#I miss feeling like my life was safe and okay

[karaeilishh]

Hello! I loveee holiday fics they are just so cozy and cute! Do you think you could write about Billie and reader's first Christmas together, where reader has a tough family life so reader stays with Billie's family and it's finally a holiday where reader is all safe and happy? I'm a sucker for fluff-- hope all is well!

𝜗𝜚 you are my family b. eilish . . .

xmas fic n. 1

“billie, i’m still not sure..” your voice trembles slightly, either from the cold or from the excitement that has been spreading through your chest for the last few hours. this wasn’t the first time you’d met billie’s family, and you could tell they loved you, the way maggie’s eyes lit up when she saw you holding her daughter’s hand tenderly every time you came over to their house. they’d all been so nice to you, but celebrating christmas, no, that was different. you’d probably be too much.

“i’m afraid i’d be a burden to you,” your eyes trail down to where her fingers were tightly intertwined with yours. you could barely feel your fingertips through the snow that was so cold it was hard to feel, but that was okay, her icy hand was warming the frost on your pale red skin. “how it was with my family”

you almost let the memories wash over your thoughts when her soft voice stirs your existence. “angel, look at me, please” her blue eyes, so heavenly and bright, taking on a fairytale hue under the warm light of the street lamp. you look at her, already knowing what she’s going to say, how she’ll calm you down. but you just need to hear her say it, need to know that she’s still on your side.

“how can you think that you’ll be a burden to us?” there’s genuine confusion and worry on her face as the cold pads of her fingers caress your cheeks and you give in to her touch, closing your eyes for a few seconds. “do you think that my girlfriend, the only woman i love, could be a burden to me or my family?”

you can tell how much she wants to raise her voice and shake your shoulders, just to make you realize how much she loves you. how much she wants to spend this christmas with your head on her chest and her fingers softly running through your hair.

“that’s the thing, bills” your brows furrow in an almost pathetic, whiny way as you look up at her. “they’re your family. and i.. i just—”

she shakes her head, tightening her grip on your face slightly, cutting you off from the few words that were almost falling from your lips. “you’re my family” the intimacy of those words makes your heart and stomach drop somewhere down to her feet. your eyes fill with tears incredibly quickly, lips starting to tremble as you try to say anything, but instead you throw yourself into her arms, burying your face in her shoulder. the snow that has accumulated on the boucle of her coat burns your cheeks and temples, but it doesn’t matter right now.

the way she hugs you tightly. this is what matters.

“you have no idea how much they love you, baby” soft kisses on the top of your head calm your nerves, helping you catch your breath and pull away to look into her eyes filled with love. “but i love you more than all of them combined”

it took you a couple more minutes, which billie patiently gave you, before rang the doorbell. your stress almost immediately went away as soon as you saw maggie’s beaming face, greeting you first with a warm hug, ruffling your hair slightly. she treated you like her daughter, always. “hi, my girl!”

you take only a step forward, not even making it into the house, before finneas’s arms wrap around your body. his grip is strong, but it doesn’t hurt at all, only billie grunts behind you. you laugh loudly, letting him lift you slightly off the ground.

"we missed you, little girl. especially shark" his words make you smile from ear to ear and immediately go to find your favorite boy in this house. shark greeted you more joyfully than anyone, almost jumping into your arms. you kneel down to hug him and scratch behind the ear.

"be gentle with my girl!" the menacing voice of billie makes her father laugh, who just entered the room to greet you. "i'm sure she won't mind a big hug" you were a little afraid of him, but the warm look he gave you made you calm down.

you slowly get to your feet, immediately heading into billie's arms and receiving another gentle kiss from her. "feeling better, baby?"

"yes, a lot" your whisper calms billie down, and she can finally take her to the kitchen to make christmas cookies according to their family recipe, because you are part of this family too.

tags - @chrissv4mp, @hkkuugu, @sweet3nerrr, @krosep, @stonerfromlesbos, @loveyoumatthewbernard, @47lake @ohdoyoustillcry, @bilsdillldough, @n0vabug, @bxllxeb, @hopingforgoodblogs, @mybluebossanova

[vimse]

Ah wow it’s almost 2025, which means it’s time for the yearly art recap. Time flies when you’re struggling through your thesis, but I’m very pleased to scrounge up at least one Tech drawing per month. I’ll do a (not so) short reflection about my 2024 art under the cut if you’re interested, but for now, I’d like to express my greatest gratitude for everybody who has stuck around and shared my art. Hoping that 2025 will be a more productive art year. Byeee 🧡

Tl;dr under the cut: ramblings about my struggle in school, 2024 highlights, hopes and dreams next year

—

Let’s look back at last year’s summary:

What's next in 2024?

More Tech. Some things I'd like to explore in 2024 is character drawings beyond portraits, anatomy, simple backgrounds, OCs, storytelling through short comics, TBB band au, and maybe some commission work

Well, safe to say I didn’t get too much of that done haha. The reason for that is I’ve been really struggling with my undergraduate thesis work in chemistry. I don’t really know the root cause of it, but I just can’t bring myself to finish it and I’ve been procrastinating badly, so much that I’ve missed two presentation opportunities. The third opportunity is within 2 weeks and I’m nowhere finished or ready. It has been a constant source of stress and anxiety throughout 2024. I got burned out by the end of May and went to the school counsel to hand in my resignation notice, but got convinced to stick around but to finish it at a later date, because this is literally the last thing to do before I get my degree. Then afterwards I decided to go back to my old job full time, which has been very tiring and took a long time to adjust to. This is very obviously reflected in the amount of full illustration produced during July to October, especially September when I couldn’t bring myself to draw anything beyond Tech’s hand lol.

If I don’t finish my thesis in time for this round, I think I’ll finally throw in the towel for real. Maybe I’ve doomed my future or something but…this experience has made me feel incredibly (and constantly) bad for a whole year, and it has affected every aspect of my life. I’m very tired of it. And although my current job is very tiresome and probably detrimental to my health, it pays well and the colleagues are wonderful. Additionally, it is a niche job that I have years of experience in, with good connections, so I’m not currently worrying about my future job at all. And it’s still within the chemistry industry, so all the time I spent in school isn’t going to waste. In regard to my future, I’m more worried about wasting all of it on a conventional 7-16 job, of which I don’t think a degree in analytical chemistry would help me avoid anyways.

Okay, I’ve rambled enough. If you’re still here, thank you. Now, let’s look back to some positive highlights in my art year of 2024:

I think I’ve finally reached the point where I’m content with how I draw Tech. As evident by the picture above, it’s sort of consistent too, which is a bonus.

I joined my first zine!! It’s the Pabu Days zine and I can’t wait for everyone to get their copy of it. Everybody’s pieces are amazing. I wish I did better/more, but the creation period was during the worst time of my year, mental health-wise, and I have to accept that it was the best I could do at the time.

As for the “masterpiece” of 2024, my most proudest work is the CX-Tech piece I did during the height of TBB season 3. I’m incredibly happy with how the rim lights turned out and the overall mood of it. Also the texture on the armour turned out sooo good, I can’t believe I was the one who painted it lol. I wish I could personally show the picture from my monitor, because all the details seem to disappear when viewed on tumblr. Below is the illustration I’m talking about, along with a side by side comparison to the picture I referenced the lighting from + some closeups. Looking back at it now, I wish I added a stronger frontal light source, so that the picture isn’t so dark.

