#I feel like this is a bit messy but have it anyway

[mattscoquette]

MATTSCOQUETTE AU SPECIAL ౨ৎ

dad!matt and the girls making breakfast for reader

the kitchen was a disaster, messy bowls and pans strewn across the counter that was covered in flour.

“here, stella, let me crack the eggs.” matt said while he carefully took the egg out of his daughter’s hands, cracking it against the bowl and into the mixture.

stella, who was standing up on a stool in front of matt, looked up at him and giggled, reaching her hands out in front of her. “daddy! i wanna help!”

“we are helping, stel,” lorelai giggled as she climbed up on the stool next to her sister, “you’re just messy.”

matt laughed, throwing the egg shells into the trash as he returned to his spot by the counter, a whisk in hand. “you girls wanna help me mix the batter?”

the twins nodded rapidly and giggled, holding onto the whisk with matt as he began to stir all the ingredients in the pancake batter together.

the start of the spring season was always tough for you and your allergies, causing you to feel a bit under the weather. matt took notice of the amount of tissues piling up in the bathroom trash over the course of the week, and took it upon himself to make you breakfast in bed. along with the help of his daughters, of course.

“daddy, can we have pancakes too?” lorelai asked.

“these are for mommy, lo! to make her feel better” stella told her, still helping matt stir. (she was starting to make a mess, the pancake batter getting all over the counter).

“yeah, but i’m hungry too,” the other girl whined, looking up at matt with her best pleading eyes, “please daddy? can we have some too?”

matt smiled, ruffling her hair playfully. “we can make extra, babe, okay? so you and your sister can have some.”

the girls’ grins widened while they continued to help matt. when they finished stirring, the girls carefully helped their dad pour some of the batter into the pan, the sweet scent of the breakfast starting to fill the air.

“you girls think we should make a heart pancake for mommy?” matt asked as he settled the bowl back onto the counter, picking up a spatula to begin cooking the pancakes that were now in the pan.

“we can do that?” stella asked with widened eyes while lorelai nodded in excitement.

“yeah, yeah, let’s do it!” lorelai cheered.

matt let out a chuckle while nodding his head. “alrighty, heart pancakes it is.”

matt and the girls continued baking the pancakes, lorelai even trying to pour a heart that ended up looking more like a circle than anything.

eventually, the batter ran out, and matt was making his way back to the bedroom with girls with a tray assorted with your favorite fruits and the fluffy pancakes. he even went as far as putting a few flowers into a small vase to bring to you.

he opened the door slowly, revealing your sickly self wrapped up in the comforter surrounding by a mountain of tissues.

“good morning beautiful,” matt said with a smile, walking over to the bed and placing the tray on your lap and planting a kiss to your forehead, “how’re you feeling?”

“mommy! mommy! we cooked you breakfast!” the girls cheered while they came running in, jumping up into the bed with you.

you beamed at the twins, giving them each a kiss on the cheek goodmorning before smiling up at matt. “you didn’t have to do all this.”

“i wanted to.” he replied simply while he shrugged.

you smiled widely, pulling him and the girls into your arms, squeezing them tightly. “i love you three so much, thanks for always being the best.”

© mattscoquette | taglist

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ first fic of the au special how we feeling !!! this is sm longer than i intended but </3 dad!matt my cutie i love him. anyway next fic is ab to be FREAKY hope u guys are ready! and i hope u all liked this as well :) love u all dearly

[chrrybbmb]

EQUILIBRIUM

STARRING ... SPIDEY!J. JUNGKOOK X READER

WORD COUNT ... 7.5K

SUMMARY ... how long can you pretend not to notice you're falling headfirst?

NOTES/WARNINGS ... slow burn. mutual pining. they’re both falling so hard they need a helmet AKSJASK. reader’s acceptance era. they wanna kiss each other so bad but are too stupid to realise it someone please bonk them on the head. implied spidey!jk fight. she’s a lil bit short but that’s okay things are moving forward!!!

playlist : give you the world (steve lacy). i think (tyler the creator). me gustas tu (manu chao). falling for ya (grace phipps). the feels (twice). out of my league (fitz and the tantrums). more than a woman (the beegees). be my baby (the ronettes). rather be (clean bandit). cupid (fifty fifty).

taglist. prev. next.

he’s been staring at the same sentence in his notes for the past five minutes.

it’s not even a hard one. something about limiting reagents and product yield—stuff he could usually recite without blinking, but you’re sitting right there.

curled into the far side of the library booth, legs tucked under you, pen twirling between your fingers like you’ve likely done a hundred times before. there’s a smudge of blue ink on your thumb and a crumpled piece of gum wrapper on the table between you, and jungkook can’t seem to make his brain work long enough to finish a full thought.

you hum under your breath as you copy down the last equation he walked you through. nod a little to yourself when it clicks.

jungkook has never hated a reaction more.

not because he minds teaching. not because he minds being here. but because he wants to kiss you. he’s been thinking about it more than he should. enough that it’s starting to interfere with things, like memory and rational thought and knowing when to look away.

your lips purse as you underline something. your brow furrows. he looks back at his notes and pretends he didn’t notice.

“you okay?” you say after a moment.

your voice is soft. casual, like you haven’t just dragged him out of a thought spiral that involved your lip gloss and his complete and utter lack of self-control.

he glances up too fast, eyes wide. “what?”

you blink at him. “you’ve been on the same line for ages. just wondered if you were, i don’t know... buffering.”

a beat, then you grin.

jungkook exhales through his nose and drops his pen. presses the heel of his palm to his temple like that’ll help short-circuit whatever his brain is doing. “i’m fine,” he mutters.

“uh-huh,” you say, clearly not buying it. you nudge the gum wrapper closer to him with the back of your knuckle. “you sure it’s not the limiting reagent that’s got you in a chokehold?”

“positive,” he says. “limiting reagents are easy.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and yet?”

he glares at the sentence in his notebook like it’s personally wronged him, and you laugh under your breath, the sound warm, bright in a way the library doesn’t deserve.

he hates that it makes his stomach flip.

“okay, professor,” you tease. “if you’re done glitching, i have questions.”

he nods slowly, swallowing back everything else he wants to say. “hit me.”

you scoot a little closer, shifting your notebook between you, your leg bumping his under the table. not on purpose, probably, but jungkook flinches anyway. you don’t seem to notice. you’re already flipping back a page and chewing on your bottom lip, scanning your notes.

“this one,” you say, pointing to a messy line halfway down the margin. “the molar ratio part? i think i missed something.”

he leans in before he can stop himself. close enough to see the faint shimmer of your lip balm, the way the library’s overhead lights reflect in your eyes. bad idea. he clears his throat, forcing his eyes back down. “you just have to compare the coefficients from the balanced equation. it’s about how many moles of reactant are required to fully react with the other.”

“right,” you nod, writing as he speaks. “so it’s about proportion?”

“exactly.”

you hum again, more to yourself this time, scribbling in the margin. your handwriting is uneven and fast and a little chaotic, but it makes something in his chest ache anyway.

you’re too close.

he shifts a little, subtly. just enough to give himself space to breathe. because he doesn’t want you to see the way it’s affecting him the way everything you do lately seems to be affecting him. it’s getting bad.

the way you lean into him when you’re focused. the way you smile when you finally understand something. the way you call him ‘professor’ sometimes, like it’s a joke, but he still thinks about it later when he’s brushing his teeth.

you nudge his notebook with your pen. “you’re being quiet again.”

“just thinking.”

you glance at him sideways, a small smile tugging at your lips. “about chemistry?”

he lies. “yeah.”

you laugh. soft and a little disbelieving. “you don’t sound very convincing, you know.”

he shrugs, eyes still on your notes. “i’m not good at this whole… thing.”

“mm. i don’t know.” you twirl your pen again, the ink-stained tip catching a smudge across your palm. “you’ve managed to teach me more in two weeks than i’ve learned all semester. that’s gotta count for something.”

jungkook wants to say thank you. wants to make a dumb joke. wants to reach across the table and take your hand just to see if you’d let him. instead, he stares at the gum wrapper between you. you don’t seem to notice the shift.

