Waking up to sunshine in my face was something I've always hated but today, it felt like hell because not only did the light bother the fuck out of me, it mad my headache pound even more and come to the realization on how much my body actually hurt.

Oh fucking Christ, everything hurt. I grumbled loudly and grabbed the pillow close to me and smashed it against my face to block the fires of hell coming from the window. Shit, what happened last night?

Pushing past the pounding pain in my head, I tried to think about what happened the night before. It was my twentieth birthday and my best friend Chase thought it'd be fun to celebrate in Las Vegas, Nevada on the second day of ComicCon. Now, I'm generally not much of a drinker.

Hell, I haven't touched a beer in a year until last night but I could feel that I had more than just a damn beer. I grunted a bit, mumbling a curse to Chase for letting me get this drunk and suffer this morning.

To be fair, I always did look older to a lot of people despite my age and my last sober thought last night was something about using it to my advantage. Dammit, Chase. Wait, where was that asshole anyway? Probably off with some chick in a Harley costume. He always did have a crush on that girl.

Grumbling again, I shifted and rolled over so I could be turned away from the window and nudged into something warm and solid. My fingers found skin and I let out a drowsy noise. Maybe Chase and I fell into bed together accidentally. Oh fuck, did we-? I shifted a bit more and felt the rustle of panties and a large t-shirt against my skin.

Okay, not naked. Good. That was good and from what I felt, he was still wearing boxers. This was fine. We've fallen asleep in the same bed before. Besides, Chase was great at cuddling and well, I did need to thank the bastard for bringing me to the convention. Even if we couldn't go the first day.

Rolling over a bit, I pressed my chest Chase's back and curled my arms around his waist as I buried my face into his neck to keep the sun away. With a light hum at the newfound warmth and darkness, I sighed and waited for sleep to overtake me again but the pounding headache kept me from sleeping and soon I felt a very uncomfortable roll in my stomach and a squeeze in my throat. Shit.

Reluctantly, I peeled myself off Chase and untangled myself from the sheets to make a mad dash to the bathroom and thankfully reach the toilet on time to vomit out everything I drank and ate last night. Lovely. Best morning ever.

After about ten minutes of vomiting and dry heaving, I groaned and slowly got to my feet to stumble over to the sink and wash out my mouth with the little mouthwash thing that really nice hotels have. Huh, don't remember this being in my hotel room. Blinking, I realize this looked nothing like my hotel bathroom and trust me, I know the difference.

"The fuck?" I whispered and winced at the pain in my throat and the rasp in my voice. Good Lord, I sounded like my chain-smoker aunt. Rubbing my eyes and then my head, I kept my eyes shut before running a hand through my hair and wincing. "Ow!" I grunted, feeling something other than knots get tangled in my hair.

With a grumble as I slowly untangled my fingers from my hair, I blinked at the mirror in front of me. Brown hair in a tangled mess, brown eyes that look dead and pale skin looking even paler. Tipping my neck a bit, I noted the big, fat hickey on the side of my neck and huffed loudly. Shit, what the fuck did I do?

Shifting my body to roll out some aches and pains, I hissed a bit at a really sharp pain on the side of my hip. The hell? Before I checked it out, I pulled my now untangled fingers from my hair and noted what got caught in my hair. A ring; a golden ring with diamonds. A small, basic ring worn on my left hand on the ring finger. My eyes widened as I realized I was wearing a fucking wedding ring.

I could feel everything still. Even my breathing and heart rate as I kept my eyes glued to the ring. Oh holy fuck, I got married? A heavy breath left me and I looked back at the lump in my bed. Me and Chase…? No. No, that couldn't be right. Chase and I never felt that way about each other. We were like siblings. Nothing more.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I hoped the ring would be gone once I opened them and sadly, it didn't disappear and just gleamed in all its glory. Fuck. I scrubbed my face with my other hand as I tried to calm down but it was hard considering I was Chase's fucking wife. Or at least I think I am. Wait, was I?

I looked back at the bed and made a step to go and check to see if it really was Chase in that bed before remembering the pain in my hip. Grumbling, I lifted up the shirt which I finally realized wasn't mine and my eyes widened once more at the black, curvy ink engraved onto my hip;

Mark

Mark? Who the fuck was Mark? I shut my eyes and tried again to remember last night but all I saw was darkness. Shit, last night. Fuck, last night was a night I should remember but with all the booze I drank, well, I needed help. Lots of it because this isn't my hotel room and there's no way that was Chase in the bed.

So, who the fuck did I marry?

As I took a step toward the bed, I froze when I heard a groan and a shuffling sound of bed sheets. Blinking, I watched the other move around a bit and a toned arm poke out to snatch some glasses off the side table. Tilting my head to the side, I noted that the glasses looked a little familiar. Why, I didn't know but I kept standing where I was at I watched the other shuffle about more with another groan. A groan that sounded sexy and…familiar but in a much different way.

Why did I feel like I knew this guy?

Biting my lip, I watched him slowly sit up and noted the toned belly with a light outline of abs. Well, damn. Before I could open my mouth. I finally realized why he looked so familiar because the moment his eyes locked with mine, it hit me.

I'm married to Mark fucking Fischbach aka Markiplier aka one of the most popular Let's Players on Youtube with thousands of subscribers due to his amazing commentary, humor and the way his mastered out playing games. Me? I was a fan of his work but that's beside the point because Mark fucking Fischback was in my (our?) bed and I was his fucking wife.

Eyes wide and breath coming out heavy, I watched him rub his eyes and smile at me a little. "Hey, babe. You alright?" He asked, voice a little rough and sleepy and just a bit sexy as he watched me carefully. "Or shall I call you Mrs. Fischbach?"

Mrs. Fischbach.

Oh my fucking God.

"Riley?" He then asked, looking a little concerned but he soon stumbled out of bed and made a dash toward me when I found myself seeing colors and slamming face first into the floor, meeting the darkness of my unconscious.

Well fuck.