Also, extra shout out to the back study series. I am traditionally not a painter (just grew up as an anime weeb) so making these this was an incredible accomplishment.

With that, I’m wrapping this very long post (sorry) with some 2025 hopes and dreams. Basically it’s the same things I wanted to do in 2024: improve anatomy, more background, work on OC, work on AUs. I want to try very hard to make commissions happen next year, if people are still interested. Something else I want to do that isn’t strictly art related is to connect more with people, especially with those who are still hyperfixated on TBB as I am. I find it hard to socialise on tumblr, but I try to be more social on bluesky. Idk, I think it would be fun to find a small active community that is maybe more focused on clones and oc stuff.

Okay, that’s all! If you’ve made it this far, thank you thank you thank you. Have a happy holiday and may your 2025 be a wonderful, wonderful year.

🧡 vimse

[ek-atherine]

Ink Manifestation

(Satoru Gojo x Reader)

Its been a full year since then, and life had taken on a new rhythm. Satoru and I were still going strong, and our new first-year class now consisted of just Megumi Fushiguro, with another student expected to join us in a few weeks. Megumi had proven himself to be an exceptional student, already demonstrating impressive strength and skill.

Despite my objections, Megumi was sent on a mission to retrieve one of Sukuna’s fingers—a cursed object of immense danger. The mission's location was less than ideal, and I had my doubts about the risks involved. However, Megumi had our contact information should he need assistance, and I made sure Satoru was prepared to teleport us if necessary.

As we awaited further updates on Megumi’s progress, I couldn’t shake the concern gnawing at me. The cursed objects were formidable, and Sukuna's fingers were particularly notorious for their peril. I hoped Megumi’s expertise and preparation would be enough to see him through safely.

“Stop worrying, he’ll be fine!” Satoru said casually, glancing at the assortment of sweets in front of him while I anxiously bit my nails. His phone rang, and he chuckled nervously as he answered. “Satoru Gojo speaking.”

“Is that Megumi?” I asked, leaning in closer.

“Yes,” Satoru confirmed, holding the phone to his ear. “What’s up?”

“The Stevenson hutch is empty,” Megumi’s voice crackled through the receiver.

“For real? That’s hilarious! Maybe it took a nighttime stroll,” Satoru replied, sounding more amused than concerned.

I shot Satoru a frustrated look. “Did he just say the hutch was empty?”

“I’m going to punch you,” Megumi threatened through the phone.

“So am I,” I muttered, glaring at Satoru.

“Well, no going home until it’s recovered, okay?” Satoru said cheerfully before hanging up.

“Satoru! What the hell! What if he needed help?” I yelled, exasperated.

Satoru shrugged, his usual nonchalance on display. “He’ll manage. Besides, it’s not like he’s out there alone. We’ve got his number if he needs us.”

I paced back and forth, unable to shake the unease. “I don’t like this. We should at least be on standby.”

“Alright, alright,” Satoru relented, though he still seemed unfazed. “If it makes you feel better, we’ll keep our phones ready. But remember, Megumi’s a strong student. He can handle himself.”

A day went by, and as the next night fell, I couldn't stand waiting any longer. Megumi hadn’t sent us any updates, and I was determined to make sure he was safe. I had Satoru teleport us to the roof of the school where Megumi was supposed to be. When we arrived, I saw Megumi, bleeding from his head, but the curses seemed to be dealt with. There was also a shirtless boy with pink hair standing next to him.

“Megumi!” I called out, making him snap out of his stance, ready to summon another shikigami.

“Huh? (Y/n)? Gojo? What are you doing here?” Megumi asked, clearly surprised to see us.

“(Y/n) wouldn’t stop worrying, and you weren’t updating us, so we came to make sure you were alright,” Satoru explained, his tone nonchalant. “But you got kind of roughed up, kid.”

Satoru then pulled out his phone, taking pictures of Megumi in his beaten state, laughing as he did. “I’ll show the second-years. Say cheese.”

I snatched Satoru’s phone from his hand. “Leave him alone, Satoru. We were also getting an earful from the higher-ups because the special-grade cursed object is still missing. Did you find it yet?” I asked Megumi, concern evident in my voice.

The boy with the pink hair raised his hand and spoke up, “Sorry, but I ate that thing.”

I blinked, processing what I just heard. “Really?” Satoru asked, barely containing his surprise.

“I did.”

“He did.”

“Wh–why would you…” I began, but then took a deep breath to calm myself. “Are you okay?”

Satoru leaned in close to the boy, studying him intently. “Oh yeah, I feel fine,” the boy replied casually, as if he hadn’t just consumed one of Sukuna’s fingers.

“Satoru, please tell me it didn’t combine with him and everything is fine,” I pleaded with my boyfriend, my anxiety rising.

Satoru burst into laughter. “Damn, it really did combine with you. That’s hilarious.”

“Are you able to swap with Sukuna?” I asked the boy, my voice trembling slightly.

“Sukuna?” he asked, looking puzzled.

“The curse you ate, yeah,” I clarified.

“Oh, yeah, I think I can do that,” the boy said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“Okay, give us ten seconds and change back into yourself,” Satoru instructed, stretching his arms casually.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” I added, not wanting to pressure him.

He looked a bit anxious, but Satoru’s confidence was reassuring. “Don’t worry. I’m way too strong for him,” Satoru said with a confident grin. “Hold this for me, babe?”

I accepted the bag from Satoru, the one he had insisted on buying before coming here. Megumi looked incredulous, realizing Satoru had been shopping amidst the chaos.

As Satoru continued to babble about the different flavors of snacks he had picked out, the boy began to swap with Sukuna. Within moments, Sukuna emerged, his menacing presence palpable. The King of Curses immediately fixed his gaze on Satoru, intent on confronting him.

I stepped in front of Megumi, ready to protect him from Sukuna’s wrath. “Stay behind me,” I instructed firmly. My ink began to gather around me, preparing for a defensive stance.

Sukuna, now fully in control of the boy’s body, wasted no time and charged at Satoru with a lethal intent. Satoru, unfazed, met Sukuna’s aggressive advance with his usual calm demeanor. The clash between their immense powers created shockwaves that reverberated through the roof.

I kept a vigilant watch over Megumi, ensuring he was out of harm’s way while trying to anticipate Sukuna’s next move. The battle was fierce, with Satoru's skill and Sukuna’s raw power creating an intense and dangerous spectacle.

Despite the chaos, I felt a sense of determination. I had faced numerous curses before, but Sukuna was a different level entirely. I had to be ready for anything.

Sukuna seemed momentarily stunned by Satoru's overwhelming power, unable to land even a single blow. Even at just one finger, Sukuna was still a formidable opponent, but this was clearly Satoru’s domain.

“Since my student and my girl are watching, I think I’ll show off a little, yeah?” Satoru taunted Sukuna with a smirk, his playful demeanor never faltering.

I shot Satoru a warning glance. As much as I admired his confidence, mocking the King of Curses, even at his weakest, was a risky move.

Satoru unleashed a powerful strike, sending Sukuna hurtling toward Megumi and me. I quickly summoned my ink, spreading it out to form a protective barrier. As Sukuna slammed into my shield, the impact created a resounding thud, and he bounced off, momentarily disoriented.

Sukuna’s eyes, filled with fury, locked onto me as he pushed himself up from the ground. “You dare interfere, brat?” he growled, his voice laced with a chilling menace.

