This was all Ginny’s fault. At least, that’s what Mike told himself as he stood in front of their bedroom mirror, his skin tingling with embarrassment and his mood darkening as the seconds passed.
“Come on, Lawson,” Ginny called, her giggle tinkling in the air and a mocking lilt to her words.
“Fuck it,” he sighed, squinting at his reflection one last time before throwing the door open and walking into the hallway.
“Falcons,” Mike declared three hours earlier, passing Blip a beer before settling back down on the couch. Ginny glanced up at him from her spot by his chest, her fingers tapping a beat against his arm and her foot tickling the length of his calf.
“As much as I hate to say it,” she grinned, moving from the couch over onto Mike’s lap, “there’s no way Brady won’t win. Pats got in the bag, and we just have to accept it. Besides, shouldn’t one aging all-star” she added, her mouth ghosting along the side of Mike’s, “support the other?”
“Brady’s a jackass,” Mike murmured, catching her lips with his own, “and I’m not aging.”
“Tell that to your ear hair and social security checks.”
“Funny,” he droned, biting back a smile as she grinned at him, her smile curling around his heart and giving it a squeeze. “But you’re wrong on both fronts. Me and Brady aren’t anything alike, I’m too good looking for that mook, and, he’s going down.”
She cocked an eyebrow, a challenge glistening in her eyes just as the ball flew through the air for the first time that night. “Wanna bet?”
He swallowed as she shifted, his breath catching in his chest as she got comfortable, much to his growing discomfort. “You playing dirty?”
“I’m playing to win,” she purred. “The usual bet?”
“Laundry and dishes?” He laughed, his arms flexing as they wrapped around her waist. “No way. I think it’s time for that thing.”
Ginny twisted, her lips puckering into a frown. “Absolutely not.” She growled, yelping as his fingers pinched into her side. “You promised not to bring up,” she cast a furtive glance around the room, making sure to keep her voice low before her nosy teammates decided to tune into their conversation, “that thing again.”
“Yeah, well…” he trailed off, rolling his eyes as Javanes jumped up with a scream, spilling beer along the coffee table that had cost him more than he was willing to admit. “Shouldn’t talk a big game if you aren’t ready to back it up, Rookie.”
She jutted out her chin, torn between a willful stubbornness and the dread that could be coming three hours from now. “You’re on,” she decided, sealing their bet with one last bounce over his throbbing crotch. He coughed out a laugh, his heart thrumming with the promise of his reward. Ginny, with her devilish grin, light cheers and quickly dwindling smirks, could spend the next three hours trying to drive him wild. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. The Falcons, and Mike by extension, would be winning.
Or, so he thought.
By the middle of the fourth quarter, Ginny was out his arms and standing beside the couch, letting Livan twirl her as they glowed with victory, their chants twirling around him in a teasing melody. “We’re going to win, we’re going to win…”
“You’re twenty-four,” he threw behind him, snatching the beer from Blip’s hands and draining it in seconds.
“Dude,” Blip cried, smacking at the back of Mike’s head. “Evie’s got me on a two beer limit.”
“You don’t know what’s at stake, man.” Ginny stretched over the back of the chair, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
“But I do,” she sang, biting down on the shell of his ear. “Hope you’re ready.”
Mike blanched, lunging for the beer Blip grabbed and twisting off the top.
“Not now,” he growled.
And, with a twenty-five point gain in the time it took Mike to blink, and a historic overtime touchdown, the game was over and the Patriots had won. Ginny had won. And as much as Mike wanted to blame her, and he really, really did, he should have just bet on the laundry and the dishes like she’d wanted. Because, as much as she hated handling his jockstrap and scrubbing sticky pans, he wouldn’t have minded throwing her sports bras and thongs into their washer/ drier. Even dealing with the burnt mess she called dinner would be better than this.
He strode into the hallway, his shoulders back and his chin up even as her eyes widened with glee and a giggle hiccuped out of her mouth.
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her toes as she clapped. Her eyes moved over his body, to the frilly mesh skirt stretched over his hips to the see-through material straining across his chest. With a sigh, he raised the duster that came with the costume, brushing it along his apron and watching as her body shook with laughter.
