ‘Thank You’ rang through the empty hall as he continued his rounds.

And so, true to his competitive nature, Inuyasha decided to make this A Thing. Maybe it was weird to take bets on whether or not random strangers were boning down the hall, but sometimes at 3am there just wasn’t anything else to do. Over the next few weeks they developed a system. Kagome would inform the couple that ‘Unfortunately, room 215 isn’t ready’ which was his cue to actually start paying attention. He spent just about his whole shift up at the desk with her now that the main busy season had ebbed, but he rarely paid any attention to the guests. Once Kagome had them squared away - with the late checkout note- they’d name the bet, previous winner’s choice. Sometimes it was money, sometimes it was food, and once a dead tired Kagome used her win to get Inuyasha to edit her history paper for her.

He started putting in extra effort after that.  Still, more often than not Kagome was right.

This time, though, he knew she was full of shit and wouldn’t even have to bother. The couple at the desk were never, ever, ever going to get together. If anything, Kagome would be moving the gal into a new room in the middle of the night. Once they were out of sight he laughed out loud, earning a confused expression from Kagome.

“Those guys in 215? Really? Do you like to lose?”

Kagome blinked at him, clearly not following. Finals must have been doing a real number of her overtaxed brain.

“Here, I’ll take pity on your poor tired brain and let you pick the ante anyway, even though I won last time with that couple from Detroit.”

Kagome looked down the hall at the retreating pair and then back to Inuyasha, a sly smile spilling across her lips. “Okay dogboy, loser has to take the winner to dinner.”

Inuyasha laughed again, “I don’t think you can afford to feed me, but sure, dinner.”

They shook on it, Inuyasha more confident than ever that he would be rolling in ramen tomorrow night.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Walking into work Inuyasha was greeted by a series of unusual things. First, Kagome was there even though it was her night off. Second, she blushed when she turned to look at him. Third, the day clerk behind the desk, Sango, was there with the guy from their bet last night. He was standing with his arm around her shoulders, looking oddly cosy for a guy who’d checked in less than 24 hours ago with a different woman. Why was Kagome talking to him? And why did that upset Inuyasha so much? He shook his head to clear the cacophony of thoughts and marched up to the desk.

“Hey Inuyasha,” greeted Sango as he approached the group. “I’d like you to officially meet my boyfriend Miroku- although I suppose you did meet him last night.” She nodded her head to the man next to her who extended his hand to Inuyasha’s to shake. Inuyasha, instead, looked at the group of them like they’d handed him a live eel.

“Your what?” he asked, both eyebrows slowly disappearing into his hairline as clarity failed to come through.

Kagome’s giggle broke him from his stupor. He turned to look at her just in time to see her hand coming up towards his head. Her soft, tiny fingers began to massage his right ear, rendering his insides to goo. He almost didn’t hear her start to tease him.

“You need to use these guys more often dogboy. The reservation was under her name and everything!” She took her hand away after giving the velvety appendage one last tweak, and he immediately missed it. Ear’s left alone, Inuyasha’s brain finally caught up to what Kagome had said.

“Wait, so you cheated! You knew Sango was only here to get laid and you set the bet anyway?”

“Oi! A little decorum in my workplace please!” Sango hissed from behind the counter.

“Decorum,” scoffed Inuyasha, “I’m not the one using my employee discount so I can pull a Clark Kent/Superman with an out of town boytoy.” He gestured to Miroku who looked entirely too pleased with this new moniker.

Sango crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest and took a calming breath, but Kagome interjected before the two of them could start a shouting match in the middle of the lobby.

“I didn’t cheat, thank you very much. They were actually in room 215, you just weren’t paying attention. And besides,” a violent blush began to spread from Kagome’s neck up to her eyebrows, her words coming out faster and faster as her sentence approached the end, “I’ve been trying to get you to ask me out for weeks and this seemed like as good a chance as any to get you to take me to dinner.”