I held my ground, the ink shield still shimmering and pulsating with energy in front of Megumi and me. A smirk curled on my lips as I met Sukuna’s gaze. “7… 8… 9… 10.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted from rage to confusion as his tattoos began to fade, his monstrous form shrinking back. The boy, now back in his own body, stood before us, looking relieved but slightly dazed. It was impressive that he managed to control Sukuna for even a short time.

“How did it go?” the boy asked casually, a faint smile on his face despite his obvious exhaustion.

I laughed in surprise. “Incredible. You really can control him.”

He shrugged, a hint of weariness in his eyes. “He’s kind of annoying, though, to tell the truth. And I keep hearing his voice.”

Satoru nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s a miracle that’s all he’s doing to you,” he commented as he gently touched the boy’s head. “You’ve handled it remarkably well.”

Before he could respond further, the boy’s eyes fluttered, and he quickly passed out. “What did you do to him?” Megumi asked.

“I just knocked him out,” Satoru replied, and I heard Megumi sigh in relief. “If he isn’t possessed by Sukuna when he wakes up, then he might have potential as a vessel.”

“But Megumi, what do you think we should do with him?” I asked, looking down at Megumi, who was still seated on the ground.

He seemed to think for a moment. “Well, even if he is a vessel, Jujutsu regulations demand Itadori be executed. However, I don’t want him to die.”

“Personal?” Satoru asked.

“I suppose. So, can you save him?” Megumi asked us.

Satoru then threw Itadori over his shoulder. “Just leave it to us, Megumi,” I told him.

[theolivetree123]

◇ Human Tears ◇

Summary: Isosceles struggles to accept his human half.

Warnings: Angst (idk if this counts as a warning but u never know)

Fellow drunkenly opened the door to his home, letting Isosceles and Gidel's inside first. The three had a long night out, playing games and, for Fellow and Isosceles, drinking non-stop. Gidel had to lead the two home, knowing that they'd probably blow up the entirety of Playful Land if left unsupervised.

Fellow laughed as he closed the door behind him and leaned on Isosceles shoulder. “Tonight was amazing, my dear!”

Isosceles smirked as he wrapped his arm around Fellow's waist. “Totally! If only Gidel had let us go for longer.” Isosceles rustled Gidel's hair.

Fellow kept giggling like a fool as he loosely hugged Isosceles. Gidel tried to pull him away and to his bedroom, yet Fellow was still clinging to Isosceles. Gidel sighed and kept trying to lead Fellow to his room. Isosceles started laughing. “Fells, your brother is trying to get you to rest.”

Fellow grumbled, not willing to let go of his partner. “I won't go without you, dear!”

Isosceles sighed, still slightly giggling. “Hey, I'm gonna have some water, then I'll go to bed with you, okay?”

Fellow looked at Isosceles, his eyes big and shining. “Okay...” Fellow hesitantly let go of Isosceles and let Gidel take him to his bedroom.

Isosceles watched as Fellow and Gidel left him in the kitchen. Isosceles sat down at the dinner table, feeling… rather strange. He hadn't felt this in a very long time, and he didn't exactly miss the feeling. Isosceles cupped his hands over his face, feeling tired and frustrated. Something about Fellow made him feel… safe, calm, and loved, and it frustrated Isosceles. How come he felt this way? Why couldn't it just go away? Isosceles wanted to bury this feeling deep down, even kill it. He wished to strangle this feeling, watching the life leave its eyes, but no matter how much he wanted it to burn, it wouldn't go away. His love for Fellow just wouldn't go away.

Isosceles moved his hands away from his eyes as tears streamed down his face. He stared at the tears on his hands, unable to make them stop. This was the first time he had cried in years, and all because of a stupid crush he had. How pathetic, he thought, how could a cruel god like him be soft enough to cry over a mortal? Isosceles looked around him, his eyes blurred with tears. This house felt like home, yet he still felt a distance between these organic, mortal walls and his artificial self. This gap wouldn't have upset Isosceles years before, but now… it just made him cry more. Isosceles sniffled and rubbed his eyes, trying his best to keep quiet. He glanced at the couch to his right. It was stained, springs were loose, and fluff started to come out of the seams. Maybe he should sleep on the couch tonight.

Isosceles looked up at the night sky, his tears finally starting to stop. He wiped away a tear and stared at it as it rested on his hand. It shined in the moonlight, like a puddle after a storm. These tears meant something. They were a sign. A sign that Isosceles was still human. The human half that needed to die.

Tagging moots bc I want yall to cry /j 😈: @jadelover69 @sunnysidesevenup @jovieinramshackle @cheerleaderman @screamintoad @bunniehunn @anonymousplant @babyghoul138 @beneathsakurashade

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

hi! i love your work so so much! i have a request for you, i know it takes you a lot of time to get thru your requests but i hope you will see this soon ❤️

would you be able to do one when reader is in an abusive relationship and kylian is her friend and they have been in love since they were kids but couldn’t find a way to work it out somehow so she dates someone else who’s absolutely awful and kylian is worried and protective? happy ending please haha

thank you in advance and i so look forward to what you do with my request i have a feeling it will another masterpiece 😍😍😍

Hi! Hope your having a great day.

I really liked this request, and I got so much inspiration, I started writing immediately. I hope you like it.

Don't forget my Patreon is now available for $3 for the month of December; don't miss your chance to catch up on all the exclusive content before the month ends!

Safe Haven

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — The one where he saves you.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x You

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 4.3k

Warnings! ANGST!! protective!Kylian, you have a shit boyfriend, TRIGGER WARNING!! Abuse, domestic violence, FLUFF! Kylian is your guardian angel,

The café hummed with soft chatter and the rhythmic clink of ceramic mugs, a cozy soundtrack that usually invited comfort.

But Kylian barely noticed.

His attention was on you, sitting across the table, absently stirring your coffee as if lost in thought—or avoiding it altogether.

His sharp gaze caught the faint bruises peeking out from beneath the sleeve of your sweater, their mottled edges just visible under the soft café light. He clenched his jaw, biting back the wave of anger and helplessness that surged within him.

He knew better than to mention them directly—he’d tried before, only for you to shut him down.

“How’s work?” he asked, his voice deceptively light, masking the feelings that were brewing inside him.

You looked up, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Busy, as usual. But good.”

He nodded, even though the lie tasted bitter.

You were thinner than you’d been the last time he saw you, the shadows under your eyes darker. The spark—the vibrant, carefree energy that you used to be—felt like a distant memory.

He couldn’t recall the last time you laughed uncontrollably, the way you used to when you were kids, running barefoot through the fields, teasing him mercilessly about his attempst at a backflip.

That version of you felt like someone from another life, a ghost he couldn’t reach no matter how hard he tried.

Kylian had given you so much space over the last few months, trying not to push you into discussing something you weren’t ready to. But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering what he could have done differently—if he’d spoken up sooner, if he’d been stronger or braver—would you be with him instead of the man you now called your boyfriend?

You didn’t tell him about it, but he knew.

How could he not?

“Kylian.” His name was a whisper on your lips.

He snapped out of his thoughts, looking up to meet your gaze. “Yeah?” he answered, voice hoarse.

“Are you okay?” you asked, brow furrowing.

Kylian was caught off-guard. “I—yeah, I’m fine. Just tired,” he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He felt his heart clench at the look on your face. So worried about him. It should be him worried about you not the other way around.

Kylian swallowed down the lump in his throat, his gaze dropping to your hand, your delicate fingers still wrapped around your coffee cup. He’d always liked your hands—had even sketched them once, during a boring math class when he was younger. Not that they looked the best.

