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ggukvnly · 6 days ago

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Silent Walls║Chapter 1

The late afternoon sun dipped low behind the skyline of Seoul, spilling warm golden light across the pavement and casting long shadows from the apartment buildings lined up in organized, glassy perfection. Your taxi pulled up to a quiet, modern complex in the heart of Mapo District — a place buzzing with life but tucked far enough from the chaos to feel like its own little world.

You pressed your forehead lightly to the window as the car rolled to a stop, staring at the new place you were about to call home. Four floors, neat balconies, minimalist design. A small garden wrapped around the front, where a few azaleas still bloomed despite the approaching shift of seasons.

You exhaled a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"Here we are, miss," the driver said, hopping out to help you unload.

"Thank you," you replied, voice a little breathy as nerves and excitement tangled in your chest.

The crisp city air greeted you with the scent of freshly baked pastries from the café across the street, mixed with autumn's fading warmth. As you glanced up at the windows, a thrill ran down your spine. This wasn't just a new city. It wasn't just a job.

It was your new life.

Stepping inside, you took a slow turn around your new apartment. It was small but bright, a neat rectangle of clean white walls and warm wood floors. The kitchen sat to one side, compact but inviting — a window above the sink that caught the last golden light, where you imagined placing pots of fresh herbs someday. A tiny dining nook stood by the living room window, just enough for a small table and two chairs.

The bathroom was simple but clean, with soft cream tiles that made it feel warm instead of cold. And your bedroom — the smallest room — had a cozy window seat where you pictured yourself curled up with a book on rainy days.

You pressed your palm to the cool wood of the kitchen counter, feeling a sudden rush of comfort.

Busan had been your home for twenty-five years. The sea breeze that ruffled your hair, your mother's laugh in the kitchen as you baked together, the streets you walked every day — all memories now packed away, folded gently into your heart as you stepped into this fresh space.

Your phone buzzed softly.

Mom <3: Are you there? Did you eat?

You smiled, fingers sliding to your bag to reply.

You: Just moved in! The apartment's cozy. I'll eat soon, don't worry 💗

Mom <3: We're proud of you. Busan already feels a little emptier without you.

You blinked back a smile and let the warmth of her words settle around you.

⸻

You opened the first box — kitchenware, neatly wrapped in newspaper. You set out a few plates and a ceramic bowl your mother had given you, already imagining the smell of baking bread filling this space one day. Cooking was your passion, a language you and your mom spoke fluently together, a string tying you back to those quiet afternoons in your childhood home.

Next, you turned to your art supplies. A smaller box held your leather-bound journal, its cover worn soft from years of handling. You slid it gently onto the windowsill, where the light pooled, feeling a quiet pride swell in your chest.

Reaching deeper, your fingers brushed a small photo frame. You lifted it, blinking softly at the image inside — you and Jae, caught in a casual moment beneath a streetlamp, his smile easy, your laughter frozen in time. You remembered how those months had felt — gentle, kind, uncomplicated.

No heavy feelings. Just a simple, quiet memory.

You set the frame next to your journal, letting that piece of your past settle into this new chapter.

In another box, you found a small plush toy — a soft, threadbare bear your grandmother had given you years ago. You traced its worn stitches with your finger and set it carefully on your bed. A small comfort, a reminder of love stretching across the miles.

Hours passed without you noticing.

Night slipped quietly in while you unpacked the last of your essentials.

Finally, you stepped into the bathroom and let the warm water wash over you, shaking off the day's exhaustion. Standing before the mirror, you looked yourself over — your dark hair pulled back, soft eyes, a gentle determination shining in your reflection. You weren't a model or a star, but you were beautiful in your own way. And for the first time in a long while, you felt ready.

Back in your room, you slipped into a soft sweater and jeans. You unwrapped a small box your mom had sent — cookies and a note reminding you to eat well. The familiar sweetness was grounding, a small piece of home wrapped in every bite.

You finished your skincare, the routine soothing in its simplicity. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you gazed out the window at the city lights blinking softly in the dark.

Your things weren't fully unpacked. You still had a couple of boxes waiting for the moving service to deliver, but the essentials were in place. You had two days before your first day at Ethereal — a fresh start, a new life.

Now, you thought about greeting the neighbors. It would be polite to introduce yourself soon, but the night had already deepened around the city. Tomorrow would be better — you'd meet them then.

⸻

You took a deep breath, nervously adjusting the plastic container in your hands — homemade Busan-style eomuk-tang your mother had lovingly packed and shipped ahead, just so you'd have something warm to share. It was a small gesture of courtesy — greeting neighbors on your first day — but the hour had grown too late yesterday. Now, with sunlight pouring softly over the corridor and a clean, breezy Sunday mood hanging in the air, it felt just right.

You walked to the door on your right, the one with a tiny potted cactus sitting beside the shoe rack. With one more deep breath, you knocked.

The door opened moments later, revealing a woman with shoulder-length black hair curled at the ends, eyes shaped like half-moons, and a warm, curious smile. She wore a loose graphic t-shirt tucked into wide-leg jeans and held a half-eaten popsicle in one hand.

"Hi!" she blinked. "You must be the new neighbor."

You nodded, smiling. "Yeah! I just moved in yesterday. I brought this—some eomuk-tang. It's a Busan thing, kind of a peace offering."

"Ooh," her eyes widened. "I love Busan food. Thank you! Come in, come in."

You stepped inside. Her apartment felt like a mirror version of yours but somehow already lived-in. A record player spun quietly in the corner, mismatched cushions littered the couch, and sunlight streaked across stacks of design magazines on the table.

"I'm Nari, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Nari. I'm Y/N."

"So what brings you to this crazy city?" she asked, handing you a bottle of peach soda from her fridge and plopping onto the couch.

You shrugged, grinning. "Got a job offer at a fashion company—Ethereal. I start Monday."

Nari's eyes lit up like she'd just heard you say you were secretly royalty. "No way. Shut up. I work there too!"

"Seriously?"

"Yep. I'm a senior designer."

"No way." You laughed, already feeling the ice melt between you.

"Welcome to the circus," she grinned. "Ethereal's chaotic but creative as hell. It's one of the fastest-growing indie fashion labels in Seoul — edgy, clean lines, but full of personality. You'll fit right in."

You exchanged numbers in between sips of soda, and somehow, the conversation just... flowed.

Nari, it turned out, had been living in Seoul for nearly seven years. Originally from Jeju, she'd moved here after college and had been at Ethereal for almost three years. You were surprised to learn that she wasn't much older — maybe just by a year or two — and yet she had the relaxed confidence of someone who knew the city like the back of her hand.

She told you which coffee shop had the best honeycomb lattes, which convenience store carried the good ramen, and how to avoid the morning rush on the metro. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this at ease with someone so quickly.

You paused between the laughs, setting your soda down on her coffee table. "So... what about the neighbor on the other side?

Nari's eyes lit up with unmistakable mischief.

"Oh, him?"

⸻

After parting ways with Nari — cheeks sore from laughing and warmth blooming from the unexpected bond — you remembered one last neighborly duty.

As you stepped toward the next door, her words played back in your head:

"Oh, him?"

She had smirked, already unwrapping a chocolate bar. "Jeon Jungkook. He's a hot meal package."

You choked on your drink. "What?"

Architect. Does his own thing. Some crazy high-end firm downtown. Dead serious. Ridiculously hot. Like, bad-boy architect from a drama kind of hot. But..." she leaned in with a smirk, "he's kind of mysterious. Doesn't talk much. He moved in about seven months ago. I tried making small talk once, but he keeps it polite and distant."

You'd both laughed then, but now... now that laugh was starting to dry out in your throat.

Because here you were.

In front of the very door Nari had pointed at with that teasing look in her eyes.