Inuyasha was never going to get a handle on this conversation. He felt his own face flush at her admission and began to rack his brain trying to think of what signals he had missed. She was flirty, sure, but she was like that with everyone. She touched his ears once or twice, but he never smelled any reaction from her. She smiled a lot, but again she always did. She offered to help him with an English paper once, but she was an English major so it’s not like it would have been hard. She gave him her phone number in case he needed it, but he’d never used it. Oh. Ooh. His revelation must have shown on his face because Sango and Miroku had started giggling.

Inuyasha cleared his throat and tried to scrape up as much dignity as he could. “Um, so dinner then? Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is good,” she said, pulling out her phone and opening what he assumed was a calendar app, “I have class ‘til 7 then I’m free. Uh, here--” she clicked a few buttons and then handed him the phone, “Add in your number for me so I can text you the address.”

The blush was back with a vengeance when he looked at the screen. She’d opened a new contact page with “<3 Inuyasha <3” as the name. He typed the number as quickly as his claws could allow, then handed it back to her. She slid the phone into her back jeans pocket and reached behind the counter to claim her giant yellow backpack.

“I should probably get going to class, but um,” she took two small steps and closed the gap between them. Standing directly in front of him she quickly bounced up onto her tip toes and pecked a small kiss onto his cheek. Even with such brief contact he could feel the gentle radiating heat from her flush as her petal soft lips brushed against his skin. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered, then she tucked her head to her chest and practically bolted across the lobby, out the door, and around the corner towards the parking lot.

Inuyasha blinked twice, then turned and bolted after Kagome. He’d call out tonight- after months of apparently being an idiot he wasn’t gonna wait til tomorrow.

Tag Wall: @mcornilliac @clearwillow @theinuyashareader @mayarab @lavendertwilight89 @kazeinori @dangerouspompadour @kirrtash @bluejay785 @horriblehowl @neutronstarchild @fawn-eyed-girl @hopidoodle

[volturialice]

Spork Haven chapter 25: gone with the fucking wind

welcome to spork haven, where I spork the EL James fic you’ve never heard of

previous chapter | next chapter | contents

previously on Spork Haven:

recently-dumped actor!edward Possibility’ed his way back to london! esme was there! there was a time skip and everything interesting happened offscreen! orphaned ex-hotel maid juilliard dropout zillionaire murder witness bella moved back to new orleans with jasper! emmett went through her garbage and came to london to tell edward that she’s (gasp) pregnant! edward’s hopping a flight across the atlantic to snatch his girl back from that luminous-hazel-eyed fucksmith jasper!

chapter 25 has one of the best opening sentences to date:

there are a mere 6 “fucks” in the first paragraph, in which Edward describes how he has stepped into “Gone with the Fucking Wind.” there are actually several more Gone with the Wind references in this chapter (at least, I assume that’s what’s being referenced; I’ve never actually seen or read it), enough to make it clear that erika sees plantation owner life as aspirational. because of course she does. fair warning that this chapter is absolutely steeped in “la di da, wasn’t the antebellum south grand” racism.

still standing outside Bella’s mansion, Edward is deeply unnerved by the flora of Louisiana. (us locals too, Edward. careful of that spanish moss, there are probably chiggers in there.) having run out of Gone With the Wind references, he’s forced to reference a different movie:

if you wanted to look at english oaks you could’ve stayed in england, asshat.

still standing outside (seriously, he’s out there for a full page) he hears Bella playing the cello in her mansion and thinks about how he can’t let her “slip through his fucking fingers.” then he rings the doorbell, “heart in his fucking mouth,” and...

Bella’s housekeeper answers. Edward is shocked that his old-money, plantation-owning girlfriend has servants. a few things to note about Bella’s housekeeper are 1) she’s Mrs. Cope, 2) she looks exactly like the middle-aged, blonde housekeeper from 50 sh@des (is that also Mrs. Cope?), and 3) that she talks in a comically rendered southern accent.