“We’re burning this thing.”
“I don’t know,” Ginny breathed, forcing her expression into something of mock seriousness, “I sort of get why you wanted me to keep mine.”
“Sure,” he said gruffly, “just not why you had to go and buy a matching set.”
She shrugged, pressing a hand to his stomach to feel the muscles shift underneath her touch, and began to nudge him back. “I’m thinking,” she started slowly, “we talk later, and you get to cleaning now.”
He hummed, feeling the back of his knees bump into the bed. “Really?”
“Yep, I’m done playing dirty. Now,” she trailed off, “I just want to be it.”
He fell backwards, looping his arms around her waist and taking her with him. And it didn’t matter that this wasn’t the first, the second or the twentieth time they had done this, it still felt brand new having her settle between his legs, the slide of her mouth against his skin setting his heart on overdrive.
“I’m sorry,” she giggled, her tongue dragging over his bottom lip, “but while the whole french maid thing is very funny, it’s not really working for me.”
“Oh, it’s not?” He slammed her down against the mattress, a gasp ripping up her throat before his mouth was slanting hers and his hands were everywhere he could reach. “How about now?”
Her fingers danced along his arms, pulling him closer, pawing at the damned costume that was quickly turning into the best part of his night, and she groaned as his hips fit against hers. “You know,” she panted, “I’m getting there.” He sucked in a sharp breath, her shirt somehow finding its way to the floor and a tear crawling along the side of his costume.
“Oh,” Ginny scrambled up from underneath him at the sound of a disbelieving gasp, her arms folding across her chest and a blush spilling across her cheeks. Blip’s gaze moved from her over to Mike, his narrowed eyes widening with each painful heartbeat that passed. “I’ll be damned.”
Blip held up his hands, inching backwards as he shook his head. “Nope, don’t want to know.” He decided. “Just…wow.”
They waited for Blip to disappear, Ginny’s hand clapped over her mouth and Mike, still half dressed as a french maid, flopped onto his back. “Fuck the Falcons.” He grunted, throwing an arm over his eyes and praying for death.
i love my dog so much he lets me kiss his muzzle while he’s in the middle of viciously chewing on something and he just doesn’t care. i mean tbh you’d think he’d try to bite my face off but he’s just like… w/e dude idk why you’re so weird but ok you do you.
why is this so unbelievable to me lol like why are all their solo things so damn weird ? like they did this before the grammys too hyping it up to the point people thought he will do something for the grammys but nothing happened then no one talked about it anymore and now its brought up again before the brits and once again people are thinking hes gonna do something for the brits they did this last year too except now we have his friends actually talking about too which means that yeah he must have something recorded this time but things are still weird.
I’m Jazz. Not that it matters, since you’re going to stay out of my way. Get on my nerves and I’ll pummel you.
Don’t mind my sister. She has anger issues and she’s like this with practically everyone. Me, on the other hand…well, I like to think of myself as the nice twin. Dorian, at your service. I’m a lover, not a fighter, and music is my passion.
I grew up with Sarah and my sister both in a rather, ah-…unsavory environment; a top-secret facility run by a very specialist branch of the world government. That’s where the captain got her devil fruit, and as far as I know, why Jazz and I are so weird. They call us the vampire twins, which is total baloney, but I suppose aspects of it do have some merit. Our eyes, teeth, the pallor of our skin. Our hearts do, however, still beat, if a little more slowly than the average human. Or a lot. And we don’t age as fast. Okay, so maybe the vampire thing isn’t so out there after all, (Jazz got her head sliced off once and was still perfectly happy to hurl verbal abuse at the enemy) but so far we haven’t come across anyone else like us. I have some form of ability at my disposal, but have no idea why or how. I can still swim in seawater, and so can Jazz, although the most she can manage is a few sparks. In my opinion, it takes finesse and a delicate touch, neither of which she has.