With a container of warm Busan-style eomuk-tang in your hands and a polite smile you were trying to hold in place.

You knocked.

Once. Twice.

The lock clicked. The door opened.

And the world. Just. Tilted.

You'd seen attractive people before — Seoul was full of them.

But this man?

Holy shit!

He was on a whole different plane of existence.

He stood tall, body built like a secret weapon. Broad shoulders that narrowed down to a trim, sculpted waist. His black t-shirt clung to every inch of him like it wanted to be there — stretched tight across his chest and abs, outlining muscle so sharp it looked unreal. Those abs? Rock-solid and defined beneath the fabric, like they'd been carved, not grown. Every breath he took made the shirt shift slightly, teasing the strength underneath.

His arms were a masterpiece of power and ink — veins tracing over taut skin, the muscle lean and purposeful. Not bulky, but strong in the way that made you wonder what it would feel like to be held. Tattoos curled around his arms in black and gray, an entire story etched into him in silence. The kind of art you'd want to trace with your fingertips — slowly.

His skin glowed with that signature honey-gold tone, smooth and warm, making everything he wore look expensive. His hair was a mess of dark waves, tousled like he'd just rolled out of bed — and somehow looked better for it. Effortless. Infuriating. Perfect.

And then there was his face — and God, his face. Jawline sharp enough to cut glass, cheekbones high and clean, lips full and plush, naturally parted just enough to make your mind go places it shouldn't. His nose was strong, perfectly sculpted — a little rough around the edges, just like him.

But his eyes. His eyes were a whole other danger. Deep, dark, heavy-lidded.

They didn't just see you. They searched you. Quiet. Intense. Unreadable.

Jeon Jungkook wasn't just hot. He was devastating. The kind of beautiful that made your lungs forget how to work, and your brain forget every reason why you shouldn't be staring.

You forgot how to breathe.

This was not fair.

You'd come here to say hi, not to be annihilated by a jawline.

Still — somehow — you held up the container in your shaking hands and forced out a smile. "Hi. Um. Sorry to bother you. I just moved in next door and thought I'd say hello. I brought this—eomuk-tang. It's, um, a Busan thing."

His gaze didn't waver. He looked at the container, then back at you. His face stayed unreadable, as if he were running some internal calculation. Then, wordlessly, he reached out and took it from your hands.

"...Thanks," he said. Deep voice. Monotone. No warmth. Just... that low, husky register that hit somewhere behind your ribs.

You cleared your throat, suddenly all too aware of your own heartbeat.

"I'm Y/N. By the way."

He nodded once. "Jungkook."

Short. Cool. No follow-up. No "Nice to meet you," no "Welcome to the building." Just his name — a full stop in one word.

You awkwardly smiled. "Okay. Well... enjoy the soup. I'll, uh, let you get back to it."

He nodded again.

And just like that, he stepped back.

The door shut gently.

And you were left standing in the hallway, holding absolutely nothing except the haunting image of the most attractive man you'd ever seen.

You didn't even like black t-shirts.

But now you understood why Nari looked like she was always seconds away from sin when she talked about him.

Holy hell.

You exhaled slowly, turned back toward your apartment, and whispered to yourself:

"...Yeah. She wasn't kidding."

⸻

Jungkook rarely let himself unravel, but tonight was different. It was Saturday. No work the next day. No commitments. Just the chasm of memories he could no longer escape.

The music in the club was deafening, the bass thudding like a heartbeat on overdrive. People moved like shadows around him, laughing, drinking, flirting. And there he was—half-drunk, half-numb, all broken.

Taehyung had noticed the signs first, nudging Jimin with a knowing glance. Jungkook's hand hadn't left his glass since they got here. Drink after drink, like he was trying to drown something so deeply buried, even the alcohol would hesitate to touch it.

"You okay, man?" Taehyung leaned in, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Jungkook barely registered the touch. His eyes were distant, jaw clenched. "Yeah. Just needed this."

He didn't say why. He never did. But they knew.

Her laugh.

That laugh.

It rang in his ears like a ghost, soft and bright, nestled somewhere in the sheets of his memory. She was lying on her stomach, chin resting on her folded arms, bare shoulders peeking out from the duvet. Sunlight had painted her skin gold, and her eyes sparkled when she looked at him.

"So... five years from now, where do you see us?" she asked, playfully.

Jungkook chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "Here. Same bed. Same sunlight. Just... more wrinkles maybe."

She giggled. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips—slow and tender. "And maybe a dog?" he added against her mouth. "You love dogs."

She kissed him like every second without him had been unbearable, like she was trying to pour every unspoken word into the space between their lips. He responded just as fiercely, his hands gentle but firm, anchoring her to him like she was the only thing that made sense in the chaos of the world. When she finally pulled back, breathless, her forehead resting against his, she whispered it like a vow.

"I love you so much, Kook. I can't even picture my life without you in it."

His eyes stayed on hers, unwavering, honest. He brought her hand up and kissed her knuckles, slow — one by one, like they were sacred.

"You mean more to me than anything. You're the love of my life."

Then he kissed her again — deeper, fiercer. Like she was a promise he'd never dare to break.

But that moment shattered like glass behind his eyes.

Back in the club, his throat burned—not from the liquor, but from the ache that swelled with that memory. He gripped the rim of his glass tighter, knuckles white.

More shots. More silence. More distance.

⸻

Taehyung and Jimin had to practically drag him back home. He didn't argue. He didn't speak. His eyes were hollow.

"Dude, sleep it off," Jimin muttered, helping him to his bed. "It's Sunday tomorrow. You'll be fine."

Jungkook didn't respond. He just stared at the ceiling, replaying the past over and over until his vision blurred and sleep dragged him under.

Jungkook's POV

The sunlight slicing through the curtains wasn't gentle. It was harsh—too damn sharp—driving straight through my skull like a blade. I groaned, dragging the pillow over my face, but it didn't help. My head was splitting open.

"Damn it," I muttered, voice hoarse. I hated this. The weakness. The vulnerability. I never let myself fall this far unless something inside me had already cracked.

At least it was Sunday.

If it were Monday, I wouldn't have touched a single drop. I had rules. Boundaries. Last night crossed them.

I sat up, scrubbing a hand over my face, then through my hair. Everything ached. I forced my legs over the edge of the bed and pushed myself up, dragging my feet toward the bathroom.

Cold water. I needed cold water.

I splashed it over my face, again and again, until I could open my eyes without wincing. My reflection looked like shit—eyes heavy, jaw tense, expression blank.

I changed into my gym gear by noon. Black tank. Joggers. Didn't matter that my body felt like concrete—I needed to move. To train. That discipline ran deeper than the ache.

Always did.

The gym was quieter than usual. A few familiar faces. No one I cared to acknowledge. I didn't come here for that. I came to forget.

Every rep burned. Every second on the treadmill felt like punishment. I wanted it to hurt. Needed it. My muscles screamed, lungs tightened, sweat poured—but I didn't stop.

I couldn't stop.

Push harder. Breathe. Don't think. Forget.

When I finally walked out into the apartment , my body was wrecked—but my mind... quieter. Not better. Just silent. And silence was all I could ask for lately. I stripped the soaked clothes off and hit the shower. Let the water scald. Let it sting. Maybe it would burn the rest of her out of me.

It didn't.

It never did.

I got out, towel-dried just enough, and pulled on a black T-shirt & grey sweatpants .

And then—

Knock. Knock.

Once. Twice.

The lock clicked, and I opened it.

Standing there was a woman—probably the new neighbor the building manager had mentioned earlier.

She froze the moment she saw me. That brief hesitation—eyes quickly scanning me up and down—was hardly unusual. Women did that all the time. I knew I was attractive; it wasn't something I ever denied. They noticed, they watched, they tried to get my attention. It happened constantly. So her reaction wasn't surprising.