I honestly can’t believe we made it this far into the story without hearing the word “master” only for it to show up now, in this context. 🤢 oh well.

once inside, Edward makes a dozen more Gone With the Wind comparisons as he describes the furniture and architecture. pretty amusing how he and erika think it’s gay to drink champagne, but not to wax poetic about upholstery and Scarlett O’Hara’s crinoline.

at last, “Little Bella Swan” (spelled right for the very first time! gold star, erika!) appears. at first she’s “shy as fuck,” but then she admits she’s missed him and that’s Edward’s “fucking cue” to start making out with her, in a paragraph full of hot, sensual details like this:

I’m sorry, but did you just say she was...running her fingers...through your stubble? 

how long is this alleged “stubble?” did Edward grow the patchy, ginger equivalent of a full-on Gandalf beard and just forget to mention it to the audience?? HOW is she running her FINGERS through his STUBBLE?

...this is the sideburns kink all over again, isn’t it

anyway, they keep making out, blah blah, it’s getting hot and heavy, when

oh no! has the Dicksona been suffering from amnesia? how tragic! guys i’m starting a gofundme for the Dicksona please chip in if you can 💕

anyway, Bella drags Edward up to her bedroom, he describes in great detail the “dark wood” bed complete with “fuck-off gossamer mosquito net,” and then tells us he doesn’t notice his surroundings because he’s so horny for Bella.

....erika. just a little writing tip. you don’t get to describe Edward’s surroundings in minute, Antiques Roadshow detail and then tell us he doesn’t notice them. that’s not how storytelling works in the first fucking person.

anyway, Bella gives him a blowjob

“using her teeth”

and then they have sex. erika makes sure to tell us all about such pertinent details as bella’s

well at least one of them showers.

we’re also told about her steel nipples.

then Edward calls her “homely,” which I know can also mean “cozy and familiar,” but I can’t get past the meaning of “ugly.”

and of course, the scene wouldn’t be complete without Edward once again reminding us that Bella is his safe haven.

anyway. that’s all that’s notable about this particular humdrum sex scene.

still in bed, Edward asks Bella to marry him. before she can answer, they’re interrupted by “the fucking doorbell.”

y a w l 

that’s right, it’s Jasper! none other than the fucksmith himself. 

Edward reacts with the calm stability he’s renowned for

and demands that Bella answer his marriage proposal right that second. Bella tells him it’s complicated.

then she throws on some clothes and goes downstairs to see Jasper. Edward is appalled that she’s talking to “that fucksmith” while going commando.

and then. and then we get the GAYEST PASSAGE imaginable. fasten your seatbelts:

that’s right. Edward...wants Jasper...to see him half-naked with his fly undone.

safe haven is a story about unrequited Edward/Jasper and the tragedy of comp het actually

it doesn’t help that one of the next sentences is:

yeah, Edward. I bet you wish he was. bet you wish he was getting ALL up on them.

Edward—who has been explicitly told to leave Bella alone and let her talk to Jasper—shows up to half-nakedly interrupt their conversation and mark his territory. then he promises to go “back upstairs” and leaves the room, but hangs around to eavesdrop on the rest of their conversation because he’s a controlling piece of shit.

at first, Jasper tries to make a graceful exit, but when Bella gets tearful and starts pleading (girl why? you don’t like him), he snaps at her that she’s obviously made her bed and she can lie in it (I hear it’s dark wood and has fuck-off mosquito netting!)

and with that, the luminous-hazel-eyed fucksmith drops the mic and leaves.

Bella wanders back into her bedroom and tells Edward she wanted to let Jasper down easily, which. bad job there. she also apologizes in a way that makes it sound like she’s about to re-re-break up with him, and “the abyss opens its foul mouth” before him. it’s no Dicksona, but this abyss sure gets mentioned a lot.

but of course Bella isn’t breaking up with him—she’s just confessing that she’s pregnant! 