Now, he couldn’t help but notice the way they were shaking, the tremors almost invisible.

“Hey, you don’t have to stay.” He cleared his throat. “If you’re tired—”

“No, I mean, it’s fine. I have a few minutes.” You shrugged.

“I understand. I’m probably taking up too much of your time anyway,” he said, forcing himself to smile.

Your brow furrowed. “No, that’s not—”

The door to the café jingled, and Kylian didn’t miss the way your shoulders tensed at the sound. His stomach sank, a cold dread settling over him. He didn’t need to turn around to know what—or rather, who—had caused it.

“Hey, babe. You’re late,” a voice cut through the warm buzz of the café, gruff and sharp.

Kylian’s chest tightened as Adrien approached the table, clenching his fist under the table. You flinched, muttering a quiet, “Sorry, Adrien,” your voice barely audible over the blood pounding in Kylian’s ears.

Adrien’s hand landed on your shoulder, his grip firm, possessive, and entirely too telling. Kylian’s eyes narrowed as he caught the flicker of pain in your expression, the way you recoiled ever so slightly. Adrien turned his gaze to Kylian, his eyes cold, daring him to intervene.

“Time to go,” Adrien said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Kylian’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood, the sound cutting through the air like a challenge. “She’s not ready yet,” he said evenly, his voice steady, though his fists clenched at his sides.

Adrien straightened, towering over him, but Kylian didn’t waver. The protective instinct roaring to life inside him drowned out the rational voice warning him to tread carefully. He’d spent too many nights wondering if he should’ve done more, said more, instead of tiptoeing around the cracks in your life, afraid of making things worse.

“Kylian, it's fine,” you said hurriedly, standing and grabbing your bag. Your words were meant to soothe, but your tone betrayed you. It wasn’t fine. Not the way your hands trembled as you slung the bag over your shoulder. Not the fear flickering in your eyes as Adrien’s shadow loomed over you.

And certainly not when Kylian remembered the late-night calls, your voice breaking as you insisted everything was okay while your silence screamed the opposite.

He reached out, hand brushing your arm, trying to reassure you. “Are you sure, Y/N—” he started, his voice catching as Adrien interrupted, his hand tightening around your wrist.

“Yeah, we’ve gotta get going. Nice to see you, Kylian.” Adrien’s words dripped with sarcasm, his eyes glacial.

You murmured something indistinguishable as Adrien dragged you away, leaving Kylian with nothing but a heavy feeling and a cold cup of coffee. He watched you disappear out the door, the memory of your haunted eyes searing a hole through his chest.

That night, Kylian sat perched on the edge of his bed, his phone resting heavily in his hands. The glow of the screen illuminated his face in the dark, but it was the storm in his heart that truly kept him awake.

He couldn’t bear it anymore.

Watching you crumble under the weight of someone else’s cruelty was killing him slowly. You deserved better—so much better than what life had handed you. You deserved love, the kind he’d always wanted to give you, but he’d been too much of a coward to fight for it when it mattered most.

His thumb hovered over your name in his contacts, trembling with indecision. Minutes bled into each other as he stared at the screen, lost in a sea of regrets and what-ifs. What if you didn’t want to hear from him? What if it was already too late?

The sharp, shrill sound of his ringtone sliced through the silence of his room, startling him so violently that his phone nearly slipped from his grasp. His heart leapt into his throat as he scrambled to pick up the call.

“Y/N,” he whispered, your name escaping his lips like a prayer. His heart pounded with a rhythm that threatened to drown out every other sound.

“Kylian…” Your voice cracked through the line, so soft, so fragile, that he almost didn’t recognize it. Your tone made his stomach twist with dread.

“Hey,” he said, forcing a calmness he didn’t feel, his voice catching as he heard your faint, uneven breathing. It only took a second before he picked up on the muffled sobs in the background. Whatever composure he’d been clinging to shattered in an instant.

“Help me, Kylian,” you whimpered, the sound hitting him like a dagger to the chest. “I can’t—I can’t move.”

His blood ran cold, fear clawing its way through him. “Y/N, what’s happening?” he demanded, panic creeping into his voice despite his best efforts. He shot up from his bed, fumbling to pull on a pair of jeans.

“I’m… I’m in the bathroom,” you managed between sobs, each word cutting through him like shards of glass. “Adrien—he was so angry—he hurt me, Kylian. I—I didn’t know what to do…” Your voice broke entirely, dissolving into gut-wrenching cries.

Kylian froze, his mind struggling to process what you’d just said. He’d never heard you sound so broken, so utterly defeated. It tore at his very soul.

“Okay, listen to me. Don’t move, alright?” he said firmly, pulling on a sweatshirt with trembling hands. “I’m coming to you. Right now.”

“Please, Kylian, don’t let him get to me.” Your voice cracked, raw with desperation. “I’m so scared…”

He could feel his heart splintering with every word you uttered, but he forced himself to stay strong—for you. Grabbing his keys, he bolted out of his apartment, already dialing 911 with shaking fingers as he sprinted toward the front door of his building.

"I’m coming, Y/N,” he whispered, the vow burning in his chest. “I won’t let him hurt you again.” He spoke the words, but he wasn’t sure if you were even still on the line to hear them. “Y/N? Y/N!!? Answer me!”

No answer.

He didn’t even realize he was crying until he saw the tears drip down his face. He was halfway to your place when the operator picked up, his words tumbling out in a disjointed, panicked mess.

“He’s going to hurt her. Please, you have to help us. I don’t know what he’s going to do. I can’t lose her,” he cried, the last word cracking in his throat.

The operator tried to keep him talking, but Kylian was too far gone to focus on anything but your broken sobs still echoing through his phone. The sound was forever seared into his head, haunting him as he drove.

By the time he arrived at your apartment, he’d convinced himself of the worst. Every nightmare he’d been trying to suppress had come alive in his mind, clawing at his sanity and leaving him raw with terror.

His heart thundered wildly, a beat of dread that pounded louder with every frantic step up the stairs. He barely registered the ache in his legs or the burning in his lungs. All that mattered was getting to you.

When he reached your door, there was no hesitation. The wood splintered under the force of his kick, the loud crack echoing through the apartment. He froze for a split second, his heart lurching in his chest as his eyes found Adrien standing in the kitchen.

Adrien turned at the noise, his lips curling into a cruel, mocking smile that made Kylian’s blood boil.

A storm of rage surged inside him, hot and blinding, coursing through his veins with a fury he’d never known. Every thought, every ounce of logic, every shred of restraint burned away, leaving nothing but raw, unrelenting anger. Without a second thought, he lunged forward, his body moving before his mind could catch up.

Kylian didn’t care about the consequences.

He didn’t care about the destruction he was about to cause. There was no room for anything but the white-hot need to make Adrien pay. His fist connected with Adrien’s jaw, the sickening crack reverberating through the room. He barely felt the pain in his knuckles as Adrien staggered backward, already crumpling before Kylian tackled him to the ground.

The two of them slammed into the kitchen table, the force of the collision shattering it beneath their weight. Adrien’s curses filled the air, but Kylian barely heard them. His vision was a blur of red, his world reduced to the satisfying sound of his fists meeting Adrien’s face. Blow after blow, he poured every ounce of his fury into the man beneath him.

