#and this is only part 1 💀

[andradrawsstuff]

An in-depth character analysis of Skipper: pt 1

This version of Skipper is probably the simplest since he was comic relief at first, but a bit of a hot take, might actually be my favourite (I prefer the show version of the other three tho). Going back to the movies after years of watching the show, I realised that this version of Skipper is surprisingly… chill? I guess I’ve been so used to his tv personality that my brain just decided to override his movie personality with tv Skipper.

Buckle your seatbelts, this is going to be a long one ☝️🤓

Movie Skipper is quite a nonchalant, carefree and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but calm character. He’s kinda just minding his own business doing his missions. He’s pretty serious when he’s leading his team and planning his missions, eg. the boat hijacking scene, but generally you’ll see him with a smile on his face. He’s always been a suave and charming little guy with a lot of sarcasm and sass, which he wouldn’t be Skipper without.

Generally he takes no bs, is straight to the point, and is pretty blunt, usually to Alex and his bunch. But this is also where his sass and sarcasm starts to show more. It’s funny. I think that Madagascar 2 really shows his charm and sass more out of the three main movies bc of all the chaos.

It’s pretty safe to say that the penguins are chaotic neutrals (apart from Private maybe) but they do it in such a way that makes it really funny. Not only do they trick the tourists and steal their car (ya know, grand theft auto) but also run over the grandma after seeing she’s still alive (ya know, attempted vehicular homicide). I could name every single crime they commit istg and it’s a long list 💀 But anyway, Skipper does all this with such a chill and carefree attitude and simply doesn’t give a shit. It’s what makes him so funny. It’s a big reason why I love this version of him, bc he doesn’t take everything too seriously and just goes about his day like nothing ever happened.

Obviously, he’s not evil and does still care about others, for example when they rescue Alex and his bunch in Madagascar 2 and 3, as well as stopping Dave in their spinoff. But I do think that he has something against humans (which is understandable) bc he seems to have a general disregard for them which is kinda funny.

In Madagascar 3, you start to see a bit of a shift in his personality and he becomes a little more aggressive. I’m guessing it’s because Tom was used to voicing Skipper more aggressively for the tv series and they also probably adopted a bit of tv Skipper into movie Skipper. But he is still generally pretty nonchalant nonetheless. He isn’t as suave as the other two movies either, but he does activate Kowalski’s nuclear reactor just for the funnies so I’ll give him that. The best thing about them here is their interactions with Dubois, the sheer trail of carnage they leave behind wherever they go, and the funny little quips here and there. Can’t forget bababooey.

The penguins spinoff movie brings back a little of Skipper’s charm and swagger, mostly with the “I do things my own way” attitude and him just being an asshole to Classified bc he doesn’t like him. This movie also makes Skipper more tame than the other movies which I don’t mind that much, but I wish he was a little more chaotic neutral rather than so hellbent on being heroic.

But the thing that really solidified Skipper as a complex character was his character development. This is the first time you get to see his vulnerable side and even from the start of the movie you see that he’s actually pretty sweet underneath all that chaos. When they “lose” Private is when you really start seeing Skipper’s full character, going from carefreeness to pure desperation trying to get his little brother back after he gets kidnapped, which I think was a great way to go because it shows how much he loves his family.

Later on he kinda “gives up” and follows the North Wind’s plan, which is one of the only moments you see him completely vulnerable and unmasked - no clever quip, no opposition, just acceptance. A perfect contrast to his usual “never give up, never back down” attitude. I think it adds a lot more realism to his character and shows that the one thing that can break him is losing one of his brothers. This is something that you don’t really see in the show (other than for a short period of time eg. Skorka) which I think would have been a great way to develop his character more.

When they get Private back at the end of the movie, you get to see Skipper’s sweet side again and his character development comes full circle - he learns to stop undermining Private. He realises he was wrong and tries to make it right. In a way, I guess he takes accountability. Which you don’t see all that often in the show, only episodes like Needle Point coming to mind when thinking about it.

I think that this is another big reason why I prefer movie Skipper over tv Skipper - yeah, he’s a bit flawed and a little simpler than tv Skip, but he makes an effort to change in the end which tv Skipper doesn’t do as much. Movie Skipper is nonchalant, sassy, suave and by the end, pretty sweet. I guess you could say he’s pretty well written and honestly I wish we got to see more of his softer side and less paranoid attitude at the end of the show.

That’s not to say I hate tv Skipper tho, when i was a kid I LOVED him a lot more than movie Skip and I still find him rlly funny, I mean Skipper is Skipper haha. I guess my opinion just changed bc I grew up and I started seeing characters differently and started valuing character development a lot more, but who knows, maybe in a year it’ll change again lmao.

I am so sorry this got so out of hand and turned into a mf essay 💀 I promise the other analysis will be shorter 🙏

[mgu-h]

more of pietra confronting nortrell codependence and nortrell blatantly lying about it from around 4.40 of this stream https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4StNGMoGNw

max: "it's just called being a good friend! he does a lot for me, i do a lot for him"

lando: "she thinks we talk all day everyday, max...I think we've facetimed three times ever...i don't even think we've done it three times" [more of them saying they never call/text despite there being plenty of evidence from streams of lando calling max to talk about his day, show off his golf swing, ask what to order in a restaurant, etc.]

pietra: "im not jealous. i think it's beautiful....the addiction."

holy fucking shit dude lmao sorry for the delayed response. i watched this, closed my laptop, and went outside

[gunsatthaphan]

#not having it.

[the-bingus-within]

im sorry but I laughed my ass off when I saw ron's dad for the first time

how do I take a face like that seriously that shit made me cackle

I hate every inch of his character but damn he's crazy looking😭

[pickaropoprocks]

Fighting battles that have ABSOLUTELY been seen before (wanting to restart my Animal Crossing New Leaf town so I can begin the game from scratch and as myself as I am now vs. not wanting to restart my town because nostalgia and I'd miss my villagers)

[kloofspeaks]

Peter Quill / Guardians Of The Galaxy Vol. 3 Screencaps

Part Two

[nulltune]

forever grateful for the ccc english patch (tho i can't play it myself /sobs) bc THIS. this sums up the true route so well and i write my hakuno before she really develops as a character (cuz i wanna flesh her out thru ic interactions 😤✨️) but i love her growth in canon and can't wait to flesh her out in writing so she can come to understand love like thisss 😭💕

ccc really is all about love and how the characters act based on how perceive that concept and there's a talk about the difference between ai (愛) and koi (恋) but tl;dr hakuno and sakura have koi, which andersen describes as a "dreaming heart" that's more associated with like longing and yearning,,,, IT FITS THEM SO WELL I SOBB

[mellyoraa]

rewatching IT (2017) for halloween and boy do i miss the time when it first came out and i was totally obsessed with it and active in the fandom and everything

[floridazcrazy]

Chat is Williams cooked...

Now all this pressure is on Alex to get in the points or else this'll all be for naught. Way to publicly announce you have no faith in your 2nd driver, though we have to look at it from a professional standpoint ig.. Alex has a higher chance of getting the team points, and points help the team look better and get more money. But could they not let Logan try to get us some points at least, it's his damn car 💀💀

[bansheesofinisherin2022]

ok already getting tired of dating apps, so i'm doing the most reasonable thing which is not to go out to a bar but to make a tumblr poll <3 yayy

i've got not a lot of going for me except that i got dark brown eyes, i'm like always commiting to the bit, i've got one single dimple that you can only see sometimes if you're lucky and the annoying habit of laughing at basically everything. [-:

[pavlovers]

i guess every time a character from part 1 gets reintroduced im just gonna be like "oh it's you... who are you?"

[stephenrea]

WHO UP BEEFING WITH THE NEVERS WARRIORS IN 2024.

[nah-id-pluh]

I went and rewatched the first episode of Part 1 and it’s so fucking stupid I love it 😭😭😭

[misskamelie]

Head in my hands, I'm doomed, this can't be going on for this long good grief. What the hell does my subconscious want to tell me. Hate the pms hormonal storm

[jimxnslight]

All This Time? || JJK

Summary: Another day, another boyfriend caught cheating. You’re hardly surprised, but before you can even process another one of many betrayals, your best friend Jungkook offers a solution: a blind date. The twist? The guy Jungkook has in mind might not be a stranger at all. 

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: f2l, fluff, a bit of angst

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: I dare you to take a shot everytime Jungkook manhandles Y/N 💀 but anyways, when I tell you these two are so cute, had me giggling and kicking my feet while I was writing them lowkey 😭 I will be writing the “blind” date, so this will have a second part!

Part 1 || Part 2

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Jungkook wait-! Oh my god, put those keys down right now!”

“No.”

“Jungkook!”

“No.”

You groaned, eyes rolling so far back into your head you might all well have passed out right then and there. Currently, your arms were wrapped around Jungkook’s inked bicep, trying to pry the car keys from his fingers with all the strength you possessed, but you might as well have picked a fight with Godzilla himself. In fact, with how easily Jungkook was putting his shoes on while fending you off, you might as well have not been there at all. 