Edward tells her he already knows, and when she asks how, he says

but wait, erika, I thought mad meant crazy? my little american brain can’t comprehend this sentence! I shan’t ever be able to make sense of all these erudite britishisms. ‘tis all too advanced.

Edward tells Bella about Emmett’s dumpster diving and narcing, and she’s totally cool with it. she didn’t tell Edward she was pregnant because she was afraid he’d leave her.

but she...had already...left him. make it make sense, erika

Bella doesn’t understand why a “hot shot movie star” like Edward would ever want to be saddled with a filthy rich, mansion-owning cello prodigy like little old her. Edward interrupts by proposing to her yet again (for those of you keeping track, this is the third time,) only this time it’s Worse.

okay, first of all this is horrible for me personally because my parents got engaged in the middle of Siberia and the only available ring for sale was an earring, so. thank you, erika, for permanently ruining my family history.

second of all,

the absolute audacity of this man.

put yourself in SH!Bella’s shoes for a second and imagine your kazillionaire movie star boyfriend proposing to you with your own earring that he stole. 

like, obviously erika was trying for romantic spontaneity here, but a) it’s not spontaneous when it’s the third time this has happened, and b) he flew across the ocean with the explicit intention of winning Bella back. he couldn’t have stopped and purchased a ring at some point? he made everyone pull over at Tiffany’s on the way to the Oscars, for fuck’s sake.

the moral of the story is “no need to spend three months’ salary when your girl has severe self-esteem issues,” because of course “Isabella Swann” (yep, we’re back to Swann) says yes. Edward reassures her that he’s cool with the whole baby thing and wants lots of kids, and tells her (out loud!) that she is his safe haven. Bella asks him to “make love to her” again and they end the chapter in

ok then.

best “fucks”

“fuck off columns or colonnades or whatever the fuck they’re called”

“fucking Atlanta”

“fucking servants”

“the fucking doorway”

“another fucking century”

“fan-fucking-tastic”

“no more Mr. Fucking nice guy” (edward)

“fucking bastard” (edward)

“a fucking marathon”

next (and final) chapter: eternal fucking flame

[lordseochangbin]

Beverly Hills- Han Jisung (Part One)

a/n: i didnt realize how much i loved writing fics until a couple weeks ago so we back at it again with our biaswrecker sksksksk

this fic is going to be drama-filled? not sure how to describe it but i’m getting a lot of inspiration from high school dramas so we’ll see LOL

Sweaty palms and sunburns cannot emphasize how bummed Jisung was about this weather. Living under a cave for three years and completely skipping high school did him good but now he's back in the city, knocking on the front door to his cousin's home with a glued smile on his face.

"Jisung!" Jeongin exclaimed, running down the stairs of their mansion home to swing open the door.

"Jeongin!!" Jisung could only laugh at the sights of his younger bro, pulling him into his arms.

"I missed you dude" he whispered into the younger boy's ear before his luggage could be pulled away from his arms.

"Let me help you out with that," Seungmin said, taking a whiff of Jisung's figure before scrunching his nose in disgust. "You need a shower before our mom comes home, she would not like to see you like this"

Jisung looks down at his dirty vans and rusty jeans, "What's wrong with this?" he asked the two boys before the two look at each other.

"We'll get you a new wardrobe, just please go take a shower"

"Alright, alright" Jisung complies, following the boys upstairs he stares at the lines of academic awards and medals."So how did you two punks graduate high school early?"

Seungmin and Jeongin eye each other before turning around to show him their diploma. "Just with our wits" Seungmin winked

"Well your wits got me to come back to school, your mom literally dragged me here" Jisung groaned, flopping onto the bed that used to be his.

"She really wants you to graduate Jisung, can't you do just that? Especially after your parents.." Jeongin's voice turned into a whisper as Jisung eyed him across the room.

"Let's not bring them up Jeongin, I swear if Auntie brings them up I'm going to ignore her"

"Sorry I just-"

"It's fine Jeongin" Jisung interrupted before stuffing his face into the familiar pillow.