It ended as abruptly as it had started. Adrien lay on the floor, curled into himself, his hands clutching his broken jaw as he whimpered in pain. Kylian stood above him, chest heaving, his fists trembling and smeared with blood—his own, Adrien’s, he couldn’t tell.

“Kylian.”

Your voice. Soft, broken, barely audible, but it cut through the fog like a blade. He turned, his breath hitching as his eyes found you.

You were huddled on the bathroom floor, your body limp and trembling, your face streaked with tears. Bruises marred your arms and neck, vivid against your skin, and the sight of them made something inside him shatter. There was blood—so much blood—and the sight of it made his stomach twist painfully.

As he approached, you whispered something, your voice trembling, but the words were lost to him. All he could focus on was the fear in your eyes, the pain etched into your expression. His knees hit the tiled floor as he knelt beside you, his hands hovering uncertainly before he gently pulled you into his arms.

You flinched at the contact, a broken sob escaping your lips as you collapsed against him. Your body shook violently, every tremor a testament to the horror you’d endured. Kylian held you close, his arms tightening around you protectively, as if his embrace alone could shield you from the world.

He didn’t speak; there were no words for this. Instead, he buried his face in your hair, his breath ragged as he fought back the tears burning in his eyes. His hands trembled as they stroked your hair, his touch as gentle as he could make it. Your cries filled the small bathroom, echoing off the walls and breaking his heart anew with every sound.

He held you, rocking you gently, his own breaths hitching as he whispered silent promises into the air. You were safe now. You were in his arms, and he wouldn’t let anything—or anyone—hurt you again.

Not while he lived.

When the police and paramedics finally arrived, Kylian refused to let you go, even as they gently coaxed him to give you over to them. He couldn’t let you be taken from him again. You were his to protect now, and he would spend the rest of his life fighting for your safety.

The ride to the hospital was a blur of noise and color, the sounds of the sirens and the flashing lights mingling to consume him whole. But none of it mattered. Not as long as you were safe in his arms.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, Kylian stayed at your side, his fingers laced tightly with yours, feeling as though letting go might mean losing you. His grip was firm, almost desperate, and the silent promise in his eyes—I’m here, I’m not leaving—was unshakable.

Even when the nurses and doctors ushered him away, insisting they needed to examine you in private, he stood frozen for a moment, his hand hovering in the air where yours had been. Then, reluctantly, he stepped back, the ache in his chest growing heavier with each step that took him further from you.

Outside the door, the minutes dragged, each tick of the clock hammering against his already raw nerves.

He paced the narrow corridor, his footsteps echoing in the quiet, sterile hallway. His gaze never strayed from the closed door, the sight of it both a barrier and a lifeline.

Inside, you were there—hurt, vulnerable, but there. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms as anger and fear collided within him, swirling a storm in his stomach.

He wanted to be strong for you, but the truth was, he was terrified. All he wanted, all he needed, was to hold you in his arms again, to feel your warmth against him, to reassure himself that you were still here, still breathing.

The moment the door opened, Kylian was on his feet, the chair he had been sitting in scraping loudly against the floor as he sprang up.

His heart leaped into his throat at the sight of you being wheeled out, your small frame seeming even smaller against the stark white sheets of the hospital bed. Your face was limp, twisting a knife in his chest.

For a second, he couldn’t move, frozen by the sheer weight of the fear he’d been holding back. But then, the tears came, hot and unrelenting, slipping down his face as he stepped forward and gently took your hand.

Your skin was cold, far too cold, and the sob he had been swallowing threatened to break free. He tightened his grip on your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, as if the simple gesture might anchor you—and him—to something solid.

He tried, tried so hard, to hold himself together for you, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Silent at first, then heavier, until they dripped onto the blanket covering you.

Without hesitation, Kylian climbed onto the narrow hospital bed beside you. He moved carefully, afraid that any sudden movement might hurt you, but his need to be close to you overrode every other thought.

He slipped an arm around you, cradling your fragile body against his own, and pressed his face into your shoulder. The faint scent of lavender and vanilla, though dulled by the sharp tang of antiseptic, wafted his senses, soothing him instantly.

He laid his head against your chest, his ear pressed to the place where your heartbeat was steady and strong. That sound—it was everything. It was life, it was hope, it was you. His arms tightened around you as though he could shield you from the world.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt his lungs expand fully, his breath coming easier. You were here. You were okay. The crushing weight of fear that had threatened to break him all night began to lift.

He kissed your temple, his lips lingering there as he whispered into the quiet, “I won’t fail you again. Never again.” His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion, but there was no wavering in his promise. Whatever it took, whatever he had to do, he would keep you safe.

As your breathing slowed, your chest rising and falling with a soothing rhythm, it lulled him into a peace he hadn’t known in days. The tension in his body eased, and his eyelids grew heavy.

There, with you in his arms, he allowed himself to drift into sleep, deep and restful, knowing that for now, in this moment, everything was right again.

You were safe. And that was all that mattered.

You woke to the sound of beeping, the muted murmur of hospital chatter bleeding through the closed door, and the feeling of warmth against your body.

Your eyelids fluttered open, your gaze focusing slowly on the unfamiliar ceiling above you.

For a moment, you forgot where you were, disoriented by the sterile smell and the harsh overhead light filtering in through the window blinds. Your body ached, every muscle protesting as you shifted slightly, and then you felt it—a warm weight draped across you.

Kylian.

He was curled against you on the narrow bed, his arms wrapped around you as if even in sleep, he couldn’t let go. His head rested on your shoulder, his breath soft and even against your skin.

The sight of him broke something in you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the memories of the night before crashed down on you like a tidal wave. Adrien’s fury, the pain, the fear that had gripped you so tightly it was hard to breathe—and then Kylian, bursting through the door like a storm.

He had come for you. He had saved you.

You reached up with trembling fingers, brushing them gently against his cheek where a bruise was slightly formed. The motion made him stir, his brow furrowing before his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he looked confused, his gaze darting around the room until it settled on you.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice thick with sleep. Relief flooded his features, and he sat up slightly, his hand instinctively reaching out to cup your face gently. Always gently.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. His eyes searched yours, dark and filled with so much concern it made your chest tighten.

You tried to speak, but your throat felt raw, your words catching. All you could do was nod, tears spilling freely now as the enormity of everything hit you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible from how dry your throat was. “For everything—for dragging you into this, for—”

“Hey, no,” he interrupted firmly, his hand shifting to cradle the back of your head. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault, Y/N. You hear me? None of it.”

His words were steady, unwavering, and you believed him because you wanted to. You wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as broken as you felt.

“I was so scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I thought—I thought I wouldn’t make it. And then you—”

“I’ll always come for you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “No matter what, no matter when. I’ll always be there.”

His words wrapped around you like a blanket, warm and comforting, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as his forehead pressed gently against yours. The world outside could wait. For now, in this quiet, sterile hospital room, all that mattered was the warmth of his skin against yours and the safety of his arms.

“Thank you,” you whispered into the space between them. “Thank you for saving me.” You felt his body tense against yours before he gathered you into his arms again.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his words a quiet promise. “You’re safe, Y/N.” His voice rumbled against you, vibrating in his chest beneath your cheek.

For the first time since you could remember, you truly believed that. You were safe. And it felt wonderful.

Weeks passed, and with them, healing.

You spent the first two in the hospital, but by the third, you were well enough to be discharged.

Kylian never left your side. He pushed your wheelchair down the hospital corridor, refusing to let anyone else take his place. It was his right, his privilege, he said. And you let him.