“you’re good at it,” you add, quieter this time. “the tutoring thing. i didn’t expect that.”

he raises an eyebrow. “why not?”

you glance at him like it should be obvious. “you don’t really talk. during class, i mean. you kind of just show up, take notes, and disappear.”

he shrugs again. “maybe you just weren’t paying attention.”

your smile falters a little, flickering into something softer. more real. “maybe,” you admit. “but i do now.”

and there’s something in the way you say it that makes his heartbeat stutter and his mouth dry.

you shift again, settling back into your seat. “anyway. i think i get it now.”

he nods, pretending like what you said doesn’t matter to him as much as it does. “good.”

“do i get a gold star?”

he finally smiles, small but genuine. “i’ll bring stickers next time.”

you grin. “i’m holding you to that.”

he’s not sure if you mean it. but he will.

you stretch your arms above your head, spine arching just slightly, a soft groan escaping your throat. jungkook looks away so fast he almost gives himself whiplash.

“we’ve been at this for too long,” you say, voice light, dragging your hands through your hair before letting them fall into your lap. “my brain’s starting to leak out of my ears.”

he huffs a laugh, flipping your notebook closed. “sure. break time.”

“thank god,” you sigh, slumping dramatically against the back of the booth. “i was two problems away from crying.”

“you’ve cried over chemistry before?”

“once,” you say, lifting your fingers to make a tiny gap between your thumb and forefinger. “just a little. like a respectable amount.”

he grins. “respectable tears?”

“very academic,” you nod solemnly. “phd-level sobbing.”

you’re joking, but your smile is tired in a way that makes his chest tug. he wonders how much sleep you’ve been getting. how often you let yourself take breaks when he’s not the one insisting. he doesn’t ask.

instead, he pushes the textbooks aside. “what do you usually do during breaks?” he asks, half teasing, half genuinely curious.

you blink at him, clearly not expecting him to ask. “usually?” you say. “scroll. draw. steal other people’s snacks. the essentials.”

jungkook hums, amused. “should i be worried?”

“only if you brought anything worth stealing.”

he reaches into his bag, pulls out a granola bar, and slides it across the table.

you gasp. “an offering?”

“a peace treaty,” he says. “in case you cry again.”

you laugh, peeling back the wrapper, and something in his chest unwinds. “this’ll buy you fifteen more minutes of tutoring,” you say through a mouthful of granola. “maybe twenty if you pretend i’m doing better than i am.”

“you’re doing fine,” he says before he can stop himself.

you glance up at him. blink once. then you smile, and it’s not playful—not teasing or smug or exaggerated. it’s quiet. sincere. “thanks,” you say softly. “i’ve been trying.”

jungkook swallows. nods. looks down at his hands just so he doesn’t have to look at you.

you chew slowly, shoulders relaxing against the booth.

“i kind of like studying with you,” you say after a minute, not even realizing what you’re doing to him.

his throat is suddenly too dry. “yeah?”

you nod. “you’re patient. and you explain things better than my professors do. and you always bring snacks.”

“only brought one.”

“you’ve brought others before.”

he snorts under his breath. “you keep track?”

you shrug. “when you’ve got as many things on your mind as i do, it’s nice when something’s consistent.”

and god, he wants to say something. to tell you he’d bring you granola bars every day for the rest of the semester. to ask if he’s allowed to be one of the things you count on. but instead, he picks at the edge of his textbook and says, “i’ll bring two next time.”

you grin. “spoiling me.”

he shrugs, pretending it’s casual. “you deserve it.”

you look at him for a second—really look at him, eyes soft, head tilted just slightly, trying to figure him out. then, just as quickly, the moment shifts. you smile again, all light and teasing. “if you keep saying stuff like that, i’m gonna start thinking you like me.”

you say it like a joke, like it’s nothing. like it’s funny.

and maybe it is to you. maybe you’re just playing around. maybe you don’t see the way his hands curl into fists in his lap, or how he forgets how to breathe for half a second.

he laughs. too late, too forced.

“yeah, well,” he says, eyes fixed on a scratch in the table. “can’t have that.”

you don’t respond right away. you just pick at the corner of your granola bar wrapper, folding it neatly in half.

“mm,” you say finally, like you’ve filed that away somewhere. “would ruin the academic integrity of this tutoring relationship.”

he nods. “exactly.”

another beat passes. you lean your cheek against your hand, watching him with something unreadable in your expression. “guess i’ll just have to keep wondering, then.”

and before he can figure out what that means, or if you meant anything at all, you’re reaching for your notes again.

“alright, professor,” you say lightly. “break’s over. teach me something.”

jungkook picks up his pen with shaking fingers. he doesn’t say a word.

you’re already flipped to a fresh page, pen tapping against the paper as you glance at him, waiting. expecting. jungkook clears his throat and tries to focus. tries to remember what you were working on before you smiled at him in a way that made it hard to breathe.

"okay," he says eventually, voice quieter than usual. “uh. equilibrium constants.”

you nod, jotting down the title at the top of the page.

his hands are still shaking. he doesn’t think you notice. you lean in a little, not quite touching, but close enough to make his skin prickle. "so," you murmur, pen at the ready, "what’s the deal with k?”

and god.

you’re doing it on purpose. or maybe you’re not. maybe this is just how you are—curious, warm, bright in a way that doesn’t burn but still somehow sets him on fire.

he exhales slowly through his nose.

"it’s a ratio," he starts, keeping his eyes on your notebook instead of your face. "products over reactants. a way to measure if a reaction favors the left or the right.”

you hum under your breath. “and what if it favors neither?”

he lets himself glance at you then, just briefly. “then it’s balanced,” he says.

you meet his gaze, smile tugging at your lips. “sounds ideal.”

jungkook looks away. he’s never wanted anything more than he wants to kiss you right now. he doesn’t let the thought linger. it’s dangerous—too loud, too close to the surface. he presses the tip of his pen to your notebook instead, draws a quick diagram, lets the movement steady his hands.

"see how the concentrations shift?" he says, voice even, like his pulse isn’t hammering in his throat.

you lean forward again, shoulder brushing his just barely.

"so when k is greater than one..." you murmur.

"it means the products are favored."

you nod, scribbling it down, brow furrowed in concentration.

and jungkook clings to that. your focus, your curiosity, the way you chew your lip when you're thinking hard. if he lets himself look at you for too long, he knows he won’t be able to look away.

and if he lets himself feel everything he’s feeling, really feel it, he might never stop.

he watches you write, lets the silence stretch just long enough to steady himself. then “okay,” he says softly. “your turn.”

you glance up, pen pausing mid-stroke.

“what does it mean when a reaction is at equilibrium?”

your brow furrows, eyes flicking between his face and the sketch of the reaction chart on your page. he waits.

you tap the end of your pen against the paper, thoughtful. “it means… the rate of the forward reaction equals the rate of the reverse?”

when he nods, you continue, voice more confident now. “that the concentrations stop changing. not because the reaction stops, but because everything’s happening at the same time, in both directions.”

he smiles, and it’s small, but it’s real. “exactly.”

you grin, wide and a little proud, and his heart goes stupid in his chest.

“see?” you say, nudging his elbow with yours. “i am learning.”

“you’re a model student,” he says, just to hear you laugh again.

you do. soft and sudden. the kind of sound that makes him feel weightless.

you go back to your notes, but jungkook doesn’t move right away. he keeps his eyes on the margin of your page, watching your pen move.

equilibrium.

forward and reverse, happening at once. equal effort. equal weight. it sounds simple in theory.

he wishes it were. he wishes he was brave enough to just be honest with you about how he feels, to say it plainly. without stumbling, without second-guessing, without hiding behind chemistry terms and granola bars and excuses that sound a lot like maybe next time.

he wants to tell you that he thinks about you more than he should. that every time you smile at him, it takes him a second too long to recover. but instead he points to the next problem in your textbook. “you wanna try this one on your own?”

you glance at it, then at him, then back at your notes.

“sure,” you say, and your voice is casual, but the corners of your mouth curve just enough to undo him all over again.

you start working through the equation, mumbling under your breath, pen tapping as you go, and jungkook watches. he doesn’t say what he wants to. he doesn’t risk it. not yet.

you furrow your brow at the middle of the problem, chewing on your pen cap while your eyes scan the numbers. “wait,” you mutter, pointing to the molar ratio. “isn’t it supposed to be three to two here?”

“yeah,” he says, quiet. “good catch.”

you grin, triumphant, scribbling something onto the page. he looks away again, smile threatening the edges of his mouth.

god. he’s so gone.

completely, utterly, irreversibly.

you don’t even know. you’re just here, sharing your notebook, offering up pieces of yourself so easily it’s like you don’t think twice. he wishes he could match you in that. be just as open, just as brave.