That realisation made you let go of his arm with a huff, the glare you sent him also doing nothing to stop the man from tightening the laces of his shoes. The moment he stood, you scrambled to place yourself in front of his main door, crossing your arms as Jungkook walked over to you with an unimpressed look - as if you were being the immature one here. 

“Y/N, move.”

“No,” you countered, happy to throw the word back in his face. 

“Y/N-”

“No! You’ll go to jail and then I’ll have to take Bam in and he’ll crap on everything I own!”

Jungkook’s jaw instantly dropped in offense, “it was one time.”

“Oh please, I saw the way he was looking at my tulips the last time he was at my place,” you threw a critical eye towards the hallway, knowing very well that Bam was probably lurking somewhere behind those cream-coloured walls, “that dog is just waiting to strike, I know it.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” your hands dropped to your hips as you shifted your gaze back to the black-haired man before you, already clad in a navy and beige tracksuit, “you’re just going to- what? Beat the hell out of a man and expect to get away scot-free?”

“That sorry excuse of a man needs to be taught a lesson on loyalty, and I have no problem giving him one. Now move.”

“No.”

A frustrated breath escaped Jungkook’s lips as he stared down at your stubborn form, a muscle in his jaw flexing in the process. He looked annoyed, clearly irritated by the fact that you were preventing him from making good on his earlier threat. You knew you shouldn’t have found it amusing - maybe even a little attractive - but still, his furrowed brows and displeased lips did nothing to stifle your triumphant smile.

Jungkook’s gaze narrowed at your smug grin, something shifting in his eyes as he scanned you. For a moment, you genuinely believed he was going to let it go and return to the video game the two of were playing before all hell broke loose. You almost began to celebrate preventing a life full of Bam's poop in your apartment. 

But you should have known you weren’t the only stubborn person in this room. 

Jungkook stepped forward, earning him a suspicious look, but before you could ask what he was doing, he suddenly wrapped an arm around your legs and pulled. 

“Oh my god-!” You gasped, lurching forward as you were abruptly hoisted onto his shoulder, as though you were nothing but a sack of potatoes. Your hands instantly grabbed onto the back of his jacket, not realising just how tall Jungkook really was until that moment. 

“Are you insane-?! Put me down!”

“No,” he said, and you could practically see the smug look that must’ve been gracing his lips then. 

“Jeon Jungkook, put me down right now!” You practically screeched, your grip on his jacket tightening desperately when he began walking towards his living room - with you still on his shoulder. If you weren’t so scared of falling on your face you might've died of embarrassment. 

“Bad, Jungkook! Stay! Or sit, or whatever- just put me down!”

He snorted, “I’m not a dog.”.

You groaned, letting your forehead smack against his back. You had to ignore the feel of his muscles flexing after each step, “you’re right, Bam would’ve actually listened.”

As if summoned by his name, Bam suddenly bounded into the living room with a happy bark, his dark and light brown fur gleaming underneath the light of Jungkook’s lamps. He was jumping up and down excitedly, as if the sight of you thrown over Jungkook’s shoulder was the most marvelous thing to witness. 

That made you huff. “Just look at him. I bet he’s excited because he thinks you’ll finally let him eat me.”

“Leave him alone, you’ve hated that dog since day one.”

Bam’s bark reverberated around the room, causing your gaze to snap to him, but it narrowed when you noticed him now sitting patiently on his hind legs, head tilted in your direction. His gaze was laser focused, boring into you so much that your lips parted to ask Jungkook why he was acting so weird.

But before you could, Bam suddenly lunged towards you, making you shriek. 

“Bam, sit,” Jungkook ordered instantly, his voice straining as he fought the laugh threatening to escape his throat. You shot daggers at the dog now obediently sitting back, face innocent as ever. 

Stupid dog. And his even stupider dad. 

Another shriek almost escaped your lips when Jungkook suddenly dropped you from his shoulder, your back landing on the soft cushion of his couch. With how tightly you’d been clutching his jacket, it was a miracle you hadn’t ripped it off him as you fell.

Jungkook crossed his arms over his chest as he towered over your seated form. 

“Alright, I’ve humoured you for long enough, but no more. What is going on with you, Y/N?”

“Me?” You scoffed incredulously, “your dog just tried to kill me and you’re-”

“Not that,” he cut you off with a shake of his head, “you just found out your boyfriend cheated on you and you don’t seem to care at all.”

You froze, the sudden change in topic catching you off guard. You didn’t expect him to bring it up so bluntly - or rather bring it up at all. Jungkook had made it clear that he hated your boyfriend since day one, so you had honestly expected him to breeze past this development in relief. 

You pursed your lips, racking your brain for a reasonable excuse that would satisfy him. 

“We were only together for like half a year, it’s not like I’m going to fall apart over a guy I barely even dated.”

“I don’t want you falling apart over any guy, especially that trash bag,” he said instantly, “it’s just… when you found out Saejin cheated on you all those years ago I had to practically beg you not to key his car.”

“Funny how the tables have turned…” You muttered, but Jungkook just gave you an unimpressed look. 

Your gaze dropped to your lap, unsure of how to change the subject to something a bit more lighthearted, and a bit less embarrassing. But the logical part of you knew that once Jungkook was stuck on something, it was nearly impossible to deter him. And he seemed very stuck on this topic right now. 

Your hesitance caused the silence to stretch until Jungkook’s doe eyes suddenly widened, the realisation dawning on him.

“Oh my god, you already knew didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know know,” you countered immediately, “I just… had a feeling.”

Jungkook raised a brow. “How long?”

“You know, I think it’s getting late maybe I should-”

“How long?”

You squirmed under his sharp gaze, “a month or two? Or… four.”

“Four months?” Jungkook repeated incredulously.

“Like I said it was just a feeling,” you opposed, feeling the need to defend yourself, “I didn’t actually find out until yesterday when I found the girl’s bra in his car.”

“I don’t understand, if you suspected that Jaehyun was cheating on you then why didn’t you confront him? Or even just figure it out on your own? You know I would’ve helped you out.”

The Y/N Jungkook knew would’ve confronted him the second you had any inkling of a doubt; the fact that you hadn’t was making him nervous. He prayed that the guess he had in his mind was wrong, because the thought of you going through something like that all these months alone was a nightmare come to life. 

“I just thought I was being paranoid.”

“You’ve never been an unreasonable person, if you suspected something it had to be for a reason. So, why would you think that?”

Your fingers began to fidget with each other as your gaze continued to stay fixed on your lap, the embarrassment of it all making you feel small. But the moment Jungkook noticed the shift in your demeanor, he sank into the cushion next to you, an arm ghosting over your back as it found purchase on the sofa behind you. 

And then, as though also detecting the change in mood, Bam suddenly jumped up from his stationary position and scurried over to you both. A melancholy noise sounded from the back of his throat before he plopped his head onto your lap, big puppy eyes staring up at you curiously. 

“Come on, you know you can tell me anything,” he assured, the softness in his voice making your head spin, “there’s nothing you could say that would stop me from being here for you, I promise.”

“Cringe,” you mumbled mindlessly, masking the sound of your suddenly rapid heartbeat.

“Y/N…”

“I know, I know,” you said, your voice unintentionally matching his softness. Your hand moved to brush over Bam’s sleek fur in defeat, earning you a pleased woof, “I wanted to prove a point.”

Jungkook’s head tilted in question, eyes following the movement of your hand. 

“Do you remember that Christmas dinner my mom held last year, the one where Hyunjin dumped me during dessert?”

“Bit difficult to forget. It took everything in me not to break his nose.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“Well, after everyone went home my mom and I were cleaning up, and she started joking around about how I couldn’t keep a boyfriend for longer than a year. I know she was just trying to cheer me up, and she probably didn’t mean it that way, but it got me wondering… why is it that I just can’t seem to stay in a long term relationship?”

You swallowed hesitantly, the words that had been plaguing your mind for months finally finding an outlet, “I wondered if maybe I was the problem, that maybe my expectations were too high or I was too paranoid as a girlfriend or something. So when I got with Jaehyun I decided to be a bit more… laid back, you know? Like letting a few things go and all.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed as he absorbed your words, his jaw tightening in frustration. “Let a few things go?” he repeated, voice laced with disbelief, “Y/N, you let him cheat on you for four months.”

“Okay, obviously when you put it like that, it sounds bad-”

“Because it is bad. Letting things go doesn’t mean ignoring red flags the size of Bam. What were you thinking?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, “I was thinking maybe I was too demanding before. That if I just relaxed, maybe I could finally have something that lasted.”

Jungkook shook his head, unimpressed, but his voice was still soft when he spoke, “lasted? Y/N, do you want a relationship that lasts, or one that actually makes you happy? Because those aren’t always the same thing.”