Her hair was dark, falling softly around her face. She wore a simple, neat sweater—nothing flashy, but it suited her.

In that moment, I registered that she was attractive. Pretty, even. Maybe more so than most. But it was just a glance. Nothing more.

"Hi. Um. Sorry to bother you. I just moved in next door and thought I'd say hello. I brought this—eomuk-tang. It's, um, a Busan thing."

I took the container from her hands.

"...Thanks," I said, my voice low and flat.

She cleared her throat, clearly nervous.

"I'm Y/N. By the way."

I nodded once.

"Jungkook."

Short. Direct. No extra words.

She gave a small, awkward smile.

"Okay. Well... enjoy the soup. I'll, uh, let you get back to it."

I stepped back, closing the door gently behind her.

She left quietly, and I stood there for a moment before turning away.

I placed it on the kitchen counter.

My phone buzzed. Jimin.

You alive, man?

Another one popped up. Taehyung.

Come out. We're not taking no for an answer.

I stared at the screen for a second before typing back.

Fine.

The three of us ended up at the bowling alley down by the river. Our usual spot when things got too loud in our heads. Laughed more than I expected to. Let myself breathe a little. Not enough. But a little.

Later, a quiet restaurant. Taehyung wouldn't shut up about the waiter's hair. Jimin kept trying to steal my fries.

It felt normal. Almost.

Almost.

When I got home, it was late. Everything was still dark. Showered. Took my time with it. Let the heat work through the muscle tension.

Slipped into a clean shirt, padded barefoot into the kitchen.

The container was still there. Untouched.

Forgotten.

Leaned back against the counter and stared at it for a second.

She looked nervous. Earlier, at the door. Not in a bad way — more like... caught off guard.

Eyes had flicked over me, like she hadn't meant to.

Not unusual.

That part never is.

Women always look. Always try. I'm used to it. Used to the attention.

She was attractive, though. No doubt about that. Pretty eyes. Long hair — dark, soft-looking. Clothes casual but clean.

She didn't try too hard. Didn't need to.

I sighed, pulled the lid off the container, and stared at the steam. Work tomorrow. Big client pitch. Should sleep.

But my brain wasn't letting me.

Sometimes, when the noise dies down and everything goes still, I hear them again.

Jimin's quiet voice, careful like he's afraid I'll break. Taehyung's not-so-subtle sighs, full of words he's tired of repeating. They never say it directly anymore, but I know. They're worried. They've been worried. Told me I should try. Let someone new in. That maybe, just maybe, it'd help loosen the grip she still has on me. I listened. Once. Met someone. Tried to let them past the wall.

It didn't work.

It felt like pretending to breathe underwater—foreign, wrong. She wasn't her. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't force the pull that never came. So I stopped trying. They still hope. But I know better.

Slid down into the barstool by the counter, chopsticks in hand. Might as well eat. Didn't want to waste it.

The soup was... warm. Savory.

Tasted like effort.

Didn't know what that meant exactly. But it tasted like effort.

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melshifting · 3 months ago

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❝ Y2K PRINCESS ❞ ― 2000s Icon Scripting Pack

↳ ꒰#01 ꒱ ～ You have a talent for making cheap things feel expensive. A thrifted top that looks like designer, drugstore gloss that feels like luxury; It’s never about the price tag—it’s about how you carry it.

↳ ꒰#02 ꒱ ～ Strangers wonder if they know you; you look like someone from a music video, someone they saw in a glossy magazine ad. They can’t shake the feeling that you belong where they wish they could be.

↳ ꒰#03 ꒱ ～ You have a habit of fixing your lip gloss in the reflection of anything but a mirror—your phone screen, a shop window. People catch you doing it and, for some reason, they find it impossibly charming.

↳ ꒰#04 ꒱ ～ You own things that feel impossible to find — a lip gloss from years ago that still smells perfect, a vintage bag in pristine condition, a perfume no one else seems to have.

↳ ꒰#05 ꒱ ～ You make people second-guess their own outfits, as if they’re underdressed just by being in the same space as you.

↳ ꒰#06 ꒱ ～ You have an almost psychic ability to find the best item in any store—your shopping radar is impeccable.

↳ ꒰#07 ꒱ ～ You have the kind of hair people want to touch. Soft, glossy, always looking like you just walked off a music video set.

↳ ꒰#08 ꒱ ～ You can do a full beauty touch-up using just a compact mirror and what’s in your bag. No bathroom stop needed. A quick reapplication, and suddenly, you look refreshed.

↳ ꒰#09 ꒱ ～ Your outfits always have one tiny unexpected detail. A bow on your tank top strap, a rhinestone on your laces, a thin silver anklet—it’s the little things that make people double-take.

↳ ꒰#10 ꒱ ～ You always smell like something expensive but refreshing; even your sweat smells like luxury.

↳ ꒰#11 ꒱ ～ Even if they’ve only met you once, people talk about you like royalty: “I met her only once, and she was unreal.”

↳ ꒰#12 ꒱ ～ There’s always a hint of glitter somewhere on you. It’s never obvious, but it lingers. People swear you glow, even when there’s no logical reason for it.

↳ ꒰#13 ꒱ ～ People say, “Ugh, I wish I was her” under their breath when they see you, without even meaning to.

#shifting community #shifters #shifting diary #reality shifter #shiftblr #desired reality #shifttok #kpop shifting #reality shifting #desired self #desired realities #realityshifting #shifting realities #shifting reality #bts shifting #shifting antis dni #manifesation #loa tumblr

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theshiniestgemstone · 1 month ago

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the prayer pod's double purpose- fem!reader x gideon gemstone

warnings: smut, p in v, minors dni

“Gideon, slow down, please,” you giggled, stumbling slightly as you tried to keep pace with him. The concrete floor of the warehouse echoed with your footsteps, and the scent of cardboard and plastic wrap filled the air.

He stopped abruptly, spinning around to catch you. Before you could even get your balance, his hands were on your waist, his mouth covering yours in a hungry, breathless kiss. He pulled back just enough to whisper, “Can’t wait, baby.”

His fingers squeezed your hip, dragging you backwards until your spine met a pallet of boxes stacked high with overpriced gift shop merchandise. You barely had time to register the cold press of the shrink-wrapped cardboard before his hands were back on your skin, greedy and firm.

All day, he'd been simmering just under the surface. Watching you from across the breakfast table, dragging his eyes over the low cut of your sundress like he could burn it off with just a look. During the car ride, his fingers lingered too long on your bare thigh. He whispered promises behind your ear while helping you into your jacket, eyes lit with something darker, needier.

You'd barely made it out of the house this morning. He had you pressed up against the bathroom counter before you could even put your earrings on. It took everything in you to peel him off, laughing and flushed, reminding him that you had to leave. That people were waiting.

But now? Now the two of you were alone, ducked between towering shelves of branded water bottles and t-shirts.

Gideon’s fingers slid along the hem of your dress, teasing higher. “You knew what you were doing when you put this on,” he said lowly, grinning as he mouthed along your neck. “You wore this just to torture me.”

You gasped when his lips found that sweet spot under your ear, your back arching instinctively. “You’re insane.”

He chuckled, hands exploring now with full intention. “For you? Always.”

You clutched the collar of his shirt, lips meeting his again, this time slower, deeper, your whole body giving in to the tension that had been building since sunrise. The world outside disappeared, muffled by boxes and adrenaline and the ache of wanting someone so badly it made your knees shake.

Gideon took your hand and pulled you deeper into the warehouse, weaving between shelves of folded towels and half-unpacked boxes of sun hats. That’s when he spotted them.

Tucked away in a quiet corner, half-covered in plastic, were three glossy white "Prayer Pods". The compact, egg-shaped booths designed for silent meditation. Or at least, that was the intention.

