#Caller identification without paying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

house-md-obsession · 4 years ago

Text

Shake [James Wilson x Reader] Part Three

153 hours prior.

The talking on the TV jolted her awake. Some rerun of a sitcom found itself playing on the television. Her eyes flit open as she gained awareness of her surroundings. She felt the warmth of the soft quilt James keeps on his couch, it offering the comfort of the late nights she'd spent over there. The smell comforted her— cedar wood... and... Chinese food?

She glances to her right, to see James slurping down lo mein, chopsticks sitting in his hands. When he realizes she's awake, he hastily sets the food down on the coffee table in front of him, and flashes her a smile.

"Hey, ___. How are you feeling?" He asks, sitting up and readjusting his position. He leans forward a little, finding himself a little closer as she tiredly pushes herself upright. She wipes the sleep from her eyes, and feels her hair tie at the end of a long-fallen ponytail. Her hair was nothing short of a mess, but that was the last thing she'd worried about. She had long given up on how she looked once she had gone two nights without sleep.

"Honestly? Foul." She muttered, her voice raspy. He struggled to keep for letting out a soft laugh. She tried running her fingers through her tangled hair, and found her fingers caught. She pouted.

He felt his heart nearly skip a beat.

"I bought some takeout. I snagged you some sweet and sour chicken if you get hungry. You don't have to eat but I figured I've seen you eat very little since this last case."

He stood up and walked towards the kitchen.

"Oh, and here's some Tylenol. You took some earlier but I can't imagine it's still working."

She suddenly once again felt the headache that had creeped up on her earlier, as if the mention of Tylenol had served as a reminder.

"Thank you." She said, hoarse voice finding itself softened as he walked back towards her. His soft brown hair was a little askew— small strands of his normally well kept hair hung in front of his softened, mature features. His cheekbones caught the light of the buildings that shone through his opened window. The sun was setting and the orange in which that faintly painted the room was welcomed as the brightness gradually softened and her eyes eased.

"Yeah, of course." He said, in which she noticed he had grabbed a glass of water for her in the time he ventured over. He handed it to her, his gentle hands making sure her tired ones had a grasp on the glass before letting go, the mildest of touches graced her fingertips.

'His hands are warm.' She thinks to herself.

He sits down on the couch next to her as she swallows the pills, downing half the glass as well. He laughs softly, no hesitation this time.

"Should I look into purchasing you a water tower?" He jokes. She flashes him a smile and softly smacks his upper thigh.

"What time is it?" She asks, and he flicks his watch up at him. She see finds herself for a split second studying his forearm, almost admiring its masculinity. 'Let's not be weird, ___.' She thinks, and her eyes avert.

"Seven fifty-eight." He says, and she stretches before finding herself back where she was, their upper arms touching as she was just a little closer than before.

"How long was I out? Time tends to blur together after the first day."

He glances up at the ceiling for a moment, before turning his gaze to the TV that was on.

"Hmmm, about four and a half hours I'd say. You passed out in the car, and it took a while to get you in. And you fought with me over offering you my bed."

"Yeah, offering to let me crash in your bed is a little weird." She said, dryly.

"Oh yes, God forbid I look out for one of my best friends that couldn't tell if something six inches from her face was within reach less than four hours ago." He almost upsettingly muttered, and relaxed once he glanced over and saw a small smile decorated upon her younger features. He watched for a moment as her eyes drifted closed, her seemingly lost in her own train of thought. He watched as her eyes opened once again and he quickly retrained his focus back onto the TV.

"Thanks for taking me home and letting me stay here for a little while. I appreciate it, James." She said, her eyes trained on him again as he watches the TV. 'He seems to be so focused on the show. I wonder if he'd even notice if I left.'

Her mention of his name had him trained on the way it left her lips. He doesn't know what, or why, but it failed to leave his mind.

A click of the doorknob down the hall jolted her upwards.

"Of course. I just hope you don't think you're going home yet." She turned around, to be greeted by the rugged features of her boss, as he made his way towards the two. The tap of his cane against the hardwood was a familiar noise that simultaneously relaxed her but kept her on edge.

"Well, I have work at six in the morning. I should probably make my way home." She said, vaguely confused.

"No you don't. Forced vacation. If you show up to the hospital for any reason for the next week other than to fawn at your old-man crush Doctor James Wilson, you're fired." He said, before walking towards them. She felt a hot flash radiate over body she became flustered with his words. 'He has a creative way of getting under my skin.' He motions for the two to part, as he plops down in between them. The words her boss spouted hardly even registered. It was just the generalized annoyance his presence brings in which she rolled her eyes.

"Leave her alone. Someone in their twenties can be friends with someone in their forties. It's not a wild concept, House."

"No. Only reason someone as attractive as her would befriend someone in their forties is because she's into old men. Someone to pay her debts from medical school because they've paid off their own."

"House, seriously?" Wilson asked, dumbfounded. He could feel her shutting down from across the couch.

"You're an ass." She says, and finds herself walking towards James room, in which she closes the door behind her.

House glances over to his friend, whose lips have curled up into a smile.

"You're good at that." Wilson says.

"Annoying her so she will finally take care of herself for once? I've done it a time or two." House said to his friend. "Besides. I need her. You may want her to be around but I actually need her. To save lives and stuff." House teased. Wilson scoffed.

"Of course I like having her around. I mean, in the same regards I like having you around. I care about her, I'm going to want her to take care of herself."

"Yeah, but you almost parent her. It's like a weird fatherly fetish."

"This has nothing to do with our age difference of maybe ten years. She is twenty-nine. She is more than an adult and also, I do not parent her. I just want what is best for her. Same way I do that for you." James explained, but House wasn't biting that explanation, and neither was he.

"Whatever. She's hot. You're like every other man and like to look without commitment. I'm sure if you asked she'd send you nudes so you can see more and stop pretending to care." House said. Wilson felt himself get frustrated with that comment.

"I'm not like you, House. I can have real friendships, as well as ones with the opposite sex. So what if she's attractive? That doesn't matter to me. I mean yes, it's nice to... look. But for me not every relationship I foster is purely sexual." Wilson said, standing up, walking away from the couch.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night!" House loudly called.

"SHHHH! She's trying to sleep!"

147 hours prior.

She awoke to the familiarly loud buzzing of her phone. Sitting up, she found her phone plugged in on the nightstand next to her. 'James must've plugged it in for me at some point while I was asleep.' She thought, and further noticed a glass of water once again on the nightstand as well as a bottle of Tylenol and a note.

She glanced to see the caller identification was none other than her friend, Remy. She tiredly picked up the phone, and was greeted by the familiar voice.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" Her soft voice asked through the phone. ___ sat upright, letting out a grunt as she did. Her body seemed to feel even heavier than when she was sleep deprived. ‘Waking up is going to be a bitch.’

“Tired. As fuck. I need to get up and around but I don’t know if I can muster the energy to. James bed is…. so comfy.”

“Well, good thing I’m right outside. We’re getting coffee.”

#gregory house #james wilson #house md #house #house m.d.#house imagines #james wilson x reader #greg house #house md imagine #house md imagines

136 notes · View notes

gingerteaonthetardis · 5 years ago

Note

phone sex eight sequel (this is a prompt)

well, anon… (”anon.” lol!) this prompt really came into my house and beat me up!! writing this, i attempted to follow up the first installation of this story, heightening the emotional (and sexual) stakes and providing a sense of completion. i can’t say i’m happy with the result, but i did my best to make things make sense for my beloved ot3. thank you for the prompt, even if it was unexpectedly challenging! (and thinky, thank you for pre-reading. you’re a saint.) this ficlet is not safe for work.

read on ao3

𝕆𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕙

His name, it turned out, was actually John Smith—a comical twist of fate, given how unconventional he was in nearly every other sense. Charley was so disbelieving about it, in fact, that she asked to see his identification on their first unofficial date (the next morning, in the coffee shop). But there it was in ink: John Paul Smith, born on the twenty-seventh of May, 1983. Brown hair, blue eyes, and an organ donor.

It turned out that he was a graduate student working on his thesis, and the phone sex operator thing was a side-gig to keep him housed and fed. “I keep odd hours,” he explained unabashedly, “so I needed something… flexible.” (Rose felt a little thrill tremble down her spine at the way he said “flexible.” And under the table, Charley knowingly squeezed her hand.)

“It pays well, then?” Charley prompted.

John snorted. “Oh, yeah. Fairly. You should see the bill.” His eyes shifted over to Rose, who was sipping industriously at her cup of glorified caramel milk-foam. He grinned. “That is, you will. I knocked a bit off your time because you two were such fun, but… generally, it pays rather well, yes.”

Rose’s belly swooped, and she tried not to feel too pleased by his supposed special treatment. “So,” she asked, nose wrinkling, “I take it most callers aren’t like us?”

But John’s pale eyes sparkled. “A couple, you mean?"

At that, she bit her lip and exchanged a shy look with Charley; they’d both agreed, long before yesterday’s unbelievable meeting, that without that fateful call to break down their barriers, they might have gone on denying their feelings until graduating, and possibly even parted ways after that. Though, it was hard to believe such a thing possible, with how close they were now.

Eyes darting between them, John chuckled outright at their silent communication. "You two really are adorable, you know.”

“Well, it’s all really your doing.” Rose watched him carefully as she admitted what he likely already knew. “You led us somewhere we hadn’t allowed ourselves to go before, except in the privacy of our own heads. But,” her mouth pursed thoughtfully, “I guess that’s what you do, isn’t it?”

Shit.

Rose winced at herself, at her clumsy thoughtlessness.

It was impossible to miss the way his smile went wistful before sliding off his face, and the way he only shrugged with one tense shoulder. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“No, that’s not what I—”

“Right,” he cut in, “I know you didn’t—”

To her surprise, it was Charley who reached across the table and touched John’s hand—the one wrapped around his paper cup, fingers flexing and relaxing as he and Rose struggled to speak. Beneath the table, her grip on Rose was tight. “We’re not judging you,” Charley said firmly. “We're… it’s silly, but we’re grateful. Really.” And then she released him.

Rose watched Charley’s hand. The way it fisted on the table, as if trying to contain that simple touch, to keep it tight in her palm. And she felt like a top shelf idiot for nearly spoiling something that could, if she let it, be so good.

“God, yes,” she rushed out, voice faint with panic. “We’re the last people who would judge you for how you make your money. I mean,” she smiled impishly, “at least you’re earning a living. I want to be an artist! I’ll be paying back loans forever, if I can pay them at all.” The feeble joke dissipated the tension in John’s shoulders, and she felt herself relax with him. “What I mean is… thank you. For helping us… be honest, when we didn’t know how to be.”

“Yes, exactly,” Charley echoed. “Thank you.”

“In fact, let us thank you with dinner,” Rose blurted impetuously. “Or lunch. Or, I mean, I suppose we could do coffee again, but—”

Before Rose could talk herself into a tangled knot of incoherence, John stopped her. He reached across the table, and touched the tips of her fingers, just as Charley had touched him. It felt like the completion of a circuit, sending Rose running through with electricity.

“I’d like that,” he said softly.

On their fifth date—though the word “date” was perhaps a stretch—he got a call.

Not just any call. A work call.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, scrabbling for the remote control while the sound of rattling metal and heavy footsteps echoed throughout the flat. The Army of Mordor was marching right there in the living room, but all the hordes of darkness seemed unable to capture the trio’s attention. The girls watched John flap and flutter like a panicked bird. “I forgot to tell them I wouldn’t be on—I’m so sorry, it’s a Friday, you know… and—and that’s one of my busiest nights—Hello?” His voice changed to a very brusque, professional tone for a moment. “Girls, I’m sor—Yes, this is he.”

“John!” Rose laughed.

“It’s fine,” Charley soothed.

“Really,” the girls said in tandem, voices rising over the cinematic swells of music and John’s frantic muttering. Charley glared across the couch at Rose, who was sprawled out like a lounging queen despite all the upset. “God, are you sitting on it? You’re such a sofa hog!”

Rose shifted and—finding the remote wedged beneath her thigh—hastily reached down to pause the film. “Sorry,” she whispered to the room at large.

Into the sudden silence, John said—almost too loudly, “Got it. Dominant, emphasis on threats of spanking.” His cheeks went a bright pink, and he tried to duck out from between the couch and the coffee table, but the girls had him rather boxed in with their legs. “Right, and praise. Anything else?”

Rose’s eyes went wide, and she grinned at Charley. “Blimey.”

“Yes, you can put him on.” They heard the faint sound of the line clicking, and then John turned to them—head whipping back and forth like he wasn’t sure where to look—expression unbelievably apologetic. “I can go,” he began again, his voice a low whisper over the sound of ringing. “I don’t know how long… how long this will take. Or I can use your terrace, so you can keep—”

“John.” Charley reached out and snaked an arm around his waist, spinning and tugging him forcefully back down to the sofa. “It’s perfectly alright. We’ve seen Return of the King loads of times.”

“Mhm,” Rose mumbled, rising to her knees so she could look him in the face. There was something endearing about his nerves, about the flush rising up his neck and into his cheeks; she wondered if he’d been anxious before taking the call with them. Or if this was just performance anxiety. “You’re welcome to sit right here on our couch and take your call.”

“And you’ll both… just stay? Here?”

With a mischievous grin, Rose replied, “Oh, I’d love to see a ‘Master’ at work.”

Charley just rolled her eyes at the pun, and dropped her hand to John’s arm to get his attention. His eyes ducked over her fingers before sliding up to her face. “Or we can stick to the kitchen. Maybe make some more popcorn.” Her fingers smoothed over his bare forearm, tracing along the pale blue veins that stretched between his rolled sleeves and his open palm. “Whatever you’re comfortable with. We don’t want to interfere with your job.”

