slimesam

[slimesam]

Gitae Kim x Reader: K-dramas

G/N. Crack. Platonic or romantic. Masterlists

The strangest thing about Gitae, of which there are many, is that he gets heavily invested.

In k-dramas, that is.

It's a strange interest from a strange guy.

He never watches it outright, usually scrolling on his phone next to you. Though when you occasionally turn to him, he's avidly watching the screen.

And he would never watch it on his own either, instead suggesting "why don't you watch that shit you like?" and sneaking glances here and there.

You never mention it to him, because this trait is so deeply endearing from an intimidating and terrifying man, that you fear talking about it at all will break the spell.

You wonder if it's because he misses his home. If watching k-dramas and seeing glimpses of Seoul, hearing his mother tongue makes him feel nostalgic.

However, the least strange thing, as you have gradually come to find out, is that he prefers k-dramas with a little less melodrama, and a lot more murdery and bloodthirsty.

The more people dying the better. The more fights the better.

Especially if there's betrayal. Especially if there's death of family members (preferably the dad or siblings).

It's frankly a little unhinged. Watching the grin spread across his face as the plot unfolds, the way his eyes light up when the body count increases. Although it's a challenge you've personally taken on to find the most violent series you can that ticks all his boxes.

In the end, you are successful. Gitae drops all pretence of being on his phone. It's hard to distract him from anything but the action unfolding.

And the final cherry on top, is when you see him browsing forums, reading up theories and actually participating in discussions. Leaving deeply unpopular comments wishing for more brutality and sadism. Ideally, with the antagonist, no actually scratch that, the whole cast dying too.

[slimesam]

You can do this Sam! You can live independently! Your a grown and graduated adult woman! Your parents is just an hour and half away from here you can visit them!

Damn it...

I feel lonely living alone in this apartment for the first time.

[slimesam]

Finally I am officially graduate now, the only thing I need to prepared myself to move to other country, doing adult paper works and send resume for work!

[slimesam]

Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time

G/N. 3.2k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

"How old are you?"

"20."

Press X for doubt, you think, and that's the exact meme you send over on chat.

"20 like 20 or 20 like you're mid 30s and planning your mid life crisis 20?"

You know you're being rude and making a terrible first impression. It's the first day of a new school year, of a new school in fact, and for some reason the class is held on video call and you're all forced to pair off with a classmate for an icebreaker introduction.

It’s already cringe worthy and awkward enough, icebreakers must have been created as a form of torture. To add insult to injury, you're sure this guy is bullshitting you.

"I'm 20." He deadpans.

Momentarily, you’re stunned into silence. It stretches almost a tad too long before you manage to choke out, “My bad. Sorry."

Wow. You're torn between thinking that's a rough 20, this guy has easily got 40 years under his belt and oh no, when is your puberty and hormones gonna kick in like that.

And that's also the exact moment this 20 year old Gun Park takes a drag on a cigarette and you decide that it's definitely a rough 20.

"So what do you do for fun?" You probe, and you have the distinct feeling he might say something like alimony, planning his third marriage, investing in the stock market - whatever someone in their 50s might say but-

To your surprise and glee, his body language turns shifty. 

He likes to game he says, like it's a dirty little secret. Amongst other things. Mentions something about training and martial arts and you fight to keep a straight face as it turns out you were also right about investing in shares and the stock market.

Gaming, however, is what you latch on to.

"Cute. I bet I could kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yes."

And this is how you ended up at 4am on a school night, playing Tekken with your new classmate and getting your ass kicked.

"One more!" You screech down the mic, after the KO sign appears on screen, mumbling something about cheating and how if you can time this combo just right-

There's a huff of laughter coming through your tinny headphones and an amused "Fine."

.

.

Dark circles under your eyes grow. It's been a week of straight losses.

You blame the sleep deprivation on Gun Park, though really you have your own stubbornness to blame.

He never tends to say much during the gaming sessions apart from the odd expletive and you rant enough after each of your defeats for the both of you.

Sometimes this will earn you a chuckle and he will snidely add that you asked for this, you were the one who was supposed to kick his ass. This would piss you off enough for another game or three in the hopes of defeating him and getting to gloat.

Which unfortunately has not happened yet.

With a sigh, you hope your camera quality this morning is bad enough and pixelated enough that your poor sleep habits don't show.

You scan over your classmates, the few that have their camera turned on and find him.

Gun looks completely fine. He looks completely fine in what must be 4k and ugh, you scrunch your nose up in annoyance.

You keep an eye on him through the class. Observe how he's usually paying rapt attention, scribbling and typing up notes every now and then.

It's impressive how studious he is.