He looked back at you with a slow, mischievous grin. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

You stared at the pods. Your brows lifted. “Absolutely not.”

"Like we're the only ones to think of this."

But he was already pulling you toward the middle one, gently tugging aside the plastic wrap with the same reverence someone might unwrap a present on Christmas morning. He popped the hatch open, peeking inside. “Cushioned bench. Door that shuts. Mostly soundproof,” he added, knocking on the side. “Praise God.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him inside anyway, breath catching as he pulled the door shut behind you.

It was a snug fit, your knees pressed against his as you both adjusted on the bench. “You’re impossible,” you whispered, already breathless.

“And you're irresistible,” he shot back, cupping your face as his lips found yours again.

The kiss deepened in seconds. Hot, hungry, like it had been simmering all day. His hands slid down, gripping your thighs and pulling you closer, guiding you to lean down. The hem of your sundress bunched around your hips, and he groaned softly when his hands slipped beneath it, finding soft skin and thin fabric. His fingers circled your clit a few times. You gasped into his mouth as he hooked your panties and slowly, teasingly slid them down your legs. The fabric stretched, then gave way, pooling at your knees. He didn’t stop kissing you for a second, mouth trailing down your jaw, tasting your skin like he was starved. He helped you straddle him,

“Still think this was a bad idea?” he murmured, voice husky as he shifted beneath you.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you guided him closer, one hand braced on his shoulder as your body welcomed his, every inch of him filling you like he was meant to live there.

Your breath hitched as you sank down into his lap, hips trembling with the stretch. He cradled your hips, eyes squeezed shut, groaning quietly into your neck. The pod rocked ever so slightly.

You both stilled.

“...We gotta be quiet,” you warned, trying not to laugh through the haze of pleasure.

He opened his eyes, pupils dark with heat. “Then stop makin’ those sounds, baby.”

You rocked your hips, adjusting your knees on either side of him. Gideon's head fell back in a groan, holding your dress up just enough to be able to see your bodies connected. He choked on a sound halfway between a moan and a gasp, his eyes fluttering shut as your pace quickened. One of his hands came up to pull your dress down, revealing that you hadn't worn a bra. Your tits bounced with each roll of your hips, the movement hypnotic, testing every last nerve of his self-control.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, thrusting up into you, voice low and wrecked as he gripped your hips tighter, guiding your movements with a desperation that had been brewing all day.

You bit your lip to stifle the gasp threatening to rise. The narrow pod echoed every breath, every creak of the seat beneath you, amplifying the heat between your bodies. His eyes flicked open, dazed and wild, locked on your face like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth.

He leaned forward to kiss you again, deep and desperate, like you'd float away if he didn't. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to earn a groan from his throat. The pace between you was quickening, syncopated with breathless kisses and stuttered praise. He kissed down your chest, just once, before resting his forehead against your sternum, breath shaky.

“Can’t believe you wore this dress out the house,” he muttered, voice muffled against your skin. “You knew what you were doing.”

You whined. "Yeah. I did," you admitted. "Just thought the game would last longer."

Gideon huffed out a breathless laugh, his fingers digging into your hips. “Baby,” he groaned, like the word alone could hold back the avalanche of feeling threatening to overtake him.

"Give it to me, Gid," you breathed into his scalp. "Need you to fill me up so bad."

His hips jerked up in response, and the prayer pod creaked softly around you, your shared rhythm starting to break under the weight of how badly he needed you. His hand slid up your spine, grounding, reverent. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," you whined. You pulled back just far enough to see him, his flushed cheeks and the unsteady way his eyes flicked between your face and where you were still moving together, slow and sinful. "Want you drippin' outta me, baby."

Gideon’s breath caught in his throat. His grip on your hips faltered just a second before he surged up into you, burying his face in your chest with a groan so guttural it rattled through both of you.

“Jesus,” he muttered, lips brushing your skin like a prayer, “you can’t just say shit like that.”

You laughed, breath shaky, tightening around him in response. “Why not?” you teased, fingers threading back into his hair. “It’s true.”

He pulled back to look at you, eyes dark, heavy with heat and awe. “You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, like it was the best way to go.

You rocked your hips again and felt him twitch inside you.

“I better,” you smirked.

That pushed him over the edge.

His pace stuttered, hands clutching you tighter, and his eyes snapped shut as he groaned your name into the space between your breasts. He spilled into you with a final desperate thrust, hips twitching as he rode it out, muttering broken praise against your skin.

When you finally stilled, both of you shaking, breathless, clinging to each other in the cramped, holy heat of the pod, he chuckled weakly.

"Now, imagine one of these in every shopping mall," Jesse's voice boomed, getting closer with each step.

Your heart jumped into your throat. Gideon's eyes widened, panic written all over his face as Jesse's footsteps got louder, his voice echoing through the warehouse.

“Think about it, y’all! Prayer pods right between Auntie Anne’s and the Build-A-Bear! You feel the Lord, and you get a pretzel-"

Gideon shoved your panties into his pocket without thinking and grabbed your waist to help you off his lap, steadying you as silently as possible. Your knees wobbled, thighs still trembling. He reached for your dress, trying to pull it down while you shoved your chest back into place. He stopped the door from sliding open just as Jesse tried to open it.

"Dad," he breathed, defeated. "Please, do not open this door."

There was a beat of silence on the other side of the door.

“…Gideon?” Jesse asked, confused. “What in the everlovin’ fuck? Are you-"

Gideon let his forehead thud softly against the wall. “Yes, sir.”

“With someone?” Jesse’s voice pitched up, scandal and glee bubbling under the surface.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from making a sound, cheeks burning, still halfway tangled in Gideon's lap and wrinkled Sunday dress. You felt tears of embarrassment forming. Gideon ran a hand soothingly over your arm.

"Yes," he admitted. "I’m begging you not to open this door. Please."

From outside, you heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by Jesse muttering to himself, voice fading away. “Whatever. Wipe down the bench and- this is the last time I ever try to come up with something."

#gideon gemstone #gideon gemstone x you #the righteous gemstone #gideon gemstone x reader #gideon gemstone x fem reader #the righteous gemstones #gideon gemstone fanfic #fanfic

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bellavitasims · 3 months ago

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943 Arbutus Rd | Quiet modernism | By BellavitaSims

🖤Special thanks to everyone who requested a modern family home with a smaller footprint but a full set of rooms — this one’s for you.

This build is a 40x30 modern family home featuring 4 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms, thoughtfully designed to feel open yet cozy. A compact layout that still offers everything your Sims need — calm, comfort, and clean modern design 🤍

📁DOWNLOAD HERE [PATREON: BellavitaSims]

If you like my content, please consider supporting me on Patreon.

💟All files are well-organized - just click and install. I release new builds and CC regularly, and you’re always welcome to suggest the types of homes you’d like to see next!

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mrld-wtch · 11 months ago

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Colorful mid-century home

Get ready to fall in love with this vibrant mid century home! This cozy 1 bed, 1 bath abode is designed for a romantic sim with a flair for the bright and beautiful.

Unwind by the heart-shaped pool, enjoy a lazy breakfast in the shaded backyard, or tend to your garden while waiting for your next hot date. Despite its compact size, this home packs a punch with a walk-in closet, cozy bathroom, living room, dining room, and even a garage!

Soak up the sunbeams streaming through the large windows and make this colorful retreat your sim's happy place.

General info:

• No CC • Residential • 1 Bed, 1 Bath • 30x20, Oasis Springs • Playtested • Requires almost all currently available packs

Download:

Gallery ID: Emerald_D6wn Tray files: (Boosty, FREE)

@publicvanillabuilds @vanillafinds @s4realtor @maxismatchccworld @emilyccfinds thank you for sharing! ♡

#sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 build #oasis springs #show us your builds #no cc lot #no cc build #ts4 lot #ts4 simblr #sims 4 no cc #sims 4 build #sims 4 lot #the sims 4 lots #s4 download #s4 build #s4 lot

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yoonkinii · 1 year ago

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First date with Sukuna!