John opened his mouth to speak—

Right as the line picked up. “Hello?”

His eyes squeezed shut in concentration. “Is that how you address your Master?” he clipped out, sounding a bit breathless. And his voice had that low tone again that he’d put on over the phone—like each word was a stone rolling around on his tongue. The girls couldn’t hear much, but the man on the other end certainly seemed contrite. “That’s much better,” John purred. “Very good. I would hate to have to tan that backside of yours. Now, Adam, you’re going to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you. Can you do that?”

He paused, eyes fluttering open again, following the gentle caress of Charley’s fingers. “I’m going to take very good care of you, but in order to do that, I need to know what you can handle. I need a… firm grasp of your limits. Do you understand?” He swallowed, and his head darted back and forth between the girls again. “If you do, say, ‘Yes, sir.’”

Rose took a breath as if to reply herself before remembering herself. This is a job. He’s working.

That time, the caller’s answer was quite distinct. She could hear the moan belying the bloke’s tone. And small wonder; John’s voice was positively edible.

Across his body, Rose and Charley exchanged heavy glances, uncertain whether to leave or stay. On the one hand, Rose was already riveted by John’s performance. He just turned it on, like he could flip some sort of switch that transformed his voice into a conduit for fantasy. She was almost embarrassingly interested in hearing more. But based on the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the way his eyes couldn’t quite settle on either of them, their presence seemed to make him unsettled, if not totally uncomfortable.

Charley nodded slightly and began to rise from the sofa—but in a flash, John’s hand flipped from beneath hers and squeezed. He turned to Rose, blue eyes wide in entreaty, and mouthed, “Stay.”

Rose nodded, lips quirking up in a little smile.

And then, satisfied that Charley and Rose weren’t going anywhere, John was silent for a while as the man on the line shakily detailed his fantasies. It was quite amazing to see in action: the way John seemed to listen so intently, like he was taking mental notes on the man’s most personal—possibly even shameful—revelations, which he would then find a way to transform and embody without even being in the room. He would occasionally make noises of interest, though even those sounded bored, superior—inexperienced Rose’s very ideal of a haughty Master. She hadn’t expected him to be such a skilled actor.

On the screen, the orcs were left frozen in mud and pixels, completely forgotten.

And then—a break in the façade. John glanced over at Rose and winked, one side of his mouth twitching in the faintest of grins, as if to say, I’m still here.

In response, Rose stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure what possessed her; it just seemed like the only way to dissipate the silence that built steadily in the room. And John didn’t disappoint, pulling the phone away from his cheek even though his laugh was nearly silent. Seeing that familiar amusement—so perfectly him, so real and warm—made something in her jump with the desire to draw it out, again and again.

“Well, I hope you’ve been honest with me about your limits,” John said finally, his tone almost a theatrical growl. “I intend to… rise to meet them. Are you in position?” An affirmative. Rose mimicked it non-verbally, nodding eagerly and bouncing on her knees, drawing John’s eye back to her. On his other side, Charley’s shoulders shook with barely-contained laughter.

“Adam,” John said, nearly in his normal voice, “do you have a safe word you would like to use for the duration of this session?” He paused and waited for an answer, during which time Rose gripped her own ears and puffed out her cheeks like a squirrel.

Charley shook her head, whispering, “What are you doing?”

“Entertaining myself,” Rose whispered back, reddening cheeks finally releasing their collected air. Charley snorted.

“Making a fool of yourself, more like.”

John pulled the phone away from his ear once again and whispered, “That’s a good look for you.” As he spoke, his fingers curled again around Charley’s hand. Once again, Rose got that full-circle feeling that made her chest swell with warmth. She paused, nibbling on her bottom lip in sudden thought.

She realized, all at once, that she’d be quite content to do this every day.

The sitting together on the too-small couch and the films and the three of them all doing dishes in the narrow little kitchen and the interruption and the teasing. The job and the oddness of them being unconventional, more than what was usual.

She would take it all, happily.

But instead of giving voice to her thoughts, she went cross-eyed and listened for the muffled sound of Charley’s giggles. That was all a conversation for another night.

And John spoke, his phone voice cracking. “All right. Let’s begin. Spread your legs.”

There were more nights like that one, though their loosely-defined “dates” were only occasionally interrupted. John seemed to be intentionally scheduling his work hours around their movie nights and lunch outings and thesis writing sessions and—to Rose and Charley’s delight—their occasional sleepovers.

Granted, he usually slept on the couch.

But Rose knew they would cross that bridge sooner, rather than later. There was no rush.

As the weeks had passed—turning into two months, three, four—their casual dating evolved into something with more depth, more unspoken intensity. None of them said it, but it started to feel a bit like a habit. The girls kept John’s favorite wine in the pantry, and he dropped by the gallery some nights to walk Rose home from work, unexpected and always welcome. Charley had sensibly purchased him a toothbrush, which lolled in their cup—a tangible reminder of his presence, even when he wasn’t there. “Did you tell John?” and “Have you asked John?” became common phrases in the Pollard-Tyler flat, the reminder of their invisible third and the steady impact he had on their plans, their thoughts—their lives.

And, of course, with everything else came an element of physicality that Rose found herself constantly looking forward to. The first time John had stopped her in the kitchen—one hand covered in soap suds, the other clutching a sponge—and leaned in to kiss her, it had felt like a door unlocking. Something undeniably right, she’d whispered that night while she and Charley shared a pillow. Do you feel it, too?

Charley apparently did, though she indicated such with a lot more blushing and a lot less specificity. But Rose had popped in unexpectedly to find them snogging more than once, hands roaming like two teenagers, bathed in blue light from the telly.

She and Charley had talked about it—about the three of them, together. Or, as usual, Charley listened and tried to make sense of things while Rose unloaded her feelings and fears. It would undoubtedly be complicated; presumably, none of them had had a threesome, and the girls’ physical experiences with men had been somewhat limited. But it felt as inevitable as every other part of their relationship had been.

It would be good, because it would be right. Because it would be them.

John’s voice over the telephone was still something that made Rose’s cheeks heat, and she often wished she could replicate the intensity of that first night—the night he’d cut straight to the heart of her feelings for Charley without her even realizing it. He’d moved her limbs with his voice, like a physical presence possessing her. And she wanted that. She wanted it again, but with him there—with his long fingers in her hair, his real and present pulse hammering, the smell of his aftershave in the air.

“Is that what you want?” John coaxed, his voice low and honey-sweet on the line.

He’d yet again forgotten to request the night off, so he’d gotten an unexpected call in the middle of their reruns of The Bachelor—thankfully with minimal fuss and panic on his part. But Rose could hardly complain anyway, because tonight’s caller had some very specific needs.

Needs she was very interested in.

“I can just imagine how good you feel… your soft, pink lips wrapped around my cock…”

Charley’s snort drew his gaze as she looked up from her book, and he rolled his eyes dramatically. But Rose had a sudden idea—a flash of inspiration that made her shiver where she sat. It was risky, perhaps. But hadn’t they had enough lead-up? Months of it.

Slowly, Rose let her hand drift—down, down, to rest on his denim-clad knee. He usually sat in the middle of the couch so the girls could stretch their legs over him, but tonight, he was on the far side, leaving Rose in the middle. While her hand soothed lazy circles into the denim, she turned to Charley and reached out, grabbing her knee, upon which her book was propped. Her girlfriend looked up again, brows furrowed in question.

“I’m gonna try something,” Rose whispered, faint as a breath.

“All… right?”

When she turned back, John looked rather inquisitive, despite the fact that he was currently complimenting his client on the shape, texture, and color of her allegedly talented tongue. “I can’t wait to feel it,” he said enthusiastically while eyebrows quirked in that adorable way that made him look like a confused puppy. Rose chewed her lip to keep from smiling. Now was the time for serious, sensual expressions. Not silly grins.

Her fingers slid up his thigh, tangling with the hand that rested open-palmed, just waiting for her touch. She liked that about him—the way his hands always seemed on the verge of reaching for one of them, or her and Charley both, as if he couldn’t get enough. Tactile. But at present, he just looked confused.

He looked even more confused as she tightened her grip and slowly drew his hand upwards and away from him, right until the tips of his fingers bumped her lips. John’s eyes narrowed and he rumbled, “You look gorgeous like that, on your knees.” Though it was undeniably he who spoke, the voice sounded foreign out of his mouth: smooth as silk, wrapping around Rose and making her more determined to carry out her still-forming plan.

She disentangled her hand from his, letting his bare knuckles brushing the seam of her mouth. The contact drew his gaze like a magnet. Slowly, Rose slid her thumb back up his palm, using it to extend his long middle finger. And then, gradually, she did not so much pull the digit into her mouth as let her lips give way around it, giving him plenty of time to grow curious—and to pull away, if he wanted.

But he did not want, it seemed. His gaze was fixed on her even as he spoke pretty nothings to someone else.

Millimeter by millimeter, she drew the finger further into her mouth, letting her tongue swipe over the slightly calloused pad and curve beneath the first knuckle—and then, in time, the second. By the time he was fully seated in her mouth, her pink lip gloss leaving a ring around the base of his finger, his eyes were no longer narrowed, but wide open. John’s pupils rapidly dilated, black swallowing blue. “Yes, that’s perfect,” he crooned, though his voice sounded a bit more ragged than before.

Smiling inwardly, she eased back, his finger emerging from her lips with a shine. Right before the tip could slip out, she bobbed forward, taking it all back in a long, smooth motion.

His breath caught, and she felt a rush of pleasure down her spine, unspooling low in her belly. Something like satisfaction, only more potent. She wriggled slightly, the motion causing her to tug on John’s fingertip. His whole body followed, leaning toward her.

Tactile, indeed.

Without dropping his finger from her mouth, she shuffled off the sofa and down to the floor, relishing the way John blinked rapidly and his lips parted, leaving him momentarily unable to speak. She took the moment to get comfortable, shifting on her knees, bobbing her head once again, impulsively swirling her tongue around the entirety of his finger and then—with her eyes glittering up at him—sucking.

Once again, she released him, just as slow and deliberate as she’d been taking him in. She let his finger leave her mouth with a dull pop, guiding his hand back to rest on his thigh.

While she contemplated what exactly she wanted to do next, Rose slid both her palms over his knees, taking in the radiant heat through his jeans and the low, even timbre of his voice. Her tongue darted out to re-wet her lips, and she decided there was nothing for it but to go straight for his fly. At this point, there was no denying what she was after.

He was describing it, after all. In a decent bit of detail.

Still, she looked back up—directly, so that eye contact was utterly unavoidable—and she mouthed, “This okay?” She let her hands pass intentionally closer to the apex of his thighs, brushing against what was starting to look a bit—or more than a bit—like a bulge.

His mouth popped open. “Yes,” he husked into the phone, gaze unwavering.

Rose tilted her head.

And, unmistakably, John nodded.

Hands still making slow-moving circuits over his lap, she glanced over at Charley.

Her girlfriend had put down her book—a textbook, from the look of things—and appeared to be watching the proceedings with naked interest, though just to be sure, Rose waited for her nod of approval.

Odd as it was, Charley’s signal of support grounded her: she wasn’t alone in this. Her inexperience was not a revelation to anyone here, and regardless of the outcome, she would still be loved—if not by John, then by her constant Charley. It felt right for her to be present, for the experience of it all to be shared between them.

As if reading her thoughts, John’s gaze turned to Charley, too, his face an open question. Charley answered with a slow smile, a quirk of brow—and another nod.

The moment held between the three of them in tenuous silence, except for the constant rhythm of John’s faux-ragged breathing.

Rose grinned. If she had anything to do with it, he’d be doing a lot more than panting in a minute.

She rose on her knees and slid her hands up to John’s fly, where she let her hands stroke up and down a few times, cupping around the shape of him. He filled her hand in a way she hadn’t quite expected, but it was undeniably gratifying. She felt him pulse under her fingers.

She gave herself a moment to adjust before starting to undo his zipper. As the teeth parted, she peered back up at John, who looked—

Who looked hungry.

It gave her the courage to slide her hand between the layers of fabric and gently withdraw his cock, careful to avoid the zipper’s teeth. As she chewed her lip in concentration, head tilted to analyze the possible angles, John kept up a steady flow of words that coursed down her back like a current. “You’re so good, so perfect—I’ve been wanting you to do this for ages… imagining it when I close my eyes… Have you been?” She nodded up at him wickedly, as if he spoke only to her, and his eyes flared, lashes fanned out around blown-out pupils.

Slowly, she slid her hand up and down, watching the smooth slide of skin, and wondering at the feeling—like velvet. She tightened and twisted experimentally: watching the bob of his Adam’s apple, waiting for jumps and drops in his voice that indicated arousal, feeling him grow ever warmer and more solid under her hand.

A quick look at Charley revealed another set of eyes, as hungry and intent as John’s, focused on the rhythm of Rose’s hand and the subtle flexing of John’s hips. Every time her thumb smoothed over the tip, his body stuttered and twitched, tendons taut in his neck. The power of it, of moving him the way his voice moved her, felt intoxicating. Charley’s head lolled to the side, and Rose shot her a quick smile.

Through heavy lashes, Rose looked back at John and mouthed the word, “Good?”

“So good,” he rasped, gaze hot on hers. “More. Can you give me more?” The words raced through her, the sensation so heady that she nearly forgot the phone in his hand. It was all for her: each tense of his jaw, each flex of his fingers near her cheek. And the tighter her hand, the quicker her pace, the less eloquent he got—his voice cracking and breaking under the strain of sensation, his beautiful, flowing phrases truncated by earthy moans. Until all he could do was ask for more.