“Then what is it, Jungkook?” You threw your hands up, catching the way your voice cracked in frustration, unintentionally revealing just how heavy this topic had been weighing down on you recently, “what is it about me that’s so hard to love?”

“Loving you is the easiest thing in the world,” he shot back, making something in your chest flutter, but then he seemed to catch himself and cleared his throat quickly, “I mean, there’s no way you’re blaming yourself for how those relationships went down. Come on, Y/N, every one of those guys was a moron and a half.” 

Your laugh lacked any humour, “yeah? Then what does that say about me? I’m the one who keeps picking them.”

A look passed through his eyes, something firm but tender. There was something else too, a look you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“It says that you see the best in people, even when they don’t deserve it,” he said, gaze unwavering, as though he wanted to make sure you understood every word that dropped from his lips. “It says you give chances when others wouldn’t. That’s not a bad thing, Y/N.”

“It sure as hell feels like it,” you scoffed, looking down at your hands. Bam’s nose nudged against your fingers.

Jungkook’s gaze softened. He shifted closer to you, his knee brushing against yours in the process, “look, I get it. You wanted to prove you could make something work. But settling for less than you deserve just to keep a relationship going? That’s not proving anything. That’s just punishing yourself.”

You hated how easily he cut through your defenses, how he always seemed to see right through you no matter how well you thought you were hiding it. But then again, you’ve been best friends for years, it shouldn't have surprised you at this point. 

You swallowed, your throat feeling dry, “yeah, well… it’s not like it matters anymore anyway.”

Jungkook studied you for a long moment, the close proximity making the action stand out way more than it should have, but just when you were about to find an excuse to put some much-needed distance between you, he suddenly stood.

You blinked, “where are you going?”

“To beat the hell out of Jaehyun.”

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes, grabbing his wrist, “Jungkook, no!”

“Jungkook, yes.” 

You groaned, your hold on his wrist tightening. Truth be told, you actually had no clue just how serious he was being. On one hand, there was a possibility that he was joking, but, considering how much he’s held back all these years despite hating every single one of your boyfriends, there may be some real pent up frustration he was finally ready to let go of. 

“Please sit back down,” you whined, tugging at his arm uselessly. He barely budged, the hours he spent in the gym clearly trumping the couple minutes you spent on the treadmill three months ago. Instead, the edge of his lips twitched in amusement as he watched your sad attempts at getting him back on the couch. 

But then, without a warning, he tugged against your grip, pulling you off the couch with ease. 

You stumbled forward, colliding right into his chest, and before you knew it Jungkook’s arms had circled around your form. Your breath stalled for a second, the action catching you completely by surprise, but then you found yourself slowly easing into it, your own arms hesitantly wrapping around his torso. 

“Please don’t ever doubt yourself like that again, okay?” He murmured against your hair as his hand raised to caress your back soothingly, “your confidence is the best thing about you, and no one should be able to take that away, especially that loser.“

There was something so intimate about this moment that you couldn’t help but nod shyly into his chest, your voice failing you. 

Ironic. 

With your cheek pressed against his chest, you could hear his heart beating rapidly against his ribs. Though the logical part of you knew you were probably just mistaking your own heartbeat for his. You’ve known Jungkook for years, but being this close to him seemed to be making your body malfunction in ways you thought it never could. 

Jungkook wrapped a strand of your hair around his finger absentmindedly as he spoke.

“Things are going to be better next time, I promise.”

“There’s no need,” you snorted, inwardly finding his promise kind of sweet, “I’m swearing off dating for the rest of my life. I’m starting to think it’s just not for me-”

“No!”

You paused, pulling back to look up at him with wide eyes. His expression was a reflection of your own, as though he himself was surprised by his reaction. There was a silent pause, long enough for Bam to tilt his head in question at the suddenly odd atmosphere, before you spoke slowly.

“No?”

He cleared his throat with a nervous chuckle, black strands of hair falling against his forehead as his gaze strayed from your own, “I- um… I meant that you shouldn’t just give up, you know? I’m sure there’s someone out there and all.”

“What’s the point? It’s not like I’ve got anyone in mind, and I don’t believe in dating apps.”

“What if…” Jungkook hesitated, mind racing as he grasped at some reason, any reason, for you not to give up just yet. There was an idea already forming in the back of his mind, one he couldn’t believe he was actually considering, but he couldn’t stop the words when they suddenly began to tumble from his lips. 

“What if I set you up with someone?”

“You?” This time you pulled away from him entirely, eyes wide as you searched his hesitant face. You would have thought he was joking if it weren’t for how serious his tone seemed. But it was so ridiculous. Jungkook setting you up with someone? You’ve only met a few of his friends: Namjoon, Taehyung, and you think Jin…? Did Jungkook have any of them in mind?

“Yeah,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck, “I might know someone that would be a good fit…”

“Oh? You been holding out on me, Jeon?”

He shrugged, gaze still traveling everywhere but in your direction, “something like that.”

“Do I at least get a name?”

“No.”

Your brows furrowed, “Jungkook, I swear if it’s some weirdo you play games with online-”

Jungkook laughed softly, his bunny-like grin gleaming, “no one online, I know him very well actually.”

“Then who?” You pushed, “is it an old friend or-”

“Are you in or not?” He interrupted with a raised brow. On the inside he was nervous out of his mind, the opportunity he’d been waiting forever for finally presenting itself. But then he noticed your hesitance and his voice softened. 

“Just trust me, okay? I wouldn’t set you up with just anyone.”

Well… you did trust Jungkook… with your life actually. And besides, there was no way you were going to pass up on a chance to see who Jungkook thought would be a good fit for you. Was it someone studious and quiet? Extroverted and wild? 

“Okay fine,” you finally gave in, curiosity getting the best of you, “but only on one condition.”

Jungkook straightened up, his nervousness multiplying tenfold. 

“No, killing Jaehyun.”

He groaned, flopping back onto the sofa dramatically.

“You’re too mean.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

“I’m the dramatic one?” Jungkook’s brow raised, “you stayed with a cheater for 6 months because of some stupid Christmas party comment. That’s dramatic.”

“You’re a dead man, Jeon Jungkook.” 

You grabbed a pillow from the sofa and threw it at his head, an action he of course blocked easily with a laugh. You tried to throw another at him, but he grabbed your wrist and tugged, causing the pillow to drop from your hand and accidentally land on Bam. The doberman barked in annoyance, shaking his head as if he were disappointed by the childish theatrics before him. 

“Okay okay, I’m sorry,” Jungkook laughed, fending off your pillows until he grabbed your other wrist, causing both your hands to stall momentarily. Your own laugh escaped your lips as you pushed forward, shoving both pillows into his face. 

“God, aren’t you feisty today?” He managed to say between the pillows before sitting forward and wrapping an arm around your waist. You yelped when he pulled you back onto the couch beside him, the distraction causing you to drop the pillows onto the floor. Jungkook grinned at your defeated form.

“You done?” 

You turned to shoot back a reply, but paused when you caught sight of him. His practically black hair was ruffled into a mess, framing the dips of his face, while his chest rose and fell slightly quicker than earlier. You watched as he pushed himself forward a bit as he began to unzip his navy and beige jacket, shrugging it off only a moment later. Underneath was a short sleeve black t-shirt that revealed his toned figure and biceps. 

Just like that the comeback died on the tip of your tongue. 

“You’re the last person to talk. You’re dating history is a nightmare,” you muttered instead, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I’ve only had one girlfriend in the past few years.”

You snorted, watching as Bam made his way next to Jungkook’s seated form, “yeah, and that girlfriend was worse than all my boyfriends combined.”

Jungkook scrunched his nose in a grimace as the bitter memories resurfaced, “okay, I admit that choice wasn’t my best. But there’s no way she was worse than your boyfriends.”

“Jungkook, come on… She put strawberries in my food during the summer party last year so that I would leave early - and I don’t even know what I did for her to do that. She was insane.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched as he recalled that scary moment, remembering how she’d dropped small bits of strawberry into your food when you weren’t looking, knowing you were allergic to them. Thankfully, your allergy wasn’t so severe, so the most you’d gotten were hives and a bad cough, but Jungkook had been terrified. He’d driven you to the hospital immediately, even though you’d insisted you would be fine. And then when everything had come to light a few days later, he’d been furious, breaking up with her on the spot. 

“My bad, I tend to repress most memories of her,” he muttered, “you’re right, she was a nightmare.”

He sighed, trying to rid his mind of that woman. It automatically fell back on your condition, which made him groan.

 “Fine, I won’t kill Jaehyun.”

You smiled in satisfaction, “thank yo-”

“Although, I’m not responsible if he accidentally trips and falls onto my fist.”

“Jungkook!”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, trying to stifle his amusement, “no violence.”

You narrowed your eyes in his direction, making him raise his hand in surrender. 