When you were finally cleared to go home, he drove you to his apartment. You didn’t argue; you didn’t need to. It was quiet there, peaceful, with him always nearby.

At first, you were hesitant to take up space in his life, but Kylian left no room for doubt.

He cooked for you, and insisted on carrying you to the couch when you were too weak to walk. He never pushed you to talk, but his presence said everything: I’m here. You’re not alone. It was a comfort, a shelter, that you’d needed for so long.

One evening, as you were lying on his couch, cocooned in a blanket, he sat beside you, a cautious distance away. He took a deep breath, his eyes clouding with something you couldn’t quite name. You could see his thoughts playing out across his features as he struggled to find the right words.

"I'm sorry." The soft glow of the lamp casts shadows across his face, but his eyes remain steady on yours. “I should’ve done something sooner,” he says, his voice thick with guilt. “I saw what was happening, but I was too afraid. Afraid of losing you… even though I never really had you.”

His confession startles you. You sit up slowly, wincing at the lingering pain in your ribs. “Kylian, it’s not your fault,” you whisper. “You didn’t hurt me. He did.”

“But I let it happen,” he counters, his jaw tightening. “I—�� He cuts himself off, running a hand over his coils. “I should’ve told you how I felt. Maybe then you would’ve been with me instead of him.”

Your breath catches. How he felt? The room feels suddenly too small, too quiet. “How you felt?” you echo, your voice barely audible.

Kylian hesitates, his vulnerability laid bare. “How I feel,” he corrects, his gaze searching yours. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Watching you with him—it tore me apart. But I didn’t think I was good enough for you.”

Tears well in your eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming realization of what Kylian has done for you—what he’s always done for you. “You are good enough,” you say, your voice trembling. “You’re more than enough, Kylian. You saved me. You’ve always been there, even when I didn’t know I needed you.”

Before you can second-guess yourself, you reach out, your fingers brushing his. His hand is warm, grounding, as he laces his fingers through yours. His breath hitches, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers. “But I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I should’ve been brave enough before, but I won’t waste any more time.”

His words are a promise, a vow. It takes your breath away.

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. You don’t look away. “I'm not ready to open my heart again. I-I can't.” you admit, your voice trembling but resolute.

Kylian’s expression softens, the tension in his jaw easing as he takes in your words. His thumb gently grazes the back of your hand, a quiet reassurance. “I’ll wait,” he says simply, his voice steady. “For as long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his words lights up your soul, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the weight pressing down on you feels a little lighter. You lean back, settling into the cushions again, and Kylian adjusts, staying close without crowding you.

For a while, the two of you sit in silence, comfortable silence.

“Kylian?” you murmur after a while, your eyes drifting to the ceiling.

“Yeah?” His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid to disturb the fragile peace between you.

“Thank you,” you say, glancing at him, your lips curving into a faint smile. “For everything.”

He doesn’t reply immediately, his gaze searching yours as if committing this moment to memory. Then, he nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Always,” he says, and you know he means it.

For the first time in years, you believe that you will be safe—that you will be more than safe. You will be loved.

-Bianca🌻

[thebumblingbee]

.

[deerest-deer]

lottie + hugs

[pleasedontcareaboutme]

It's missing my father hours rn so imma just dump a bunch of pictures here and cry

( sorry i don't know the source of anything I just had them on my phone)

(also dont read the tags i just need to let it out lol)

[transmechanicus]

I’m allowed one (1) vent of the colossal amounts of pressure my body and mind are under per month and i usually do my best to bury it in the early hours of the morning, so now that i’ve provided this valuable and important context:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[radmista]

Sowing seeds of discontent and disharmony by hanging up on my parents birthday phone call the second my mom asked if I gained weight. Hope that sits badly on their minds while they think about how that's the first call I've engaged with them in 2 months and it was for the dogs birthday. Dad scrambling to text me for my mom that she didn't mean it. Like fuck I told her I've been having a rough month and day. She couldn't keep it to herself that badly. Fucks sake

[dreampearls]

MY VISHION

[nature-played-a-trick-on-me]

Feeling very conflicted about things 😕

[hues3ra]

here’s the thing

[phagodyke]

ahh.. I have tickets for a small music festival tmr which I went to last year + had a whale of a time but this year theres only like 2 artists I wanted to see but they released the schedule a couple days ago and neither are playing before 9:30pm. since I don't live local anymore I'd have to leave to travel back home around that time or I'd miss the last train... and there's not rly anywhere I can crash overnight there (and I was planning on going alone anyway like I did last year). so I think im gonna have to let this one pass me by :-(

[wavernot4love]

alright y'all lil (alright, maybe not so little) recap of the second show of AG's Boom Done tour last night 3.4 in Buffalo @ one of my favorite venues, Mohawk Place. because my brain commits absolutely everything to memory at shows & i like writing it all down before i forget

(for fun & plus maybe folks going to this tour want to know what's shakin, since i haven't seen much online yet):

(note there will be setlist spoilers)

- alright so first, a freakin HIGHLIGHT for me was, of course, GET OUT!!!

Anthony was just kinda messing around with his guitar & then teased it by being like "hmm... how should i play this..." and then went into that and the crowd reception was AWESOME, dude. whatever the opposite of masking is, that's what i was doing there. i definitely started physically jumping up & down once i realized what it was (typical wavernot4love @ the AG show behavior). aka evidently he knew your boy (who like i've mentioned on here, got into Circa last summer through a kind person at a Dunes show rec'ing me Get Out & then BSN. Get Out was straight up my introduction 2 Circa) was in the building (/Ih).

also, i had to shorten my clip to post because in the rest i must've had my phone right next to my mouth,,, which made for some horrifying tone deaf live vox from wavernot4love. be glad i spared y'all from that one.

(i'm gonna put one of those keep reading thingies here, click it 2 see the rest)

- he also played Dyed In The Wool & Frozen Creek, continuing that theme (though I expected these more since he's played em recently). Dyed In The Wool with everyone singing along during the chorus was probably my top moment, and one that's gonna stick with me forever, honestly. i remember thinking it straight up felt like, a churchlike (but positive) experience or something during the songs everyone did that for (remember, it's just anthony this tour no backing band, so it was somewhat quiet in there). more on that later, but AG kept pointing out how nice the singing along was & how fun/awesome this all was, and man, that it was.

- he mentioned valuing spontaneity over a planned setlist every night and basically implied he was just goin for whatever felt right at the time. so just consider the songs i mention here as a basic guideline, he could very well switch stuff up every night. i love that he's like this when it comes to shows - idk dude, like, at one point he even asked folks what time it was, laughing when they told him, jokingly accusing them of being untrustworthy & then going right back into the tunes. dude was just here to play, for as long as he could.

- kinda tied to that, there was a running gag of the set being "inconsistent" (his word). he'd bring up jokingly that there'd be moments where everyone could be singing along, and then songs that nobody knows (and he'd jokingly "apologize" for that), and he'd even (lightheartedly) call specific people out and be like (to laughs) "look at this person, they have no *idea* what i'm gonna play next!" actually i think he said that before Get Out. at one point he was (paraphrased slightly) like, "so if i start playing 12 Circa songs in a row, let me know." i love how he just does whatever the hell feels right in the moment.