“what?” you ask suddenly, glancing over at him. “you’re staring.”

“no, i’m not,” he says, and it’s instant, reflexive.

you raise a brow. “you kinda were.”

he clears his throat. “i was just… surprised. you’re getting good at this.”

you smile, a little bashful. “guess i’ve got a decent tutor.”

jungkook looks at your face, the way you’re trying to hide how proud you are. he wants to reach out.

he doesn’t.

“you’re not so bad yourself,” he says instead, voice low.

your eyes linger on him a beat too long. and then you look down again, flipping to a new page.

his heart doesn’t slow down for the rest of the hour.

jungkook winces as jimin dabs at his cheek with a sting-soaked cotton pad.

"jesus," jimin mutters under his breath, voice tight with irritation. "you need to stop letting public transit rearrange your face."

“i’m fine,” jungkook grits out, though the words come slower than he means for them to. his head’s still spinning, just a little. he blinks hard, trying to clear it.

jimin pulls back, eyes narrowing. “uh-huh. and i’m the queen of england.” he swipes at a dried streak of blood along jungkook’s jaw, a little less gently this time.

jungkook flinches, shoulders curling in. “i don’t have a concussion.”

“right.” jimin scoffs, tossing the cotton pad into the trash. “because when a ten-ton hunk of steel smacks you into a goddamn billboard, the first thing you think is thank god my brain’s still in one piece.”

jungkook sighs, leaning back against the couch, one hand dragging down his face. he hates this part, the aftermath. when the adrenaline’s gone and everything hurts and the city’s quiet again and jimin’s looking at him like he’s one bad landing away from being a memory.

“you should’ve gone to the ER,” jimin mutters, disinfectant in one hand, gauze in the other.

“they ask too many questions.”

“they ask questions so you don’t die, genius.”

“you’re patching me up anyway,” jungkook mumbles, gesturing vaguely to the half-open first aid kit on the coffee table. jimin doesn’t answer right away. just presses the gauze to the cut on his temple a little more firmly than necessary.

jungkook hisses.

“you’re an idiot,” jimin says, quiet.

“i know.”

he does. he knows.

jungkook closes his eyes for a second, lets the pressure of jimin’s hand ground him. the sting, the scent of antiseptic, the soft buzz of a heater kicking on somewhere in the apartment.

he’d thought about going to you. when he was dragging himself out of the alley, ribs screaming, blood sticky down the side of his face, your apartment flashed across his mind. a quiet thought, tucked into the corner of the chaos.

she’d open the door.

she’d help.

she always does.

even in his addled state, he knew it was a bad idea. stupid. selfish even.

as much as he’d enjoyed it last time—being there, letting you fuss over him, hearing your voice up close, feeling your fingers skim his cheek like he was something fragile—it wasn’t something he could get used to.

not when you didn’t know who he was. not really.

“you zoning out on me?” jimin asks, tone clipped.

jungkook blinks his eyes open again. “no.”

jimin doesn’t buy it. he never does.

“you sure? ‘cause your pupils look two different sizes and you haven’t blinked in thirty seconds.”

jungkook exhales a dry laugh. “just thinking.”

“dangerous,” jimin mutters, tossing the bloodied gauze aside and grabbing clean bandages. “next time, don’t think. just duck.”

“tried.”

“try harder.”

he doesn’t mean to sound harsh. jimin never does, not really, but there’s a tremble underneath it. fear, maybe. and jungkook doesn’t have the heart to brush that off. not tonight. not after the way his own legs gave out two blocks from the fight, not after the taste of copper and pavement still lingers in his mouth.

so he just nods and lets jimin tape him back together again in silence.

jimin’s quiet for a while after that. he works the way he always does when he’s trying not to feel something. quick, precise, hands steady even when his breathing isn’t. jungkook watches the ceiling, eyes unfocused. the room spins a little when he turns his head, so he doesn’t.

“you’ve gotta slow down,” jimin says eventually, voice low.

jungkook hums. “can’t.”

jimin’s fingers still against the side of his face.

“why not?”

jungkook doesn’t answer right away. he could say it’s the city. the people who need help. the guilt that chews at his ribs when he thinks about what would happen if he just stopped.

but none of that is what comes out.

“she was there,” he says quietly.

jimin freezes. “when?”

“before the fight,” jungkook mumbles. “at her mural. painting.” he swallows. “she didn’t see me. i didn’t stay.”

jimin sighs, sits back on his heels, eyeing him carefully. “you shouldn’t keep doing this.”

jungkook blinks. “doing what?”

“using the mask as an excuse to orbit her,” jimin says flatly. “you’re not doing her any favors. and you’re definitely not doing you any favors either.”

jungkook looks away, jaw tight. “i’m not trying to mess with her,” he says. “i just… i don’t know. i miss her.”

“you see her,” jimin says. “you tutor her. you sit across from her in cafes and make a fool of yourself in front of her every week.”

“it’s not the same,” jungkook mutters.

“no,” jimin agrees. “because at least when you’re you, you’re not lying to her face.”

the silence that follows is heavier than anything else.

jimin doesn’t push. just leans back against the couch, pulls his knees up, and runs a hand through his hair with a sigh that sounds way too tired for how young they are. the room is quiet again, save for the low hum of traffic outside and the soft groan of jimin’s air conditioner in the background.

jimin exhales through his nose, slow and tired. he presses the last strip of tape to jungkook’s temple, then drops the empty wrapper onto the table with a quiet crinkle.

“you’re lucky you didn’t black out,” he says. “again.”

jungkook doesn’t respond. just leans back into the couch, arm slung over his eyes. he’s so tired. not just in his body. not just the bruises, or the cuts, or the ache in his shoulder that still hasn’t gone away from last week’s rooftop landing. it’s in his chest.

the constant push and pull of being two people. the version of him who makes you laugh across tables, and the one who swings past your apartment in the middle of the night just to see if your lights are on.

the one you know.

the one you don’t.

“you should tell her,” jimin says eventually. “before it gets worse.”

jungkook drops his arm, looks at him with tired eyes. “tell her what, hyung? hey, i’m your tutor and the idiot who bled on your furniture that one time. surprise?”

jimin just shrugs. “sounds about right.”

“she’ll hate me.”

“she might.” jimin doesn’t sugarcoat it. “but she also might not.”

jungkook swallows hard.

he’s thought about it. a hundred different ways. a thousand different outcomes. and in every one, you look at him differently after. sometimes with betrayal. sometimes with disbelief. sometimes you don’t look at him at all, and that’s the part that scares him most.

he scrubs a hand down his face and groans. “i can’t. not yet.”

jimin watches him for a beat, then nods.

“then don’t wait too long,” he says. “because if she finds out on her own, it’s gonna hurt worse.”

jungkook doesn’t say anything, because deep down, he knows jimin’s right. that’s what scares him second most.

you stare down at your phone, thumb hovering over the screen.

here early, grabbed a table near the back x

sent fifteen minutes ago.

you sigh and lock your phone, flipping it face down on the table.

the cafe is warm. quieter than usual, save for the low hum of an indie playlist and the hiss of the espresso machine behind the counter. your untouched drink sits beside your notebook, still steaming. you haven’t taken a sip.

you know jungkook’s probably caught in traffic. or maybe the bus was late. maybe something came up. maybe he’s just having one of those days. but your brain doesn’t care about reason. it cares that he was the one who asked to move the session earlier this week. said he couldn’t do the weekend.

so you cleared your schedule. shifted your plans. you told taehyung no, you told yourself it was fine, you told yourself you weren’t too excited when he sent the text.

and now here you are.

alone in a corner booth with your highlighters lined up in color order and your thoughts spiraling at full speed.

you try not to take it personally, and you fail. your mind jumps straight to that place you hate—what if he forgot? what if he bailed? what if he’s slowly realizing he doesn’t actually like being around you at all? you exhale, sharp and quiet.

then the bell above the door jingles, and jungkook stumbles in, breathless and disheveled, hoodie askew and cheeks flushed pink from the cold. his hair is a mess, and his backpack looks half-zipped, and there’s a coffee stain on the cuff of his sleeve.

he spots you instantly and his shoulders sag in relief. “hey…” he pants as he approaches, breath visible in the air behind him, “sorry. i’m so sorry.”

you blink, and despite every insecure thought you were stewing in two seconds ago, your chest loosens just a little.