For what she was already willing to give him.

Rose nodded.

She gave him more; she gave him all she had in her.

When he moaned, she felt it vibrate through his chest and hips, through her lips, touching the back of her throat like she’d made the noise herself. Every bit of pleasure in his body had its origin in her, and it seemed to redouble between them, passed back and forth like an open-mouthed kiss. When he rumbled out more—more gorgeously incoherent words—the tone was increasingly desperate. “You look so—so beautiful like this, like… like a dream. Like—oh, like some sort of—I dunno, cock-sucking angel, bloody fucking hell—”

Charley snorted; it sounded closer than she’d expected, but Rose didn’t look up to see if her girlfriend had moved. And she tried not to let her shoulders shake or her teeth scrape him as she laughed at his unexpectedly foul mouth. But when she hummed her amusement around him, John groaned.

It was a shredded sound, like she’d torn it out of him, prompting her to work harder, faster, until her jaw ached. Her fringe fell heavily over her face, making her nose twitch, but John swiped the hair aside in a second, his thumb grazing the edge of her stretched jaw softly, reverently. “Please don’t stop—Rose—”

The way he said her name echoed and bounced through her head, which felt surprisingly empty—like a balloon floating on an open sky. It was a delicious, dreamy sort of feeling, like she sometimes got when he talked to her. About his thesis. About what he thought of her paintings. About how brilliant Charley was. And her name—his unearthly groan, Rose—felt like a tether, coiling in her belly and holding her fast.

Somewhere over her head, there was the sound of a tinny, distant voice. Very far away. Certainly nothing for Rose to worry about, what with her mouth so intently occupied.

“Oh!” John said, in an abruptly changed tone. His hand left her face. She paused, her mouth stopped still while her tongue still twisted. She dragged along a particularly prominent vein, and his protest turned into a moan. “No, wait, I didn’t—I’m so sor—oh, sod it—”

And she heard the dull thump of his phone hitting the couch. It was briefly distracting, enough that she released him and looked up to see—

John, red-faced and panting. One of his arms—hand now blessedly free from his phone—had begun to wrap around Charley, who seemed to have inched progressively closer, filling the space where Rose had previously sat.

He looked down at Rose in a daze, a disoriented smile on his lips. “Well, she’s certainly never calling back.”

Rose frowned, and she felt a little stab of guilt. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—should I stop?”

“God, no,” he panted as Charley settled closer, her fingers twining with his. Rose watched as she pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, by how pleased Charley looked when his eyelids fluttered. Blinking, he looked back and forth between them, utterly baffled. “This is so—it’s just—”

It seemed he had no words. A rarity, Rose thought with a smile.

“Good?”

He exhaled in a huff, blush sustained on his cheeks. “Very.”

“Well, since she’s gone, talk to me,” she commanded hoarsely, biting down on her smile. “I want to hear you.”

She bent back toward him, but waited for the sound of his voice before taking him between her lips.

“‘Like a sweet-apple,’” John said in a low rush, “‘turning red… high… on the tip—’” Her tongue swirled, and his mouth fell open on another groan. His fingers returned to her hair as if magnetized. He seemed unable to stop himself raking through it, no doubt mussing it horribly. As his hand tightened, he groaned. “Charley, I—she—”

Charley let out a breathy little laugh. “I know. She’s good.” Rose knew her girlfriend well—knew her tells. She smiled at the pleasure she heard buried in the words, remembered the feeling of kissing Charley for the first time while John spoke into their airspace. She remembered tasting her for the first time, christening their brand new bedsheets, still creased from their package. How everything just seemed to get more and more perfect, the better they knew each other. Reaching new heights…

She hummed, calling his attention back.

“Right. ‘On—on the tip… of the topmost branch. Forgotten‘—oh, God—’by pickers,‘” John sighed, his fingers flexing in her hair, rasping breaths coming out like an ancient chant in a hot, halting rhythm. “‘Not forgotten,’” he added, almost an afterthought. As if only barely remembering that he needed to finish the poem. “‘They couldn’t… reach it’—fuck, Rose, I’m—” She felt the pulse in her throat and pulled back, smirking as he gave one long, final convulsion, accompanied by an even longer, almost musical cry.

“John,” Rose whispered, her voice still raspy from the abuse her throat had taken earlier. “Are you awake?”

There was no light in the room except what came from Charley’s little side lamp, her textbook long abandoned in favor of more snogging and writhing on the couch, once more starring Rose’s rather spectacular tongue. Then the three of them had snuggled up under pillows and fallen into various states of sedation, a giddy grin plastered to Rose’s lips.

“Mhm,” John mumbled sleepily.

“Charley and I have been talking…”

That seemed to perk him up. He shifted more upright, to look down at her where she rested on his shoulder. “Talking?”

“Yeah, and we thought—would you… maybe wanna move in?”

His arm shifted around her, and she felt Charley stir a bit at their shuffling. Rose’s palm fluttered down to her thigh, running a hand over the tanned skin. If she were to let her hand drift lower, she’d find the smattering of those beloved freckles on Charley’s knee. But she contented herself with the radiant heat, sandwiched happily between two sleep-warmed bodies.

John was still silent, his mouth slightly open. “You really want that?”

Rose nodded. “I know it’s… sort of fast. Only a few months. But I promise I’ll try not to get you fired,” she added with a faint laugh. “We’ll keep our hands off when you’re working.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he shot back with a crooked grin, higher on one side. And he pressed a warm kiss to her temple. “I think I’d like that. The three of us… we’ve got something, haven’t we?”

“‘Something’ is right.” Rose giggled. “You’re not nearly so eloquent when you’re not on the phone, you know.”

“And you can live with that?”

She could. She would, happily.

John was another puzzle piece in her life, every bit as important as Charley—and just as unexpected. He was more than his voice, or his job, and she’d felt it tonight like an ache in her chest. She wanted all of him, all of them, together.

“Yeah,” she answered softly. “I can.”

Charley’s leg shifted, her bare foot brushing Rose’s calf. “So can I, in case anyone was asking.”

Rose reached down to tickle her foot, prompting a kick that pushed her and John entirely off-balance. And so she collapsed on top of her girlfriend, squished pleasantly by John’s chest, as they all dissolved into laughter. Three bodies on that too-small couch.

Rose couldn’t imagine a better life.

#eight x charley x rose #my ot3 #eighth doctor #charley pollard #rose tyler #dw #abbey.txt #ficlet #thanks for the prompt!#for anon

14 notes · View notes

elopez7228 · 5 years ago

Text

Scenic Route 3/47

If the receptionist was surprised by the disheveled, wide-eyed, young woman who was dragging a battered suitcase behind her, she had the grace not to show it. She greeted Rey with an amicable smile instead.

“Hello, welcome to Four Seasons, I’m Heather. How may I help you?”

“Hello, I have a reservation under the name Rey Jakku.”

“Sure thing, let me look that up for you,”

The receptionist wore a perfectly pressed uniform, her hair pinned up in a flawless chignon. Her fingers clattered against the keys of the keyboard and she paused, pursing her lips in dissatisfaction.

“I’m sorry—I’m not finding anything under that name. Are you sure about the check-in date?”

Rey was utterly embarrassed for a moment, but then she looked up with conviction:

“For Mr. and Mrs. Storm, please,” she amended, shakily.

The receptionist’s face lit up.

“Oh, right, Mr. and Mrs. Storm, five nights in our honeymoon suite. Congratulations from all of us, may I please have the credit card you entered for the booking, Mrs. Storm?”

Rey had been prepared for them to bring up the “honeymoon suite”, but definitely didn’t expect them to ask for Finn’s card.

“The credit card? What for?”

Heather must have gotten used to that question, her voice was gentle when she responded:

“Your booking was guaranteed by a credit card on which the first night will be charged ; I need this card to confirm your identity and charge the rest of the stay. This will also ease the check-out process, as you'll just have to put your keys in this box right here on your departure day and will be able to leave the hotel without having to go through the front desk again,”

“Okay, great, how can I cancel the other nights?”

Now she was taken aback.

“You want to leave sometime tomorrow? I can cancel the other nights without a fee, but I’ll need your passport please,”

Rey handed her passport over, and the receptionist began typing something out for the hotel records. Soon, she looked up at Rey again.

“The room is booked under the name Finn Storm. Without the credit card that made the original reservation or some form of corresponding identification, I can’t give you access. Do you have a marriage certificate?”

Rey felt like the fatigue had won over. Was this fate or something? Was Finn having fun poking needles into a voodoo doll in her likeness, was she headed for the gallows at this point?

She knew what she had to do but she really didn’t want to take it that far.

Boneless, she stepped back awkwardly and slumped into one of the overstuffed armchairs in the lobby. She had a headache. She was drowsy. She aspired only to a semblance of serenity, was it too much to ask?

Taking her phone out of her pocket, she unlocked it, scrolling mechanically past several apps, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram…Contacts. In the Favourites section was “Finn Love”, accompanied by the photo of a charming young man with brown skin and soulful eyes.

She threw her phone onto a coffee table and got up, pacing. Finally, giving in to an impulse, she pressed the call icon.

Ring.

He didn’t answer.

Voicemail.

She hung up, dialing the number again.

Ring.

A faint voice answered, as though from millions of kilometers away…literally.

“Rey, peanut, is that you? Where are you? It’s three in the morning, are you okay?”

“Finn, I’m in Denver. At—at our hotel. For the honey moon.”

“That’s madness, peanut! You went by yourself? Oh, I’m so sorry babe, really sorry!”

“Stop. Just stop it. Don’t call me peanut. I’m not your babe. Listen to me. I’m at the hotel and I need you to talk to the receptionist. The room is under your name and she refuses to give me the key,”

On the other end of the line, she can hear his breath hitch. Behind him, she then hears Poe’s familiar voice, thick with sleep. He says something she can’t quite make out, and Finn brings him up to speed in a few words. Finally, Finn gets back to her.

“Get me the receptionist.”

“Thank you.”

Rey approached Heather again, who took the call. She wrote down some numbers on a notepad as she spoke. Finally, she thanked the mystery caller politely and handed Rey the phone again, smiling.

“It’s alright ma’am, I verified his credit card information and room number. Here’s your key, room 2187 on the second floor. The elevators are behind you, on the right. Breakfast is served from seven to ten-thirty in the morning. I hope you have an excellent stay.”

“Thanks,” Rey said, not smiling more than she had to.

She fiddled with the plastic keycard with one hand. She held her phone in the other.

“Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the room. Goodnight.”

“Rey, wait! I’m not okay with the idea of you doing this trip alone. Nothing good can come of it. I mean, you’re so emotionally unstable, I have a bad feeling about this—“

“Finn, I don’t even want to hear you say anything. Not anymore. It’s over. Rey, the sweet little damsel in distress— bollocks! I’m getting on fine without you. And don’t call me. If you want updates, go bother Jessica. Goodbye.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond before hanging up.

The room left her speechless.

A bay window as wide as her London apartment offered a gorgeous view, which glittered softly in the twilight. A huge bed was anchored in the center of the room, definitely a “king size”. Everything was ready to welcome a couple of newlyweds : a path of red rose petals led to the bed, and a tray carrying a bottle of champagne in a silver basin was seemingly waiting for them.

The sight of what should have been the scene for a magical wedding night clawed at Rey, but she felt she had shed enough tears for the day. She went to the bathroom, whistling in admiration in front of the Jacuzzi, and following an impulse, turned on the faucets all the way. She poured a whole bottle of bubble bath into the hot water, and added a few handfuls of rose petals (let’s have it all!).

After flicking through the room service menu, she phoned the front desk to order dinner. Everything would be put on Finn’s credit card. Was it not the most natural thing in the world to make him pay, literally, for this wedding night alone?

A flute of champagne in one hand and a strawberry in the other, Rey slid into the hot water with delight. She wouldn’t have the pleasure of such luxury from now on. The rest of her trip would be decidedly Spartan. She closed her eyes.

“There’s no time like the present, tomorrow it’ll all be over.”

Tomorrow she would have to find lodging that was within her limited means. And where would she get a cheap rental car to drive to California? Her returning flight would depart from San Francisco exactly two weeks from now. At least she had time instead of money. She could indulge in some tourism.

Rey woke up at five in the morning, around noon in London time. She tried to go back to sleep, rolled over in bed without even reaching the other side, burying herself under the cushions, in vain. Finally, she got up, dressed, struggled against the twisted zipper of her suitcase, and repacked her things. Sitting at the end of the bed, she pondered what to do next. Was it better to wait until the restaurant opened for breakfast at seven? Or should she go hang out at the spa, or return the key and get some coffee from down the road?

The spa seemed like the most comfortable option, but deep inside, her mind was already racing. She needed paper money, a new suitcase, a cheap rental car, and probably a GPS. Procrastinating—bubbling away until checkout—would give her nothing but another chance to wallow in her misery while rehashing the events of the past few days until she went mad. She had to be proactive, to set objectives for herself.

Right, then.

Objective A: find a place to get a coffee.

Dragging her suitcase - which was no longer rolling behind her - Rey put her key in the checkout box and went out into the street. The air smelled like sage and lilac, and the city seemed at peace. Taking a closer look, she could see volleys of delivery trucks, buses, and various other vehicles, as if the city had awakened after a good night's sleep.

Aimlessly wandering the streets, Rey spotted a neon sign, and painted letters on a window advertising "fresh coffee all day and night, come and taste our homemade cinnamon rolls!"

The idea of a home-made cinnamon bun and a hot coffee made her speed up. She paid no attention to the black pickup parked a few meters away.

The shop was warm and welcoming, the décor simultaneously rustic and cozy: refurbished wooden benches, weathered paint, exposed brick, hardwood, and rusted metal.

