bakerstreet | Let me kiss your face all day

Let me kiss your face all day

sloppy makeouts: the meme

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although the tin says makeouts, this meme is for kisses of any and all varieties! pecks, smooches, nose kisses, tongue wrestling, back kisses, hand kisses... just mac already!
write starters or whatever you writing people do! feel free to use this for morning after scenarios too, it's chill around these parts.
have a grand ol' time

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Voicetesting so canonmates only!]

[ m/f, jess/trish or jess/karen ]

(are you down to clown, jones?)

[ if it'll keep your mouth busy ]

[ she's been telling him to shut up all evening, going on with something about humans not being meant to talk at each other this much. her first solution was to try and shovel alcohol into him but in some ways that backfired. clint's apartment is a bridge and two drunken train rides away so it makes sense that when he finally pulls her out of the bar ( jokes on you, i have booze at home ) that the stop over at her place is just to work two or three of the five shots out of his system before the trek.

normal conversation, however, seems to be too much. is his voice like nails on a chalkboard to her or something, he wonders for a millisecond before she's crowding him in the hallway right outside her apartment door. in 24 hours who kissed who will be a point of ~~mockery~~ contention but right now he's willing to own up to it. jessica tastes like too much whiskey and clint's pretty sure his mouth is gonna come away from this bruised.

he found something to do with his mouth other than annoy the fuck out of her after all.

pulling away, he leans back against the wall near the door frame and waits for her to get her keys out. ]

Fine, I'll shut up.

[PI Jessica Jones is a fucking trainwreck. Frank isn't sure he's ever caught her sober, and with powers like hers, that leads to a lot of property damage. Somehow, though, she manages to stay low, and she's one of the few heroes in this town who doesn't balk at the idea of working with the Punisher.

Or, at least, she balks at it as much as she balks at anyone else.

It helps that she's good at what she does, and they can trade information without the bullshit he gets from Red. Of course, there's different bullshit, such as when she's slamming him up against her wall after finding him alone in her office.]

You really oughta fix that lock, Jones.

[Her grip is bruising, but he doesn't flinch. His only visible reaction is the slightest clenching of his jaw.]

Edited 2016-05-04 13:07 (UTC)

[ she's fixed that lock, and that door, but disrepair has proven itself an inevitability around her. at this point it would save her money to take some trades courses herself. then there's the expense of time as well as the priorities of addiction -- easier to get drunk and beat on anyone who mistakes a broken doorknob for a "come in! we're open!" sign. her non-liquid valuables amount to little more than her laptop and surveillance gear, which she stashes under the floorboards when she's out.

like tonight, because staying in felt a little too much like solitary. she's pieced it together as much as she wants to: it's an anniversary or there's one coming up -- she doesn't know of what but none of them are good. her veins are spoiling for the exertion of a fight or a fuck, one of which she'll enjoy too much and the other not at all five minutes after the fact. jess hauls herself out of the bar after her wallet's run dry and the bartender, the only decent-looking guy there, offers to call a cab to get her home. so she's feeling great on the walk to her building, practically hoping to run into a mugger, with no luck there either. until...

she's several shots of whiskey gone but manages to pluck his silhouette out right away among the sparse furniture of her office. frank castle's "incognito" looks like every other lowlife's. once he's pinned and identified, she doesn't let up despite their unspoken (and occasionally too fucking spoken) truce. there's a tic in her cheek, her expression similarly suppressed: a smile. she sounds as friendly as ever, ]

You're lucky I don't rip your damn head off. [ ah. maybe it's that one. she adjusts her forearm over his chest, stilling him with her strength, not her weight. ] What is it?

[Frank learned how to read her face by now, but that doesn't mean he tries to smile back. Maybe when he isn't about to be pushed through a paper thin wall, but even then, doubtful. She gets a grunt out of him as he struggles to stand straighter despite his position, but he doesn't bother trying to push her away yet. Touching Jones is like stepping on a landmine.]

You never pick up your goddamn phone. [Never mind that he's constantly messaging from new burners; keeping track of them is nearly impossible for the handful of people he actually talks to.] Figured I'd make a housecall.

[Figured he'd take the information he needed and go, maybe tell her later. But probably not.]

[ she can infer that from his general attitude about working with others. she'd do the same. hypocrisy refuses to let that take any of the edge off. her phone has been off since shortly after it woke her up. if it's not trish or the punisher, it's a potential client, and she didn't feel up to helping anyone today. she thinks that vibe is still coming across loud and clear.

he's done her the courtesy of showing up smelling stronger of coffee than gunpowder. no vest and no fresh blood when she looks him over. bruises, always, but there's never any mystery as to whose they are. nah, he's never done her a favour and wouldn't start now, which means she has something he needs. ]

You came to swipe my lead. [ one translation, extra dry. ] You piece of shit. [ jess releases him to ball her fists into the sturdy lapels of his jacket and toss him to the floor ]

[Frank and Jess have a lot of frighteningly similar traits, not that either of them would admit it. He feels it rather acutely, though, when he's roughly sliding across her wood paneling. He bolts up and shoves her desk aside in the process, teeth clenched and fingers twitching at his sides.]

Yeah, looks like you were gettin' real far with it.

[He doesn't hesitate to get back in her face. The dim lighting in her apartment casts sharp shadows across his hard features. This close to her, he can smell the whiskey on her breath.]

Catching a drug shipment is time sensitive, Jones. If you got a day to piss away in a bar, I don't need you.

Obviously you do.

[ and ain't that a bitch? she gives a curt, derisive chuckle, with as much kickback as impact. look at her, holding up the punisher with a crappy laptop stowed under the desk that scrapes the floor when his battering ram of a body collides with it. he's not down for ten seconds, even. there's nothing enhanced about him but he can take as much pain as simpson without the reds. she's come to measure her strength compulsively and every hit she doesn't have to hold back on, it feels like it gets a little more out -- that bile inside her that won't stop refilling. ]

I know what the hell I'm doing. [ a statement argued by every inch of their surroundings yet she's not bullshitting either of them. she's a trainwreck, all right, she's a high speed head-on collision when it comes to relationships, finances, self-respect. but she knows how to do her job, enough that if he rolls in guns blazing, they could lose everything. god, she hates that he makes her the big picture person. ] You think I need you? [ to illustrate her point, she pushes him haphazardly to the desk top, knocking empty glasses and a mug full of chewed-up pens to the floor ]

[Frank snaps his head to the side and practically snarls, because she's right. As much as he wants to work alone, as well as he knows the city and the shitheels that manipulate it, he can't do it all. He's gotten better at subtle since he was officially declared dead, but he sure as shit hasn't mastered it. Shockingly, anger still gets the better of him in heated moments.

He's getting dangerously close now, but Frank never stops reminding himself to stay alert around her. Red's got powers that he doesn't understand, but he can't pop Frank's head like a grape (as if he could bring himself to).

Even as he's got his back up to something again, Frank sighs hard through his nose and keeps a tight cage on his own boiling resentment. At the back of his mind he processes a dull ache in his shoulder blades, but whether it's nerve damage from being shot in the head or pure determination, he's able to save the pain for later. For now, he just grips the edge of the desk so hard he might get splinters and keeps a glare centered on Jess.]

You bet your ass I do. 'Cause when it comes down to doing the dirty work you need me to make that decision.

[ m/f ]

[ kamui is home and of course the first thing he does to greet him back to his room is sling an arm around his shoulder and tug him close for some smooches. when he's satisfied, he'll nuzzle his cheek. ]

Hey. Welcome back.