With Jungkook finally subdued, the atmosphere was allowed to settle into a comfortable silence, nothing but the sounds of nightlife - you hadn’t even realised it had gotten so late - bustling four floors below. The two of you watched Bam make his way between you before jumping onto the couch. You remembered when he was just a small puppy, so small that you could’ve scooped him up with one hand. Now he was much bigger, his body barely fitting in the space between you and Jungkook as he settled into the cushion, this time resting his head on Jungkook’s lap. Jungkook’s hand scratched softly behind his ears, the action so warm you felt it in your chest. 

“So, where exactly will this mystery date take place?” You asked, eyes still trained on the adorable moment before you.

Jungkook shrugged, the grin on his face answer enough, “you’ll find out then.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You’re so impatient.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting to the side as you brought your legs to your chest. You rested your head against the back of the sofa, watching Bam - and maybe his dad too - fondly. The exhaustion from your day was slowly starting to get to you. 

“You know, for how much of a devil Bam usually is, he’s actually being such a good boy right now.”

Jungkook made a noise of mock offense. “Wow. So he’s a good boy, but I’m the annoying one?”

“You literally tried to commit a felony like ten minutes ago.”

He scoffed, tilting his head as if considering. “Felony is a strong word.”

“You were going to break a man’s jaw.”

Jungkook shrugged. “Okay, misdemeanor, then.”

You reached over to smack his arm lightly, and he chuckled, rubbing the spot dramatically as if you’d actually hurt him. The moment stretched between you, laughter fading once again into something quieter, something warmer. You didn’t know why your heart suddenly felt heavier in your chest, why the way Jungkook was looking at you made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with something you couldn’t name.

Jungkook cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “Anyway, don’t worry about the setup. I promise, he’s a great guy.”

You nodded, but the uneasy feeling in your stomach didn’t fade. There was something about this whole thing that felt…off. You just couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Alright,” you said, shaking off the feeling. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I get to pick your next date.”

Jungkook’s smirk faltered for just a second before he recovered. “Yeah, sure. We’ll see.”

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden hesitance but let it slide. For now.

Something told you this was going to be interesting.

[kithtaehyung]

minted (explicit) | myg

title: minted (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: again, this wasn't on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: this series may not be for everyone, language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, tension, slow burn, choking, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, slight e2l, fight sequences, multiple future explicit scenes, yoongi deserves his own warning, chains but who is ever ever shocked, graphic depictions of violence drop date: august 5th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.4k aiyaaa✌ mood playlist: here

—

—

Ever since you could remember, gang activity in your town has run unchecked. 

Anything goes. Rough fights out of nowhere, car chases busting streets, or even random delinquents snatching food on the run, dust kicking up onto stock they left behind. 

And out of all the districts, yours is begrudgingly the second worst. 

Why? You still aren’t completely sure. But you do know that the darkest is reserved for the underbelly that only slithers in rumors. A place in which you will never find yourself. 

But you do wonder what must happen there to warrant the winning title because each day here is a battle to keep yourself afloat. 

All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? Why can’t you exchange goods for money in peace? If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.

But through all the shit you’ve chosen to endure, at least one person is always kind enough to buy his wares and go.

And today is no different.

You still don’t know his name. But you yearn to. Because his hair is the color of magic and rebellion, and his tattoos really set off that bright mop of locks. 

If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.

When he lifts three long digits, it takes all your strength to nod and get his purchase together. This is the part that never changes, either.

Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits. 

It’s charming, in a way. As if he’s more particular than most about what he wants—a trait elusive to many.

Like clockwork, you would hand his order over in thin plastic, and he would walk away to hitch a ride on a passing cart. Just like he does right now with a lazy gait, white tee billowing from his jeans. 

Another day. Another exchange.

In the wavy heat of summer, you sigh. Wondering if anything is ever going to change, and if you would ever get to know more about your most frequent, most mysterious patron.

After a while, you do try talking to him. 

Those looks of confusion slowly turn into little hums or grunts, then into single words that keep you going for days. Even though you rarely hear it, his voice is just as attractive as he is. 

One day, you offer him a plantain, handing it over and telling him it’s on the house. 

“Thanks,” he says amongst the clinks and conversations of the street, pocketing the food away. 

When he does, you see a flash of black metal, and you already know what he’s carrying. You’re used to seeing all sorts of those around nowadays. In this district, you’d be shocked if he didn’t have an arsenal on his person while traveling through.

Besides. Even you have a couple collecting dust in your own flat, handed down by extended family but never used.

“If you ever need anything other than tangerines,” you start with a point to his pants, “Please buy those instead.” 

He’s unmoving. Blinks are all you get so you have no choice but to explain,

“I’m so tired of eating them with everything.” 

When he huffs in amusement, your heart flutters thrice. There’s no reason for a sheen of sweat and sticky mint locks to be so deadly. 

“Then eat something else,” is all the stranger advises before walking off. 

Well.

Even though you don’t have much of a choice, the guy does have a point. You wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if his aim’s just as straightforward as his wit.

Once one exchange lasts longer than a sentence, the two of you start little conversations during his visits. Which prove more fatal than normal since he’d rest his tattoos on the top shelf of your cart. 

From what you can make out, there are creatures stretching in beautiful teal and vivid orange, and even striking white on his other arm. They ripple so well with his veins, a canvas that sways and hypnotizes with every drum of his fingers. 

You know what they symbolize, though it’s unique to have all of them together. 

Taboo, even. 

But you can’t hold back your admiration because of the sheer beauty. What would they feel like if you just… 

“You always stare this long?”

Shit. “Oh, sorry. I just… I rarely see anyone’s ink up close.”

To your dismay, he takes his arm back. “I don’t have a lot of time today, princess.”

“Right, sorry. Hold on,” you respond, cringing hard at blurting two apologies in a ten second span. 

Meanwhile, your way too handsome regular cocks a brow, clearly comfortable making you squirm as you hand over his bag. 

Effortless. In your chaotic life, It’s almost intoxicating feeling someone this resolute in their whole demeanor. If only you could be so commanding and assured one day. 

But here you stand instead, pretending to count fruit you one hundred percent know the stock of already. “Your art is really nice, by the way,” you admit to your inventory. “All the high-powers. I like what you picked.”

“Didn’t choose these.”

Ah. Way to assume things. 

Raising your head, you make to apologize a third time.

But he’s already retreating with his tangerines, hand stuffed in a pocket and beautiful waves a little less vibrant than you recall. 

“What.” 

“I worry sometimes.” 

His gaze lifts. “About me?” 

“Yeah.” 

You don’t know why you choose to say that of all things. But it’s honest. You always wonder about him and think about the weapon in his jeans. Does he use it? Does he ever need to? 

Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.

Fingers resting dangerously close, he asks with a tilt of his head, “What would you do, doll? If something happened to someone like me.” 

Someone like him? What does that mean? 

Great. Now you have even more to wonder about, as if he knew that was your exact predicament.

You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.” 

Huffing, his brows tick up with his mouth. “I respect that.” His attention doesn’t leave your face as he slowly takes his purchase. “See ya.” 

“Bye,” you whisper back, watching him go. More thoughts and concerns bouncing around your mind in the sticky heat of midday. 

These little nicknames he’s using also aren’t helping your issue in the slightest. 

It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.

“Here they come!”

“Bunch of idiots this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

Rough raiders this early? They should know it’s almost time for Dragon’s sweep. Bold.

After you hear the telltale yells, clanks, and bangs, your section of the street braces for impact. 

And it swoops in like a whirlwind, ruffians tearing through, pillaging and stealing and swiping goods into thick woven baskets. 

Baskets? The usual suspects always carry leather bags. You assume because of their sturdiness and inconspicuous nature, but what do you really know.

Here it goes again. 

As your fruit is taken right from your cart, you sink to your toes, mourning the regular loss of your menu.

No use fighting. Like every other time, you all let it happen because there’s no point in trying to protect anything that isn’t valuable. Perishables and small homemade goods aren’t worth getting gutted over. Truly, the worst losses you suffer are when—

Your cart shifts violently before thieves topple it over, cracking one of your wheels and splitting the wooden boards in three places.

Springing to your feet, you douse the perpetrators in anger, “What the hell!”

“Oh, this was yours?” Someone chides while his cronies run past. “Thanks for the oranges, love!”

“They’re tangerines!” you correct at his retreating back, kicking your cart before yelping at your bad decision. “Damn it…”

Back to your knees you go. Head drooping, arms encircling, and disappointment pooling around like a shadow.

More shouts and feet in the road rampage through. Then it gets quieter. And quieter. 

Then it’s done.

After silence swells in the wake of chaos, groans start making their way down the street. 

“What’d they get from you this time,” you ask your neighbor, a charming old man selling anything from bowls to wide, round frying pans. 

Looking over his little wreckage, he blinks hard. “They got my woks. Nothing as bad as yours. You okay?” 