“…you okay?” you ask, voice quieter than you mean for it to be.

he nods quickly, dropping his bag onto the seat across from you. “yeah. yeah. just—” he pulls his hood back, raking a hand through his hair, “—bit of a mess getting here. totally my fault. i should’ve texted.”

you shake your head, forcing a small smile. “you’re here now.”

he meets your eyes, sheepish.

“still,” he says, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, “thanks for waiting.”

you shrug, flipping open your notebook. “you owe me a sticker for it.”

he exhales a laugh. “i brought two sheets.”

you lean back in your seat, watching him dig through his bag, fingers fumbling for his notes or maybe a pen or maybe just something to distract from how flustered he is. he finally pulls out his notebook, slaps it onto the table, and exhales like he’s just run a marathon.

“you didn’t have to sprint here,” you murmur, reaching for your drink at last. “i would’ve waited.”

he smiles, boyish, still a little breathless.

“i did make you wait,” he says. “felt bad.”

you’re about to wave it off when you notice just the faintest smudge. barely there, high on the edge of his nostril, a smear of red that’s mostly faded but not invisible. your brows draw together.

“hey.”

he looks up. “hm?”

you reach into your pocket for a tissue and slide it across the table. “you’ve got—” you motion to your own nose, eyes narrowing. “what happened?”

he falters just for a second. his hand lifts instinctively, brushing at the spot with the back of his knuckle before glancing at the tissue and taking it.

“oh. must’ve been from earlier.”

you stare. “earlier?”

“yeah, it’s nothing,” he says quickly, too quickly. “i get nosebleeds sometimes. weather shift, i guess.”

he doesn’t look at you when he says it. just dabs once, then folds the tissue and tucks it under his notebook like it never existed. you don’t believe him, but you don’t push, either. “…you sure?”

he nods. “promise.”

and it sounds certain enough that you don’t press, even as something unsettles deep in your stomach. instead, you flip open your own notes and reach for a pen.

“fine,” you say softly. “but if you pass out mid-equation, i’m not catching you.”

he huffs a laugh, and it sounds a little more real this time. “deal.”

you pretend to scan your notes, pen tapping idly, but your eyes drift. jungkook’s hunched forward, elbows on the table, scribbling something in the corner of his page. his hair’s a mess, long and black and tangled from either wind or movement or both, curling at the ends where it brushes his hoodie. there’s a little patch that won’t fall the right way, hanging stubbornly across his forehead.

and then there’s the glasses.

you haven’t seen him wear them before. they sit low on his nose, slipping a little every time he shifts, catching the light and reflecting it just enough to make you pause. you don’t mean to stare, but you do until he looks up and catches your gaze head-on.

“…do i have something else on my face?” he asks, cautious.

you blink. hard.

“what? no.” you shake your head, a little too fast. “no. i was just… thinking.”

his brow lifts slightly. “about what?”

you scramble for anything but you look really good like this and i can’t stop looking at you.

you flick your pen toward the table. “i was wondering why we met here instead of the library.”

he blinks, then ducks his head, pushing his glasses up with his knuckle, suddenly shy. “oh. um. the café’s closer to where i live.”

you nod slowly, biting back a smile. “huh.” you tilt your head. “so you dragged me across town for your own convenience?”

“not dragged,” he says, a little defensively. “i picked a place with good coffee.”

you raise your brow and he shrinks just slightly in his seat.

“and you said you didn’t mind,” he adds, quieter.

you don’t. you really don’t. but you’re not about to let him off that easy.

“mm. you’re lucky the coffee is good.”

he grins, soft and crooked.

“i am lucky.”

he doesn’t know what he’s saying. what it’s doing to you.

you don’t trust your voice enough to respond, so you flip to the next page of your notes and hope he can’t hear your heartbeat from across the table.

he, for his part, doesn’t say anything else. just ducks his head again, hair falling even further into his face as he pushes up his glasses with one finger. your eyes follow the movement before you can stop yourself.

it’s almost unfair. how soft he looks like this.

you draw a slow breath, steadying yourself before you speak.

“alright, professor,” you murmur, aiming for light. “you’ve got me at a café. impress me.”

he huffs a laugh, head still bowed.

“no pressure or anything,” he mumbles, flipping to a page of problem sets.

you lean your chin into your hand, elbow propped against the table. “you’re the one who insisted on the earlier session.”

“and i stand by it,” he says, voice warming again. “even if i almost died trying to get here.”

“do you always get nosebleeds when you're rushing to meet girls?”

he pauses mid-scribble. you see the smile tug at the corner of his mouth before he tries to hide it.

“only the pretty ones,” he says, barely above a whisper.

your breath catches. just for a second, just long enough to feel it, sharp and hot in your chest. you glance down at your notebook, heart thudding.

you don’t know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything.

your fingers freeze over the spiral of your notebook, eyes trained on a random line of notes that suddenly means nothing to you.

across from you, jungkook goes still, turning red. not just a faint dusting across his cheeks. full-on, unmistakable, spreading fast across his face and up to the tips of his ears. he ducks his head, hiding behind the curtain of his hair like he’s trying to disappear into it, lips pressing together in a tight, horrified line.

you’re not sure either of you can believe he just said that.

he thinks you’re pretty, he thinks you’re pretty, he thinks you’re pretty. it plays on loop in your brain, each echo a little more dizzying than the last. your heart skips and stumbles all over itself, half stuck on the words and half on the fact that he meant them. he must’ve meant them.

jungkook coughs into his hand, trying to recover. “i.. uh. sorry,” he mutters, still not looking up. “that was—i was joking.”

“bad joke,” you say quietly, eyes still on your page.

he exhales a shaky breath. “yeah.”

neither of you look up. neither of you move.

the silence stretches. not awkward. not exactly. just charged.

you pretend to read your notes, pen tapping against the margin, heartbeat thudding loud enough that it might as well be on the table between you. jungkook still hasn’t looked up.

you steal a glance at him.

his hair’s fallen further into his face, half hiding the flush that still stains his cheeks. his fingers are clenched around his pen, knuckles pale, foot bouncing under the table in a restless rhythm.

he’s panicking*.*

not outwardly—he’s too quiet for that. too soft. but it’s there. in the way his eyes stay fixed on the same spot in his notebook, in the way his throat moves when he swallows. and for some reason, the realization makes your chest squeeze.

you almost tell him it’s okay. almost say, you don’t have to be sorry. i didn’t mind it. i’m still thinking about it.

but then he shifts, shoulders squaring, and finally meets your eyes.

“can we pretend i didn’t say that?” he asks, voice low. he says it with a forced little smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes.

and maybe that’s what makes your decision for you. you look at him for a second longer, then nod once. “sure,” you say, and it comes out smoother than you expect. “you didn’t say anything.”

jungkook exhales through his nose, relief barely veiling the disappointment that flickers across his face.

you both go back to your notes, but neither of you turn the page.

the apartment is quiet when jungkook gets in. the door clicks shut behind him, soft in the silence, but it still makes him flinch. he toes off his shoes, drops his bag by the door, jacket halfway off before he even makes it to the couch. when he does he sinks down hard, palms dragging over his face.

“fuck,” he mutters into his hands.

he’s still rattled.

still replaying the way you looked at him right after—head tilted, eyes wide, something unreadable passing over your face like you were trying to decide if you’d actually heard him right.

only the pretty ones.

the words hit like a sucker punch even now.

he hadn’t meant to say it. hadn’t planned to. hadn’t even realized it was hovering on the tip of his tongue until it was already out there between you, hanging in the air, sticky and impossible to ignore.

you went quiet. you let him backpedal. let him pretend it was a joke, let him erase it even though he wanted nothing more for you to know how pretty you are to him. he leans back into the couch, head tipping against the cushions, and he closes his eyes.

the quiet is louder than it should be.

no city noise, no music, no jimin yelling at him to put ice on something or to stop being so obvious whenever your name comes up. just the echo of that one second. that one look.

you didn’t smile, didn’t tease. you looked stunned. and jungkook can’t decide what’s worse; the fact that he said it, or the fact that some part of him wants to say it again and again until you believe it, until you say something back.

he exhales, long and shaky, and scrubs a hand through his hair. he’s so far in it he doesn’t know how to claw his way out.

he’s not even sure he wants to.

you’re supposed to be paying attention.

there’s something about classical conditioning echoing through the lecture hall speakers. something about pavlov, about dogs and bells and salivating, but your pen is too busy trailing along the edge of your notebook, filling the margins with half-formed flowers and a lopsided spider.

you try to focus. really, you do. you nod when the professor emphasizes a point, scribble a keyword or two, underline extinction twice. but then your eyes drift. out the window, across the aisle, down to the corner of your desk where you’ve already drawn the same sleepy-looking face three different times.

and somehow, every version of it ends up looking a little like him.

you bite the inside of your cheek and shake your head, as if that’ll snap you out of it.

it’s just been happening more often lately—this thing where your thoughts spiral without warning. one second you’re zoning out mid-lecture, and the next you’re remembering the way his fingers brushed yours last week at least three different times.

your professor clicks to the next slide, and the class collectively shifts to pretend they’re still with him.

you sigh, resting your chin on your hand. you don’t mean to get so distracted. but it’s hard not to, when every other thought seems to circle back to the same person.

stupid.

you draw another web in the corner of the page. smaller this time. neater. you don’t know what you’re waiting for. but something in your chest keeps tugging like you’re supposed to be paying attention to something else entirely.

you tap your pen against the edge of your desk. once, twice. again.