Rey put her suitcase down near a bench, and walked to the counter. Her stomach growled at the smell of hot pastries and freshly brewed coffee. She spoke to the waitress, a young Asian woman with a round face and a cheeky smile.

“Hello, I'll have a coffee ... Americano. Grande. With cream. And a cinnamon roll.”

“Excellent choice, they come out of the oven soon, tell me how you like ‘em. That’ll be six twenty-five please. Go ahead and take a seat, I’ll bring it around for you,”

Rey paid with card, and took a seat on the bench. Apart from her, there was only one other customer, a man with broad shoulders and very long dark hair. He was facing the other direction and she couldn’t see his face, but she wondered if he was anything like the bloke from yesterday, the one who had smashed her suitcase with his monstrous pickup.

It was probably a good time to call Jessica. Considering jet lag, it was early afternoon in London, and her friend was probably worried about her. It would do Rey good to talk to someone.

She pulled her smartphone from her bag and was stunned for a moment when the screen refused to light up. Well, it wasn’t broken, she knew that.

She realized she hadn’t recharged since leaving London. Nine hours of flight, a whole night after: the battery was dead.

She searched around for an outlet, and found several under the tables. The place was decidedly welcoming; everyone could charge their smartphone or laptop with a coffee, and now she could readily imagine the place would be overrun with college students in an hour or two.

Her smile froze. The outlet consisted of two tiny vertical slits, nowhere near the triangular kind that was used in England. She cursed. What would she do? The purchase of an adapter was thus added to the already long list of things to think about, and in the meantime, she had neither emails, nor service, nor Google Maps. How convenient it would be to find a rental car company now…

When the waitress approached, placing a steaming cup and a cinnamon bun on the table, Rey gently touched her arm to get her attention.

“Excuse me, do you happen to have any adapters for a charger like this?”

The waitress pursed her lips.

“No, where does it come from?”

“From England…”

The girl's face lit up.

“Oh, that explains the adorable accent! So charming…sorry, I can’t help you. There’s a mall like two blocks from here, you will definitely find an electronics store that sells adapters.”

“Okay, thank you very much.”

Rey stirred her coffee mindlessly, added a packet of sugar, and resumed stirring. She stared blankly at the shoulders of the man sitting at the other table.

Oh, bollocks, what did she have to lose?

She went up to him slowly so as not to startle him.

“ Sir?”

He turned to her. She paled. He was the guy in the pickup. But she kept her calm, maybe he wouldn’t recognize her.

“Hello, excuse me for disturbing you. My phone has no battery, may I use your phone to call someone?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, as though considering her request carefully.

"Aren’t you the Brit who rammed her suitcase against my car yesterday?”

Rey blushed slightly, then frowned.

“Well, yes, but actually, no. I did not "ram my suitcase against your car"; it was you who barely failed to crush me, and ruined my suitcase, in fact.”

He raised an eyebrow, and turned slightly, propping an elbow on the back of his chair.

“And what do you want?”

“To call someone. Please. My battery is dead and I have to buy an adapter ... well it's complicated.”

“Call where?”

“England.” Her voice broke in the middle of the word.

She realized that it was too much to ask for a long distance call on a stranger’s phone. Then she began to talk very quickly, a habit of hers when she was embarrassed:

“I can send a text message and ask to be called back. Please, it's important.”

“Nothing is ever simple with you, is it?” His tone was glacial but she thought she saw him smile.

He handed her his phone.

“Go ahead, call. I have unlimited international minutes. Just don’t drain my entire battery, okay?”

Rey breathed a sigh of relief. She realized that she had been holding her breath and tensing her shoulders. She smiled gratefully.

“Thank you. I'll give it back to you right away. By the way, my name is Rey.”

“Ben Solo.”

===================

start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

#reylo #fanfiction #modern AU

2 notes · View notes

namjoonchronicles · 6 years ago

Text

genius lab | yg

↳ pairing yoongi x you

↳ words 4k

↳ author’s note happy birthday to my fellow 93 liner, Yoongi. May we find a clue on what we’re doing in life. But hey, at least your life is better than mine, right? --i personally think that yoongi is very talkative to people he is most comfortable with. so that’s how i depicted him. i’m sick of people saying he’s cold and unaffectionate, it really is all or nothing for yoongi ok.

↳ 3/3 ‘take your wife to work’ fic

↳ genre husband!yoongi, domestic au, fluff

↳ song sleeping at last ‘two’

“Babe, so skydiving right...?” “Yup.” “Which one thrills you most: the fall or the fact that you’re in the sky?”

Yoongi walks around, fastening the cufflinks of his dress shirt while you were tiptoeing against the bathroom sink, your bottom bouncing as you try to get a better look in the mirror.

“I don’t know how I’m going to get there on time, so the initial plan is I fetch you from the mall and then we go straight to wedding hall right?” Yoongi is now switching on the left side of his cuff which he had no trouble fastening. Now he is pacing to the far right of the bedroom, next to the unmade bed to fetch his Gold Rolex.

“That’s the plan…” you swing your head back so your chin could be closer to the mirror when you can see. Unamused with the lack of response thereof, Yoongi marches to the opened bathroom door to see you are now sitting on the bathroom counter, trying to pinch something on your chin.

“What on earth are you doing?” he leans on the door frame. You dangle your head to the side where he is, mulling, “What people with pimples do in the morning, because not everyone is blessed with clear skin…”

For emphasis, you eyed him up and down before resuming your task. Yoongi was about to leave you alone if your answers weren’t that annoying, but it was, so he grabbed you by the chin, making you lean your head on his chest while you struggle to break free of his head lock.

“You will not touch that pimple,” Yoongi hissed while trying to put an anti-bacterial lotion on the said boil. “I want to,” you spat back.

Yoongi lets you go and helped you down from the counter.

“It hurts…” you mewled. “Yeah, it wouldn’t if you didn’t poke it,” Yoongi passed, putting the ointment back.

His black slacks are hugging his bums quite attractively now that you have the time to pay attention to it. He was checking his phone, with one hand on his hip while you put on your black bra and undies before strolling across the room like nothing is wrong.

“I got an update from the event chatroom,” Yoongi pauses and reads the text out loud so you could hear them, he follows you closely outside where the living room was, “Please refrain from bringing outside food as we have food prepared for the performers and early guests in the cafeteria right below the hall. Remember to bring your tags for identification.”

Next, the kitchen. You pour yourself a drink nodding mindlessly, still wearing just bra and undies, “No take out then, shame… I was really craving for some spicy braised chicken,” you swirled the coffee mug around and took a sip, “Maybe we could, a few hours before we leave.”

“No, no, we won’t make it on time if we did,” Yoongi shook his head, eyes glued to his phone. “We won’t, but I will. Me, alone,” you corrected him, leaning against the kitchen counter, gazing lovingly into your mug of black coffee, your go-to morning breakfast. Staggered by your response to have good food without him, he peeled his eyes from his phone almost immediately. “I will not allow such a thing!” he thundered, before his eyes falls to the valleys of your breast, thighs and bare torso, “Where are your clothes?!”

“Took you long enough,” you arched an eyebrow before passing him the very mug you were drinking from. There’s still some liquid in them and Yoongi downed them at once. His eyes follows you down to the living room where the couch was. “I figured that if I’m not going to see my husband all May and the beginning of June, I might as well leave him with some…” you smacked your lips together, resuming, “penetrative memory, so to speak,” you pointed the remote to the television and it played the playlist.

Yoongi froze. He is also blinking rapidly, stammering, “p-p-pene-penetrative memory?” You moved passed his shoulder and glided your hand down the length of his forearm, executing as little pressure as you can so he could barely feel you there, “of what he is missing when he is away…”

He could hear you smile and with a loud smack on his butt coming from your palm, he knows today is going to be slightly difficult to go through and by difficult, he meant hard. And he also knows that you probably had stood there watching it jiggle, because you’re a demon he had gotten married to.

“I was kidding,” you hummed, throwing your head back while getting dressed in an emerald green knee length dress, after you saw blood draining down his face and possibly pooling somewhere else that might delay today’s plan, “You look like you’re about to faint… I’m not going to do that, especially having to go to your studio first, before the mall and then, attending the wedding.”

Bittersweet. He would like the tease, to be honest. And what do you mean by going to his studio first? “You honestly think you can go AWOL without your office calling you to be in your studio at least once, today? They’re calling you right now,” you tipped your eyes to his phone and it vibrated.

Yoongi clenched his eyes shut but after he threw an acid glance at your smiling face.

He threw a throw pillow at you and left the room to be in his home studio. You weren’t very much interested into having musical discussion today, but if Yoongi needs to go then you’ll understand. You’ve had musical discussions all night. To pry a dedicated man is a difficult task, so you have a reminder set on his phone, as: love wifey time. Which go off at least five times a day; a number you both had agreed on, prior to the initiation.

Yoongi left the door gaping open, which led you to sit on the chair he has inside and begin reading a magazine he was featured in. One particular paragraph in that article reads,

How do you balance private life from your professional one?

Yoongi’s responds were, alas, extremely straightforward, no sugar coating whatsoever.

“Very badly. I define private life as home, wife, family, Holly, etc. And I feel like a married life is so much different from how I was still single. I have more commitments now, more people I need to take care of. I still feel like I’m in that transition? I know my wife had been secluding herself in terms of making more space for my work and she sacrifices a lot in order for me to continue doing this (music). If you think that I’m balancing the two flips of my life good, I have to thank my wife for that, truly. She’s my anchor, my rope, my stone.”

He is quite a talker. He is sitting in his chair, swiveling around with the phone on his ear, his veiny hand scratching the back of his neck--the conversation too complex for you to make sense of. His head is bobbing in agreement to what the caller had to say. It must have been one of those expenses thing again. Yoongi is in charge of making decisions to how a track should be and even if he takes literally 5 seconds to decide those; he takes an eternity to decide if you look good in a dress or a blouse. Music is all he is good at. It’s both a curse and a blessing.

“Listen, Jungkook,” he begins, spinning around in his chair so he faces you, “I don’t think we can do this through the phone. I have a packed day today, but I can squeeze some time somewhere before noon, what do you say babe?” Yoongi asked, with a slight drawl.

“Sure,” you shrugged and gave him a lopsided smile. “I’ll see you before noon, Jungkook…” Yoongi ended the call.

You stood up to reveal that your dress weren’t zipped all the way yet. Gathering all your hair to one side, you gave Yoongi your backside and he proceeds to trail kisses up your spine as he zips them up.

“With one look on that dress, I could tell we won’t be at that wedding for long,” he whispers hotly against the shell of your ear. You faced him with a cunning smile, and batted your eyelash at your handsome husband, circling your arm around his neck. “Oh really, says who?” you arched one eyebrow at him, just to tease him further. “Mr. Min Yoongi, Grammy winner,” he clicked his tongue.

The day is sunny, there were not much vehicles around. A very slow Saturday for everyone. Yoongi is driving and you’re on the phone with the bride who is currently panicking.

“Look, when I got married to Yoongi, I, too, wasn’t sure that I was marrying the right guy. He is never home, he is heavily invested on musical equipments instead of home appliances, and he hogs the blanket. And then I got married to him, and he still is never home, buys 25 pianos and hogs the blanket. Truth is darling, marriage aren’t going to change nobody, change is going to happen when the individual allows it…”

Yoongi frowned at the view ahead but 100% listening to everything you said. Which 75% lies and chances are, the bride knows that. You go to great lengths to make people smile, even if it means grilling lies about your husband. They know how responsible he is, that itself didn’t need exhibition although you’re pretty much an exhibitionist yourself.

“Don’t worry, Yoongi is going to be there as your pianist, he pinky promised me. So he is coming. He was reading the event chatroom before he leaves and I honestly want to tell you, hun, everything is fine. All you need to do is breathe, look pretty and put trust in your future hubby. You’ve gone through so much for this to happen, you’re halfway there already…okay? Okay, I’m going to see you in a few more hours, and I don’t want these conversations of thinking you’re not good enough, because that is bullshit. You’re a great wife, I almost married you, if Yoongi didn’t snatch me first,” Yoongi poke your sides and you jolted but still maintaining the smile on your face as you bid farewell on the phone with your friend.

“She is low on sugar and everything is pissing her off,” you exhaled through your nose and Yoongi rubbed your knees with his right palm. You fetched that very hand and entwined your fingers with his. You switched your attention out the car window to see several motorcyclists passing through. “Isn’t it too late to be having wedding jitters?” Yoongi glanced at you once in a while, cruising comfortably through the city with few traffics.

“It is never too late to have wedding jitters… I know where she’s coming from and I’ve been there,” you raised both brows and added a little squeeze on his hand.

“I know weddings are scary… it’s huge, it carries so much weight and responsibilities. It’s two families merging into one, with a lot of expectations and goals to achieve…” Yoongi rambles.

“It’s to trust someone with your whole life, and to devote yourself into a household name, and you fear that you hadn’t been seeing the full layers of your lover, frightened that he might leave one, unrevealed. Marriage is like.. Like skydiving...without parachutes. You leap out of the ass of a moving plane, unsure if you’re going to land safely or not, but you just do it. It’s scary, at least to me, to her… we’re women, we have so many to live up for. And it sucks. That’s where the fear comes.”

You casted your eyes down to your lap, where his hand rested, you begin fiddling on his empty ring finger, playing with it, until he regains dominance over you and clasped them tight under his grasp.

“Some of us turn out lucky. Some, don’t,” you whispered. And he could feel that you were brought down to memory lane of your own unhappy home; the home you were raised in. There’s nothing else he could offer but an affirmation in his full presence. Even if it means, a small kiss on your knuckle.