Walking over to help clean his mess up first, you bend down with a sigh, “I’ll be alright. But it still sucks.. My poor tangerines..” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not much to do about it now,” you resign, all your energy taken from you, too. 

A little bit of time passes as you complete your usual round of help, though this raid was worse than others. As they all give their thanks, you keep thinking about how to make the whole situation better. Moreso for them than you because you’ve always been one of the least vulnerable ones on the block.

“You should find another place to sell, dear.” 

In disagreement, you slip into a saddened smile. “I can’t leave you guys,” you explain to the lady you’re holding pails for. “Who will help clean everything up?” 

“Don’t underestimate your elders now.” 

“Fair,” you respond through a chuckle, handing her one of the metal buckets. “If only better protection was an option around here.”

“You know the rules,” another shop owner drones through lingering spices, “Dragon won’t protect us if it isn’t in their own interests.” 

Unfortunately, he’s right. Every single raid that hasn’t coincided with a gang sweep goes overlooked. Even the city police don't bother coming down your street anymore, which is another issue in itself.

If only Tiger or Crane had been the high-powers in place instead. 

At least they seem to be more fair.

After you finish helping, you finally venture back to your own cart, realizing that the trek is a lot further than you thought. 

Did you really walk so far this time? The damage was dealt for much more than a block at this point. 

Not like you need to sprint back, though. What’s left to steal? Everything you got swept into those woven containers.

Still so odd…

But not as odd as the sight that greets you on your return. 

Because instead of seeing your wreckage of a cart tilted and abysmal, it’s upright and being mended.

By none other than your favorite set of hands.  

What the hell? What’s he doing here? You quite literally have nothing to give so there’s no reason for him to spare a second at your broken stand. 

Fast-walking, you hastily try to halt his help, “Oh, shit, you don’t have to—” 

“Course I don’t.” 

That shuts you up. In your split second of silence, you note with agony that his hair is messily tied in a minted bun. Are his sleeves bunched at his biceps, too? Great. What were you even telling him again? 

Ah, yes. You were telling this mystery of a man that he doesn’t have to literally put your stand back together. “Seriously, I got it.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” 

“But it’s my cart, I don’t need your—”

With one look over his shoulder, your mouth snaps shut. And suddenly can’t move to argue again. 

What the hell is up with today? 

Forget all that. What’s he doing? At least you’re familiar with all the shop owners and vendors on your block, though you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing for someone you don’t know. But this guy has always been so standoffish and barely approachable. So how is he lending both hands to help you right now? 

Whatever. If he’s gonna be as stubborn as this heat, you can be, too. 

Scanning the area for scattered tools, you find a sun-warmed hammer and get to work, fixing one end of the cart while he works on the other. When you feel his gaze on your working shoulder, it takes massive strength to ignore him—even if you wanna know what his issue is and why he smells really, really good this afternoon.

Looks like you need more nails for this board to fit. When your eyes find a couple on the ground, you clinch a second piece between your teeth while hammering in the first. 

Sounds stop at your side, but you wait until you pluck the metal nail from your mouth and stamp it in to look over.

Oh. He’s eyeing the hammer. Not you. Obviously. 

You wordlessly hand it over, arm slicked with exertion. Because after the day you’ve had, you don’t feel like everything needs a spoken sentence attached. 

It takes the guy a bit to take it from you, but when he does, he holds your stare. “Thanks.” 

You simply nod, eyes sticking to him as he works on the tattier side wait it looks almost new. Better than it has in a very long time. Did he really get that much done in the time you were gone? There’s been great care taken during his repair if that’s the case.  

Hmm. You finally learn something about your favorite customer. Maybe he’s just been a mechanic or carpenter this whole time? 

Contemplative, you get up on sore legs to walk to your cooler—something thankfully missed by the rough raiders. Digging through the clinkage, you retrieve a local beer you recently procured from the restaurant across the street. 

It’s not much. Absolute bottom shelf. But it’s all you got other than a few pieces of oni-coin, so he’s gonna have to deal with it.

When you offer the glass, your regular eyes it for a moment. More than enough time for you to get a good look at his striking floral top.

Well. Mechanic and carpenter are out of the question because that one piece of clothing looks more expensive than your entire apartment building.

Who even is this guy? Now you feel destitute handing him something so cheap.

Just when you think he’s gonna refuse, he takes the beer and smoothly shucks it open, suddenly making you wonder how a bracelet can do that and why it was so attractive.

God. You need to walk straight to the nearest inlet stream and dunk your head right in.

“Thank you,” you whisper, gulping at his full swigs. “You really didn’t have to do all this.” 

“Got some time to kill,” he shrugs. Standing, the man takes another sip, peering along the street with sunlit eyes. With the bottle near his mouth, he murmurs, “You really need to set up somewhere else, doll. This street’s turning into a hot spot.” 

Squinting up at the long lines of clothes and curtains floating in the breeze, you sigh at the building nearest. “I live close,” you sulk. “And this is the easiest place to get to.” 

Those are excuses. Just tell him the real reason you won’t venture out and plop yourself somewhere more profitable. Well, maybe not all of the reasons, but the main one. 

Leaning back on your cart, you stare at the loose dirt, swiping some with your shoes. “Maybe I’m just used to it at this point.” 

He won’t respond. Or he’ll respond in his own way, which is mostly silence. 

But a bright strand falls over his face before he hums, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Many people have warned you at this point. It’s basically your stubborn and spiteful nature that’s making you stay in the first place. Why would you move when you chose to be here? Why leave a place you actively choose to call home? 

Fighting spirit quelled, you nod right to your stand as you count what’s salvageable. “I know, but I like it here.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, you look away. “It’s true. But trust me, if there was a way to just make it all stop, I’d take it.” 

He takes another swig, both of you looking into the street and watching things slowly get back to normal pace. Adults and kids alike are back to wandering around, buying what’s left and offering condolences. 

“I’m not fixing another cart,” your patron turned repairman grunts, motioning to your wheel as he steps back. “So don’t fuck this one up.” 

Huh? It wasn’t your fault! All the accidents and chaos that blow through aren’t something you can control oh he’s grinning. Why is he grinning? Why do you feel hot all over? 

His teeth shine in daylight. “I’m messing with you.” 

Ah. 

This version of him is not good for you at all.

When he starts to walk away, you blurt out a quick, “Wait!” 

Shit! Why did you do that? What are you possibly supposed to say right now? All you wanted was to see him a little longer… And while staring at his backside would be more than enough, you kinda wanted to actually talk. 

What do you do? He stopped; he’s waiting. 

And he looks impatient as hell. 

Snapping into action, you round your cart and trot over, offering your name as if you didn’t just give up where you lived. 

Then—without thinking—you ask for his with the most curious, innocent, “What’s yours?” 

Silence has never been so booming.

In the dusty swirls of your street, you wait with a back that’s getting sweatier and colder with each passing second. 

Was that not okay to ask? Did you fuck up with a single question? 

Perfect. You just blew your one good thing about being out here. Wincing, you crush your words so hard you think your teeth will break into dust, drifting off into the very breeze wafting his striking locks. 

After a condescending puff, he only smirks.

Then he takes one step. And another. And another.

The air around you melts, weighing on your shoulders while lighting them aflame all at once. It’s a feeling you can’t describe to anyone else, because they would just need to stand next to this man to believe it. 

Checking to see if the street is clear, your best customer leans over. Slowly. Purposefully. “Yoongi,” he offers with a voice so handsome you’ll think about it for days. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.” 

Oh. 

Why did… you kinda like that? 

Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.” 

This is when he’s supposed to just leave. He’d walk away, bag swinging with his strides. But ever keeping you on your sore toes, the man just chuckles low before rasping out the most devilish sentence in existence, 

“Always took you for a good girl.”

Then he backs away, turning on his heel and leaving you a statue in the street.

Yoongi. 

For a hardened soul, his name is so… 

Tender. 

For the next sixty days, you don’t get ransacked once. 

But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi. 

As the weeks trudge by, you can’t decide which outcome is worse.

The skies are magnificent today. But obviously at a molten price.

“Thank you for trying,” you say to a lovely wares owner before venturing back out into simmering streets. Exhaling, you wipe sweat from your brow, squinting before choosing to walk left or right. 

Left seems promising. 

You’ve been searching for hours now, perusing through shops, checking out vendors both nice and catty. But after a whole day’s search, you still haven’t found what you’re looking for. 

It’s nothing urgent or pressing. But you would at least like to be prepared. 

Since your initial mission is a bust, hopefully your next one makes up for it before you melt right into gravel and dirt.

Find a meal.

Walking along the busy roads, you pass a few options and keep them in mind, making sure to greet a fellow tangerine cart vendor with a smile. Hopefully they do well today.

A couple steps further, a giant cooler catches your eye. Seafood of all types lie inside along cubes of ice, and you weigh the pros and cons of smelling like fish just to have a cool head.

But before you can make any choices, the smell of spices and hearty soup softly pull your feet inside the restaurant nearby. 