Let's get things straight. 

Here at Beverly there's a few different families. We have the Bang Family, consisting of son and daughter Chan and Claire. Their family owns almost all the clubs in LA. Next we have the Lee's, Felix and Minho are nothing alike however, Felix being the school's outcast and Minho being a popular dancer.  Yang and Kim's are united- the bond between the two families inseparable.

Oh, did I not mention Beverly Hills' most popular rich boy? That would be Hwang Hyunjin. The Hwang's along with the Seo's claim all the hotel businesses of Southern Cali, and their families are often known for being involved in rough politics.

Last, but definitely not least, we have the Stay family. You're the only daughter, sister having passed away at a young age. Because of this, you carry the legacy of your own last name. Oof, the pressures of an asian family. But nothing stops you from a good party, especially the big "Back to school" pool party that Chan and Claire are throwing tonight.

"Is this cute?" Claire asks, taking a pretty white swimsuit from the hangers to your attention. 

You take a glimpse at it before looking away, "Too white, you'll look like that statue of David when the museum is closed"

Claire rolls her eyes, throwing the suit in the cart. "I don't have a dick y/n, and Michelangelo definitely is not cute enough to mold my curves"

"As if you have any" You retort with a chuckle before being slapped in the back by Claire's Louie Vuitton. "Shut up!!"

You could only laugh as she walks away, shaking her ass in the air as you go for the simple yellow swimsuit. Checking the price tag, you see three digits and decide to put it back before taking it in your hands again.

"Mom and dad will kill me... it's okay" You tell yourself before heading off to the cashier's.

Jisung mutters a quick "Leave me alone" before throwing the comforter over himself again. Finally, the comforter is stripped away from his bed as Jeongin screams in shock.

"Jisung!! You sleep naked?! Disgusting!!" Jeongin exclaims, throwing the blanket back on him.

Seungmin pats Jeongin's shoulder in embarrassment before waking Jisung up. "Get up, The Bang's are having a party tonight and we've been invited. It'll be the perfect chance to get new friends"

Jisung rolls his eyes at Seungmin's proposal, "Friends aren't shit Seungmin, they're just your friend during high school and when it's over they forget your name."

"Oh come on Jisung!! You can't be lonely forever!" Jeongin pouts, ticking Jisung's sleepy figure before Seungmin could add, "Well Jeongin and I are going, so I guess you're going to be alone with my mom"

Jisung is quick to jump out of bed and puts on the nearest pair of shorts before wrapping his arms around the two boys shoulders, "Okay so where exactly is this party?!"

The booming music makes the whole neighborhood shake and sounds of chit-chat and the small of alcohol fill the air. Girls fill the pool with floaties of all kinds and drinks at every table.

"W-wait. You guys meant a real party?! I thought you geeks only went to chess comps and bingo clubs" Jisung said, "T-there's real people here. Ew."

Seungmin drags Jisung inside the crowded living room, "You clearly aren't ready for Beverly Hills High School Jisung, and that's why you need to be here”

"I'll get us some drinks, go find some open space for us Jisung" Jeongin says, running off with Seungmin.

Jisung winces at the people surrounding him, turning to the hallway before being greeted by a stumbling girl in a white swimsuit.

"Oh, oh hi! You must be new here, I'm C-claire" Claire grabs Jisung's shoulders, a burp leaving her lips before she collapses onto him.

"Woah- woah okay, okay Claire take it easy" Jisung says, grabbing her waist as he looks for the nearest bedroom. Walking further down the hall, Jisung hears a few voices and hopes to drop the drunken figure into the hands of some other people.

"Look Hyunjin! I've told you so many times, we just don't work out together" You exclaim, trying to push Hyunjin off you as he continues to suck on your neck. You fail to get his weight off him as he cages you against the bed, his plump lips making all sorts of blues and purples on your skin as you try to kick him off.