♪...Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss…♪

Jungkook’s studio has been raided with bags of food. A shrill call of his name pried him away from his computer. You walked in with a huge grin and Jungkook’s eyes turns into crescents.

“Hello you!” you cooed at the bunny as you set the food on his coffee table. Yoongi is following close by, carrying his own fairshare of bags. “I’m going to be right back after I send this off to the staffs,” Yoongi said but you rushed to his side, cutting your conversation with Jungkook short.

“I’ll do that, you help Jungkook,” you gather all the things from him and he held the door open for you. He watches you go down the hall and he reminded, “It’s the hall on the far left, next to the water dispenser…”

You made your way there easily. Most of them are gathering for burgers and you greeted everyone with a big smile.

“Only burgers?” you chimed and they started laughing and exclaiming once they saw what you brought them, “Yoongi wanted to get you food and I’m here to do the delivering… you look so thin since the last time I saw you, what happen, and what did I tell you about skipping meals!” You playfully scolded them. They’re all very young and they dedicate themselves into serving Yoongi and the rest of the producers. They are basically the machines in this company, and therefore, must be credited with their effort.

“Okay, you guys enjoy yourself… I’m going to go now, take care,” you patted one of the staffs shoulder, “Honestly, please...really take care of yourself, I’m worried.”

Using the passkey, you entered Yoongi’s studio with ease. He isn’t so big on cleaning up but hardly anything was out of place. The blankets for when he stays overnight are neatly folded, the bin is halfway filled, the humidifier is working, there’s some new additions in his studio family: new speakers, new keyboards, interesting.

The door beeps open to Yoongi walking in a slow stride.

“Why didn’t you turn the AC on?” he pointed the remote to the AC and took off his black blazer to sit on his chair. “Jungkook forgot that we were heading to a wedding so he asked me why I was dressed up, cheeky dude,” Yoongi commented, while leaning over the back of the PC to turn his PC on. “It wasn’t warm…” you shrugged and sat on his couch, taking off your heels and stretching your legs on his coffee table.

Yoongi promptly sit on the piano bench and uncovered the piano. Then suddenly, he begin dribbling a few note.

“You’re helping Jungkook compose?” you asked, resting your elbow on the arm rest, closer to where Yoongi was, placing your chin on the heel of your palm while you stare at him play. He has a beautiful side profile. It has always been his most charming point. The way his eyes falls to the keys, his cheeks full and round, his lashes make him look like a child. His veiny hands was a complete contrast of that baby face, and the melody he plays--as a veteran pianist; never fails to amaze you in ways you can never imagine.

“He couldn’t find the notes that would fit the beats…” he murmurs.

“So you’re memorising the beats that he made and playing a rhythm that would match, with a piano? By... heart?” you repeated. “Uhum,” he answered short, continue letting his fingers play an intricate piece. Something that sounded familiar from a long time ago, but you know for a fact that is nameless.

“You hadn’t done live composing in front of me since last year…” your tone falls soft and like a whisper. “I’m doing it right now, aren’t I?” Yoongi passed, “Listen, this to me, is your song.”

He started to play a short melody that reminds you of floating. A time passing, of sweet memories and the calming waters. And then he switches to a lower note and play something out of a horror movie, “This is when you’re angry…”

You giggled and shook your head, covering your eyes, “Glad to remind you of a haunted house…” “But mostly, you’re my…” Yoongi begins playing the ‘First Love’ notes of his older work. “I’m your living piano? Is that what I am?” you taunted him, moving from the chair to sit next to him on the bench, idling with a smile playing on your face. He avoided your eyes and smiled to himself and for that little moment, you knew what he meant.

That First Love was the embodiment of your beginning. There’s so many ups and downs before you both got to this point and at the end of the day, the feeling of belonging is beyond soothing. And in the chaotic life of Min Yoongi, lies a calming wave that was you. He was a wanderer in the forest of temptations and you were his salvation.

“I couldn’t possibly conclude how much you meant to me, but I like to think that this voyage that we are on, sails for as long as I live,” Yoongi hummed in thoughts. “I think we got it…” Yoongi shifted his gaze to the computer screen and emails them to Jungkook right away.

Yoongi moves and you stood up, before stumbling to your side. Then you heard a loud ripping sound. Both of you froze. Lowering your gaze to right thigh, you saw the threads come apart to reveal the strings of your black thong.

“Oh my…” Yoongi breathed. “Yoongi!” you screamed.

The deceptive cookie can with the picture of a smiling lady on them is mocking you. You’re laying on your stomach on Yoongi’s lap as he sew the threads back on. “I knew my sewing skills will be put to a good use one day. Never thought it would be today, of all days,” the thread was long enough for him to pull pass his shoulder, he pinched your butt when you wouldn’t stop wiggling. “Stop doing that…” “I can’t! My back hurts, and you’re taking too long… are you sewing or are you staring at my ass?” “How about both. What are you going to do about that?”

You pouted and cupped your chin, darting your attention to the smiling lady on the sewing container Yoongi had. You pinched your eyes at the view of it and let out an exhale.

“...I can’t even ask for the staff’s help even though they are far more experienced because somebody...won’t wear a normal panties…” his voice gradually grows louder. “I can march up to them despite your worries, Yoongi… and it’s a skin tight dress, I had to wear a thong or people will be taking notes on the shape of my butt,” you threw glances over your shoulder at your husband.

He is using his teeth to cut the extra thread unused, “Okay roll over, let me see how it looks.” You paused, and didn’t do what you were told. “What now?”

“You have a bulge…” you darted. “I know, so let me go to the bathroom and relief myself,” Yoongi sighed.

“You were sewing! What inappropriate thoughts were you having?!” you rolled over and he loosens his tie, angrily, “It was your ass wiggling in my face, and the conversations we had…”

You patted his clothed manhood and had him hissing out of frustrations; sexual and non-sexual. Walking backwards to see him, chanting, “dirty toilet, grimey walls and Valak from The Nun… dirty toilet, grimey walls, and Valak from The Nun…”

Sexologists say that thinking of disgusting items, or locations helps tame the boners down. So far it has worked with Yoongi, but today, he was struggling a bit, that you had to be driving to the mall.

“It is going down yet?” you asked. “I’m trying…” he groans when you purposely drive over a road bum in full speed, “It’s hard with your perfume dancing around my nostril.” “Let’s try stressing you out…” you hummed, tapping your cheek with you index finger pulling into a stop by the mall parking entrance, “How many tracks are you supposed to produce this week?”

Yoongi was shifting in his seat, clenching his eyes shut, “...5.”

“How many did you have done?” “Two…”

Really? Really…?

“You got to do better Min Yoongi, you have bills to pay this month,” you drove inside the parking lot, looking for parking. “Stress is going to help my boner down?” Yoongi is talking is harsh rasps now. That’s probably unintended, but now it’s turning you on.

“Well, usually… when you aren’t around and I’m horny beyond explanation, I usually plunge into self-implied depression? And it usually helps. If that’s not readily available, I could throw myself in a workload that wasn’t even real but my girlfriend down there gets fooled so...if it works, it’s not dumb. Look, we can’t fuck right now, because I’m in a hurry to get the door gifts from the mall, and you have to play piano in two hours in front of many many people so I suggest you get it together or I’d have to suck you, and I have a very expensive lipstick on,” you found a parking spot and hurried to unfasten your belt.

You intended a chaste kiss on your husband’s sweaty lips but he was out of it. He keeps moaning against your lips and holding your face in place.

“Honestly Yoongi!” You pulled away and struggle to hook your finger around the car door. “Please hurry…” Yoongi bit his lower lip as you slam the car door shut and sped to the mall entrance from the basement. Yoongi chants, “dirty toilet, grimey walls, and Valak from The Nun. Dirty toilet, grimey walls, and Valak from The Nun. Dirty toilet, grimey walls, and Valak from The Nun...fuck. Even Valak looks hot right now.”

“Yes I came for Mr. and Mrs. Jung? I was told that the extra door gifts are ready?” You chirped and the manager revealed the bags that you need to carry.

“Oh, I can do that,” you hummed to the sight of it. Within minutes, you were heading back down to Yoongi on the phone with somebody, two bags of gifts in your hand. You yank the back door open and shove the two bags of gift in before slamming it shut, so hard, the car rattled.

“Can you drive?” You didn’t care that he was on the phone, he nodded and put on the earpiece so he could continue talking.

It was pretty much empty when you came, but the groom was a little anxious. The door gifts are arranged and you rushed to get Yoongi on the piano where he should be. “You have mini rehearsals…” you hissed, and drag him by the elbow. He didn’t complaint and was completely obedient.

Yoongi went overboard with the music sheet of a simple Wedding March to making a complete Sonata until the emcee told him off. You were holding the bouquet to a frantic bride as she sat on the toilet cover with a long look. Listing her future husband’s antics;

“He picks his nose when we eat…” she sniffed, “It’s absolutely disgusting. How am I going to live like that for the rest of my life…”

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling, itching to get this wedding done and over with. Adulthood is difficult.

But as always, you’re expected to provide unpaid emotional support. Because, that’s what you’re good at. So good, that you considered charging everyone for it. Yoongi would purchase a lifetime subscription. That’s no question. And if he is listening to your thoughts right now, he’d probably want an added benefit as well. You’re good at telling people what they want to hear.

“All I hear is you are making up excuses to call off the wedding when you’ve dreamed of this to happen for so long… humans are not perfect and they come with flaws. And it’s up to you to make the flaws as beautiful as it can be, because as much as it is imperfect, it is yours. He is yours. Simply tell him to stop picking his nose if it bothers you so much, we’re past that zone in this relationship, now, aren’t we?”

Yoongi gradually feel the tension builds as the hall continues to fill up. Some recognise him as the Grammy award winning producer and some don’t. That’s no big deal. It wasn’t his day. It was theirs.

With a simple wave of your hand, Yoongi begins the Wedding March in a beautiful rendition he had composed himself less than hour ago. When you were younger, not yet married, you couldn’t understand why people would cry in weddings. Now that you’re older, and albeit, wiser, you understood how much weight was on the shoulders when such a union happens.

The bride looks stunning, with her hair up in a classic ballerina bun. Her veils giving the right amount of silhouette, just enough to make the invitees curious of how she looks if they hadn’t seen her in a while and holding the tails of her dress behind her, is you. Once she reached the altar, you joined Yoongi on the bench. Her husband took her hand in his, staring into her eyes, brimming with tears.

“We are gathered here today…”

It was a beautiful ceremony. Yoongi stood up before you again, and the event repeats itself; you stumble to the side to keep your stance and ripped your dress open. You clawed Yoongi’s arm with a horrified look, noticing that the people hadn’t fully leave the hall.

Yoongi took off his blazers and covered you from waist down. Both of you are scurrying to the car, the bride saw and although she was quite puzzled, she knew she’ll get an explanation from you later.

“I can’t wait to have that dress ripped off of you…” he grumbled and sped through traffic.

Once you get home, Yoongi tore off the entire dress in two forceful yanks, sending you yelping, face down on the bed.

“All May and beginning of June, you say?” Yoongi whispers hotly in your ear, nuzzling his face in your nape while he fumbles on the metal head of the belt he was wearing. “It’s the thong, isn’t it?” you rolled over to face him. You see his shy smile, and the way he was hiding his face by facing the side.

The post coital glow tonight was something else. You drew random shapes on Yoongi’s palm, talking in murmurs.

“Babe, so skydiving right...?” “Yup.” “Which one thrills you most: the fall or the fact that you’re in the sky?”

Yoongi hums. “The landing; knowing you would be there waiting for me.”

“You should be drinking more water…” he scolds, fiddling with his metal earrings as his jaws hung open to continue typing on the keyboard, fixing his lyrics.

“And give the bacteria an ideal environment to live in? I think not!” you retorted back at him. The response got him stop typing in the middle of a sentence.

The nonsense seep into his mind in an uninterrupted speed, which causes him to push his chair back so he could stand and turned the loudspeaker mode off. He pressed the phone to his ear and gnawed his lower lip as you rambled on how drinking water and eating food would increase nutrition intake in your body and allow the bacterial growth to flourish,

“–which would be the exact opposite of what you want me to do. Which is, getting well…”

Why did I marry her. Why the fuck did I marry her. Yoongi lets out a steady exhale to achieve peak nirvana–more like, attempted to. He grabbed his car key on the side stand and rushed out the door of his studio. “Now you listen to me…”

319 notes · View notes

immediateedge4-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Instant Edge Bot Assessment

Immediate Edge Review

Is it Legit Or Scam? Study On To discover

Fast Edge Bot is amongst the major crypto buying and selling bots that has completely revolutionized the market. The robot will allow end users to trade on Bitcoin, Ripple, Bitcoin Cash, Ethereum, plus more. The robot that is absolutely automatic, allowing for buyers to help make favourable trade moves at any time, any working day. It really is completely dependable and completely gives its customers whichever it promises.

Immediate Edge Review

Web-based investing remedies like Quick Edge Bot are an ongoing innovation, and it can be as of late that they have gotten world recognition. The best way which they are programmed, examination they carry out, and outcomes they deliver have caught most handbook traders by surprise. This is certainly the main reason why we continuously critique these buying and selling bots to indicate the things they can do.

In any situation, within the off prospect that you choose to go through and follow crypto information by using web-based media stores or blogs, at that point, you might recognize that there are lots of individuals who have stated that these investing bots have rendered them immense benefits at a single level or perhaps the other. This transpires with no the guide input of buyers, and the technique oversees your entire trade.

Be that because it might, as crypto buying and selling software has long been choosing up this kind of a massive amount of use, there has also been an growth inside the variety of bots from the marketplace.