What’s here? Noodles? You’re always down for that. Apparently even in scorching weather.

After ordering, you take your seat at a random middle table in a chair facing the entrance. 

Always facing the entrance.

Damn. You really need to accomplish what you set out to do. But sunset is fast approaching these days, and you aren’t anywhere close to home. All you have time for now is eating and heading out. 

The service here is quick, at least. You’re already thanking the owner for sliding a bowl in front of your sweaty form. 

With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down. 

Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back by now, freshly showered and curling up on a worn down bed. 

But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months. 

Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching sliced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth. 

At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the… 

Ambiance. 

Wait. 

Dragons. A lot of them. 

You can’t pull your eyes away from the crew walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun in their eyes and donning their telltale, striking teal. 

But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that truly has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass. 

…Yoongi? 

His jacket. The colors.

He’s in Dragon?

Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.

As his guys stalk through, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do with this harrowing information. There are so many thoughts overlapping each other that they all amalgamate into one huge batch of sludge. 

Aren’t you smack dab in Crane territory? There’ve been white suits peppering the streets everywhere. 

So what the hell is Dragon doing here?

From the slight confusion pinching his forehead, you know Yoongi didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers. 

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past. 

All of them waste no time tearing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending with gritty paint and smoke. 

And just like that, your reunion is over. 

Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—

A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling. 

Shit. 

Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company. 

Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often? 

Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.

Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time. 

Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here? 

With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side. 

Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase. 

Shit shit shit this is so stupid. This is probably the worst decision you’re gonna make in your life.

But your gut is churning thinking about Yoongi. Even a seasoned swordsman needs expertise to wield mere chopsticks and win. 

Fuck, if you succeeded in your search today, you probably could’ve been a little more useful. 

Swiping your own set of red from a nearby cup, you hightail it up, slowing as you round a corner and immediately hear multiple clangs and scuffles beyond the last turn.

Stop. You can go back. You can still turn around and go home.

An inhale.

Your feet propel you up and into a dark hall. As you slowly slide along the wall, your gut churns and churns. At a bang, you crouch with a skipped beat of your heart.

This is really, really dumb. But you can’t stop yourself and you have no clue why.

Nothing happens around you. So you keep going. With each careful slide of your foot, you get closer and closer to the noise.

Approaching the corner, you very slowly stick your head out for a peek.

And it’s pure commotion. Pure chaos. Holy shit, what is going on? 

Fuck, there’s already a body lying limp on the floor meters away—

Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.

But a man flies out of a room ahead before he grips and wrestles with another, and you reel yourself back to avoid being seen by either one.

Where is Yoongi? Is he okay? Did he leave already?

You give one more peek, scanning the long raucous corridor as swift as you can to see any sign of.. Mint.

He’s still here. How’s he just walking so nonchalant as his crew fucks shit up? Crap, he just went into a room and out of sight. 

“Where’d they go?”

“Upstairs!”

Fuck, that was in the restaurant! Get up get up you have no choice but to hide now. 

With pounding steps, you rush forward and book it, entering a large room to dive behind some steel shelving and large, woven baskets right as more Dragons come in behind with fists clenched.

Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.

The grunts rush to the hallway to join the fray, and you wait in the now pungent solitude of your room. With only a still body to accompany you. 

What do you do? What even can you do? 

Just as nerves grip your stomach like a vice, Yoongi strides into the open area, heading right for the exit and not even sparing his kill a glance. 

Go. Go now. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t your hands letting go of your cold confinement? It smells like death and blood and you need to leave with the only person you know—or don’t—so why can’t your feet just fucking—

Someone else slithers into the room. A man in brown with a knife. A knife, a knife, a knife he’s getting faster and Yoongi doesn’t hear him the guy is too quiet fuck! “Yoongi!” 

It all happens before your brain can paint the bloody picture. Shooting out from your hiding spot, you race towards the assassin, slamming into their lanky build just in time.  

Both of you topple to the ground, your target roaring in pain and twisting like hell to fight back fuck you didn’t get him how you needed to he’s got you—

Pain erupts in your hip as you’re grabbed, the room spinning as you’re thrown to the side and your ear hitting concrete right before chopsticks ping down. Thinking quick, you knee the guy as hard as you can, scrambling to finish the job because if you don’t, you’re gone gone gone.

“Bitch!” Your opponent clutches your shirt right as you reach for the nearest red pair, seizing your throat right as you grip and swing them around to stab the other side of his neck with a yell.

Luckiest timing of your life. 

“Hng!” Fuck, he’s still holding down hard and choking, choking, squeezing. “Fuck you!” 

Fight back. Keep the weapon inside he’s too strong finish him finish him. 

Darkness. Ink drops in water. Your vision taints as your grip loosens, and you can only hope that Yoongi got away safe. He had to. At least you… Were able to do… 

This one thing… 

…

Oxygen and life rush back into your lungs, color burning through your esophagus as you gasp for sweet sweet air. Right as you come to, all you witness is the heavy heel of a boot twisting the forearm latched onto you. 

And when the shoe leaves your vision. Lifeless eyes stare back.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that was close. Oh god. You actually did it. Oh fuck. 

Coughing, you rush up as you get tugged and pulled right against chains and embroidery, your ears ringing with a gravelly command and glass breaking in the nearby corridor,

“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Yoongi roughly lets you go before pinning you with pure anger. Not to say thank you. Not to tell you any words of gratitude at all. The only other thing he finds the need to say is simply, 

“You shouldn’t be up here.” 

What the fuck. You just murdered someone for him and this is all you get? Eyes welling, you feel your body slick and sticky with crimson when you turn, coughing and spitting out regret before you wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “That’s—that’s all you have to say?” 

Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.

But the sternness from before completely vanishes as Yoongi lifts your chin. His eyes scan your throat and chest, and you rip your head away from his touch because he is not excused just yet. 

“It’s not mine,” you snap, knowing exactly what he’s looking for and what you must look like to him. Dirty. Gross. Certainly a far image from the girl selling tangerines.

But your face is gently held again, and somehow this softer turn carries more strength to swivel you forward. 

Why is Yoongi still looking? Now he’s holding your gaze as if he’s never seen you before. What’s that about? You’re still the same, the same, the same.

…Are you?

More crashes and shots are heard down the hall, and Yoongi snaps his head up in an instant. 

God, you smell. You reek. Your nose is tainted and your hands even more so. There’s no way he’s gonna have anything to do with you now. 

But you get the shock of the century when the man commands you to come along. “Let’s go.” 

Absolutely not. This is all you got in you for a lifetime. “What? No, no, no. No way, I’m going home.”

“And they’ll follow you the whole way back.” 

“I—I didn’t mean to—” 

Shots ring out before grunts barrel out into the short hallway. All of them piling out from crevasses and hidden passages. 

You give one more look at the two men now crumpled on the ground, bile rising up and threatening to spill. 

“Tough shit, princess. You did, now live with it.” 

Live with it. How poetic. 

You were protecting him. You did what you had to do. But you have blood on your hands again and now Yoongi will see you as something else besides a fucking street vendor. 

“Are you coming or not?”

You’re gonna puke your guts out.

With a stilted cry, you bend to snatch your weapons up yet again—gagging at the squelches and much deeper red—before following Yoongi’s long steps. 

Your hands. They’re shaking so bad you can’t even pocket the chopsticks properly. But you finally get them down, crushing your palms and squeezing just to stop them from rattling. 

When you wait behind Yoongi checking the corner, you turn around to make sure you aren’t being followed. And seeing the hallway still a moving mass of broken glass and hard swings, you think you’re safe. 

The stairs feel so different on the way down. Is that because you feel completely changed? There’s no coming back from this. Another side of you died right alongside those two people upstairs. 

No time to think about that. You have to follow his lead. And he’s slowing down why is he slowing down? 

Oh. Normal. Be normal to not garner suspicion. You have to do the same. 

Wait. You can’t go down there with a shirt full of stained evidence! Grabbing him and pulling back, you whisper, “Yoongi—”

His growl is so fierce your head spins, “What the fuck did I say about my n—”

“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.” 

Yoongi gives you a quick look before gripping the duffle strap. Brows lowered, he grits out while dumping it, “Lose the shirt.” 

“What?” 

“Do it.” 

“Where’d he go?”

“It’s gone!”

Your heads snap up before you lock eyes. And he doesn’t need to say anything to show you what he’s thinking behind those minted bangs.

As you hastily strip, your brain works in weird ways. Instead of processing how you very much need to hurry the fuck up, you lament the bra of choice today. And how sweaty you look. Because of course those are your thoughts of choice right now. 

Something’s dumped on you before your shirt hits the ground, and you think about its warmth before you realize exactly what’s on your shoulders. “You sure?” 

He’s already heading down. Oh god. You’re really putting this on shit shit shit. 

You’re quick to slip into the material before checking for your chopsticks, rushing down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Nerves firing on all cylinders, you follow Yoongi out of the restaurant with a single, disturbing thought. 