"Come on y/n..." Hyunjin whispers into the crook of your neck, "We can make this work you know?" Your calls for help are muted by the loud music playing outside but you know with enough resent you can get him to stop.

"Hyunjin, stop! It's over" You continue, trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp. Well aware of how much he chugged before, you tried to work with his intoxicated self but it didn't seem to be working.

Jisung presses his ear against the door, realizing the situation as he kicks open the door. "Hey!"

Hyunjin quickly turns around, getting off the bed. "Um, hello?" Hyunjin replies sarcastically.

Jisung is left without words the second he lays eyes on you, you're beautiful. Light beaming on your figure from a nearby window, the sunlight is casted upon you. He can’t even blink, the sight is too worthy to lose even for a second. Left breathless in the middle of the bed, you thank the lords above that some cute guy came to save the day before noticing your best friend in his hands.

"Holy shit!" You run up to Jisung and grab your best friend.

"Is she okay?" Hyunjin says, picking her up and laying her on the bed. You sniff her hair before nodding your head.

"She's drunk. I'm so sorry about that.." You turn around to see the boy in a simple white tee, shorts and a Ralph Lauren bucket hat before asking, "what's your name?"

Jisung's eyes are fixated on the floor before realizing you were talking to him. "Oh- me? Jisung" he smiles.You smile at the way his cheeks puff up when his teeth show, face resembling a cute squirrel as you shake his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Jisung" you say with a smile.

"So someone told me my sister was being dragged to the guest room?" Chan said, Minho and Changbin by his side as he glanced at his sibling.

"She drank a little too much," Hyunjin responded before Chan could send Hyunjin a nervous look. "Bro, the plan didn't work?" Chan mouthed to Hyunjin as he glanced at you, noticing your hand still tied to Jisung's.

"Dude, why are you still shaking her hand?" Changbin asked, turning everyone's attention to you and Jisung. You stare at Jisung for a moment, noticing the bit of nervousness in his eyes. Jisung's grasp on your hand tightens anxiously before you could smile at the guys, "That's because Jisung here, is my new... boyfriend!"

Minho nearly spat out his drink, "Your what?!"

"My new boyfriend" you repeated, "Now don't mind me, but I'm going to leave now.. with my new BOYFRIEND" you spat at Hyunjin's face before leaving.

"Bro, what the fuck just happened?" Chan asked Hyunjin, handing him his drink

"I-I think y/n is really calling it quits" Hyunjin stutters, lying against the wall as the guys join him.

"Don't worry Hyunjin, y/n is always like this.. I’m sure this “Jisung” kid will leave if we teach him a lesson" Minho said, patting his shoulder.

You're running to the backyard with Jisung before he could stop you, panting out of breath. Sitting down at a nearby bench, you gesture at Jisung to sit next to you before letting go of his hand.

"I'm really sorry about dragging you into that, I just needed to get out of there" You apologize

"That's alright... but just like, did you call me your..?"

"Boyfriend." Jisung's eyes pop off at the validation.

"Seriously?" Jisung points a finger at himself in shock, "Me??"

"Yes you idiot" You reply with a chuckle, pushing his hand away. 

"I know you're new, maybe we can be friends" Smiling at Jisung's shocked expression you notice a figure resting on the edge of the garden.

"Felix!!" You call out, noticed the freckled boy turn around at your voice.

"Y/N!!" He replies, running over to you guys.

"Jisung, this is Felix. I think he'd be the perfect friend for you here." Jisung looks at Felix before looking back at you again, "Are you not staying?"

You stand up before spotting Chan and Minho asking people for your whereabouts. 

"Not for now, I need to fix a mess I started, it was nice meeting you though!" You exclaim, running inside to the two guys.

"Don't mind her, y/n is always involved in some sort of drama" Felix says

"Seriously? Why would nice girls like her get involved in that kind of stuff?" Jisung asks, scratching his neck in curiousness. "Whew, Jisung" Felix says, knowing he has a lot to learn.

"Welcome to Beverly Hills High School."