In comparison, you're daydreaming. Thinking about lunch, other combos or characters to play to counter his own when you catch on to the back end of a sentence as your teacher mentions ‘this’ is something to pay attention to as it will be on the pop quiz.

Huh? You blink a couple times. What is ‘this’? Unfortunately she swiftly moves onto another topic.

You type out a direct message to the only person you know.

You: I missed that, what did she just say?

Gun: You should have been paying attention.

You: Fuck you man!

You see his eyes dip to the bottom of the camera screen, briefly moving as he presumably reads your message.

He smirks.

That night he kicks your ass again.

Then as consolation, reveals what will be on the pop quiz.

.

.

If Gun looked like that in 4k, nothing could prepare you for how he looked in real life.

You're setting up your laptop and notepad in the classroom, the first actual in-person session, when someone takes a seat next to you.

Initially you feel a surge of irritation that they could have sat anywhere else and chose to sit next to you, then you look at the offender and-

Hold on.

You double, triple-take-

Is that?

It must be.

Shit.

It's fucking Gun Park.

You don't entirely regret your initial comments on his looks because this guy definitely does not look 20 but goddamn he looks-

He chooses that moment, when your jaw is on the floor, to turn to you and give you a nod of acknowledgement.

"Y/N."

"H-hi." You manage, and even to your ears it sounds like a simpering fool.

He must have thought so too if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

The cherry on top is that you expected this guy to smell like stale smoke, instead all you get is fresh laundry and something faintly dark and heady like leather and cedarwood.

Fuck.

Control yourself, a disapproving voice in your head says. Even that sounds vaguely like Gun.

It does nothing to stop your wandering gaze, peering at him in your periphery when you think he's not looking.

After you have taken your chance to not so discreetly run your eyes up and down his form, the only thing that makes you feel better is his hair. Because yeah he might be hot, but holy shit that must be a gallon of hair gel in there.

.

.

The other thing, as it turns out, that makes you feel a lot better is that he doodles.

It’s utterly charming.

Someone like Gun Park doesn't look like he doodles, but in between lines of his chicken scratch (seriously, who can even read that), there's little stick figures.

Maybe all the time you thought he was being studious he was just drawing-

Wait. You squint at the picture.

Is this guy for real?

"Are they fucking?" You whisper, using your pen to point at the page.

He doesn't answer straight away. There's a moment of surprise as he reacts like this is another secret of his he has unwittingly let you in on before his nostril flares and his eyes narrow and you grin in response.

Your grin grows when he grits out an answer. "No. Fighting."

He doesn't call you a dumbass but you can hear it loud and clear tacked on at the end.

"Whatever, pervert." You counter. You guess if you squint even harder then you suppose they could be fighting. Although the way one is lying on top of another is very suggestive. You don't hesitate to point that out to him.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

Even without a seating plan, one forms.

Places taken by chance on the first day becomes a regular arrangement.

You exchange a few words with your classmates, familiarise yourself somewhat with their names and faces. Pieces of their backstory, why they're here studying for a GED but take your spot next to Gun regardless.

No one really talks to him, you've heard them saying he's menacing and intimidating. Yet when your first encounter of him was mistaking him as someone about to hit mid life crisis, how intimidating can he really be.

Besides, he still doodles his lewd figures that he insists are not in any way shape or form comprising sexual positions. So no, you don't find him intimidating at all.

.

.

Gun, as you have come to know, is a man of few words. He is also unsurprisingly not great at literature.

What you don't yet know is he likes to say what he means and mean what he says. His patience only extends to The Art of War, so all the flowery prose and poetry only serves to irritate him.

If Gun glared at you the way he's currently glaring at the textbook, you think you may either burst into tears or burst into flames.

Luckily you do neither of those things but you do take pity on him. Leaning over, you ask him quietly if he needs help.

He doesn't respond but the pen he's clutching in his right hand snaps in half.

Alright then.

Half an hour later, when the class empties out you ask Gun to follow you to the library.

He hesitates, and you add "if you've got time" to give him an out. In the end he doesn't take it and trudges obediently after you.

You very quickly learn that he really doesn't like literature. You're explaining and working him through the analysis and also mildly offended at the bored look on his face.

"This is a waste of time," he interjects and there's a sullen undercurrent to his words.

"Just memorise the analysis then." Exasperation tinges your tone, "That's all you need to do to pass."

He arches a brow at your words.

"They're testing your memory. So just remember what our teacher says."

There's an angry air of resignation as Gun nods, and you slide your notes over for him to copy.

.

.

Not long after, you have your first minor evaluation on the literature material.