Maybe we were born like this, maybe the government made us like this. Either way, it’s all behind us now and we’re together. I couldn’t be happier.
i feel like part of why the shovel talk was so weird is because the episode right before this one jace treated alec like shit? and also across the entire series jace lowkey treated alec like shit/ignores him in favor of clary so to see him be like "i would never let anyone hurt him" when he himself was being a giant dickwad while magnus as literally been perfect in his treatment of alec is like???????????
Yeah, this made the whole “shovel talk” also kinda problematic, true. I mean I do get that Jace may be in a weird place right now with everything that is going on. But honestly? I really hoped that at least we would see more parabatai moments now with him being back and all. Like that they would sit down and talk and all that. But then 2x07 happened and I was like…whyyyy? Siiiigh.
So yeah, Jace now being a guest at Magnus and telling him not to hurt Alec is… yeah…kinda ridiculous. Especially since Magnus is one of the main reasons why Alec is still alive when you think about 2x03. And he has proven himself more than once how careful he treats Alec, how hurting him is not even an option here. So seriously…. what the hell, Jace? You are a guest there, stop treating Magnus like an idiot and acting like you know it all. Jfc…
How do u think the MM characs would propose to MC?? Like an alternate version than of the game?Thank you!!
Spends the day with you
You go on a motorcycle ride, together
He takes you to that one spot in the mountains that he loves. He tells you that he wants to be able to share everything with you. Of course, you feel the same way.
You watch the sunset, together, then for some reason, he moves away from you.
You turn around, and he’s on one knee with a ring. Surprise!
The first day of his job at the clinic, you both go out to dinner to celebrate
You both dress up nice; you’re so proud of him for finally getting his dream job
He orders champagne to celebrate; makes a toast
The toast ends up being all about you and how he loves you so much; how weird. Why would he toast like that? Oh, well; it’s his party; he can do that I guess?
You’re in mid-sip of your champagne when you see the ring at the bottom of the glass.
once your marriage is considered legal, you simultaneously just know that you have to do it!
Not a proposal, so much as, “Let’s do this!”
You know that it’s coming, you’re just not sure how.
He takes you to the fanciest, most expensive restaurant that you have ever seen. There’s a string quartet, full waitstaff, a bouquet of roses at the table, champagne… But then nothing happens.
He takes you with him during a business trip to Rome. You go sightseeing, together. You go to lovely bistros every day. …but nothing.
Next, it’s Paris! He kisses you at the top of the Eiffel Tower. More sightseeing. Cafes and wine-tastings everywhere! …still nothing.
You’re not complaining. I mean, you’re tired, but your boyfriend definitely knows how to show you a good time.
Then, you’re spending an evening at his place. You’ve both turned your phones off; you’re finally getting some quality time, together, away from work. Elizabeth the 3rd is napping, somewhere. It’s dark, out; you’ve just finished dinner, and are looking out at the cityscape, admiring the view.
You don’t realize he’s behind you until his arms are already around you, holding you close.
Whispering his adoration for you into your ear, finally, he asks you.
He didn’t want to propose as Jumin: the Director, or Jumin: the Heir. He wanted to propose as Jumin: the man who loves you most in this world.
You get to his place and see a Post-It with a riddle for you on the front door.
It leads you to somewhere in the house, and another Post-It.
Eventually, you find yourself visiting all of your favourite date spots with him; sometimes the notes are on the backs of photos from the last time the two of you visited there, or a little poem based on a memory the two of you made. One stop, at a grocery store, has the receipt for the time you both bought 707 Honey Buddha Chip bags and 606 Dr Pepper bottles.
Finally, you end up at a local planetarium. He’s near the display for the International Space Station, a bouquet of flowers and a little velvet box in hand.
i have accidentally called people in my sleep no less than four times now and every time its been the worst person i could have called. im starting to think that my subconscious is trying to tell me something
the first time i ever did it, i called my ex friend from umass (like two weeks after i left lmao). then after that i called my moms bfs brother that he was on bad terms with (who picked up and im sure was super creeped out by the sound of me just breathing LMAO). then after THAT i called my bffs ex boyfriend right after they had broken up. and last night i called my high school crush, which thankfully didnt wake him up, but did prompt him to text me today and ask me why i did that LMAO