- also a couple times he messed up while starting a song (i think due to laughing) and bro would call out folks laughing at him for it (lightheartedly) and be like "this is all performance. vou don't know what goes into this!" (this was not at all serious and said through laughter. straight up half the show was all of us in that room just cracking up together)

- he introduced his Title Fight cover (Numb, But I Still Feel It) by calling TF one of his favorite bands & joking that they're gonna hear this & think it's time to get back together so... if you hear that Title Fight reunited, you know why, which, well, if you know that side of the scene, you know what's up. real shits and giggles moment, if i do say so myself.

- at one point (only bad thing) someone at the front was being objectively Weird in the way people (unfortunately) do to try to get an artist's attention (let's just say it involved throwing money (????? literally what) while yelling stuff about understanding because they're in the industry (??)) and he honestly handled it with so much grace. he pretty much said that made him uncomfortable etc and he would Not be taking more of their money please, he already did that, and that led to him ranting for a second i think mostly to himself in a thinking out loud/under his breath kinda way about *hating* having to sell stuff in the first place in order to do this and like,,, i go into this a bit in the tags but it genuinely reminded me of how i get when i'm passionate about something. what i'm trying to say, is dude clearly was heated & meant it. fully. just felt relevant to include

- then he ranted about something related to the moneythrowing, drunk (question mark) weirdo (long story, but it ended in him telling them to tip bartenders with their money instead of weird things), then used that to go on a tangent about how we should always tip people working in service in general and respect/be kind to them even if they seem rude or whatever because doing that shit is hard & sucks and maybe your kindess will be the wakeup call that causes them to one day have a moment where they're like, man, i was a dick back then for no reason. (i feel like i am nearly direct quoting him here)

- then after a song he joked about the incident saving we were probably just all watching like 🧍‍♂️ and it was like watching dad yell at mom at the dinner table while you just sit there staring at the ground and safe to say the mood was fully lightened after that moment of self awareness fhfhfh

- then a few songs later i guess the person that was being weird had left so he was like, (at this point there were no weird vibes whatsoever, like we were all just scoffing/laughing at the situation and cheering him on) "oh that person who hates me left. did they give the bartender that money?" (someone implied they thought so) and he was like "good." and that was the end with that weirdo situation lol. i have absolutely no idea why that person, drunk or not, thought that was a normal cool thing to do. as always, please don't be weird 2 musicians they are in every sense just Some Guys (gender neutral), treat them like anyone else.

- back 2 totally unserious things, during... uh don't mind me, like i've said in my previous posts i'm still getting 2 know Boom Done, so whatever song has like, the horns kinda near the end? he just started making freakin. horn noises since since there were, in fact, no horns in the building and made us all do them too and everyone was just straight up cackling because it was so stupid (/pos).

- idk one thing that stood out to me was one person belting along at the end of... i can't remember what song it was actually, i think one of his older tunes, but you could tell he heard & a song later complimented it & said it was beautiful. i'm telling ya, he kept going on about how nice folks singing along sounded and encouraging that, which was awesome because i wasn't sure what the vibe was gonna be there since it was just him playing.

- don't want to go into detail since it feels like something between Anthony & whoever he decides to tell it to in real time, ya know, but he did tell a pretty extensive story leading up to Miracle Sun. in terms of themes, it was in regards to (with plenty of laughs mixed into the serious bits, of course) letting folks that matter to him down + falling into a cycle of engaging in stuff that temporarily made him feel better but was moreso just self destructive, in the past. just interesting stuff to hear in connection to a song.

- at the end, before Dear Child, he just talked in the most honest manner about knowing he's let people down, cancelled shows (there were laughs mixed in here too), just not been the best version of himself over the years etc, but appreciating how long everyone has stuck around, and how we keep coming back, & jow much it means whenever we tell someone go check out a song or anything like that, & helping him continue to do this and also support his family and whatnot and man it just. embodied everything i love about AG solo sets i guess. i just admire how open a book &p vulnerable dude is. while i love his more theatric frontman persona of course as it's fun as hell, it's so nice at solo shows like this to hear more from him, in seriousness and otherwise. also dude was posting about how fun it was on instagram later so i'm just glad we all had a great time.

- also at one point before a new tune he was talking about these cds he had that have that on it + some rerecordings, Frozen Creek (feat. Keith of GOW), etc. i love cds so i ran to snag one later of course (they're $12)

- as for other merch he had a few shirts (like that cute one i keep seeing around, with him & the puppy), some art prints, & the Boom Done book thingy (i really wanted it but couldn't swing the $25 right now sadly)

anyways,, i posted on Setlist FM for the first time, here are all the songs i remember for sure (there were definitely at least 4/5 others i am not thinking of, i'd say he did 17ish songs, he played for close to an hour and a half. keep in mind he talked a LOT with us which was awesome)

edit: someone added a few more!!!

anyways, that's the show!!! 1. i may or may not be trying 2 figure out how to pull off one of the other northeast dates (looking @ Cleveland, which is closer but i'd have to drive to, or New York, which is further (+ yknow.. dealing w getting around in NY) but i could take a bus to, this weekend/next week as we speak,,,, that's how freakin good and homey (more on that in the tags aka uhh literal diary section of this post) and impactful this show was.

and 2. if any of this (especially said tags) sounds loopy it sure is because i wrote most of this at roughly four am last night post show, when i was even moreso still back *at* the show in my head. i still stand by all of it though of course, i just know it might not be the most coherent.

this tour rocks. AG's tunes mean so much to me. get out 2 a show!!! tell me about your experiences if ya do/did!!!! yay!!!!

[mostly-imagines]

Motion Sickness

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason makes you cry after a fight

warnings: angst with comfort

“Jason—”

He waves you off immediately, “No, I’m not your problem, okay?”

Your arms drop, “You’re not a problem at all, that’s not what I’m saying—”

“Then what are you saying?” he challenges. 

You almost bite your tongue but then decide against it, “I’m saying you’re being an asshole right now just because I tried to help.”

He’s angry and you’re someplace in between desperate and tired, but you push on, hoping you’ll be able to solve this without an extended argument. To little avail though, apparently. 

A tense exhale from him, “I don’t need your help, I don’t know how I can make it any clearer.”

“It’s not about needing it—”

“No, it’s about wanting it. I don’t want your fucking help,” he snaps. “I’m grown, I can handle my problems myself.”

You drop your hands to your sides, “Then what am I doing here, Jason?”

“I don’t know!” You can literally see the regret sweep over his face but he lets the moment consume him and the words linger anyways. 

You know he doesn’t always think before he talks, especially when he’s mad. You’ve seen it plenty when he’s fighting with his family. This is the first time it’s shown up with you though, and while you know it’s not coming from a place of genuinity—it still really fucking stung. 

Far from being in your control, tears slip out, more at his tone than his words, and you remove your gaze in favor of the linoleum tiles. He says nothing as you start to cry, which only makes the heat of the moment worsen. 

“Okay,” You take a deep breath, pursing your lips. “You need to go away.”

There’s a long, hard moment of silence, but ultimately he doesn’t fight you on it, only exhales harshly and slams the door on his way out.

The resulting reverberation of the apartment has your shoulders shaking, tears falling onto your shirt.  

You and Jason don’t fight often but when you do it’s usually about insecurities and fears coming forward. He’d been having a bad night to start with and all you wanted to do was make him feel better but he wasn’t willing to talk to you or let you do anything for him. He gets selfishly selfless like that, but you know why.

You know him, in and out. You could’ve anticipated this—you should’ve. You should’ve approached the topic more sensitively. And it’s not his fault, his life has taught him that it’s safer to believe that other people don’t have his best interest. You know that. 