You notice during the test that while the vein in Gun’s temple is prominent and he’s clutching his (new) pen tighter, there’s barely any pause as he fills in the answers.

A few days later, the graded papers are handed back. There's a sigh of relief from Gun.

He gives you a smile, small and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corner.

"You owe me one," you tell him jokingly though he takes it to heart and gives you a stern nod.

.

.

Gun repays his debt, with a coffee.

He places the paper cup on the desk in front of you. Logo of the coffee house to the side but still visible. It's new, expensive, and there’s regular lines around the block.

Of course it would be from there.

The issue is, who repays a debt with an espresso. He didn’t even ask for your drink of choice!

"Thanks for this thimble of coffee," you remark as Gun sniffs in distaste at your comment, placing his own matching cup in front of him and saying something about how it's the best untainted way to drink it.

Of course he would also be a coffee snob.

You tell him you usually like it with a bit more cream and a lot more sugar and he mutters that you sound like Goo.

You think that's an insult.

"Well, at least Goo has good taste," you snipe back with a grin.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

You: Are you doodling or actually writing notes?

You: Cos on camera you look very studious but I’ve seen your notepad

Gun: None of your business

You: Still drawing your disgusting pornographic stick men then

Gun: They are not-

Gun: Whatever

.

.

You: Ok, maybe that espresso wasn’t terrible

Gun: I know

You: Who’s Goo anyway?

Gun: …

Gun: No-one

You: Suuuure

.

.

You: Tekken tonight?

Gun: Aren’t you tired of getting your ass kicked?

You: >:(

.

.

You: Do you wanna go over the new lit material in the library this week?

Gun: Ok

.

.

Gun: Thanks for your help

You: :) 

.

.

Gun: You’re tired. You should game less.

You: Spoken like a coward!

Gun: Dumbass

You: Hey!!

.

.

Gun: I’ll bring you an espresso tomorrow. You need it.

You: Does it have to be an espresso?

Gun: Yes

You: …Thanks

.

.

To anyone else, the figure standing in the doorway is just smoking. To you, it suspiciously looks like they’re waiting.

It's not a crime. Gun Park can wait for whatever or whoever he wants.

What really throws you off is his smoking. You've seen him casually take one single drag before throwing the whole cigarette away. Even to you, it seems like a waste.

However, this time he smokes one all the way to the filter before stubbing it out. Then does the same to a second, and third.

Strange, very strange.

You approach him. Taking gentle steps, in case he might get spooked and bolt which is really a ridiculous notion for someone like him. Nevertheless, you keep your footsteps light, yourself clearly in view and you wander over to him.

"Hey," you say, with a somewhat forced smile. He doesn't acknowledge your greeting apart from a brief nod.

"... Everything ok?"

It's a perfectly normal question to ask but a vastly bizarre one for Gun. He doesn't look like the type of person where people casually enquire about his well being.

He must have thought so too if the look he gives you is anything to go by.

In response, he stubs out his cigarette (his fourth!) then asks, stilted and stiffly, if you want to come back to his for a game of Tekken.

At least that's what you interpret as he seems to be crazy cryptic.

"Are you interested in Tekken?"

"...Yes." You wonder what on earth this question is because did you hallucinate all those games you played together?

"Then meet me. After class." 

"Where? Here?"

"No. At mine."

"Where's that?"

"..."

He gives you another look, as if you're the one trying to coax a secret out of him despite him offering.

Gun dips forward, murmurs quietly into your ear his address and some vague directions like it's highly confidential information.

You nod along, thinking what is with this guy. 

.

.

So firstly, what the fuck.

Then secondly, what the fuck.

Don't think you hadn't noticed the designer brands Gun wears. If they're fakes, they're very convincing fakes. But you're almost certain they have got to be counterfeit when he brought you over to a junkyard claiming this is where he lives.

You've seen films like this. Granted, it's less in a junkyard and more in the middle of nowhere in America where college kids meet their gruesome ends in fantastical ways.

You never thought this would happen to you. You have sorely miscalculated. 

Is this Gun Park (if that even is his real name) going to butcher you and leave your body on top of a pile of scrap metal in the corner?

Instead of a night of gaming where you’re the one KO-ing him, he’s actually the one that’s going to chase you around wearing a mask and wielding a knife or axe?

"You’re here. Come in," Gun says, opening his front door just as your inner monologue begins to truly spiral out of control and you're considering doing a runner.

"Eh?" You grunt like an idiot, not noticing when the shack appeared nor when you stepped onto his porch, or the side eyes Gun had been giving you.

He gives you another look, likely regretting inviting you at all, and leaves the door ajar for you to either enter or turn back and go home.