“focus,” you mumble to yourself, but it’s useless.

your mind’s already gone, drifting somewhere else entirely—back to the café, which shouldn’t feel as significant as it does, where jungkook stumbled in late, glasses slipping down his nose, hair a mess, breathless and apologetic and still unfairly handsome. back to the night even further back when spider-man nearly collapsed onto your living room floor.

you press the pen harder.

jungkook, spider-man.

one sitting next to you with messy hair and nervous hands, the other bleeding on your couch with too much weight on your shoulder. neither of them probably thinking about you right now.

you don’t even know why that stings.

you’re not dating jungkook. spider-man’s not your friend. you’re just someone who needs help in chemistry. someone who opened her door because someone looked like they were going to fall apart.

you sigh, draw another line across the page. your flowers are losing their shape.

maybe it’d be easier if your chest didn’t feel so tight every time you thought about either of them. you wonder what that says about you. you wonder what that says about them.

your professor says something about freud. you hear someone snicker near the back. you don’t laugh. you just stare down at the little spider in the corner of your page, and trace the thread it’s dangling from. the line stretches up toward the edge of the page, thin and a little shaky.

your pen pauses. you wonder if you’re doing the same thing—hanging off something delicate and invisible, waiting for it to pull or snap or hold.

your professor’s voice drones on, something about repression now. the subconscious. emotional imprinting.

you huff under your breath. “great timing.”

the girl in front of you glances back, but you don’t bother explaining.

your hand shifts again, pen back to work. you draw another figure next to the spider. smaller. a blur of curls and oversized sleeves. he’d probably laugh if he saw it. or tilt his head in that curious way he does when you’re speaking and he wants to say something but doesn’t.

jungkook’s always holding something back. you wonder how much of it is hiding, and how much of it is habit. you shake the thought away before it can settle too deep, scribble a lazy border around your newest doodle to distract yourself.

you’re being emotional. a tad dramatic. maybe it’s just the weather. or the exhaustion. or the fact that every time jungkook smiles at you, it feels like your ribs are curling in on themselves.

you press your pen down until the tip almost snaps. whatever it is, it needs to stop. you’re not built for this kind of uncertainty. you never have been.

you don’t remember the last ten minutes of lecture.

the lights flick on, and the room starts moving before your brain catches up. notebooks close, zippers hum, someone’s already halfway down the stairs before the professor even says have a good weekend.

you sigh, stuff your notes into your bag, ignore the half-page of doodles that somehow ended with a cracked spiderweb and a boy curled up at the center of it. your legs ache as you shuffle out into the hallway, pulled along by the current of students flooding toward the exits.

taehyung finds you near the vending machines, all slouched posture and too-long sleeves.

“there she is,” he says, popping a piece of gum into his mouth without offering you any. “my favorite academically struggling genius.”

you shoot him a look. “what’s with the weird greeting?”

“you’ve got your crisis face on,” he says, tapping his temple. “it’s very i’m thinking too hard about boys again, so i figured i’d meet you halfway.”

you scoff. “i’m not thinking about boys.”

taehyung squints. “okay, so which boy, then?”

you groan, dragging a hand down your face.

he lifts his brows, smug. “that’s what i thought.”

you push open the building doors and step out into the cold, the wind catching your sleeves and snapping at your legs. “it’s not like that,” you mutter.

“you always say that when it’s exactly like that.”

you glare at him. “are you going to walk me to my next class or just psychoanalyze me until i melt into the sidewalk?”

“i can multitask,” taehyung grins, pulling his hood up as he falls into step beside you. “so, is it the covalent cutie or your friendly neighborhood rebound?”

you blink. “excuse me?”

“nothing.” he stretches his arms behind his head, all faux innocence. “just wondering how many men you’re collecting this semester.” you bump your shoulder into his, harder than necessary, and taehyung wheezes and laughs. “god, you’re so defensive when you’re in denial.”

you don’t respond. mostly because he’s right.

taehyung shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, lips pursed in mock thought. “so, there’s gonna be a party friday,” he says casually.

you glance at him, unimpressed. “cool. have fun.”

he snorts. “you’re not even gonna pretend to consider it?”

“nope.”

“rude.”

“you invited me like you were ordering takeout,” you say, stepping over a crack in the pavement. “not exactly persuasive.”

“fine.” he sighs dramatically. “you, my beloved friend, are cordially invited to a moderately chaotic social gathering where someone’s bound to cry in the bathtub, and no less than three people will make out in the kitchen.”

you lift an eyebrow. “tempting.”

“right? i’m selling this.”

“still no.”

he pouts. “why not?”

you shrug. “i’ve got stuff to do.”

“you always have stuff to do.”

you don’t respond right away. you just keep walking, eyes fixed on the cracks in the sidewalk, the wind pulling at the hem of your shirt. taehyung sighs again, quieter this time.

“you know,” he says, bumping your arm lightly with his. “you’re allowed to take a break. have a drink. forget about whatever mess is chewing you up for a couple hours.”

you chew on the inside of your cheek.

you know he’s right. you just don’t know how to say it doesn’t really help when the mess comes with a charming smile and really cute doe eyes and the prettiest lips you’ve ever seen.

so you shrug again. “maybe next time.” taehyung groans dramatically, flopping his head back as you both walk. “you are so stubborn.”

“thanks.”

“that wasn’t a compliment.”

you snort. “sure it wasn’t.”

he glances sideways at you, lips pursed. plotting. calculating.

“okay,” he says finally. “what if i told you it’s not just any party?”

you raise a brow. “is this where you tell me it’s a secret underground masquerade with a five-star buffet?”

“no,” he says, deadpan. “but there will be snacks. and possibly jello shots. and—” he pauses for effect, wagging his eyebrows, “your chemistry tutor might be there.”

you blink. “jungkook?”

taehyung shrugs, faking nonchalance. “could be. dunno. hoseok’s throwing it, and i know they’re tight. might swing by.”

your stomach does something stupid. you look away before taehyung can see it. “that’s not a reason to go.”

“oh, it’s definitely a reason.”

“tae—”

“look,” he says, gentler this time. “you’ve been tense for weeks. you deserve, like, two hours of being normal. you don’t have to dance on the table or hook up with anyone. just show up. breathe. hang out.”

you slow your steps. you hate that he’s making sense. you hate that the idea of maybe running into jungkook makes your chest tighten in a way you refuse to examine too closely.

you sigh. “fine.”

taehyung beams. “yes*.* victory.”

“don’t make it weird.”