Presently in the event you look for on Google �cryptocurrency buying and selling bots,� you can occur across above a thousand program in existence. This is often the rationale we've willingly volunteered to show you regarding the very best robots during the industry. We care about you and where your hard earned money finally ends up, as well as in that ability, we will just propose the ideal method for you personally.

Today, you can discover about a terrific deal about Speedy edge bot. The bot is completely automated and performs by building top quality investing choices for users. Our review will undergo how the robot operates and plenty a lot more.

From the event that you are an novice or to the off prospect that you've got no prior involvement with automated buying and selling computer software, it would be suitable in the event you go more than our review information extensively. So, no want to help keep you waiting around any additional.

Is Quick Edge Bot Legit?

No will need to defeat round the bush with this dilemma, Quick Edge Application is, devoid of a doubt, an actual buying and selling process that you can rely on. It is an exceptionally functional robot that does what it claims. Many buyers have had a terrific knowledge employing this trading bot over the years.

Right after testing Fast edge bot, we uncovered out that it gives a winning return of 83%. This implies, from 100 trades put, you may occur out triumphant in at the very least eighty three of trades. This is certainly potentially just one from the ideal rates within the industry. This is certainly the main reason Instant Edge is amongst the most empowering bots in existence. What�s a lot more, it truly is structured that will help clients generate income in lieu of drop money.

In a single of our various assessments, we experienced plenty of beneficial final results. We manufactured a gain of $75 once we traded with $250 in beneath twelve hrs. This really is a great level for just about any trading robot, and just one of the very best within the current market. Should you be reluctant to trade using this type of bot, we wish to guarantee you you have absolutely nothing to fear. Speedy Edge Bot is actually a reliable trading system. Fast Edge Review

Instant Edge Application is where by a person can trade crypto harmless and protected. It also presents unlimited buying and selling options to optimize each trade you make. A lot of persons may have uncertainty with respect to this buying and selling system; however, this really is the key reason why we selected to examine it out and review it.

From our initial evaluation, we can easily warranty that Immediate Edge is legit. You can make numerous revenue from it, and our review will clearly show you merely how.

Immediate Edge utilizes calculations and swift marketplace assessment to hold out productive trade. Considering that every thing relies upon on immediate calculations, the exactness is far better than whatever you will get from any human trader. Any person may make an account and begin trading on this platform. There are a number of instances where persons without having thorough awareness of crypto investing have had the option to create incredible earnings.

With Rapid Edge Application bot, investing is built simple. Whilst manual traders need to undergo hrs of analysis before making a trade conclusion, nevertheless Fast Edge does all of this inside a issue of seconds.

How can Instant Edge Function?

As we point out a number of times in advance of, Quick Edge App is a recognized automated investing program. So right before we dissect Rapid Edge, enable us very first look into how crypto bots wor

In advance of technological developments inside the trading earth, all the things performed by hand-take such as, if you preferred to help make a contact back again during the working day. Initially, you experienced to open your get in touch with checklist, identify the person you'd like to phone, and dial the quantity. Even so, with cell assistants like Siri, Alexa, and so forth, all you'll want to do is say the name of one's supposed caller, and viola! You don�t really have to variety something; everything is finished instantly.

In the way, these cell assistants share some similarities with auto crypto trading bots.

Using an automatic crypto investing bot like Immediate Edge, one particular doesn�t should consider the industry costs and price actions. The Fast Edge program does all the things, and you just require to lay back again and enjoy the reward. This is certainly the reason even initial time traders might make a gradual stream of cash flow utilizing the software.

The precision of trades with the technique is extremely high like a results of the swift calculation and examination the bot does. At the moment, the instrument is effective which has a degree of certainty, giving you an assurance that your expense could well be worthwhile.

Rapid Edge Bot Attributes Payout

The wordings over the official internet site expresses that clientele may make $2200 on a daily basis. In almost any scenario, despite the undeniable fact that this seems like an absurd volume, it is valid. It all relies upon with your financial investment portfolio. But before you decide to start earning these kinds of sums from significant investments, you must begin smaller sized. Be that because it might, with nonstop investing and normality in the industry, you are going to, without the need of a doubt, contain the option to make tremendous profits which compare for the types which can be referenced. Quick Registration

The registration process is simple and easy. All you have got to perform is offer your important specifics this sort of as title, e mail, and cellphone quantity, so you will get began. Other than this, no additional depth is necessary. No financial institution statements or means of identification are being submitted. Withdrawals and payments

One particular with the frequent gripes with a few with the buying and selling devices during the industry is they let for swift deposit but sluggish withdrawals. Nonetheless, you barely come across this state of affairs on Fast Edge. Deposits come about momentarily at Immediate Edge, and withdrawals commonly get fewer than 24 hrs. This, in distinction to various bots whose withdrawals could possibly acquire 5 to 10 small business times.

Price tag or expenses

This is an additional superb aspect of Quick Edge. There is not any concealed payment or further expense or rates for registration. You will discover no shrouded fees also that brokers may well request. You'll find no commissions, both. Feedbacks and Testimonials

Before you decide to get started on any trading platform, you would probably would like to verify out what previous end users are indicating with regards to the platform. Accomplishing this could set you on a path of achievement as an alternative to failure.

This is certainly the reason customer feedbacks are crucial. You'll be astonished by how much beneficial responses Rapid Edge has garnered over the years. Persons have long gone on report to state that the bot experienced been in a position to present them the benefits they had been anticipating. Client guidance

A single on the critical attributes of any legit trading system will be the presence of a trusted shopper guidance. Immediate Edge has an unbelievable team of purchaser company officers who will allow you to at whichever level you'll need assistance. You may attain them by are living chat or maybe e-mail. These are accessible whenever, any day. By doing this, you may have a chance to get any of the issues fixed in time. Brokers

At what ever position you come up with a deposit or payment on any legit automatic investing robot, you are connected by using a qualified broker. The deposit you pay out goes to the broker�s history, who places the trade for you personally. The robotic then uses the financial commitment effectively. Instant Edge will work with certified brokers who will be trustworthy and dependable.

You will discover quite a few extra platforms that have amazing professionals.

How to get Started About the Bot?

We're going to make this component easy for the reason that this is often wherever the enjoyment begins. The registration is easy, and getting started only can take just a few measures. The next measures may help you will get started out appropriate away.

Open up the formal connection from the Fast Edge Application. Bear in mind to use the secure website link verified by our team. Once the site opens, locate the registration form to the homepage of the web-site. Fill the shape together with your information these as Cellular phone selection, and email. Pick a safe password that may be complicated for hackers to crack Make your submission

Well done, you have correctly registered on Immediate Edge.

How Would I Begin Trading?

Just after registration, the following step would be to get started trading. But prior to deciding to start out, you'll want to need to have to help make a deposit. The method enables a minimum amount deposit of $250 without any greatest restrict. As you might be tempted for making massive investments inside a bid to improve your earnings, we advise you to begin little.

You are able to make your investments making use of many strategies. Buyers will pay by means of Mastercard, Visa, Skrill, and in many cases Wire Transfer. Using this method, customers can make use of the strategy most easy for them.

When the payment is made, you'll be able to head to the trading dashboard, and locate your trading financial commitment in position.

Who Recognized Speedy Edge?

Immediate Edge was created by a person named Edwin James. He's recognised to possess created rather a fortune in buying and selling forex trading, and crypto. He continues to be the mastermind behind several of essentially the most profitable trading bots at the moment in the current market. Will it Have a very Cell Software?

While Immediate Edge does not have got a dedicated mobile application, it is actually however available by cellular. Provided that your system is connected into the net, you can obtain the Rapid Edge application. The nice information is that the software package is web-based, which implies you never need to obtain or install any computer software. Almost everything is completed from your formal web page of Immediate Edge Bot. Keep in mind to utilize the url verified by our staff to entry the website.

Last Verdict

From our review, Immediate Edge is a buying and selling bot you'll be able to have faith in. We hugely propose this investing robot to meet all of your investing needs. This app is perfect for beginners who're just starting off out their trading journey.

The software provides a fantastic assist system, rapidly withdrawal procedures, licensed brokers, and lots more. We liked the ease the system afforded us, along with the relieve with which we could navigate the internet site. The bot is totally automatic and is effective by producing high quality investing selections for customers. We extremely suggest it!

1 note · View note

newgeht · 6 years ago

Text

Binding Ink

Uhm... So here’s a new chapter! I hope you all are enjoying the festivities of the holidays. (Or if you’re like me and choose to sit out, I wish you a good month of December)

Chapter 3 : A Date Gone Awry Summary: Everyone had a name forever embellished on their wrist. This was the name of their mortal enemy... at least it was supposed to be. AU Characters: Lucy Heartifilia, Minerva Orlando, Gray Fullbuster, Cobra/Erik, Midnight, Lamy, Gajeel Redfox, Natsu Dragneel, Flare Corona Rating: T Words: 6,832 AO3 | FFnet 1 | 2

It had been almost a two weeks since the events of the beach. Fairy Tail was a place that thrived on gossip even if friendship was one of their highest values. Whispers of that day had been following Lucy around nonstop, and it didn’t seem like she could catch a break. All the kids in magic theory had been talking about was the binding enchantment.

She tapped her pencil anxiously against the chipped table top. This school needed some renovations, but what was it to her? She eyed the clock, waiting for the last bell to ring. She had to dodge Gray and Natsu, they had been around her all week.

Gray had been deemed as her personal bodyguard (by who, she didn’t know). And Erza was constantly surveying who she was socializing with. She was surprised how the red head managed to get so much information when she didn’t even attend the high school anymore. The requip mage had gotten a prestigious internship with the magic council and she had been in Era ever since.

Her social life was placed in isolation because of her best friends, and she couldn’t imagine what would happen if they stepped over the personal boundary. Sabertooth was five towns over, any possibility of an attack during school was impossible.

Though she was worried for Natsu, her best friend’s relationship didn’t seem too bright. Lucy had walked in on him arguing with Yukino over the phone. He was torn between two people, not like she wasn’t either. Gray was breathing down her neck during school and she couldn’t stop thinking about Minerva.

Whenever the dark-haired woman passed her thoughts, butterflies would arise in her stomach. Did she really have to fight such a suitable candidate?

Still tapping the desk, she could feel a buzzing in her pocket. Her ringtone ripping through the chaotic classroom. Everyone fell silent to the obnoxious Six Flags theme song, her face burning red. The silence was followed by an uproar of laughter, her teacher eyeing her with a tinkle of amusement. The bald haired man gestured to the door, letting her go if she choose.

Lucy held her head down as she left the classroom, the boys making jeering comments to her. She clutched the strap of her bag, the voice of Erik (or Cobra as he liked to call himself) ringing out above all the others. “Let the door hit your ass on the way out, Blondie. We know who’s been all over it.” His cackle was the last thing she heard before the door closed. That damned dragon slayer really knew how to press her buttons.

Shoving her hand into her pocket, she pulled her handheld lacrima out, silencing her silly ringtone. Without looking at the caller identification, she held the orb to her mouth. “This is Lucy,” she hoped it would sound cheerful, but Erik’s comment really hadn’t put her in the best mood.

“Sounds like you’re not happy,” the voice on the other end drawled. Lucy didn’t think it would be so easy to detect her annoyance. But she had an inkling of a feeling who she was talking to. A woman who was well aware of her power, unafraid to claw those who threatened her -Minerva. “I can make you feel ten times better.” She spoke with bravado, so sure of her words. And Lucy believed it.

Lucy didn't care how Minerva got her number, she just wanted to get out of school. “Then what do you have in mind?” She replied as smoothly as possible, but the words felt awkward on her tongue. Her palms began to perspire as she clutched the lacrima-com, waiting for Minerva's answer.

“It's a surprise. I'm waiting for you outside.” Minerva replied, the revving of an engine being heard through the phone.

Lucy peered out the window, Minerva straddling a motorcycle. She couldn't say what type it was, but it looked luxurious. It was black and sleek, the afternoon rays highlighting every edge. “I see…” Minerva held up her gloved hand, waving at her. “But I can't just ditch school.”

Minerva shifted, putting her helmet into her lap as she glanced at her wrist. “I don't see the harm in walking out early. You're already out of class. Just come down already.” She was fidgeting on her ride, becoming more curt as she went on.

Lolling over her options, going with Minerva didn’t seem so bad. It was better than making a bigger fool of herself; she still couldn’t believe that Erik would have the gall to say such a thing. But it was to be expected of the school’s juvenile delinquent. Huffing, she pulled her head from the window and headed down the empty hallway. “I’ll be down in about two minutes. If you don’t have two helmets, there’s no way I’m going.” She flipped the phone closed, her heeled boots clicking hastily against the cheap linoleum floors.

While walking through the front office, strange looks were directed toward her but nothing happened. Sure there was about ten minutes before school ended, but was it really so easy to ditch school? Lucy gripped her woven strap and pushed through the glass doors. A sly grin appeared on Minerva’s face as she held up two helmets.

One was a stark black, tinted with violet as the light hit it. The other one was white, shimmering with golden sparkles. “I thought you might like it,” Minerva said, tossing the white helmet to her.

Lucy was known to be very coordinated, but she failed to catch it. The helmet hit the pavement and she squeaked, scooping it up the moment it hit the ground. “L-Like it?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded. “I buy all of my friends their own helmet,” Lucy opened her mouth, but Minerva slid her helmet on. “And yes, you’re my friend. Now get on before I get caught, you fairies are very defensive over the boundaries.”

Lucy compiled very quickly, settling the helmet on over her head. It felt weird, as she hadn’t worn something so heavy before but it would keep her safe. She straddled the seat, barely enough left to fit her bottom. “Thanks, Minerva. Are you sure buying a helmet was necessary, I could-”

Minerva cranked the hand bar once more, the motorcycle roaring to life. “I don’t waste my money on random people, Lucy. You don’t need to pay me back, I have enough money as it is already.” At her last comment, a disheartening chuckle came. “Now get a better grip on me, we wouldn’t want you to fall off. Your ‘friend’ wouldn’t like that too much.” Minerva pulled her hands, wrapping them more securely around her leather covered waist. She took this opportunity to truly embrace Minerva, scooting forward in her seat. She felt so secure being close to the tiger, relishing in the magic that seemed to always pour between them.

She squeezed Minerva’s waist, her smile hiding under her helmet. Lucy was perplexed by the shift when she used the word friend, paying no mind to it. “If I fell off, this would be one hell of a ride. Now take us to your destination, my trusty steed!”

Now it was Minerva’s turn to laugh, it was genuine and filled with heartiness. She pulled her heeled boot up to rest it on the bike, time slowing as they tore off. Minerva’s bike booming with a youthful excitement, the tires careening against the worn asphalt. Lucy’s vision waa black, tinted by her helmet’s visor. A small twinge of guilt passing through her, seeing none other than Gray bounding against the school’s courtyard.

Minerva along with the engine mocked him with their cries, drowning out his own pleas for her to come back. Those blue eyes sent a chill through her but she choose to look forward; right now Gray would only hinder her from her current goal. All she wanted was love, was that too much to ask?

Sure, she had noticed Lucy’s classmate running through those glass doors. But did she care? Not one bit. In her own cunning way, Minerva had whisked the celestial mage away. She was going to give Lucy the time of her life, whether that boy or any of those other fairies liked it or not.

Moving the handle bar forward, she accelerated down the streets of Magnolia. She didn’t have a clue as to where she was going, but she had a final destination in mind. The wind was hitting her sharply, briskly whipping against the wisps of hair that had fallen from her helmet. Those slim hands that were wrapped around her torso granting her more confidence than she typically had. Right now she was riding high, the streets aware of the daring side of her driving.

Keeping her eyes forward, she careened through traffic. Being careful not to startle her sole passenger, but the girl didn’t seem to mind her speed. The stop light ahead had just turned yellow, but she had no intentions of slowing down. “Minerva!” Lucy’s fingers gripped her waist, shoving her head into her back. The wind almost drowned her voice out, but Minerva could hear the urgency.

Feeling the adrenaline course through her, she beamed forward and passed through the crimson light. Multiple cars honked at them, halting as they passed through the intersection but she payed them absolutely no mind. Turning the corner she pushed them through the boundaries of Magnolia.

Slowly the colorful streets became more and more dull with each crossing, the town shifting into desolation. She knew this part of Fiore well, Minerva had grown up on these broken roads. It was a town far from where Sabertooth resided, a city in which she grew up.

The small town of Daffodil was worn down and torn up by the cities surrounding it. Everyone had stomped all over it, crushing and wilting it down to the bare thread it was now. In its prime everything was flawless and stunning, but now it was just a complete mess. Once again, Minerva turned, hitting her bar hard as they sped uphill.

She sped onto a dirt lot, facing a crumbled and abandoned warehouse. There was already a various assortment of vehicles in the makeshift parking lot, but they all had come here for her. Coming to a stop the dirt settled around them, the engine’s call slowly fading out. Minerva placed her gloved hand over Lucy’s and removed her dainty hands. It irked her how much her magic had reacted to Lucy. She figured it would be over in due time, she just had to wait it out.

“I know it may not look like much, but we’re here.” She could feel Lucy slip off the seat, her boots crunching the ground. With a small maneuver of her foot, she kicked the bike’s stand out. The silver piece of metal fitting into the dirt nicely as she set it down.

She leaned on the bike after she pulled her leg over, watching as Lucy pulled the helmet from her head. The afternoon sun shaded her hair the amber but the color of gold was still apparent. “Is there some type of party going on?”

It was apparent that she didn’t know what to do with her helmet, already shifting the gear from arm to arm. Minerva smiled as she pulled her own off, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders. She held out her hand, gesturing to the white headgear. “You could say that, but it’s much better than some highschool party. That much I can tell you.” The moment her fingers touched the pearly surface, the piece disappeared along with her own helmet. “Would you like me to take your bag too?”

Her doe eyes sparked with confusion and Minerva materialized her own helmet again. “I have the ability to manipulate space, remember?” She crooned, a teasing lilt in her voice.

A small blush rose on Lucy’s cheeks as she face palmed. “Yeah, I guess seeing your magic in the works was very new to me. I usually have my spirits store my stuff.” Minerva raised a brow at this.

Lucy continued on shyly, “Yeah, the spirit of the maiden, Virgo will practically assist me in any way shape or form. As long as I ask her…” She paused and looked at Minerva coyly, “...but between you and me, she's a bit of a masochist too.”

The blonde's small remark made Minerva smile. She had heard of Lucy’s relationship with her spirits from Yukino, and she wasn’t let down in the slightest. It seemed as if she were much more fond of them, than her best friend. Lucy held many more keys than Yukino, which meant she held more power. It didn’t necessarily mean she was stronger by any means; this was something Minerva needed to check out for herself.

Which is why she brought Lucy here in the first place -a fight club. The blonde didn’t fit the bill for this place, not one bit. She didn’t seem like the type for such brawls with her cheerleader-like personality, but most importantly, Lucy was a fairy. Most of the people didn’t associate with the likes of Fairy Tail, but Minerva would grant her premier access. It was her club, after all.

“Most maids are,” Minerva quipped in return. She looked Lucy over and was surprised by the girl’s wardrobe. Never had she seen someone dress so provocatively and handle it well. She would be saddened if she had to take her eyes off the blonde. “Now let’s get inside, everyone is waiting for my arrival.” Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, she led Lucy inside the graffiti covered building.

The walls were falling apart and there was hardly any lighting. Minerva had heard this site was supposed to be a parking structure but had collapsed due to faulty structuring. It was just another on the long list of failures for the city of Daffodil. She was glad it had fallen, because now she had a place to entertain herself in.

She heard Lucy gasp errantly as they stepped into the main chasm. The space was filled with piles of rubbage, the rocks piled haphazardly on top of one another. These stacks circled around what was the middle of the room, light filtering down from above. The soon setting sun offered little light, but the moon shone desperately into the circle. That same silvery light outlining the two opponents in the center. A mop of blonde hair and a darker head she was fond with stood bloodied and bruised, neither ready to back down.

“Welcome to the party, Lucy.” Minerva chuckled deeply, ushering the blonde in. At the sound her own voice, many who were meandering on the rocks yelled the mage’s name. Hoots and hollers welcomed the two in and she absolutely relished in it.

She was stiff and Minerva placed a hand on her back, closing the space between the two of them. Carefully she pulled a lock of hair behind Lucy’s ear, magic bouncing between them. Minerva managed to hold her surprise in, but the blonde shuddered. “Don’t worry, Lucy. These guys bite, but they are good acquaintances of mine. If they lay a hand on you, they’ll be paying a fair price.” Her lips barely moved against the shell of Lucy’s ear, the blonde fidgeting in her place. The devil in her was currently in play and she couldn’t stop making the fairy quiver, it was too much fun.

She nodded and stepped forward from Minerva, stepping out of the darkness. “This is my guest, Lucy. We are to play nice with her today, if not you are expelled from here. But that’s not before you get a taste of my fists.”

Most of the population were males and they whopped at her introduction. The two in the ring turned and eyed them cautiously before stepping out. The one with darker hair grinned and stepped forward, “Great timing, this demon was just about to get his ass kicked.” Blood covered his fists and portions of his face, brightening the feral look in his crimson eyes.

“The fuck ya mean. One more explosion and it would’ve been lights out for you, pincushion.” Very animatedly the blond shook his fist at Gajeel, his canines bared. Jackal really had a knack for blowing up on people. He did look to be in much worse shape from his combatant, not that it mattered much to her. “Now that the lady is here, I can’t give ya the lights out you deserve.”

Minerva tutted, placing a hand on her hip. “You guys are always so desperate, it’s pathetic. And it’s also very impolite that you started without me, for that you two are punished. You cannot participate in the next meeting.”

Both growled but didn’t dare to challenge her word. The two took their separate ways, allowing the spotlight to be directed upon herself. She grinned as everyone’s attention was finally on her, she loved the attention -it was a home away from home. “Now,” looking around it didn’t seem as if many others had turned up, “I think we should show Lucy how things work around here. Don’t you agree?”

Many blank stares were directed toward her and a single hand lifted. It belonged to none other than Cobra, and he stepped from the shadows. “If Blondie is here, she might as well get initiated. Don’t ya think? It’s one of the rules you implemented from the start, m’lady.” He hissed mockingly, a maniac grin curling on his face. Lucy flinched at his words, shying into her side.

Minerva shook her head, “She isn’t here to join.” She sent a glare his way, warning him to behave.

“She might as well be, why else would she be here? Unless this is your idea of a first date, you lesbian cu-” He sputtered as a hand clapped him on the nape of his neck. Lucy’s face turned bright red at his comment and Minerva wanted to point it out so badly, but she would wait another time.

“You’re so rude, Erik.” Midnight’s two-toned hair glistened as he stood next to the dragon slayer. “Minerva isn’t going to take your bullshit any longer. Last time you pressed her buttons, she kicked your ass to the curb.” The members erupted into laughter and she thought on the memory fondly, it was such a good meeting. She showed his punk ass who truly was boss and she was ready to do it again.

Cobra immediately zipped his lips shut, cursing under his breath. “So what if it’s a date? My personal life does not involve you, Erik. Now shut your trap or I’ll show you the door.” She replied smoothly. Looking around, she eyed the crowd and pointed at two opposing figures -Sting and Flare.

“Get out onto the floor and show us what you’re made of.” Minerva stalked over to a makeshift throne, gracefully sitting upon it. She beckoned Lucy over, gesturing to her lap. “Come and sit.” The blonde blushed, shaking her head.

“If there’s rules here, I will oblige. I can fight instead of Sting.” Lucy wasn’t shy in her words, but there was an underlying uncertainty.

This made Minerva grin, she was just one surprise after the next. “I suppose you can, but it’s not going to be that easy. You can relax for now, Sting.”

Sabertooth’s president groaned as he stepped out of the ring, taking his side next to her. “I wanted to fight today, Minerva. You promised me, “ Sting whined. He sat on the arm of her throne, leaning against her.

“Behave yourself and you can go after Lucy.” With her toe, Minerva nudged Lucy into the circle. “There is only one rule: you must knock your competitor out with the use of magic. Whether you push them out of the circle or knock them out.” She grinned as Lucy shuffled passed the white chalked runes. Minerva didn’t give the celestial mage a chance to back out, those same runes glowing as she stepped over them. With the snap of her fingers, a cage sprouted from the ground, confining the two girls inside.

Minerva stared in awe at Lucy, her stomach turning at the thought of her pale skin being marred by the psychotic red head. Flare was a force to be reckoned with.

Lucy did not come here prepared to fight; her clothes were revealing and she didn’t even have the time to stretch! Eyeing her opponent, Flare (she believed) was dressed like her -maybe ever worse. A long red sundress covered her body, the top v-neck line showing an obscene amount of cleavage. A large tribal-like mark covered her bosom, but it was distinctly familiar to Lucy.

She knew that most of the people gathered here were juvenile delinquents of sorts. It was obvious because of her classmates Cobra and Midnight, but she didn’t have much of an idea who anyone else was. But this was the perfect spot for such shenanigans, and to think Minerva would be the head of it all.

Coming into the rundown place, she knew something was off but she didn’t expect a fight club. Out of all the possibilities, it just had to be this. She wondered what Minerva could possibly be thinking by bringing her here. But if this place had rules, it was her duty to follow them. With or without invitation, she would assimilate with this rag tag bunch. Her end goal was to become closer with Minerva and this would surely do the trick -hopefully.

Looking back, she met those alluring hazel eyes. They sparkled with a unfamiliar darkness, beckoning Lucy to step forward. Minerva crossed her leg, leaning back in her rocky chair of royalty. “She can’t save you anymore, Blondie.”

Flare shuffled across the tattered floor, crooning her head at Lucy. There was only one problem, Lucy wasn’t trained in fist fighting. She didn’t know if she could do this without her whip but she eyed the redhead anyways. “I don’t need her to save me.” As much as she tried, her words wavered. Those gathered snickered and Lucy could feel her face heat up, pulling her hand to her side.

All too familiar keys warmed against her fingers, her spirits consoling her through the metal. Before she could pull one off her ring, tendrils of red wrapped around her wrist. In one quick motion, her hand was pulled from her hip; those same locks glowing red. Her wrist flared up, burning in the wraps of hair. Lucy hollered in pain, yanking her wrist from its bindings.

A manic smile encroached on Flare’s features, daring Lucy to touch her keys once again. Her body thrashed over from one side to the next, sending more of those red strands toward her. Lucy’s heart skipped a beat as she successfully dodged the girl’s assault, pulling Virgo from her belt. “Gate of the Maid, I open thee! Virgo!”

With the queue of bells and pink mist, one of her most powerful spirits appeared. A small flick of her wrist indicated one command -distract Flare. Holding out her hand, her fleuve d'étoiles, her most powerful weapon appeared. Flailing it to the side, the tail radiated with blue magical energy. She cracked it at her opponent as accurately as possible, hoping to get her off-guard.

“If we’re starting, let me introduce you to Virgo!” Lucy exclaimed as Flare dodged her own attacks. At this point Lucy was waiting for her spirit’s own queue.