.

.

"This is... nice," you lie, through the skin of your teeth.

Gun sees cleanly through your white lie and exhales a huff of amusement.

It's sparse. Peeks of luxury here and there - the extensive PC gaming rig, the entertainment system and consoles, to name a few.

Apart from that, it's barely a home.

"Take a seat." He offers, and it sounds more like an order. Obediently you sit on his sofa, feeling very much a guest.

"You're not in danger," he says, bemused at how awkward you are in his domain, how tense you hold yourself.

'That's exactly what a killer would say,' you think and when you hear a low chuckle, you realise that you said it aloud.

"Don't worry," Gun reassures and it doesn’t really help before he strides off to somewhere in his house and leaves you sitting alone.

He returns back minutes later as you’re in the middle of admiring his entertainment set up and going through his vinyl collection (because obviously someone like Gun has vinyls) with a coffee for you that looks much more milky and to your taste than the usual ones he offers. 

“Thanks.” you take your drink and return back to your seat.

Taking the first sip, you finally manage to relax. Sinking into a sofa that is much more comfortable than at first glance and you take in your surroundings a bit more.

Sort of. You actually take in Gun Park more. 

He’s casual, in a way you have never seen or even considered. Dressed in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair floppy and the only styling is done with his hands running through his hair now and then to keep it back.

Even during the online classes, he is usually dressed up in an open collared shirt.

If you thought he was hot before, it’s nothing compared to now. There’s an air of domesticity, the drink he made for you cradled in your hands, and the distinct feeling that not many people have had the luxury to see Gun in his natural habitat, so intimate and vulnerable.

You wonder if this is how he looks all those nights you’ve been gaming together.

You catch his eyes, having been caught checking him out and he raises his eyebrows at your blatant staring. 

Blood rushes to your cheeks as he chuckles into his own espresso and takes a sip.

.

.

"Holy shit, I won!"

You're familiar with the KO screen. What you're not familiar with is being on the side of victory. You're usually a hair trigger away from rage quitting, from throwing a tantrum down the mic.

Finally. All your hard work has paid off. Time spent thinking of combos, attacks and defences (which would have been better spent studying) is coming to fruition.

You peer over to Gun, expect the controller he is clutching to maybe have been crushed into pieces with his freakish strength. Expected nothing except for a vein throbbing on his temple.

What you do find is-

Gun looking at you, fondness in his eyes. He's taking in your grin, letting your gloating slide.

Doesn't do more than roll his eyes when you perform a victory dance of sorts around him.

And when you get in his face to tell him that you're the winner, you're the best-

(More words are on the tip of your tongue but your gaze drops to his lip, drawn to the small smile he wears.

It sinks in.

The patience he has, the attention he gives, the way he has opened his home to you.

From the very first meeting, the even-handed way he has dealt with your insults, entertained you to the early hours of the morning on Tekken.)

Gun reaches out, tugs your hand and pulls you into his lap and agrees.

"Yes. The best."

You think it's a lie, an embellishment.

But the way he holds you - tender and precious, and the way he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours - soft, like you might break - can't be anything else but the whole truth.

[slimesam]

Gun Park x Reader: Injuries

G/N. Soft.

Gun, the miserable bastard, is actually not great with injuries.

Anything skin deep, sure, he can deal with. Bruises and scrapes are not a problem.

Except his fighting skills and talent means he hardly ever sustains an actual injury, and the few times he has, he has been absolutely insufferable about it.

(Goo Kim would attest to that, in a rare show of solidarity with you.)

And if anyone asked Gun if he pouts, he would likely floor them.

However, you know much better as you watch him, struggling with an arm out of commission and almost every inch of skin littered with cuts, trying to dress himself.

"Let me do it," you roll your eyes at his attempt to button the shirt with one hand.

He frowns as you approach him, eyes boring into yours.

"Well?" You question, clocking his expression and reluctance, and you fold your arms waiting for his answer.

"Fine." He looks away with pursed lips, clearly unhappy with the situation.

"You big baby," you mutter, fingers coming to thread each button through the hole. 

You feel him staring at you again. You refuse to acknowledge him, glancing only briefly to his face, and notice his eyes are narrowed and his lips are down turned - bottom one slightly jutted out.

Definitely pouting.

"Johan really did a number on you, didn't he," you smirk, finishing your task then with a gentle grip, cup his chin, angle his face every which way under the light to inspect the damage.

Gun is compliant, even as he tells you to go fuck yourself.

He sighs to himself, wondering if he's gotten too soft. Not because of his current state, but who else does he allow to get away with calling him a baby, mocking him, and not beating them to a pulp.

The only consolation, he supposes, is the extra attention and care you give him.

You're the one who's eyes widened with concern when you first notice that he's hurt, rushing over to check that he's ok as you swallow down the lump in your throat and pretend that you don't want to cry.

Then once you're sure he's fine, you bandage him even as your tongue is sharp and taunting at how careless and weak he is.

It doesn't matter what you say though, your careful touch reveals how you truly feel.

And when Gun is recovering, you're the one looking out for him and by his side. All the time poking fun and calling him a baby.

He lets this slide, because yes he's soft for you, but you're soft for him too.

[slimesam]

If I remember the eye drop basically is temporary then johan will go blind again.

Lookism 510 spoilers-

Yes, I know I'm majorly biased towards Gun anyway and this can be misconstrued as cope... But is this not major Johan death flags?!

[slimesam]

Lookism x Reader: Boyfriend Moments

G/N. Fluffy scenes. Yes, this bitch delulu. Sammy, Vin, Goo, Jake, Ryuhei, Gun.

Samuel Seo

"Try this," you offer to Samuel your tea.

That is delicious, by the way. And the way he pulls a face at the milky concoction mildly offends you.

You continue to wave the cup in your boyfriend's face, straw close to being shoved up his nose, drink splashing perilously against the lid.

He gives in. Because your dedication for annoying shit like this knows no bounds.

Steadying your hand and leaning forward, he takes a gulp from your drink. It's actually not bad. Better than he thought but-

"Too sweet," Samuel says, straightening and pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Suit yourself," you shrug, appeased that at least Sammy has given it a go and you take a sip yourself. Then, with a grin- "It's like we just kissed."

He arches an eyebrow at you pointing at the straw, can't help rolling his eyes even as he chuckles at your silliness.

"Here,"  Samuel leans down again and kisses you. Tasting the tea on your lips except this time it is much much nicer. Delicious even. "Now we've actually kissed."

.

.

Vin Jin

Vin is undeniably cringe, according to Mary. And also a simp, according to-

Everyone, actually.

But he reasons that everyone must be jealous because if they found someone like you, they would also be over them too.

Much like Vin is.

He's a lot more PG-13 than you expected though, less handsy. Even with his reputation, cool and cocky and honestly a bit of an asshole, Vin loves simply holding your hand, your fingers intertwined with his. Walking down the street and everyone knowing you're together.

Maybe it's a bit childish to like this one simple gesture so much. But he doesn't care. Sometimes he likes to just look at your hand in his, comparing sizes, touching your palm against his, and feeling the softness of your skin.

It doesn't stop there though.

He gives you loud obnoxious smooches on the cheek, rests his chin on your head, forces you to share a seat, squished together with your legs draping over his.

Vin wants you close by all the time. And he used to be annoyed when Mary would call him embarrassing, tell him to get a room. 

Has tried to keep a little distance at first yet continues to be drawn to you like a magnet. In the end, he has stopped caring. Besides, he thinks having you by his side automatically makes him a lot cooler.

.

.

Goo Kim

Goo knows what comes out of his mouth is gold, it’s just a shame that other people don't.

Gun tells him to shut up frequently, Crystal's eyes glaze over as she hums politely, and he knows Kouji tunes him out.

He takes it as a challenge sometimes, to see how long he can keep talking too before he makes them awkward and uncomfortable, wasting their time, hoping to drive them insane.

It hasn't happened yet, but he's proud to say he's been close.

"And then what happened?" you ask Goo, leaning forward eagerly to hear the end of his story?

His brows knit together, puzzled. "Huh?"

"You can't stop there. What happened next?!"

Goo blinks. This (or 10 minutes ago) was usually when everyone told him to shut up. "You actually wanna hear the rest of it?"

You give a look to say 'duh' and nod.

Huh. Goo feels himself tearing up, dramatically thumps his hand against his heart and tells you you're the best.

"I know. Now finish the story."

.

.

Jake Kim

Jerry can recite all your key facts. Where you were born, your date of birth, blood type, horoscope.

Jason sometimes corrects him on the MBTI though.

Brad knows your favourite foods and favourite drinks, Lineman your favourite clothes and brands.

Lua knows that you prefer colder weather, although there's nothing like a sunny day to brighten up your mood. Or hiding somewhere warm and cosy when the rain pitter patters outside.

Sinu can recite your's and Jake's anniversary off by heart. The gifts that you have bought him, and what he has bought for you. He also knows what Jake was considering buying for you but decided not to in the end, for one reason or another.

Fact of the matter is, Jake slips you into all his conversations with everyone. It's a bit of a talent, to be honest. Even if the conversation isn't remotely related to you, Jake still finds something to mention that involves you.

It was a headache, at first. Jake derailed discussions and Big Deal meetings with anecdotes and tidbits when you first got together. Over time it became barely noticeable, only off hand comments or throw away remarks here and there.

This worked out well for the crew, because no one had the heart to tell Jake to shut up. How could they when his face lights up, eyes soft and crinkling. and he smiles so sweetly talking about you.

.

.

Ryuhei Kuroda

"Hey," you murmur, kissing Ryuhei on the cheek as his eyes flutter open.

He's looking at you bleary eyed, smile spreading as he comes to. You both sport matching pillowcase wrinkles on your face, and Ryuhei's cowlick is even more outrageous than usual.

"That was good," he says, stretching his hands overhead, elongating his limbs and arching his foot.

"The best nap," you agree.

Intimacy used to mean sex to Ryuhei. All physical.

Now, well it still means that because it is Ryuhei after all. But it also means deep conversations into the night with you. Sharing opinions and thoughts and vulnerability. Having another half (a better half, if you asked him) to be with, share experiences with.

And one of his favourite experiences that he recently discovered, is napping with you.

Ryuhei had expected his favourite experiences to be all manners of lewd and explicit things. But nothing can beat the soft domesticity of him curled around your back, both your breaths starting to deepen as you drift to sleep in his arms and he follows closely behind.

.

.

Gun Park

You wouldn't say Gun is a feeder, but the fact that he cooks and feeds you so well came as a surprise.

"Nutrition is important," he would tell you, prepping in a frilly apron that you bought for him as a joke but wore anyway because why wouldn't he? It's from you.

You also don't understand what role nutrition plays when he prepares the food in cutest ways. Carrots in the shape of flowers, octopus cut sausages, onigiri with faces made from nori.

Tonight, you peer down at your katsu curry, with a bear shaped out of rice lounging in it.

You can't help the burst of laughter, thinking of your boyfriend - the fearful Gun Park, the Shiro Oni, in the kitchen cooking this for you.

"What?" Gun asks, seated across the table, a spoonful halfway to his mouth.

"It's too cute," You grin at the black eyed menace, the guy that was supposed to be all about fighting but has a terribly soft spot for you.

You glance down at the bear again, in an adorably relaxed position with steam rising around it reminiscent of an onsen. It seems almost a shame to eat it. "I can't believe you made this."

Gun gives you a matter of fact answer, "You like it more when it's cute." 

Oh.

The fact he goes to all this effort, just because you like it more, makes him the cutest of all.

[slimesam]

fantasy AU series! lookism & windbreaker boys

tw ; supernatural, suggestive, kinda obsessive

starring ; gun & goo

author’s note ; pls if u know art authors bellow, let me know, i will tag them. i took all arts from pinterest and i haven’t found any credits

author’s note 2 ; let me know if you want part 2 with other characters, i decided to separate post in case if you guys won't like it 🙏🏻🫶🏻🪄

Gun & Goo

Oni & Kitsune

it was known that the creatures of the forest were not the friendliest. oni and kitsune divided the forests at the foot of the mountain between themselves, standing at the top of the food chain and becoming each other’s natural enemies, while the tengu lived high in the mountain. the way there was closed to almost all creatures, no matter if they were humans, animals or demons. but this didn’t mean that the young tengu didn’t come down from the mountain in the darkness of the night to look at the inhabitants of the forest. of course, it was forbidden, and the elders severely punished those who disobeyed, but still youthful excitement and interest led small groups of teenagers to the foot of the mountain.

tere's nothing unusual about that, you assured yourself as you made your way through the thick fog, along with the other tengus - your brothers and sisters. you often saw the older guys sneaking out at night to have fun, and in the morning they teased you, younglings, with stories about how entertaining and interesting it was downstairs. this has already become a kind of ritual among young people - teenage excitement and thirst for adventure forced them to run away late at night to the border with something forbidden, to meet something that was hidden from the eyes. the forbidden fruit is always sweet, right?

well, fruit wasn’t that sweet when you fell into a trap, while you were running away from the oni who caught you at the border. maybe guard confused you with kitsune, or even with humans, but they clearly didn't welcome outsiders into their territory. it was very difficult to take off, the forest was very dense, the branches of the pines were so dense that neither the light of the moon nor the light of the stars could be seen, you didn't even have enough space just to spread your wings completely. in a panic, all the brothers and sisters scattered to wherever they went, not sorting out the way, leaving each other alone with darkness, fear and furious onis behind them.

somehow climbing a tree, you tried to get higher so that you could fly out of this damn forest, now I don't care how you get home, whether you will be punished, now the main thing is to survive. * crackling* the branch under you crunches, the hand slips off. A body with wings seems so heavy when they are just flapping behind your back, unable to lift you higher or lighten the weight. and so, you're already flying down, breaking a few more branches under you.

it was unusual to fall. the last thing you remember - before you pass out from a painful shock - is a characteristic crunch in your right wing, for a moment you felt like you were doused with ice water, then the heat of a thousand suns pierced your body sharply. the pain was incredible, so much so that you didn't even have the strength to make a sound louder than a squeak squeezed deep in your chest. the blood was throbbing loudly in ears, pulse was just racing, but a couple of seconds on the ground seemed like an eternity before your brain gave up from the overwhelming amount of adrenaline, pain and fear.

when you woke up, the sun was pleasantly warming your cheek, persistently seeping through the coniferous thickets of the forest. "it seems this one is still alive," a high-pitched voice sounded somewhere above you, dismissively poking a healthy wing with a stick. “what's the difference, just finish her off and let's go, I don't want to be seen in the company of a fucker like you” - another, rough and low voice, boomed somewhere in the distance.

taking advantage of their small skirmish, you abruptly turned over, in the process backhand hitting the blond man in the face with a healthy wing, you crawled back to the trunk of a tree, painfully pulling up the wounded wing, covering yourself with it, and bringing clouds of dust with a healthy one. a pathetic attempt to delay the moment of death honestly. the agony from the broken wing pierced the entire right side of his body, waves of pain drowned out by adrenaline yesterday, now hit with renewed force. with a groan, throwing your head back, you turned your gaze up at the treetops, not wanting to see the faces of two bastards who will just kill you if you're lucky enough.

"but this one pretty adorable,what do you think, Gun?" the blond man said in an ordinary tone, turning his head to his companion, while a clawed hand squeezed your throat with incredible force, pressing harder into the tree. "oh! maybe she's some kind of an important person there? what do you say, poor thing? will they give us a reward if they find out that you're alive?" - the claws dug deeper into the skin when his face was so close, the vertical pupils piercing into your soul. "don't mess around, just kill her already, it's starting to get on my nerves" - an irritated voice approached, did the blond man call him Gun?

another clawed hand grabbed you by your cheeks, twisting your head, examining you. the pitch-black eyes narrowed, appraisingly surveying your entire appearance. "weeeeell, what do you think??" - the blond man drawled, slightly tucking his big ears in anticipation, several tails twitched animatedly behind his back. stop. stopstop. the blond one was a kitsune, but the black-eyed one had two thick horns sticking out of his forehead, so he was an oni. how could these two be standing here together?

"do whatever you want.." - clicking his tongue, oni turned around and headed into the thicket of the forest. "great! let me know when you want to visit us!" - his friend waved cheerfully at him, slowly turning to you and baring his fangs in a wide grin. "don't get him wrong, he liked you.." - he said affectionately, tucking your lock of hair behind your ear, - "we just haven't been able to grab tengu before... well, at least not alive. your brothers and sisters have never gone this far into the forest..." - his predatory grin didn’t leave his face as he examined your wounds and abrasions. "my name is Goo. my friend Yuzuru, but he prefers to call himself Gun," - a hot breath touched your ear when Goo whispered to you about his friend. "let's go heal your beautiful wing, what do you say, cupcake?"

another trap has just been snapped behind your back.

author’s note ; sammy, taejin, vinny and joker coming soon if u guys will like this series🫶🏻👅

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Lookism guys comforting YOU

G/N hc feat all my blorbos. Jakey, Sammy, Goo, Gun, Vin, Ryuhei

You're stressed and upset. Overwhelmed. Day gone from bad to worse and you're seeking comfort-

Jake comes in with the jokes, makes you laugh even when you want to cry.

Wipes away your tears with careful fingers, yourself not even sure if they're from laughter or distress.

He does pick his moments though, and knows when to put a serious face on.

When you're too upset and it's not the right mood, he'll pull you into his lap, envelop you with his arms.

Tells you how amazing you are, how precious to him, how much better you make his life. Until little by little, you start to feel more like yourself.

Samuel holds you steady against him.

Lets you sniffle into his expensive shirts, breathing shaky breaths against his skin.

Offers you something to blow off steam. One of his vices: drink or nicotine or maybe violent retribution.

Or even something pretty and expensive and sparkling, to take your mind off it.

If you opt for none, he'll sigh and hold you close. His nose nestled in your hair, your head resting on his chest.

He's a busy man with things to do, but you always come first. He'll be there for you for as long as you need.

Goo is outraged at whatever has pissed you off or upset you.

Takes it as a personal slight, whether it is someone making you cry, school stressing you out, job not going well or anything in between.

How dare they do this to you.

Bad mouths whatever has pissed you off so much that even you're feeling a bit bad for them.

Eventually tries to buy your happiness, or tests the water to see if it's something casual arson or grievous bodily harm may solve.

When it's none of the above, he just says your name with a soft sigh. Cups your face, peppering you in kisses until he sees your smile again.

Gun sits and listens to whatever is on your mind.

He's great at it, never showing any impatience. Quietly taking in everything you're saying.

Gives hums of encouragement, nods every now and then to urge you to continue.

Gaze focused and attentive, never glazing over or drifting away.

At the end, when you're finishing sniffling into his shoulder, he asks how he can help.

With your hand in his, thumb running over your knuckles, sweetly offers to kill anyone you like... It's not a joke.

He himself feels a pang of disappointment when you turn him down.

Vin pokes fun at you, initially.

Defaulting to his mean self even where you're concerned and especially when he's feeling uncomfortable.

At your wet eyes and downtrodden expression, he feels bad. Awful actually.

Changes tact and puts his arm around you. Gently directs your head to his shoulder and calls you an idiot for crying.

Rubs your arm soothingly regardless. Pats your head awkwardly but makes up for it with kisses to your forehead.

Asks what or who has done this and silently vows to make them puke blood all night.

Ryuhei immediately reaches for his weapon, asking "who did this to you?!"

He has promised to never make you cry or upset but that doesn't mean someone else can!

When you say no, he offers to take your mind off things in other ways. Specifically in bed-

Again you say no but he drags you to bed anyway.

"No funny business," he promises and you lie down.

Curls up behind you, wrapping you in his protective embrace.

Whispers in his native language to you, soothing and like a lullaby.

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James Lee x Reader: Trophy Partner

G/N. Soft. Again, no one asked but...

James once described you as a trophy partner.

You punched him in the arm for that because-

One. What is he trying to imply? It's not exactly complimentary.

And two. Really? With the way everyone at school fawns over him, his literal collections of medals and rewards and actual trophies that adorns the hallways-

He is the last person that needs or wants a trophy girlfriend or boyfriend.

So you punched him in the arm for that and he winces and pouts even if you know for a fact that it couldn't possibly hurt him.

Then he has the audacity to tell you that you owe him medical fees but he'll settle for a sugary snack from the convenience store.

You give him another punch for good measure.

(...Even if in the end you do treat him to a lollipop.)

.

.

What James means, in that arrogant round-about way of his, that keeps everyone on their toes and second guessing, is he thinks you're a prize.

So sue him for lifting and placing you atop of a pedestal. All shining and untarnished by him and his immoral ways. Like a beacon, guiding him during his stormiest nights, when he's caught in a grey fog and he doesn't know what is the right or wrong thing to do anymore and the only future he thinks he has is working with Charles Choi.

"James~" you singsong into his ear, "Stop overthinking. You're gonna hurt yourself."

At your words, his mind clears and all he can see is that smirk on your lips and think about how annoying you are-

To add insult to injury, you ruffle his hair, his precious red hair that he keeps meticulously styled to look carefree and just-rolled-out-of-bed.

And all James wants is to wipe that stupid cocky look off your face that he knows you have picked up from him.

Then you turn the tables, and ask him if he's ok with big eyes full of sincerity-

The annoyance evaporates and he thinks about kissing you instead.

.

.

"You're more of a trophy boyfriend than me," you grumble as James teases you yet again.

"Yeah I am." He gives you a lecherous grin, pointing his lollipop at you, "You should be so lucky."

You throw him a dirty look and he just pulls you closer to his side. You squirm and try to wriggle away without success.

"When I become rich and famous-"

"If," you correct with a scoff, although you have no doubt that he could achieve anything he wants with his endless pit of talent and stupid good looks.

"When I become rich and famous, I suppose I could be your trophy boyfriend."

James looks at you expectantly, brow arched like he's daring you to defy him and say no. The smirk still hangs on his lips, but his eyes are fierce. Beneath the taunts and the banter and ridicule, there's candor in his words.

None of this escapes your notice.

"Sure," you commit to your fate with a shrug. There's worse things to do than tie yourself to James Lee. You match him playful tone for playful tone, but you have a feeling he'll hold up his side of the deal.

James pops the lollipop in his mouth, candy rattling against his teeth. "Good."

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Still on coloring him, with clothing on and no clothing

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Behold the Duo!

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Preorders available, dial 1-800-073-NAMI on your transponder snail now!

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