This is going too well. 

But you’re passing tables, you’re walking by the fish display, don’t fucking sob you’re out in the street now. 

Relax. You’re walking. His white tee is flawless and people have no clue you left a bloody shirt on a stairwell. Don’t fucking cry.

But suddenly.

Shouting erupts behind you both, just as a cop car rolls past the restaurant only to get surrounded. 

And with one look back, your brain freezes. Right before Yoongi sounds a little too delighted to say something so foreboding,

“Looks like you’re in it now.”

Adrenaline spikes as you burst into motion. Hot summer air stings your lungs as legs propel you forward, with nothing in sight except for your partner in high crime. 

Yoongi’s right. 

You’re in it now. 

And just like the delinquents that you despise, the two of you both kick up dust on the run. 

You’re really doing this. 

Holy shit, you’re really doing this and there’s no waking up, no jolting awake, no pinching yourself to know that it’s all a dream. The only thing pinching is your sides, fresh stings of karma with each heavy footstep through crowded streets, buildings, levels, wherever the fuck you go. 

At least Yoongi is commanding as he leads you through the city—clearly from a heap of experience. Though rattled, you follow him with more adrenaline than questions. Because running is all you know. Run, run, run, escaping is your only objective and you cannot let up even once.

Your feet pelt down a staircase before you leap onto a disposal bin, impact denting as you follow Yoongi’s long strides across the colorful tops. Shouts and metal pings echo behind you as your chasers catch up, and you grit your teeth so hard they rattle as you jump to alley ground. “Fuck!”

Searing, searing pain rushes through your legs as you twist and wind through busy corridors, squeezing into the gaps Yoongi finds as he barrels in front. 

“Get back here!” 

“You fuckers!”

Who’s following you? Are they even Crane? You don’t see a shred of white on their clothes at all so are they working for some random guy Yoongi stole from?

When you watch him turn at the shouting, all thoughts vanish as your gut churns. 

He’s grinning.

You just killed someone for him. And he probably has more blood on his hands than you can imagine. 

And he’s… enjoying this? 

You feel sick, mind blazing with a million red warning signs. How could you ever have had feelings for h—

You bounce off a passerby as you run, grunting at the sudden pain in your shoulder when another person rams into your back and topples you over, dirt scraping into your palms and knees. 

Shit shit shit it’s so dusty on the ground and all you see are traveling shoes where are you? Where is he did he leave did he even see you fall? It’s too condensed here there’s no way he’s not taking the next chance to disappear.

Forget all of that, they’re coming. The chasers are coming and you see them see you down get up get up get up what the fuck get up now.

Ripping out a groan, you rush to your feet as soon as someone swoops in, bashing someone right behind you with someone’s crate of fruit. 

Yoongi? He waited for you?

“Go!” 

Both of you hightail it with you now in the lead, and your eyes buzz as you slip through holes in the crowd. Left, left, right, around, left again, between. 

An intersection ahead. Yes. Lose everyone in the vehicle traffic or hitch a ride with a stranger. Fascinating how the survival tactics that spawn from your block develop in real time on the run.

Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck! 

Whiffing in front of your nose, a metal weapon smacks the ground at your toes. 

Flailing, you dodge the next swing, ducking before you see a black duffle smack your assailant in the face. 

Keep going. Finish him and get away. As Yoongi shifts left, you lunge forward, sending a swift punch to the guy’s ribs that hurt like hell goddamn oh fuck someone brought a knife!

“Yoongi!” Just as the surrounding civilians yell and clear out, you rush toward his aid before you’re tackled, air whooshing out of your lungs as your back pummels into gravel. Fuck fuck fuck this masked woman also has a dagger. A thick one. Don’t let her win don’t let her win hold on for dear fucking life. 

Did you think you’d find yourself in a grudge match to keep metal from sinking into your chest today? No. Ever? Also no. 

Your arms are shaking. Shots ring out. Sweat is your enemy. The street is in uproar. Where’s Yoongi did he hear you? Fuck, the metal tip is pricking you now this is— 

Mercifully, your attacker yelps as something slams into her side, dark brown clothes crumpling before you’re hoisted upward and dragged back into the crowd. 

“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”

“You good?” 

Oh, it’s Yoongi. Again. Okay. Eyes swirling, you lock onto the gun held flush in his other hand before you nod. “I—I think so—”

“Then keep up.” 

Winding between people, you’re only focused on getting away. But when you catch glimpses of him, he’s back to his glint. He’s exhilarated.

If only you were both doing anything else. If only you weren’t so queasy and guilty and loathing of your own self.

Right as you finally burst into bustling traffic, Yoongi boldly stops a taxi at its hood, motioning you to follow him inside. 

Shocked but head reeling, you open the door closest to your sweaty legs and slide in. 

And before you can even greet the shouting driver, Yoongi pulls you to his side and rushes something out in your ear, 

“Kiss me.” 

“I said get out!” 

“What?” 

“Come here.” 

You’ve kissed before. Not many times, but enough to know that this man knows what the fuck he’s doing because you feel like your soul just abandoned you to exist in this car forever. You don’t know why this is happening or where this came from, but his lips feel as soft as his name and as deadly as the gun he’s pulling on your driver—

“Han Station,” he drawls, halting time and space. “Or your papers are burned by morning.” 

Oh. 

You were just… Oh. 

Lips puffed and head swirling, you sit frozen in your spot, marinating in the realization that the best kiss of your life was a mere distraction. And as you watch Yoongi keep his aim straight, you assume he probably didn’t even think much of it, either. 

“…I thought you looked familiar,” the driver slowly grits, hands gripping his wheel before he shakes his head. “You’re a little far from home.”

You think that’s all he’s gonna say. But his eyes are sharp in the rear view mirror, knowing a gun is pointed straight at his dome. “Aren’t you.”

What is he getting at you need to leave fast—

“Agust.” 

…Huh? 

Agust? 

This is the first time you feel a heartbeat against your arm, and you hold a breath as Yoongi tightens his fingers on the gun. 

When he doesn’t reply, the car fills to the brim with tension, and you feel crushed by its liquid weight. 

Don’t you have to go? Aren’t you in a chase? Are you getting a little too hot?

When you go to slide to your own side of the car for some space, the hand around your shoulder squeezes. 

And you’re more confused, exhausted, and thrown off than ever. 

“Han Station,” is all Yoongi—Agust?—repeats, voice ice. “Now.”

To which the taxi driver stares, standing his ground until he breaks eye contact first to obey. 

“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”

Oh, fuck that. 

Before you can lunge forward to outright strangle the man, Yoongi does something that has your eyes magnifying into saucers and hands shooting up to your mouth.

He fires the gun straight at the man’s thigh, yelps leaving both the driver's throat and yours holy fuck! 

“You bastard—”

“You’ll live. Drive.”

“Fucking—fuck!”

The car shifts through traffic, swerving left and right and cutting off slower vehicles. When force smushes you closer into Yoongi’s side, you can’t help but notice how fit he is, and how calm he’s being despite the whole chase. Despite that spike in adrenaline. Despite blowing a hole in a stranger’s leg for six words.

He also feels really, really good against your side, but you can’t let that matter anytime soon. There’s absolutely no way you can let this dangerous man in, especially after this entire nightmare of a day. 

So you swallow, trying to compartmentalize because you’ll reach insanity if you don’t.

Does anyone out there know you took a life minutes ago? Or hours ago? You just kissed a criminal five and a half minutes ago. Would they care about that, too?

The window is suddenly much more interesting than any of your wandering, slingshot thoughts. 

Wait. It’s very pretty in this area, and you finally can tell some semblance of where you are. Because you only know of one part of the city that looks like this, and it’s deep in Crane territory. 

Did you both really make it this far? 

Carefully tended to, it’s a lot greener on the sidewalks, and more open on the roads. And it’s on one of these roads that you finally notice the sunset, gold accents shining on sleek street signs and the tops of buildings that seem much more at rest than you do. 

Rest. Sleep. Home. 

With the luck you’re having, it would be a miracle and a half to reach even one of the three. 

Did you get followed? You don’t know how much longer you can run, so you really fucking hope not. 

“Almost there,” Yoongi whispers, voice scratching your ear in the worst and best ways. “When we get out, move your ass.” 

When you watch the wary, heavy breathing driver in his rear view mirror, you bite out, “I know how to get out of a car, thanks.” 

“Just listen to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?” 

“No.” 

That came out quicker than you could stop it. But Yoongi only lets silence come between you before he squeezes your shoulder. When he speaks, you can hear how carved out his smirk is without even seeing it, 

“Good girl.”

And you spoke the truth. It wouldn’t have come out so fast if it weren’t. But you know to at least follow his advice here because he’s kept you alive thus far. He didn’t need to drag you out and protect you the whole way, so it’s not like he would steer you wrong here. Right? 

Right? 