“no promises.”

you shake your head, but you’re smiling when he throws an arm around your shoulders, loud and smug and already gloating. you pretend to be annoyed.

you pretend it’s not already the only thing you’re going to think about for the rest of the day.

taglist : @rpwprpwprpwprw @haru-jiminn @glossdebut @mimi1097 @angellekookie @yooniivrse @knivesdoingcartwheels @annyeongbitch7 @hemmosfear

[melanchoire]

bartender(is that how you call it??) sub!hanni x soft dom! ceo gp reader🥺👉🏻👈🏻 it's been in my head for too long and i can't think of a plot 😔 i hope you do it tho

-📽

i had an idea in mind but it ended up being something else... i changed the dynamics a bit 💔

cw: riding.

going to a bar to drown your sorrows because being a CEO was a tough job and work had been shitty lately; conferences with other companies and CEOs that only gave you headaches because they were simple and empty proposals led by arrogant bosses who felt they were the center of the world, having to be patient and fake a smile with a secretary who seemed to have laziness as the predominant emotion in her body because she always did her work with little enthusiasm and somewhat incompletely, and dealing with employees who increasingly failed to meet the job requirements

like any other day where you feel this way you would do the usual thing of just going home after a long day of work and drinking on your couch means that your mind is so clouded that you don't understand a single word that the people on television are saying, buuut you needed a change of routine so much that you didn’tmind going to a local bar in the city center

bad luck for you that it just happens to be a friday night, meaning teenagers or young adults going out to parties or something simpler like hanging out with their friends, whatever the option, the place was plagued by young people who were too loud and were gradually irritating you

until a voice pulls you out of your thoughts! a pretty young girl with hair tied in a messy bun and thin-framed glasses resting on her nose. she just smiled at you and tilted her head, wiping a damp cloth over the bar and cleaning the remains of drops of alcohol that fell when preparing the previous drinks

“rough night i guess?” oh yeah! you can’t tell if she is making fun of you given the small smile tugging at her lips, but your tone was being quite honest, so you just had to cross your fingers

“you can say it…” and your usual serious and strict CEO demeanor had completely vanished, being replaced by… vulnerability? honestly, you didn’t know what caused your change of attitude. maybe it was because being able to vent to someone was something you'd been looking for for months, but you never succeeded because your family always reminded you that you were an adult and that you shouldn’t act like a baby with “basic” work-related problems, or something like your friends always minimizing your problems and making jokes about how the “rich girl” expected mommy and daddy to solve everything for her…

you end up venting to hanni?? you don’t know if she is really interested in listening to you or if she simply doesn’thave other clients to serve because her other coworkers are taking care of it while she deals with your drunk ass… whatever the option, you’re thankful that she is a good listener! she was even being a good advisor, not understanding much about the scope of working in an office and having a position as high as that of a CEO, but anyway, she was there for you

until there comes a point where your system clearly can’t tolerate any more alcohol and you’re practically lying in the chair, looking so messed up that at any moment your body will fall off the chair straight to the floor 😭 hanni helps you go to your car and get in; partly because she is a little embarrassed by your messy state and how you even struggled to tell her which of all the cars in the parking lot was yours, and also because her coworker minji told her to take care of your drunk ass before she kicks you out of the place herself because she didn’t want you to throw up in the bathroom right after she cleaned all the stalls!

…would you believe me if i told you that you don’t remember exactly how you went from hanni helping you out of the bar to her riding your cock in the backseat of your car? i mean–! it’s not your fault that alcohol impairs your memory because it’s a central nervous system depressant that slows down brain activity! giving you blackouts, which are gaps in your memory of events that occurred while you were intoxicated, and boy were you drunk! aol you remembered at this point was leaving work, blinking, and suddenly getting so drunk and BOOM a cute girl was riding you…

awww and your head is spinning so much that you can barely lay your head against the headrest of the seat and keep it there without feeling like it’s weighing you down 😭 luckily hanni notices this and comes to the rescue! bringing her hands to your head, holding your face between her palms and running a hand through your hair to brush the loose strands away from your face 🥺 you were looking at her from below with eyes squinted from tiredness and clouded by alcohol, giving hanni a needy look as she rode you in a way that took you out of your boss bitch role and made you whimper for her

you barely mustering up enough strength to try and make a move, pushing yourself off your seat and leaning forward a little to try and kiss her, only for her to place one of her hands over your mouth and push you back against the seats again, saying “owww nooo you have alcohol on your breath.” 💔 but when she sees that you want to complain about her words, she silences you by giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek, adding "fifteen more minutes and my shift will be over. then you will take me home with you, right?” and never before have you nodded with that enthusiasm!

[daresplaining]

Hello o/ I'm doing research for what may or may not become the next chapter of a Blindspot-centric fanfic, and realized that my knowledge of Stick is extremely limited (read: barebones introduction via show, which I am these days suspicous of for characterization, and a couple Elektra comics). Are there any comics you would recommend, especially around Matt and Stick's relationship? Does he.. abandon him, like in the show?

Oooh, a Blindspot fanfic! No pressure at all, but if you'd like, feel free to let me know when it's finished so that I can spread the word.

I am a huge Stick fan, he's one of my all-time favorite Daredevil characters, and I actually thought they did an excellent job with him in the Netflix shows; Scott Glenn and the writers managed to evoke that essential Stick-ness to a degree that made me very, very happy, while also finding new and interesting things to do with him. But his dynamic with Matt in the MCU was a bit different than it is in the comics, due to key backstory alterations. In the show, they chose to kill Jack off when Matt was still very young. This meant that when Stick eventually came along, little Matt latched onto him as a replacement parental figure, thus making their separation very messy and psychologically damaging.

However, in the comics, Jack was alive and well all throughout Matt's time training with Stick. While Matt eagerly embraced this training and the freedom and empowerment that it provided, and while he was able to share parts of himself with Stick that he never felt comfortable revealing to Jack (his powers, his love of risk and adventure, etc.), his relationship with Stick never moved beyond the closeness of a mentor/mentee dynamic. This is not to downplay the importance of Stick's role in Matt's life in those early days of learning to negotiate his painful new powers. But Matt already had a loving father, and so having Stick around as another (if prickly) guiding presence in his life was just a bonus.

Man Without Fear (1993) #1 by Frank Miller, John Romita Jr., Christie Scheele, Al Williamson, and Joe Rosen

The questions surrounding the nature of their separation digs into one of my absolute biggest continuity frustrations: the Man Without Fear Problem. The Man Without Fear mini-series, published in 1993, presented a new, alternate take the Daredevil origin story, drawing on previously established elements but also making key changes to the nature and order of events. And that was all well and good, but rather than being allowed to exist as its own separate, self-contained thing, some (but not all) later Daredevil writers decided to pull some elements of it into the main continuity, creating a scrambled mess of canonical vagueness surrounding what Matt's current, "real" backstory is that has never been properly clarified. For the period surrounding Matt's childhood, this isn't too much of an issue, as the events of Man Without Fear don't deviate much from the standard 616 continuity. But Jack's death is where it starts to get complicated.

Now: the only source of information we have for Matt and Stick's separation is Man Without Fear, which tells us that their training ended following Matt's vengeful attacks on the men who murdered his father, with Stick deciding that Matt was too emotionally volatile to become a member of the Chaste. In MWF, Matt goes on a brutal rampage following Jack's death that ends with him accidentally killing an innocent bystander, and this is what leads Stick to decide that he is too emotional and reckless to continue his training. In the original, standard 616 version of events, Matt did also accidentally get someone killed on his first 616 outing as Daredevil, though it was the person he was gunning for anyway, and also (arguably) less directly his fault. (He even kills the same guy the very same way in MWF; there is no version of continuity in which this death upsets Matt. Which I find interesting in itself). The Man Without Fear novelization by Paul Crilley puts forth the suggestion that it was not the violence inherent in Matt's revenge outing, but simply his decision to seek vigilante justice at all, that was Stick's main issue--which is great, because that can apply to all versions of the continuity, so let's go with that. Besides, Matt is unquestionably an emotionally volatile person who would have made a terrible member of the Chaste, so regardless of Stick's exact reasons for making that judgment...he was correct.

However, it is the other, MWF-specific death of an innocent bystander that affects Matt's reaction to Stick's leaving. Brutally disappointed by Matt's failure to live up to his hopes and expectations, Stick cuts off contact entirely. He doesn't explain anything to Matt. He just vanishes. And Matt, after having just accidentally murdered someone, goes running for Stick to seek his mentor's support and comfort but cannot find him.

Man Without Fear (1993) #2 by Frank Miller, John Romita Jr., Christie Scheele, Al Williamson, and Joe Rosen

The question is: did this death happen in the regular 616 continuity as well? And the answer is: maybe? Some writers have made the effort of dragging that plot point over into the main series and trying to make it fit (DeMatteis built a whole story arc around it), while others have stuck to the earlier version of the origin story. There is another factor worth mentioning in the difference between these two versions of events: in MWF, Matt was just a teenager when Jack died and all of this happened, while in 616, Matt was nearly out of college (or law school; don't get me started on that continuity mess). The fact of the matter is that we have never seen a 616 version of the scene above, so the exact details really do come down to personal preference.

In any case, Matt's attitude ultimately was "fine then, bye" and he moved on with his life (Elektra, in contrast, was very seriously wounded by Stick/the Chaste's rejection of her, which drove her down the path toward becoming an assassin). When Matt and Stick reunited later in life, they weren't exactly best pals, but their interactions contained an undercurrent of mutual respect. Matt appreciates everything Stick did for him and still calls upon his lessons in times of crisis, and Stick is proud of Matt, even if neither of them is emotionally healthy enough to openly admit these things to each other.

Daredevil: Ninja #1 by Brian Michael Bendis, Rob Haynes, David Self, and Richard Starkings

Daredevil vol. 1 #296 by D.G. Chichester, Ron Garney, Christie "Max" Scheele, Al Williamson, and Jack Morelli

There's a great line toward the end of Man Without Fear, right before Matt and Foggy embark on the adventure of opening their first law firm, where Matt describes Stick as "a presence long-missed and never forgotten," and there are several occasions in the main series where he refers to Stick as his friend.

Daredevil vol. 1 #189 by Frank Miller and Klaus Janson

Stick ended up giving his life to save Matt, a loss which moved Matt deeply (he later kept Stick's staff in a place of honor in his home gym). For many years afterward, Stick stuck around as a kind of ghost, haunting both Matt and Elektra and offering them advice or insults, depending on the situation.

Here's another post I wrote about this years ago, which goes into slightly more detail on the differences between the comics and the MCU. As for reading recommendations, here are the key issues that cover Matt and Stick's 616/MWF relationship, in (somewhat) in-universe chronological order:

Young Matt and Stick:

Daredevil volume 2 #500: This issue doesn't actually cover Matt's time with Stick, but it provides some wonderful backstory for Stick and his teacher, Master Izo (who is a Brubaker invention and a goddamn delight. I could do another reading guide just for him, but it would basically just be "read the Brubaker/Lark run"), including how Stick found Matt in the first place.

Man Without Fear (1993) #1-3

Daredevil volume 1 #225-226

Daredevil volume 1 #254

Daredevil volume 1 #349

Daredevil volume 3 #25

Also: Matty and Stick by Ty Templeton

Adult Matt and Stick:

Man Without Fear (1993) #5

Daredevil volume 1 #176-177: Stick's introductory issues!

Daredevil volume 1 #187-189

Matt and Ghost Stick:

Daredevil volume 1 #262

Daredevil volume 1 #287-288

Daredevil volume 1 #349-350

Daredevil volume 5 #609

Misc.:

Daredevil: Ninja: Stick isn't technically in this series, but it is, in essence, all about Matt's relationship to Stick's memory and legacy.

Daredevil volume 7 #13: Matt rescues Stick from Hell (why is Stick in Hell? Unclear). I'm including this mostly just for completeness, and for anyone who wants to see Stick naked (no judgement).

I hope this helps!

[grimmcheems]

Crimson King stuff🩸👑

Yall this has taken me forever and I’m still not fully satisfied with it but I don’t see myself working on it any longer bc I wanna get to other things, plus I’m getting back into coloring so ik it looks different (prolly shouldn’t have taken a break from coloring oop) anyways this is just more of my Armin Crimson King AU with details and stuff.

At some point I thought I drew Armin’s eyes too “narrowed”(?)/tired bc for some reason he looked like Levi bc of the dark eye circles but I figured it’s just the tired look in his face that made him look like that and I thought it really got it across that Armin rly does not sleep in this.

I made some headcanons in my head that sometimes Armin and Ymir will sleep together bc the trauma and things they went through before they overthrew Marley was too much to handle and they find solace and comfort in each other. However I did not have space to actually draw that more clearly, only the little bit of them here all bloody and in cell (ik it doesn’t look like it but pretend they’re in a cell lmao). I rly tried to stay true to how armin looks like but his nose is so hard to draw ngl. I also planned on having the bruised armin be more skinny and malnourished looking but switched it out to have King Armin be that way a bit instead, I feel it makes more visual sense that he looks like he’s recovering from something bc it would make sense with context.

Btw I don’t think I ever mentioned it but Armin in this is a Tybur that Bert and Reiner bring back with them along with Ymir to the mainland. This is also why he is able to maintain his hold on the throne and have such consistent support for his and Reiner’s Rule. My earlier art has Armin with long hair but this is before he grows it out. I want to give the impression that Armin takes on a more “handsome” and masculine look in the early years of his reign before he starts to become more feminine looking overtime. Mainly to keep up with his image in the kingdom and appearances to intimidate neighboring countries. Though Reiner seems to have them covered in that department.

The relationships in this au are also very complicated and ambiguous bc I feel like that plays well into their psyche. Bert may or may not have developed something for Armin along the way. Armin may or may not be using Bert for his own reasons and twisted comfort he gets from his affections with the knowledge he has of their previous lives (will explain this later bc it will be part of the plot but won’t reveal too much bc there’s a solid plot point that is involved that instigates the whole story, but Armin is the only one that has any recollection of their lives. He sort of experiences a time regression?? Some of the other characters regain memories of their previous life as well but they’re not enough to piece together what they mean or what happened)

Ymir and Armin may or may not have shared a kiss or two in desperate moments. Reiner hates Armin and Armin hates Reiner but Reiner’s other personality adores him and Armin knows it so he exploits that about him. Very messy lol. Not a love triangle or a square but a squiggle? This story also heavily involves the warriors and Zeke but I haven’t gotten to that yet. I have an art that’s been cooking for a solid yr now for that😭

Other than that, Ymir and Armin are intially regarded as prisoners of war/spoils and are tortured for a solid year before their planned Coúp. They would’ve died if Armin did not have the knowledge of the main land and managed to convince the warriors and the Tybur family to turn against Marley. But yeah…..I’m a certified yapper.🗣️🗣️🗣️

[i-heart-hxh]

Do you think Illumi’s comment about how Gon is just dazzling to Killua and a temporary fixation and Hisoka’s line about how transmitters are fickle and their treasures can turn to trash easily were foreshadowing for how Killua has come to see Gon? How at first Gon meant the world to him but now he’s basically done with him because of what happened during the CAA? Togashi could be planning to reunite them, but maybe this was his way of saying that Killua is done with Gon.

Hi! I actually see it in the opposite way to this view, almost.

As the audience I don't think we're supposed to agree with what Illumi is saying--that Killua doesn't deserve to have friends and that he'll ultimately betray them. It doesn't end up matching what happens in the series, nor does it match the overall message of what the series is about, and Illumi is an antagonist whose views the series repeatedly refutes (think: Alluka and how he sees her).

However, I also think that early in the series, Togashi was potentially trying to misdirect the audience with Killua's intentions. Killua early on was much more dangerous and edgy than he becomes as the series goes on, and there were a few pieces of foreshadowing that he might turn on Gon or the main group, which includes Hisoka's statement about Transmuters being fickle and their priorities changing rapidly, as well as Silva making him promise never to betray his friends and then expressing certainty that Killua will come back (as in, he was setting him up for failure because of the needle). There are also a few comparisons of Killua to Hisoka very early on that might fit into this (beyond the Transmuter thing), some even from Killua himself, and the scene with him getting frustrated with the ball game with Netero and then killing those guys as a result.

I believe Togashi laid this expectation down early in the series in order to subvert it and have Killua grow in the opposite direction. Killua felt like a "rival" type character or one who might eventually betray Gon/his friends, but instead he ends up being extraordinarily loyal to Gon (to a fault, even), he gets kinder and emotionally stronger as the series goes on, and he goes to extreme lengths to save Gon even after Gon pushed him away. He actively defies what his family expects of him! Even when he does go back home as Silva predicted, it's in order to break Alluka out of there and leave, and keep his promise to Silva by never betraying his friends--the opposite of what Silva actually wanted to happen when he made that promise with Killua.

Illumi's comment about Gon being "too dazzling for Killua's eyes" actually "comes back" in the form of the You are Light scene, where Killua uses similar language (in the original Japanese version) to describe why he can't look at Gon directly. That whole scene is about Killua comparing himself to Gon and thinking he's not worthy of him. However, Gon ends up falling into darkness himself and only Killua is able to save him--therefore, Killua becomes Gon's "light" right back. Because of what Illumi told Killua and the environment he grew up in, Killua himself didn't have faith in his own ability to be who Gon needed, but he managed it anyway because of how deeply he loves Gon.

He helps break Palm out of her loss of identity after she becomes a Chimera Ant, and becomes Ikalgo's light, too, by befriending him even though they're initially on opposite sides of the war.

We don't know the full reasons for Killua leaving Gon, however I suspect one of the reasons he leaves is in order to protect Gon from Illumi, who very well may pursue and endanger Killua and Alluka. Killua likely also needed a break from Gon after all they went through, but I don't think it'll be forever by any means. I made a post previously about why a reunion and reconciliation between them feels just about inevitable.

So, I absolutely do think those statements about Killua were "planted" intentionally within the series, but for the purpose of him breaking those assumptions rather than living up to them. One of the best things about Killua's character is how he initially seems so much different than he turns out to be. His commitment to and care for those he loves comes from a pure place in spite of the way he was raised, and he grows so much as a person throughout the series. He's a kind and courageous boy. I don't see him leaving Gon as a betrayal or throwing him away or legitimately "replacing" Gon with Alluka--they just came to a point where, for the time being, they had to take diverging paths. But I absolutely think their paths will converge again within the series, assuming Togashi can get that far.

I don't think Togashi is telling a depressing story where these tragic things happen between the two protagonists (who clearly adore each other) and then that's it, their relationship is over and they'll never get to mend the issues between them nor communicate all the things they haven't gotten to say to each other. There's a reason the separation is as brief and complicated as it is--it's intended to leave us with questions, and I believe those questions will be answered someday, assuming the manga is able to reach that point.

[theusernameiwantisntavailable]

Slightly late to the party, but happy Timberniversery and also Tim-bi day!!!

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[lunarharp]

more phoenix wright situations

[ollylotl]

a dream of home

[cent-scratchnsniff]

Do you think Yesod has ever taken refuge on Netzach's floor.. he hates the ticking of his own floor .. and he's a homosexual.. maybe Chesed visits too .... holy trinity of bad coping mechanisms or something ..

thats funny that he does actually... perhaps

[marikodraws]

A Knife Cuts Deeper on the Way Out

Part 2 of my accordion book comic project! Part 1 >here<

[morathor]

Pike and Scanlan getting married: I'm not into this but it's the end of the campaign. It's easy enough to let it go and move on. Pike indicating she and Scanlan are amicably divorced: The knowledge that it didn't work out adds a bittersweet angle to the marriage that actually makes me like it more now. Whatever the fuck Pike and Scanlan have going on now: This is a glorious disaster and I want like a million episodes of this.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[crescentfool]

I noticed you're a Ryomina!!! How did you get into it? And do you have any good fanfics/doujinshi you can advice me to read? ANYTHING on Ryomina actually? I'm dying for anything about them!!! Thanks!!

yes!!! it's me!!! i'm ryomina fan (one of many)!!! thank you for visiting my askbox, i'll do my best to answer all of the questions because it always makes me happy to see that ryomina sparks joy for people! :D

...this got really long because i like linking to things, so i'm putting it under a read more (IM VERY NORMAL ABOUT THEM)

how did i get into it? i got into persona 3 around august 2021 through the movies- at the time my only experience with the persona series was with P5R / P5S / P5D. p3 was the one that interested me the most (i thought minato was very pretty + i caught wind that the themes of the game were very resonant with people). i picked the movies over the game because i'm a guy who plays games at a snails pace, haha.

admittedly, i did latch onto ryomina because of the scenes in the third and fourth movie (i have mentioned in the tags of this art i drew how much i felt like i was exploding and blasting off to the moon watching it).

but what really dug me into the ryomina hole (and what has kept me there) was thinking about how much ryoji encapsulates the themes of p3- and how interconnected his fate is with minato. i wrote some musings about their dynamic here, if you're interested!

tl;dr: what if we were both boys and we were mirror images of each other and i inherited your kindness and looks but god doomed our narrative even though we're soulmates

on ryomina fanworks recommendations:

regarding fics: i'm going to assume that you've probably read the fics that have the highest kudo ratings on them, so i won't really be listing those.

a personal favorite fic that i always hold close to my heart is Eurydice's Vow by crescentmoontea, which explores the idea of ryomina in p5r's third semester. this was the first fic i read about ryomina and it made me tear up lots...

i also think a lot about I Alone Await You by Nail_gun, literally scrumptious writing that captures the ryomina dynamic so so well. actually check out Nail_gun's other ryomina fics while you're at it too!

other fun fic i'm fond of: can't get my mind out of those memories (what were they?) by foxmulder_whereartthou. ryoji being homeless lives rent free in my head and it's all because of this fic. there's a bunch of other fun ryominas from the same author too (i still need to read them)

BkZa555 also has some fun AU scenarios if you're into that too, notably with Zagreus (P5-Setting, Ryoji focus) and The Definition of Insanity (TIME LOOP fuckery!), but they're currently ongoing.

these were some ones that came to my mind first- as i have the strongest recollection reading them. admittedly i haven't really been reading fic this year, so i don't have many recommendations from fic that came out this year. but if you're so inclined to let ryomina consume your soul, i definitely recommend giving the newer works in the ryomina tag a look-see and see if it strikes your fancy!

as a side note, i do have a few ryomina fics that i've bookmarked on my ao3 here, though i have to say that i'm not sure how well they hold up in terms of like... what i would seek out of a fic these days. but they made past me happy so i bookmarked them, LOL. it's kind of outdated (my collection of fic recs has my old username *disintegrates*).

regarding doujinshi: i have not read all the ryomina doujinshi available, but as a starting point, please take a look at this list from pandora-scans from livejournal!

notably, this is where you can find the strawberry-chan say good bye doujin- which features a small and cute comic from shuji sogabe (the p3/p4 manga artist), as well as other artists. the existence of this doujinshi is the funniest thing to me because it's like "HEY if you're wondering what the volume 8 cover is really gay it's because sogabe contributed to a ryomina doujin." this fact makes my head spin (positive). it explains a lot about the manga.

regarding persona side material:

i know you didn't ask for these but i thought that i mine as well list these too, since i feel that the side materials have some fun expansions on ryoji and minato's interactions. i haven't... watched/read all of these but, hey, i like to share these things!

for comic anthologies for the persona series (some of which have ryoji!). if you're interested in reading them, here's a scanlation index from maboroshi-no on tumblr. i don't think this is a comprehensive list, but i think it will be a great starting point!

for some translations of the persona 3 drama cds, check out imaginary-numbers on dreamwidth! ryoji and minato interactions can specifically be found in the persona 3 character drama cd vol. 1, and for the audio + english subs, you can watch this video on youtube:

and ohh the musical. ryoji singing and dancing gives me so much joy. i haven't watched the musical in it's entirety (only fragments), but here are some links that may be of interest to you:

Ao no Kakusei (The Blue Awakening), Sakuya version - playlist for the first p3 musical, translated by Phoenix Maiika.

Ao no Kakusei (The Blue Awakening), Kotone version - playlist for the femc version!! also translated by Phoenix Maiika on YouTube.

Persona 3: The Weird Masquerade (English Subtitles) - playlist by rumio!

P3 Weird Musical DVD & Soundtrack Booklet Scans by rumio_k - twitter thread that links to these funsies, if you don't have twitter, here's the publicly shared drive link.

god. these sure are a lot of links, huh? i hope you enjoy them- pick and choose whatever sounds most appealing! (if this overwhelmed you im sorry GKLHLDH i just like being very comprehensive in my answers about things so i got carried away).

and as a reminder, you (and anyone else reading) are always welcome to browse my tags/archive and reblog things from there anytime! i have... nearly 300 ryomina posts which, while mostly consists of art, has a few fics, meta, hcs, gifs, memes, and whatnot scattered about.

or browse the minato and ryoji tags too! there's.. nearly 1k minato. and 500 ish ryoji. and they're going to keep on growing because i can't stop being obsessed with archiving these things. god help me i am so deep in this hole called ryomina hell and now you're here too. welcome aboard!

there's always going to be a lot of fun ways to enjoy rotating ryomina around in one's brain, i think- they're a pairing with such fun symbolic imagery that is So Deep (to me) but ALSO they're immensely hilarious and weird guys (affectionate). so i love to share these things in hopes that it gives you joy too! they are the most couple ever (to me) (i'm biased)

thank you again for the ask! i hope it can satiate your need for more ryomina, and be a nice aide in exploring the p3 fanspace :)

[fadebolt]

A thingy I made for the RW Discord's Artfight-like event. The giant Snake-terator belongs to Discord user pebble3494.