Warning(s): Minor cursing. Requests open (only for this AU) Masterlist (Check for more AU content!) Note: I apologize for any errors in my writing. I am the only one writing and editing so I may miss a few things that don't belong. Please let me know if you spot any. <3

“You’ve been staring at your phone for like 20 minutes, just text him already.”

Shoko remarked from your bed, flipping through a fashion magazine she found lying around. She had come over for a study session, but it quickly turned into you telling her about getting Sukuna’s number and having no idea how to proceed.

“I can’t.” You whine, cheek pressed against the surface of your low living room table.

Your studio apartment, though compact, was efficiently designed. The entryway doubled as storage, with hidden closets lining the walls and a discreet door on the left revealing the bathroom. The entry all opened into the main living area, where the lines between living room, bedroom, and dining area blurred. A small sofa sat against one wall, accompanied by a flower-shaped coffee table, with a TV hanging on the opposite wall, perfectly positioned for viewing from either the couch or bed.

The right side of the apartment is occupied by your bed, creating a cozy sleeping nook, partially obscured by a tall bookshelf acting as a makeshift partition. The evening sun filtered through the window above the bed, casting gentle shadows on the floor. Sheer curtains adorned the window, more for decoration than privacy since you lived on the fourth floor.

The kitchen, tucked into one corner, was a masterpiece of compact efficiency. It contained the essentials: a stove, microwave, and small fridge. Wooden cabinets above the counter held a few cooking essentials and acted as a pantry.

“What do you even mean by that? You got his number, just text him,” Shoko counters, sitting up from her position on your bed and making her way over to you. She plops down beside and, with a practiced swipe, unlocked your phone.

You hiss, raising your head from the table and narrowing your gaze at her. “I didn’t give you my phone password so you could just go through it whenever.”

“What else am I going to do with your phone?” She replied nonchalantly.

“You are insufferable.”

She hums, her thumb nail lightly grazing her teeth as she deftly types on your phone’s screen. You realize too late what she was doing and lunge for your phone, snatching it out of her grasp.

You gasp, dread filling your insides. “Why did you do that?” you screech, practically flinging your phone back onto the table as if it had burned your hand. You stood up, running your hands through your hair as you pace around the limited space of your apartment. “You just basically screwed me over by sending that text.”

Shoko rolls her eyes, picking up your phone from where you discarded it. “I did not screw you over.” She insisted. “Look, he’s typing.”

Practically tripping over air, you were by Shoko’s side in an instant, staring at the typing bubbles on the screen. A moment later, your phone dinged with a new message- from Sukuna. Shoko grinned, glazing at you. “See? I helped you out.”

“Holy shit,” you muttered, grabbing the phone and staring at the few simple words on your screen.

Your stomach churned with anxiety.

It had taken hours to get ready for this date, even with Shoko’s help. The fact that Sukuna had chosen a three-star Michelin restaurant didn’t ease your nerves- such a place was beyond your wildest dreams. Miraculously, you found something suitable for the occasion buried deep in your closet.

You wore a sleek, off-the-shoulder black dress that hugged your figure perfectly. The sleeves flared slightly at the wrists, adding a touch of elegance without feeling too constricting. The dress’s hemline was on the shorter side, so you paired it with slightly sheer black tights. Completing the outfit were black pumps and a small purse slung over your shoulder, just big enough to hold your phone, wallet, apartment keys, and a few necessities.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your jittery stomach. The last thing you needed was a bout of nerves ruining your first date with the man of your dreams. Your inexperience with fancy places gnawed on you. What if there were specific forks you had to use? Or a certain way to speak?

Shaking off your nerves as best as you could, you finally stepped into the restaurant. The smooth sounds of jazz- saxophone and piano- immediately enveloped you, creating an atmosphere of refined elegance. The building was bathed in a dim glow, with soft light illuminating from bulbs hanging down from the veiling, reminiscent of a starlit sky.

A hostess appeared before you, exuding an air of professionalism. Dressed in attire reminiscent of a butler’s uniform, complete with white gloves, she greeted you with a polite smile. When you gave her your name, her demeanor shifted slightly; her back tensed, and her eyes widened fractionally before she quickly regained her composure, making you wonder if you had even imagined it.

As you followed the hostess, you took in the restaurant’s decor. White tablecloths covered the tables, each adorned with a lit candle and a bouquet of roses. Booths lined the walls, their half-circle seats echoing the elegance of the freestanding tables. In the center of the room, a dais hosted the musicians whose performance had captivated you to the point that you nearly collided with the hostess when she abruptly stopped.

Stepping back to create some distance, you meet her gaze. She smiles and tilts her head slightly, motioning for you to ascend the staircase you hadn’t noticed before. It was unusual for a restaurant to have a second story, so you didn’t bother paying much attention towards the ceiling. Now, you see a balcony-like area surrounding the walls of the building, offering a view of the first-floor patrons below. Tables similar to those on the ground floor were placed along the second-story banisters.

Ascending the spiral stairs with the hostess following at a respectful distance, you reached the top and the hostess once again took the lead. She guided you past various tables to a secluded booth in a back corner, partially hidden by a sheer black curtain. The dark lighting made the booth hard to spot, adding an air of exclusivity and intimacy to it.

Even in the dim light, you spotted him immediately, his pink hair unmistakable. His back was to you, giving you a few brief moments to take him in before you had to face him. He wore black slack, with the sleeves of his white button-up shirt rolled up to his forearms, revealing more of his intricate tattoos. Two bands of black ink encircled his wrists, their meaning being a mystery to you. You couldn’t dwell on his tattoos any longer as the hostess parted the curtain, gesturing for you to take a seat opposite of Sukuna.

Your palms were sweaty; in fact, you felt a clammy discomfort all over. Biting your bottom lips, you slid into the booth, surprised by how deeply you sank into the cushion.

A low chuckle from across the table snaps you out of your thoughts. Your head jerks up, and you find yourself staring at Sukuna. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone. Your mind goes blank as you take in the exposed skin of his collarbone and chest, revealing a peak of well sculpted muscles.

“You should see the face you’re making right now,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement. He picks up a glass filled with amber liquid, taking a small sip and setting it back down. “I must say, I was quite surprised by how forward you were over text. No greeting or anything, just straight to business.”

Snapping out of your daze, you laugh nervously, your hands fiddling with the hem of your dress under the table. “Sorry about that.” You couldn’t help but apologize, worried that Shoko might have done more harm than good. You barely even knew Sukuna, having only encountered him twice and even those moments were brief.

He hums, leaning back into his seat, his gaze fixed on you. You stare back, wide-eyed and unsure of what to do. His eyes roamed over your body, and he made no effort to hide what was doing. Your skin felt like it was on fire under his scrutiny. A smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

“I never asked, but,” He pauses, his eyes locking onto yours. “How old are you?”

“I’m 25.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, forearms resting on the table. “That’s quite a big age gap between us.”

You couldn’t help the small pout that forms on your lips, your brows knitting together. “If a seven-year age gap is big for you, then I have a few questions. And I thought I made it clear I didn’t care.”

His eyes lit up with something akin to amusement. “So she does have some bite in her.” Sukuna raises a hand, and almost as if he had summoned them, a waiter appeared. Dressed similarly to the hostess, the waiter bowed slightly as Sukuna made a gesture at them. Without a word, a menu was placed before you.

“Thank you,” you offered the waiter as you opened the menu. Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the prices listed. Everything was outrageously expensive; even a simple salad cost a small fortune. Your heart sank along with your pride.

Guess I’ll have to work overtime for a while, you thought to yourself, your heart breaking slightly at the mere thought of having to work extra hours.

The waiter returned with a glass of water, taking your order after setting down your drink. You cast a curious glance at Sukuna as the waiter took your menu. He never received one and didn’t even look at yours.

“Are you not ordering?” You questioned once the waiter was far enough, worry lacing your tone.

“They already know what I want,” He replied flatly.

Letting out a soft ‘Ah’ of acknowledgment, you settle back against the booth, taking in your surroundings. It’s not every day you find yourself in such an upscale establishment, so you might as well savor the experience.

“I take it this is your first time at a place like this?” His voice draws your attention back to him. His eyes are fixed on you, a brow arched in curiosity.

“God no,” you laugh softly. “I’m in college right now, so there’s no way I could afford places like this.” You admit sheepishly, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What are you studying?”

“Biology.”

“You want to be a doctor?”

You visibly deflate, your hands cradling the chilled glass of water, fingers gently tapping against its surface. “I used to think so, but the deeper I got into my degree, the more I realized how difficult it is. I think I’ll just become a nurse and work for my friend.”

Shoko is determined to become a doctor, claiming she wants to be her own boss and not have to answer to, in her words, ‘stupid old people.’ You wouldn’t mind working under her as one of her nurses. She’s also said she wouldn’t mind it either, so that’s your current goal.

Sukuna hums, nodding thoughtfully.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you study him, taking in his appearance. He arches a brow at your stare, almost daring you to say something. And you do.

“Your piercing.” You begin, pointing to your own eyebrow to mirror his. “Did it hurt really bad?”

“No.”

“No?” You echo, surprised by his response. Even with a high pain tolerance, it still must’ve hurt a little.

“No,” He affirms. “I was shit face drunk when I got them.”

You blink at him. Once. Twice before a laugh you can’t hold back escapes you. Your hand covers your mouth, slightly surprised by your own reaction. Sukuna tuts his lips, a slight frown pulling on his lips.

“Think that's funny, brat?”

You heave out a breath, sighing away to remnants of your laughter. “Hey, I don’t think that warrants being called a brat.”

“Well you are laughing like an immature brat.” He snarls lowly, lips hovering against the rim of his glass as he takes another sip.

“I’m not sure that I'm the immature one. I wasn’t the one that got drunk and pierced their eyebrow.”

Sukunas eyes narrow on you, lips curling into a half-smile. “Cheeky,” He mumbles more to himself.

Talking to Sukuna felt surprisingly easy. Even when the food arrived, the conversation continued to flow smoothly, with you doing most of the talking. It was clear that Sukuna had a slight temper, evident in the way he grumbled to himself when the waiter made a mistake or how his brows knit together in frustration. Once, when the waiter accidentally brought over a drink neither of you ordered, Sukuna dismissed him with a curt “It’s fine,” but you noticed the way his eyes followed the waiter, as if trying to burn holes in his back.

Despite his temper, his annoyance was never directed at you. He listened intently when you spoke, adding his own bits to the conversation. You learned that he got all his ear piercings at once, with the gauges being the most bothersome to take care of. His tattoos came a few years later, taking longer to complete because his tattoo artist wasn’t comfortable doing such a large project in one sitting.

Sukuna also shared that his “dumbass nephew” lived with him, usually bothering him and rarely ever shutting up. Despite Sukuna’s grimace while talking about his nephew, it was clear he cares deeply for him. He shows you photos of Yuji on his phone, from baby pictures to ones from elementary and middle school, grumbling about how Yuji sucked at math in middle school. You could tell that beneath his gruff exterior, Sukuna had a soft spot for his family. Why else would he have so many photos saved on his phone?

Time flew by in an instant, and before you knew it, the check landed on the table. Acting on impulse, you reached for your purse, intending to retrieve your wallet. But before you could even open your purse, the waiter swiftly whisked away the bill.

“Wait-” You called after the retreating waiter, but he didn’t turn back. Sukuna observed you with a bored depression, his temples resting against his propped-up hand. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly close your purse.

“We could’ve split the bill.” You suggested, eyeing Sukuna across the table.

“Like you could afford it,” he retorted coolly

Your face flushed, lips pressed into a thin line at his comment. Though it rang true, you still felt a twinge of guilt. Who knew how much this dinner had cost, and whether Sukuna could even afford it without consequences.

“When a man pays for your meal, you should really be thanking them more than complaining.” Sukuna remarked.

You fix Sukuna with a hard stare until he sighs at your stubbornness, relenting. “Fine. You can treat me next time.”

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening slightly at the implication behind his words. A smile spreads across your face involuntarily. “Really?” you repeat, practically beaming with joy. Sukuna rolls his eyes but he couldn’t hide the half-smile beginning to form on his lips. “If I knew you were going to light up like the damn sun, I might have said otherwise.”

You clicked your tongue, letting out a faux laugh. “Ha ha, too late to take it back now.”

Chuckling softly, Sukuna leans back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, looking at you with a hint of sincerity in his eyes.

“No, I guess I can’t.”

Tag List (open):@kalulakunundrum , @fushipurro

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novocastrian1 · 2 years ago

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Modern Designer Bathroom Process in Newcastle

Want to know how NBS provides satisfaction to our clients? Our Unique Design Process from Phase 1 to Phase 4 to help you understand how NBS work.

#best small bathroom designs in belmont #design your bathroom in newcastle #compact bathroom design newcastle #bathroom design newcastle #novocastrian bathroom solutions

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poke-me-with-a-stick · 1 month ago

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Chapter 33 of 'Artificial Wingman!'

For the full story on Ao3, click Here!

Enjoy!

---

Jazz looked up from her book as the two boys walked through the apartment door. Smiling, she nodded to them, noting the way their hands stayed laced together as they took off their shoes, only letting go of each other when they had to reach for their wigs. "Hey you two, did you have fun?" She asked, flipping to the next page in her book.

Robin nodded, heading for the bathroom as he pulled his hoodie over his head. Danny hung back, fiddling with his own hoodie sleeve. "Yeah, we had a good time. But, uh, there's something important that we talked about, and... I need to tell you something." The teen took a breath and walked over to her, sitting down on the other side of the couch.

"Oh?" She questioned softly,picking up a bookmark to save her place before setting the novel on the table and facing her brother. "You sound serious. Is everything okay?" He looked nervous, but not in a scared way. More like, this was news he had already told people, and he didn't like that she was the last one to know. And yes, that was a look that happened often enough that it had a name.

"Huh? Oh, everything is fine. It's just..." He trailed off with a sigh before stuffing his hands under a pillow at the arm of the couch, pulling out the portal gun and presenting it to her. Jazz couldn't help it blink blankly at first, her mind running circles as she tried to figure out what her brother was trying to tell her. It only clicked when he ran his fingers over the ecto-chamber on the back, glowing green mist appearing and chasing his path like an eager pet.

The finished gun looked slightly more sleek than the original design, her brother having obviously moved things around to make it a bit more compact. She could tell what parts were from repurposed blasters and what was from more obscure weapons her parents had made and discarded, personally impressed with Danny's ingenuity. Her mind could never wrap around how he was able to just look at something and decide if it was useful or not.

While she was taking in her brother's hard work, the teen in question fidgeted in silence, growing more and more nervous as he waited for his sister's verdict."It looks good." She said eventually, sincerity coating her tone as she gently twisted the gun back and forth. "Better than the original one. I'd suggest hiding it in the speeder when we get back home." Her baby brother did not need their parents either gushing over his improvements or critiquing them. It always made him uncomfortable when they claimed that he would definitely take over their life's work once he hit his adult years, no matter how many times he said he was more interested in space than ghosts.

And no matter how hard he denied it, he always felt worse after they pointed out how their designs worked better for the functionality of something, even if they were wrong. (No, dad. It wasn't better to 'feel the kick in your spine' when firing a bazooka. Danny's idea for a shock absorbent shoulder holster was amazing and very much needed.)

"...you're not mad that I didn't tell you right away?" He asked in a low voice, shame making his neck bend like it was a physical presence on his mind. "I mean, we still can't leave yet, but I should have told you first out of everyone."Jazz stared at her brother for a moment, before making a loud tsk noise and gently pulling his chin up until he faced her.

"Danny, I'm not mad. I know you, have known you since the day you were born. You would have told me when you were ready to, and not a second sooner. If it were more pressing of an issue, you would have told me sooner. But you wanted to wait until it was closer to being full, didn't you?" She gestured at the small storage cylinders as she spoke, getting a small nod from the teen. She smiled at him again, leaning forwards to kiss his forehead. He squawked in surprise, wiping at his forehead like her kiss was a particularly stubborn streak of dirt.

The redhead honestly couldn't have stopped her laughter if she tried, reveling in the outraged glare only a sibling could manage that her baby brother directed at her. Scowling with a pout that he would definitely deny later, he held up the gun again. "We could probably make it back to the ghost zone tonight, but portal-ling directly home would have to wait until tomorrow evening at the earliest." He told her, obviously trying to get their conversation back on topic before she tried any more disgusting displays of sisterly love.

"So we have about a day before we leave?" Danny nods in confirmation. "Okay then. That's a whole day to get our things together and say our goodbyes." She noted the way her brother grimaced, filing it away to discuss later. "And Robin knows all of this? Do we need to tell Jason?"

Danny shakes his head, putting the gun on the table. "Jason was actually the one who made me promise to tell Robin before it was ready." The teen admits. "I didn't know how to bring it up, but Jason noticed I was being weird and kinda guessed from there." The teen chuckled, and part of Jazz was sure there was more to the story than that. But that, too, could wait. Instead, she affectionately ruffles his hair, still somewhat compressed from its time in a hair net.

He grunts, but doesn't fight her, glaring at her playfully before shooting up off the couch. Turning to watch him, she nods at Robin as he and Danny pass each other, Danny locking himself in the bathroom to change. Also, probably, to break down slightly from the stress his nerves were under all day. Something hits her, as she lets her gaze drift back to Robin, a faint recollection of Clockwork's conditions for helping her get here.

"Hey, Robin!" She calls for the other teen, who was heading towards the hall. "Can I borrow some of your time?"The teen looks her over, his shoulders tensing with an emotion she couldn't completely identify. She kept her expression open and friendly, which seemed to ease him slightly. Grunting, he settled down on the couch beside her, keeping his back straight and his gaze firmly on her.

"What might I help you with?" he asked, his tone neutral. She stopped herself at snorting from how proper he was being, part of her not really recognizing him from the boy who followed Danny around in a love struck haze. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled something free.

"I won't bore you with the details, but I didn't get here the same way Danny did. I got help from an... Ally of ours, back in the Infinant Realms. In exchange for my safe passage here, he made me promise to give something to 'The Robin that follows my brother'. At the time, I had no idea why a bird would want a piece of paper, but I have a better idea of what this is now." She handed her brother's summoning sigil to the teen.

He looked down at it, his confusion turning to astonishment. "Is this..?" The teen trailed off meaningfully as he unfurled the small scroll, showing off the circles, star placements, and ancient symbols of a long lost language.

"Yeah. It is." She nodded, watching as he carefully and reverently rolled it up, hiding it away for safe keeping. Taking a breath, she met the teens' eyes through the dark lenses of his glasses. "Look, I know my brother, and I love him. I really do. But he's a dense, anxious over-thinker. When we leave, he's probably not going to come back on his own." Robin's face scrunched up, somewhere between denial and anger. But she pressed on, ignoring any attempt to interrupt her. "He's going to think that, as long as you two left on good terms, he can live with not knowing if you actually love him or not. If you leave the choice up to him, he won't come back." Robin looked as though her words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

She hurried on to finish. "Which is why I'm giving you this. I have one too, so I can summon him back home from here, but that one is for you. And it's multi-use, as far as I'm aware. Just leave a sacrifice on it, and he'll be summoned to you. I'm trusting you to only use it after you take the cure,but this way we can reach a more savory conclusion to this whole adventure, yeah?" She smiled at the teen, knowing that even through the haze of magic, he could clearly see the logic in her reasoning.

Patting the teen's shoulder, Jazz pushed herself to her feet. "Well, I'll leave you and Danny to it." Serious moment over, she headed down the hall, determined to give the two teens some space to enjoy themselves. Stepping into the bedroom, she jumped slightly as she came face to face with Jason.

He was leaning against the wall just beside the door, obviously having been eavesdropping on her and the boys. He raised an eyebrow at her, not even trying to pretend he wasn't listening. "So..." the man crossed his arms as he straightened up. "Summoning rituals, eh?"

The attempt at a conversation starter was so ridiculous that Jazz couldn't help but snort, the sound being ugly to her own ears. But Jason didn't seem to mind, his lips tilting up at the corners as she laughed. "There are so many different ways you could have phrased that." She shook her head at him.

"And how many would have made you laugh?" He asked, the question obviously rhetorical. That didn't stop her from pinching her chin in a faux show of deep through.

Giving him a playful side eye, she shrugged. "I'm sure you would have found one or two. Given your extensive library." She waggled her borrowed book at him.

The man rolled his eyes at her, but nodded. "You're probably right." He agreed. "But I still wanna know. A summoning sigil? How did he get that?" His playful demeanor dropped away slightly, revealing his genuine intrigue.

Jazz sighed. "I've been trying to figure stuff like that out since he turned fourteen." Her wryly grin got her a sympathetic nod. "If I had to guess though, I'd say it's one of the things that came from him beating the king of Ghosts in a duel."

"I'm sorry, what?" Jason blinked incredulous at her, looking as if he was waiting for her to say sike or something. When she remained carefully neutral, he groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "Of course, the demon brat couldn't be interested in a normal person."

Jazz snorted again. "Your brother is currently under a love spell, one made by my brother from an ancient spell book that comes from another dimension. Was there any hope that Danny would be normal in any way?"

"...you've got a point." Jason rubbed his face before looking back at her. "But back to this summoning thing. Does this mean we might be seeing more of each other?"

'Danny was never going to let her live this down.' Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Jazz took the chance presented to her and winked at the man. "Are you saying you want to see more of me?" She asked, lowering her voice the way her old high school friend suggested. Oh, if Spike could see her now.

Jazz delighted in the way red dusted Jason's face, the only tell his face gave to what he was feeling. "I mean, I wouldn't object." He practically purred at her, his deep voice rumbling.

She opened her mouth to shoot the man another flirty response, but both of them were startled by a throat clearing. They both turned to look at the two boys standing in the hall behind them. Danny was starting at the two of them with a look of horror and embarrassment, while Robin just glared at the two in disgust.

"if you two are finished with your vulgar display, Danny and I would like to ask the two of you to join us in playing some classic board games." Robin sniffed at them, turning his nose up as he pulled Danny back to the living room. Jason and Jazz watched them go, both frozen until the two teens were out of sight.

They turned to look at each other, promptly bursting into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. "We should probably go. Before Robin comes back with a stick to separate the two of us or something." Jason nodded, making to follow her I to the hall. Before they passed the thresh hold. "You know, if you want to hang out with just me, all you have to do is ask. I might not know the layout as well as Danny does, but I know a few fun places we could explore in the 'Realms."

Jason smiled at her, his expression softening. "Yeah," he chuckles. "I'd like that." Something occurred to him, and he laughed to himself. "I'd like to see my family try to crash in on us in a different plain of reality." Jazz couldn't help but chuckle too, already planning on taking him to visit Ghost Writer the first chance she got.

___---___---___

Danny waits until after a few board games, most of which ended with some form of table flipping from either Jason or Robin, to dig through his bag. With the portal gun being fixed, and knowing he had less than a day before he and his sister left, there was only one last thing to do.

He rummaged through the bag for a while, slowly growing more panicked as the most important thing in his bag continued to evade him. All of his treasures from the arcade were there, along with his grimoire and all the other odds and ends he had brought with him. But the cure, that mason jar full of glowing golden liquid, was gone.

The teen was thankful that he didn't necessarily need to breath, because at this point, his lungs would be screaming at him. Horror sank its fangs deep in him, making his stomach churn as he cast about in his mind for where he possibly could have left the jar. Last he remembered, e had tucked it carefully into his bag, determined to keep it safe.

Thoughts and scenarios filled his head, making Danny's skin break out in sweat even as chills ran up and down his spine. Had it fallen out somewhere? Broken when he hadn't been looking? Did someone manage to sneak in and steal it, mistaking it for something of monetary value?

As the panic in him reached a climax, Robin walked into the room, holding two glasses of water. Upon seeing Danny, crouched on the flood with his bag practically dumped across the floor in a scattered mess, the teen put the glasses down and ran over, sliding to a stop and grabbing one of Danny's hands in his own, cradling it like it didn't suck the warmth from his skin.

"Beloved, what's the matter?" He asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft for anyone else. He rubbed a pattern on the back of Danny's hand, grounding him the only way he knew how to at this moment. Glancing around at the mess of game prizes and other things, he looked closely for anything amiss. "Was there something in your bag? Something none of us would have put there?" Perhaps it was his old League instincts that had him checking over every item for a second time, then a third. When nothing immediately jumped out at him, he turned his attention back to calming the ghostly teen.

"Danny," Robin called the boy's name, resisting the urge to just shake the teen.

Finally, Danny turned his eyes to the teen beside him. "I-it's gone." His voice wavered with his emotions, his face turning back to the mess to move around frantically, as though the missing object would just appear. "The cure. It was in my bag, I remember putting it in my bag, but it's gone."

Robin froze, blinking behind his sunglasses. An odd blush lit his cheeks as he coughed, turning his head slightly away. "Oh."

"Oh?" Danny couldn't help the look he shot at the teen beside him, a little bewildered by his tone. It wasn't like Danny had lost something small, like one of his prizes. Yet Robin didn't seem worried like Danny was. Instead, he seemed almost... embarrassed? "What does 'Oh' mean?"

Robin was silent for a minute, his hand going to the pocket of his hoodie. Clearing his throat, he kept his eyes averted from Danny's gaze as he spoke. "I assure you, Danny, that there is nothing to worry about. You didn't lose the cure." Pulling something free from his pocket, he held up the missing jar for Danny to see. "I may have had a momentary lapse in my judgment, and procured this while you were occupied with my brother a few nights ago," he admitted, studying the carpet like it held the secrets of the universe.

Danny practically deflated in relief. "Oh, thank the Ancients." Taking a moment, he just breathed as the jittery feeling of adrenaline slowly left his system. He let his weight fall on Robin, who didn't even grunt as he readjusted to support him. "I was so worried that it had fallen out somewhere. There was no way I'd want to make it again." Robin frowned at that, setting down the jar to wrap his arm around Danny's shoulder. Only then did Danny realize how that sounded. "Not that I wouldn't want to stay longer! It's just, getting all the ingredients was annoying, with how much we ran around the city, and mixing them right was super tedious. Having a reason to hang around for a few more days would be nice, but I don't want to make a second one of these." He pointed to the jar, falling silent as he resisted the urge to ramble until someone slapped their hand over his mouth.

With the way his side was pressed against him, Danny felt a bit of Robin's tension ease out of him. The teen grunted, and they sat in comfortable quiet for a few long minutes. Eventually, Robin broke the silence. "Are you not mad?" He asked, his voice low.

Danny considered it for a moment. "Honestly? No, I'm not mad. In a weird way, I think I get why you took it. I mean, I would have liked to know it was gone from my bag before I went looking for it. I could have definitely gone without that scare. But I'm not mad that you had it."

Robin let out a huff, his breath brushing over Danny's ear. "You are more understanding than most of the people I know. Anyone from my family would have lectured me about dangers and such for taking something so important without informing anyone else." He paused. "Though, many of them would have done the exact thing if they were in my position, despite what the others might say. So I suppose it does not matter what they would have thought."

Danny laughed lightly, shifting until he sat up by himself again, but stayed pressed against the other teen. "Why did you take it?" He asked, his mind turning it over again and again in his head. "I mean, there are lots of good reasons, I know that I haven't been the best with fragile things in the past, but what's there a specific reason you wanted to hang on to it instead?"

Beside him, Robin stiffened again. It was only for a moment,so quick that Danny thought he had imagined it, but he knew it wasn't just in his head. "I simply wished to be certain that nothing happened to it. In the past few days, you seem to have stumbled into many unsavory situations." A white lie, but one Danny didn't quite catch. He knew that Robin was holding back, not revealing his real reason, but the teen couldn't deny his words outright.

Deciding to let it slide, Danny chuckles again. "You might be on to something there. Honestly, I'm surprised that it didn't break already." Leaning his head against the teen, he sighs, relaxing entirely. "I'm glad you had it. You seem much more responsible than I am."

Above his head, he heard Robin snort. A sound that seemed so much like him, yet very much out of character at the same time. "You have done many things in the past few days. I would say that you seem to be plenty responsible."

A smirk settled on Danny's face, one that his friends had taken to calling his trademark 'little shit' grin. "Well, I've been on my best behavior since you've met me. Trust me when I say, I'm usually much worse."

Neither of them could keep a straight face after that, breaking down into a mess of giggling teens. For a moment, they almost seemed normal. From the other room, Jazz and Jason both stared at each other, small smiles on their faces as they listened to the two boys.

___---___---___

"Thank you again, Cass. You're a life saver." Dick gave her a quick hug before hurrying over to the vehicles, snagging his bike as he raced out of the cave. From the lounge couch, Steph pouted at her, her arms crossed as she sat decked out in her own purple and black gear.

"Why did we have to hide all his suits if you were just going to give them back?" She asked, standing up and wandering over to where Cass stood, prepping the last of her gear for the night.

Cass shot her a look, one Steph couldn't see through the full cowl she wore. Zipping her pocket shut, Cass turned to face the blond. 'We couldn't just leave a Gotham unprotected for more than a day or two. With Bruce busy, and Damian occupied,' Steph snickered at the vagueness of her statement: 'Gotham needs all her available vigilantes.'

"I thought we were supposed to keep Timmy and Dick busy, so that Damian could woo his bae in peace." Steph waggled her eyebrows, making Cass laugh.

'Don't worry,' Cass signed. 'I think Dick will stay busy enough with crime that he won't have the time he needs to search for Damian. And if he doesn't stay busy, then we'll just have to call in reinforcements.' With that, she turned and made her way to the vehicles, settling herself on her own sleek, black bike.

"Reinforcements? Who would you..." Steph trailed off as the answer struck her like a bolt of lightning. A manic grin spread over her face. "Oh, now I really hope that crime is quiet tonight." She cackled as she hurried to follow the raven haired girl, mounting her awesome purple bike and following the rev of the bike's engine. The chance that Gotham would be quiet enough for reinforcements to be necessary were low, but Steph would pay good money to sit and watch whatever Cass had set up as a backup plan.

---

(No beta, so don't mind the mistakes!)

To all the lovely people who follow along, as well as the awesome person who made the prompt for this story:

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