“Here,” Yoongi orders before the car slows to a stop. 

That wasn’t so bad. You can get out normally now so why did Yoongi say—

Right as your foot hits ground, the taxi peels out, forcing you to throw yourself out of the side before the rest of your body leaves with it. 

Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for? 

Dirt and dust coats your tongue before you do anything to spit it out. Saliva rushes from your glands as you cough and hack, all while feeling every muscle group in your body begging to not stand up. 

But you feel rough, commanding hands on your arms. “You good?”

“Yeah—”

“Then get up. Get up.”

Straining and wincing like hell, you follow Yoongi’s lead yet again. Because you hear cars rolling up with bad intentions and that means you have to sprint again. 

What the fuck did Yoongi steal? And how the hell are these guys still on your tail? Their resources have got to be as good as Crane’s and yet, they don’t feel the same at all. 

You’re hobbling, but you’re going. You’re rushing. You’re going to get through this alive. 

Instead of heading into the underground, you find yourself ascending a flight of steps. Rumbles and rattles hit your ears as you realize exactly what kind of station this is—one you haven’t seen anywhere in your district. 

Han Station is a floating railway? 

Holy shit, where are you?

Yoongi skids around a corner before you plant hard to stop yourself, only to see him clash with someone before something connects right with your stomach, and you crumple before you feel a solid hit to your head. 

Oh.

The world spins and moves as you hear vibrations, slowed sounds that could be shouts. Gunshots? Or maybe songs? You don’t truly know but your head is aching—

Your arm rushes up to block something before your body follows, and you scream before gripping whatever you can and flipping a whole body forward. 

Reality crashes back into your ears as you snap out of your head. 

You haven’t had to do that maneuver in forever. Was muscle memory more than enough?

“Come on!”

Go. Go, follow him, both of you need to get to the rail shit it’s leaving!

The blaring reverberates through the air, pinging off metal and wheels screeching on the track lines as you bolt for the open doors.

Mid-stride, Yoongi swings to look at the people barreling up the stairs. “One more time: do you trust me?”

“No!”

“Good”—his hands grip your waist—“Jump!”

Head empty, you leap onto the railcar right as it starts to pick up speed, and you watch in horror as Yoongi empties his clip behind him until he can’t anymore. 

“Yoo—” Fuck, what was his name? He seems to not prefer the one you call him and that has to be for good reason. What was it?

You’re leaving. He’s gritting his teeth while hitting the bottom of his gun but he needs to get up! What was his fucking name! 

“Agust!” 

Yoongi finally whips his head around, dashing to the end of the train and straining to carry the duffle. 

He needs to launch it or leave it behind. There’s no way he’s not being weighed down so hard. “Here!” you yell, knowing that look is only reserved for people he doesn’t want to trust. It’s normal. But it still stings. “Hurry up!”

After one more second, he swings it around and flings, leaping onto the side handrail after you get blasted by the bag holy fuck that hurt. 

He was running with this the whole time? No wonder his shoulders are so cut this is heavy.

Straining, you peek out into the wind, seeing Yoongi holding on and scooting along thin steprails towards your awaiting hands.

Shit, this is dangerous. Buildings and the city below fly by, and a parallel train whooshes and roars past as you finally tug him inside with shaky wheezes.

Just like that.

You made it out.

What the fuck. You did it. No one else was able to get onto the train. You’re safe for now. 

Finally, finally, finally able to breathe. 

But goddamn, you both stand out like blood on a blank page.

As you struggle to fully stand, you notice everyone else on the train—well-kept, carrying themselves in sleek linens and lush outfits, hair done beautifully and to perfection. 

Which makes it unsurprising that plenty of them regard the pair of you with suspicion and morbid curiosity. While intrigue covers the one with an unfairly handsome face, zings of jealousy and judgment fire your way. 

You feel so out of place. You are so out of place. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to look at you like filth. The words from the taxi driver pierce your brain again, and you feel rage and pain bubble up to your tongue,

“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”

But Yoongi does something that has your brain chemistry altering because he casually bends a knee in front of you while holding the top rail, forcing you back into the side of the train car and only seeing his jewelry. 

When your eyes snap to his, he regards you before peering outside. “Stop,” he mutters. “You're causing a scene.”

“Me?” Oh, he has some nerve. “What did I do, you’re the one—”

“Quiet.”

Ridiculous. Huffing, you let disagreement tug your lips while joining him in watching the world go by. 

Realizing with a pang that you are probably never getting back home. You’re never gonna see your favorite neighbor with his woks and caterpillar eyebrows. All the produce you were planning to sell will only succumb to mold and time. 

Your tangerines… 

When a tear falls, it glints in your reflection before quickly being swiped away. 

No. Don’t do any of that here where people can see—where he can see. No one will know what the hell you just went through today. Be normal, strong, normal. 

The ride lasts a little longer, with people coming and going during each stop. When there are seats open, neither you nor Yoongi move to take them. The two of you stay glued where you stand.

Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.

The next stop seems to be in a quieter sector of the city. All around you are buildings you’ve never seen before stretching miles into the sky, and the streets are so neatly paved you’re convinced they’re fake. 

“This is us,” Yoongi whispers, hand guiding your hip to move toward the doors.

Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.

Where are you now? Where are you getting off? 

You both exit the train with a few others, and you watch with heightened curiosity as they carry satchels and wear shoes that look horribly uncomfortable. As you move down the steps, you keep craning your neck to take everything in, and more questions fill your head than answers. 

But the truth remains even as you and Yoongi stop in front of your destination.

You cannot run anymore. Even if more of whoever those guys were showed up, you may just choose to sit down instead of take another stride. Besides, your body is still running a thousand steps even though you haven’t moved since getting on the train anyway. After today, the chase may never stop.

“We’ll stay here.” 

We? Stay? 

“Here? This place is…” You keep peering up and up, the top of the building so high your neck hurts. It’s so foreign and magical your only adjective is a quiet, “Nice.” 

At your side, Yoongi seems annoyed when he asks, “Expect something different?” 

“Yeah, like… I dunno, a secret lair or something.” 

Air whooshes from his nostrils, but there’s a stark absence of a smile. Looking up at the building, too, he explains something that you’ve never heard of before,

“We’re in a grey zone. No one will follow us here.” 

Right. Because that somehow makes sense to regular civilians like you. Because you are one, are one, are one. “Allegedly,” you scoff, not knowing what to believe anymore.  

Yoongi pauses before heading up, and his agreement makes you look. “Allegedly.” 

Mm. 

After taking the tiny steps to the entrance, you wonder what he must be thinking bringing your haphazard look in tow. 

Because he could’ve left you behind at any point in time. But he didn’t. What does that mean? Why is he keeping you alive and at his side?

While you’re taking in the opulent and vast lobby, Yoongi guides you toward the front desk, shifting the duffle on his shoulder. 

This place is gorgeous. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. How were they able to install a waterfall in a building? What kind of money does this so-called grey zone have? 

Yoongi nods toward the concierge, who quickly nods back and scurries away and into a room.

If you weren’t so tired, you could probably make something of that exchange. But you are very much exhausted so frankly, you don’t give a shit right now. 

Although. You do give a shit about the fingers suddenly interlacing with your own. As your hand is held, you shoot your best client a look so potent he stares back. “What now,” you snip, question low and dripping with distrust. 

Unfazed, Yoongi slowly pulls you into his side, a steady hand coming up to wrap around your tired hips. So nonchalant, so lax, so confusing as he murmurs,

“Just wanted to.”

Your heart trips into the next beat.

On sore legs, you wait until the concierge comes back with a key, eyes swiping over you as if they finally noticed your existence. Which seems to perplex them as they hand over the metal device.

And Yoongi just takes it, not a word said before he directs you across the lobby to what look like elevators.

Even these look fancy as fuck. Wherever you are and whatever this place is, you feel even more out of place than on that judgy train. 

A hotel worker bows before he motions to the opening doors. “Nice to see you again,” he murmurs to the ground, seemingly expecting the same non-response given to the front desk. “Would you like the usual, Mister—” 

“No,” Yoongi clips him off. “Not this time.” 

“Understood.” 

Brows pinched, you’re starting to get a weird feeling. 

How does everyone know Yoongi so well here? He said this was a grey zone, which you’d think would be akin to a neutral or non-threatening one. So why does it feel like he’s got this area on lock? Who exactly are you getting into an elevator with? 

…Who exactly did you save? 

Yoongi was right when he said you’re in it now. But faced with more questions surrounding him than anything or anyone else, you’re starting to wonder what pit of hell you dropped yourself into. 

Especially after catching the look of utter panic from the serviceman. 

Right before sliding doors shut the world out. 

—

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a/n: thank you all for being so patient as i work through this! it was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but i like, need characters to get to know and learn about one another before heading into spice lmao. I NEED PLOT OK. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT I PROMISE DSHFKDSF we just gotta get through the slow burn first >:)) a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist