#but srill. me and all the delusional mfs r thankful for ur works

[gungoo4lifer]

O GOT SO JSPPY WHEN İ SAW THE NOTİFİCATİON PLSSSSSS i was startimg to get hungry. Thank you for the food. Ate every single crumb. Licked the plate clean. ATE the plate.

since we got a gungoo moment in the newest chapter along with goo's appearance... the gungooer demands a gungoo fic. 😈

You are most definitely The gungooer! Just when I thought about turning off my ask box cos my inactivity is getting dire on here (by my standards) and my requests are going unanswered because inspiration is not what it once was...

Gun Park x Goo Kim: Steal

Goo steals his clothes.

Mocks his style, the dull and drab palettes. Not flashy enough. Material too coarse. Tailoring rushed and unskilled.

Nitpicks at imaginary flaws. The high end brands that are still too low end for him.

Takes them anyway. A tie, a shirt. An entire suit, a whole outfit. Insists that he wears them better.

Gun disagrees, but he finds it hard to look away. His tie knotted against Goo's throat. His fabrics draping Goo's skin.

.

.

Goo steals kisses.

At stop lights, cheek angled towards the irate passenger. Cars honking when the countdown to green has long gone. Mischievous and grinning wide, refusing to budge until the toll has been paid.

Hidden and covered under an umbrella. Sheltered from the rainstorm and the world. Petrichor rising, mingled with aftershave and blood of dying enemies.

A peck, a brush of lips. Teasing, playful.

You are unprofessional, Gun tells him, lips swollen and kiss bruised.

You're a fucking idiot, Gun says. Retreats back into his seat and Goo drives on. Revs to sixty in no time at all, smug and pleased.

Goo always gets his way.

.

.

Gun steals quiet moments of peace.

Hard fought for silence where they can just be. Just exist without expectation.

Where he can look. And touch. And appreciate.

Walking shoulder to shoulder, hands brushing together. Hands-

Searching for each other in the blackness of night. Bodies sweat sheened and mouths panting.

Goo reading and distracted. Focused on his books and his fictional characters and the plot unravelling.

Gun studies his sharp profile like a textbook. The disarming intelligence in his eyes. Glasses slipping down his nose, long fingers readjusting.

Hands calloused and talented. For fighting and other things. Left more scars on his body than he cares to count. Touched him more times than he cares to remember.

No. That's a lie. He remembers each and every time.

.

.

They've stolen each other's present.

Would have stolen each other's past too, if only they had met sooner.

Was fated to have always crossed paths. In this life-

Maybe before, maybe the next.

No doubt will take each other's future too.

Choke it, shatter it. Drench it in violence and scars and bruises and-

Death.

It's a sure thing. A certainty. Death by the other's hand. Whispering their name, broken and diminished, one last time.

Can't exist with or without the other. A fitting end to their strange relationship.

It's only in their nature.

Or-

Maybe-

Perhaps-

A future with a fractured, fragile peace.

A co-existence in a way that only they know. One they have carved out for themselves. Survival, of the fittest with the fittest.

Two beta fishes, two silverbacks.

Still full of violence and brutality. But-

A future together.

Where they can continue to steal time for each other.