Multiple threads of hair came at her once again and she barely managed to escape from them. They kept trading attacks, blue and red crossing paths numerous times. Flare’s red eyes burned with each failed attack. “Now sit still,” hunching forward, her hair molding into a large dog, “Hair Shower: Wolf Fang!”

In an effort to block, she placed her forearms in front of her face. This did little against the force of her attack. Flare’s hair barreled into Lucy, making her skid into the white rune border. Immediately she hopped back up onto her feet, her whole body burning from the dog’s bite. “Who said that you could leave?” Those feathered fringes of red, wrapped around Lucy’s boot and pulled her deeper into the ring.

She couldn’t help but scream as her body was dragged across the rough landscape. Lucy pulled at her belt, her fingers skimming over her most reliable spirit. “Le-”

Silken strands wrapped around her mouth, smoldering her lips. Another scream ripped from her throat, Flare’s ruthlessness never ending. “I never said you could speak either. Just scream!” Her red hair pulled Lucy up, holding her up by her wrists. The color glowed brightly, the heat tearing through her smooth skin.

In desperation, Lucy bit down on her tongue as to not let another cry of pain break through. A new feeling of warmth spread over her tongue, mixed with the taste of iron. Everyone was screaming and rooting for Flare, not one call for herself. Lucy hung her head in shame, trying to pull her wrists from their entrapment.

The ground under the red head’s feet began to rumble and Lucy cheered internally. A great big hole appeared under Flare’s feet, gravity doing the rest of the work. She fell into the opening, her hairs releasing their hold on Lucy. “Now Leo!”

Her trusty lion appeared in a burst of gold, winking at Lucy. “Anything for you, princess!” Leo lunged forward, his fists glowing with the power of Regulus. As he jumped down into the hole, she feel to the ground. Her body burned from Flare’s magic, the pain making her vision blur.

Pulling herself back up to her feet, she could feel a great pull on her magic. Virgo’s gate had closed, Flare cackling from the small opening. Lucy picked her whip back up, stumbling over to the deep pit Virgo had made. Leo and Flare were dodging each others close ranged attacks.

“Lucy Kick!” The blonde dived down, feet first. Her heel connected with the back of Flare’s head, sending the girl down to the floor. Her hair spilled around her form like a puddle of blood, those tresses tangled and dirtied from their battle.

She stepped from Flare’s body, the effects of adrenaline leaving her body. Lucy felt a wave of exhaustion pass through her, leaning on the dirt wall. Leo nudged her body with his foot and gave her the thumbs up.

She acknowledged him with a small nod and looked up toward the night sky. The stars called to her and she smiled.

“The bitch down yet?” A head of yellow hair peared over the edge of the hole, his snarl revealing two rows of sharpened teeth.

“Back off, Jackal.” He was yanked back, Minerva’s face appearing instead. A proud smile lifting on her lips as her hazel eyes met her own. “You made me worried for a second. I’m glad to see you could handle yourself, Lucy.”

“You shouldn’t doubt her.” Leo chided, hefting Flare into his arms. “Although I don’t approve of this, Lucy is capable of handling herself any day.” He huffed, a film of dust covering his glasses.

Minerva eyed the spirit with much thought, those red lips falling into a scowl. “I never said I doubted her talents. She wasn’t supposed to participate anyways, lion. I’m not who you think I am.” She turned her attention from her spirit to Lucy, holding her gloved hand out to her.

Lucy could feel Minerva’s magic pour through her, graciously accepting the tiger’s hand. She failed to notice her other spirit’s gate closing. The stars had left her, eyes growing wide as her side burned. Looking down she could see crimson red locks spill through her abdomen, all of it covered in her own blood. She released Minerva’s hand, falling back into the large ditch.

“I win, Blondie.” This was the last thing she heard, Flare completely unhinged as she fell into the space of darkness.

Minerva’s reaction was instantaneous, everyone else in uproar. Her tattooed wrist flaring with a cool heat as Lucy fell, hissing in pain as magic burst from her fingers. A swirling black guise flew at Flare, truly taking the psychotic bitch down now. Deep down Minerva knew it was a bad idea to let Lucy fight.

“Sting, get down there and tend to Lucy.” Urgency was laced in her command, her throat straining against it’s leather confines. Minerva then pointed at Cobra, “You, get Flare out of here. We’ll deal with her later. And to the rest of you…” She paused and quickly contemplated the best course of action. An injury such as this had never occurred before.

“Get the hell out of here. If so much as a word about this gets out, I will come for you personally.” Minerva seethed and threw her hand out to the side. The group of shifty delinquents didn’t question her, meandering on their way out. And there was a certain injured dragon slayer, that stuck out like a sore thumb on the leaving crowd. She needed him for their trip to Lamy’s. “Everyone except for Gajeel.”

The iron dragon slayer stilled in the crowd, waiting until the rest passed by him. “Why the hell do I hafta stay? I did nothin’.”

Minerva eyed him, not amused by his small outburst. “It’s simple really. I need you to carry Lucy, we need to get her to Lamy.”

It was clear that he disagreed with her idea, it was written all over Gajeel’s face. “Isn’t there someone else we can take her to? That… girl really has a knack for grinding my gears. And she’s super fucking creepy.”

She shook her head and pointed to the massive hole. “Just do as I say. Help Sting get her stabilized and I’ll meet you at Lamy’s place.” She began to stalk off toward where Cobra had taken off with Flare. Lamy always fell for Minerva’s tricks, Sting and Gajeel would be good eye-candy for the boy thirsty doctor. The girl wouldn’t be able to resist her finest.

“Aye, where do you think you’re goin’? You can’t just leave us with this blonde bimbo.”

Lucy’s name burned and Minerva grimaced as she turned. “Dealing with Flare is my top priority at the moment. If Lucy dies or gets an infection, or some other debilitating wound because your lazy ass won’t help her, then you’re next on my list.” Gajeel gulped, fear fuming off of him. If she didn’t need him, he would be in just as much pain she was about to give Flare. “Got that, Redfox?”

Without another word, he dropped down and all she could see was the top of his head of hair. Minerva grinned at her win but the feeling didn’t last for long. Once out of the demolished parking structure, her main focus was on Cobra. Pulling out her lacrima com, she dialed the said dragon slayer.

“We got her in the back of the truck. You failed at knocking her out though.” As Minerva walked, his voice echoed through the speaker. “And right now, she’s really putting up a fight against Midnight’s magic.”

Hastily she walked through the makeshift parking lot, searching for the industrial white van. “It wasn’t my intention to knock her out. That bitch needed to be put down until I got to her. Now make sure Midnight keeps his hold until I get there.” Minerva scoffed and ended the call.

A yellow light was timidly shining on the dirt lot, white doors open wide. Positioning herself right in front of those same doors, her hands were consumed with her own magic. “Release her, Midnight.”

Midnight withdrew a relieved sigh and stepped out of the truck, Cobra following in suit. An ear piercing scream shattered what little patience she had left. Minerva was really going to enjoy teaching Flare a small lesson. The red head curled into the back of the van, attempting to hide from Minerva. How silly.

Manipulating the space around Flare, Minerva restrained all of her limbs. A purplish grow radiating off her body as she held the hair mage. “Did you really think you could get away with it? Lucy is mine, not yours.” She seethed, her emotions strangling her thoughts.

Flare cackled, insanity covering her features. “That tramp couldn’t win. Her porcelain skin just had to break. At least the red will compliment her outfit.”

Midnight and Cobra stood with their arms crossed, not once flinching as she began to torture Flare. Her stomach was reeling with anger, pushing it all into her magic. They made absolutely no move to stop her, only stood as watch for the law. Minerva was merciless as her magic dripped from her, making sure Flare felt the burn with every attack.

It felt like ages had passed when she was done with Flare but it had only been five minutes. Five minutes of piercing shrieks and cries of pain. And she did all of it with a smirk on her face, it was a joy to utilize her powers for revenge. If this had happened to anyone else, she knew that it would have been handled differently. But no one was allowed to lay a hand of ill intent on Lucy except for her.

Flare’s injuries didn’t compare to the blonde’s but she left the woman sitting in the back of the truck. Grabbing ahold of the two steel doors, she slammed them shut. “I think red look best suited on her right now. Take her to the doors of Raven Tail and drop her off. If she makes contact with anyone here, let me know Cobra. As far as I’m concerned, she is a traitor.”

Cobra grumbled and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Whatever you say, Minerva. Make sure not to dwell on your thoughts too much, they’re dangerous.” He stalked off to the driver’s door and Midnight hopped into the passenger seat.

Shit, Minerva thought. Cobra had just heard every single thing. “Damn right I did.” Cobra yelled as he pulled off.

She hoped he wouldn’t use this information as leverage. Cobra wasn’t the type to meddle in others business, but if he tried to pull anything, he knew she would be on it in a minute.

Walking back to her motorcycle, not one vehicle inhabited the lot. She was impressed by the clear time of everyone, it left her impressed. Her little band of misfits really knew when to listen. Speeding down the dark hill, she took many side roads to Lamy’s shifty clinic. It was after curfew and she couldn’t risk being caught. It would be harder to get things done if she had a run in with the cops.

Minerva cam skidding to a halt in a dark alleyway, knocking on rust-encrusted door. The door squeaked open, a small girl stepping through. “Why can’t I ever be left alone with such lovely boys?”

She could feel her eyes roll into the back of her head, Lamy was the same as ever. “Shut up, will you? Did you manage to get her stable?”

Lamy began her unusual hyperventilating as she led the way through her so-called clinic. The lights were flickering and there was absolutely no sense of organization. The place looked like a rat’s nest, hospital beds strewn about, medical supplies placed were placed in mindless spots, and nothing looked sterile. But it was Minerva’s only option for now.

“I wouldn’t have come to the door if she wasn’t. But you two girls need to leave.” She pulled back a worn and stained curtain, revealing Lucy.

She was lain on a dusty bed, only two bags attached to her. Her wrists and ankles were wrapped, along with her torso. Blood seeped through the bandages wrapped around her midsection, and Minerva frowned.

“I’m gay for christ’s sake. My presence, and Lucy’s do not hinder you from ‘your boys’. Now what’s the final verdict?” A small sigh of frustration came from her as she sat at Lucy’s bed side.

Lamy wheezed and picked up a small clipboard. “She received second and third degree burns on her wrists and ankles. But what we need to worry about it the gaping hole in her stomach.” She tapped the board apprehensively, observing Lucy’s monitor. “Those burns will be easy to heal, but her abdomen will be harder to fix. I can’t do that over night.”

“You mean you can’t be bothered with it.” Minerva snapped, tired with the demon already.

Lamy frowned and spoke quickly, “She’s not really my problem, is she? I don’t see why I have to fix someone who’s already so… pretty.”

Minerva huffed and stood, grabbing the clipboard from the small girl. “If you’re not going to do it, I will. Sting and Gajeel will have no part in it either.” She had Lamy on a string, the girl’s eyes widening with deprivation.

“No, no. I’ll start the preparations now. As long as those boys help me, everything will be done. And this busty blonde will be patched up as good a new. Not one blemish or scar, I swear.” Lamy’s words were rushed, she never wanted to lose the attention of a male.

Pushing the board back into Lamy’s hands, she nodded. “That’s what I thought. Now hurry up, I need to have her back before dawn.”

“Sting! Gajeel! Hurry up and get this bimbo to cylinder one!” Lamy ran from the room, leaving Minerva alone with Lucy.

Once again, she settled at her bedside. Minerva eyed her surroundings before taking Lucy’s hand in her own, sighing in relief as that small twinge of magic jumped between them. She opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it closed. Lucy was unconscious and no one else was there to listen to her.

Her golden hair laid flat against the white pillow, not one person bothering to pull the covers up over her. Leaning down, Minerva fixed it; laying the strachy sheets over her frame. She even went as far to tuck her in, a small smile dotting her lips. Timidly she pet the hairs on Lucy’s forehead, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear.

“You did so well today, Lucy. You fought with spirit and wit, trumping Flare’s laughable tactics.” Picking up the unconscious girl’s hand, she peppered it with a small kiss.

“Yeah, we’ll get her. Calm the fuck down, bunny girl.” Gajeel obnoxiously clambered into the room, trying to shoo Lamy off. Minerva quickly dropped Lucy’s hand and stood, looking right at the pierced male.

Lamy paraded around him, practically worshipping his every move. “But just let me,” she wheezed, Lamy’s breath hitching, “observe those muscles as you work. It will give me some research material.”

Gajeel’s patience was completely absent as he pushed the small girl out of the way. “Observe this then.”

“Be nice, Gajeel. To Lamy and Lucy, I don’t want to fix anyone else up today.” Smoothing her hands onto her suit, she stood up. Gajeel scoffed and pulled the bed Lucy was in, pushing her out the door.

“Yeah, yeah. No way am I gonna fuck with you, but you should get this demon off my ass.” At his words, Lamy began to maniacally giggle. Minerva felt some guilt, but this situation was also too funny at the same time.

“I’m going to take a walk instead.” Minerva gave Gajeel a pitiful pat on the back as she left the room. “I’ll be back before the night is over.”

She took one last look at Lucy, her wrist pulsating with and unknown flame of desire. She ignored it and exited into the back alley of Lamy’s shit-hole of a clinic.

Her motorcycle was nowhere in sight, the night enshrouding it. Yet she could hear the engine of her bike purr. “Nice bike.”

“Nice to see you’ve finally found us, Gary. Oops, I mean Gray.” Minerva grinned, feigning a small apologetic smile. The lights of her bike flickered on, covering Minerva in a blinding white film.

This weekend didn’t look to be getting any better at this point.

14 notes · View notes