Yeah, you know him in and out, but he knows you in and out, too. He knows you’ve shown him nothing but kindness and generosity since the day you met and you’ve reinforced a thousand times how safe you are for him. But if he still can’t trust you to care about him, then what are you doing here?

You let yourself fall back onto the arm of the couch, huffing in defeat. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when Dick awakens, the bandages across his abdomen digging into his skin uncomfortably. He sits up, bedsheet pooling around his waist. The ache of the bruising pushes him towards his old bedroom door before he’s even fully coherent, narrowly missing shouldering the door frame as he passes through.

He’s still half asleep as he thumps down the staircase, cold hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He’s so out of it in his blind search for painkillers, that he nearly misses the large shadowed figure huddled up on the couch.

Dick stills, blinking warily.

“What’re you doing here?”

His younger brother says nothing, only continues to stew in the shadows, staring at the rug.

As his eyes adjust, Dick takes in his appearance: messy hair, tired eyes, only clad in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

He rubs his eyes, approaching with measured steps, “What happened?”

Jason remains silent for a long minute before grunting out, “Got in a fight.”

Dick nods slowly, shuffling forward a little more to sit on the far end of the couch. 

“What’d you do?”

Jason doesn’t have it in him to comment on how his brother immediately knew he was the issue. It just makes the entire thing hurt even worse. Instead, he tells the truth. 

“Be myself.”

Dick says nothing, 

When the silence persists, Jason elaborates, even though it’s the last thing he wants to admit to.

“I made her cry,” he says, voice below even a whisper. He hates it and he hates himself for leaving you when he knew he’d hurt you.

Dick nods, not saying anything. He’s definitely been there before, though he’s not nearly as volatile as Jason can be, so he can imagine how this likely played out. In any case, Jason has never responded well to being pushed to talk about his feelings so Dick lets him get there in his own time.

He’s half expecting to end up with no results at all, but Jason pipes up after a minute, voice broken.

“I don’t know what she wants me to do,” he rasps.

Dick takes a deep breath, adjusting his posture. “When girls are mad you give them space but when they’re sad you definitely don’t. Is she sad or mad?”

Jason exhales desperately.

“Both, I think.”

Dick nods, understanding.

“Then go home.”

Jason shakes his head, defeated. “She told me to leave. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“What did you say?”

He huffs, not wanting to bring the memory back up. “I basically told her to fuck off.”

“Yeah,” Dick drawls. “I wouldn’t let that simmer.”

Jason’s head snaps over to him. “She’ll break up with me?”

“No, I don’t—” Dick pauses, thinking over his words. “It’ll be fine. Just go home.”

Despite taking the long route on the way to the manor, Jason sped back home on his bike, now unwilling to leave you alone for another second longer than he had to. 

He creeps through the front door of your apartment, proud and only a little hurt that you’d remembered to lock it. 

The apartment’s mostly quiet, nothing but a lamp lighting up the front half. He can hear the shower running from where he stands, the waterfall noise awfully muffled from behind the closed bathroom door.

He bolts the door behind him, pushing forward towards the hallway. He approaches the bathroom door, noticing how there’s no light flooding out from underneath.

“Baby?” Jason calls it out quietly, like he’s scared to commit to alerting you of his presence.

He hears no response, but he knows you heard him. He knows you heard him in the same way that he knows you’re sitting on the shower floor, curled in on yourself under the sensory relief that the pouring water brings. He doesn’t know how, he just does.

So he leans against the door, listening closely, and calls out again, “Can I come in?”

There’s a solid ten seconds of silence before you respond, just barely audible over the cascade of water.

“Not right now.”

Your volume has him wincing, saddened and embarrassed that he’s the one that made you feel like this.

He reluctantly walks back to the bedroom with heavy shoulders, thudding his weight down on the mattress. He sits half folded over himself for the next ten minutes, thinking only of you, sitting alone in the shower with your thoughts.

He perks up considerably when he hears the water shut off, and after several long minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, towel wrapped around your middle.

He stands up when you enter the bedroom, hands stiff and awkward at his sides. You barely look at him, having trouble willing yourself to do more than glance. 

Your eyes fall downward, your lips pursing. You instinctually move to clutching the towel tighter around you, more than anything because you don’t know what to do with your hands. 

It makes his heart break to see you so out of comfort around him—because of him—so he gives you the benefit of privacy, turning around so you can get dressed. It kills him to do it, makes him feel like he’s just some stranger in your life rather than him. But he supposes that he deserves to feel like that right now. 

Whether or not you wanted him to turn around goes unsaid, he can only hear the quiet shuffling of you putting clothes on.

He waits until the movement stops, after he hears the squeak of the bed springs and the faint sound of the sheets being pulled up.

He turns around again with a silent sigh, taking in the sight of you laying in bed, back turned to him.  

He approaches slowly, stopping just before his knees hit the mattress. He notices quickly that the t-shirt you’d chosen was one of your own. He frowns.  

“Sweetheart. Can I touch you?” His voice is soft and low, like he’s trying to coax you back out to him.

It takes a long few moments, but you nod.

He sits down on the bed, still hesitant to go through with it.

“Will you turn over?”

An even longer pause and you’re flipping over to face him. You don’t make eye contact, only look blankly past him. Your blinks are heavy, and even in the dark, he can see that your eyes are still bloodshot. 

He brushes your hair back, his fingers feather-light against you, like he’s scared to touch you too harshly. Like he’s touching porcelain.

He lets you hold the silence for a while, reasoning with himself that you’ll talk when you’re ready.

You let it go on longer than he’d hoped, past the point of him knowing what to do with it. He’d hoped you’d yell at him. He can take that, he knows he can. He can see plainly that you’re thinking deeply and wants more than anything for you to say it, scream it if you have to. 

He knows he deserves it and he frankly would take anything over the silence. But then again, he doesn’t deserve the reprieve, does he? No, but he’s not strong enough to deny himself the chance to hear your voice.

“Say it,” he urges. “Please.”

Your fingers tap against the bed sheets for a moment before you sit up, almost defeated. 

You face him, taking a breath and relenting. “I don’t like that you said that to me.”

He nods, brow deep. “Me neither.”

Your shoulders sag at that, and you feel stuck in the moment. You feel guilty too but you don’t know if you should. He didn’t mean it, you know that, and they weren’t his words, really. But the snap of his voice when he’d said it and the look on his face—it made you feel terrible. It still does.

You look awkwardly to the left, feeling heavily spectated by him and so hyper-conscious of all of your movements. The downturn of your lips gives way to burning in your eyes and before you can do anything about it, tears are spilling out. 

Jason sees it immediately, his head lulling helplessly. 

“Oh, baby. Please don’t cry, please.”

But that only makes it worse, the tears falling faster and heavier at his soft tone.

He forgoes asking permission and pulls you directly into his chest, a firm hand on the back of your head. It’s what you needed though, to be close to him right now.

“I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry, baby—” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a rough kiss as he holds you tighter.

You shake your head, sniffling. “It’s okay, Jay.”

“No, it’s not.”

That sentiment lingers for several minutes, as he holds you cheek to chest and rubs soothing patterns into your hair.

It’s not long before you’re able to fully relax against him, his touch feeling nothing short of therapeutic. Your breathing eventually levels out back to baseline and your thoughts start to find peace amongst themselves.

When you’re ready, you sit back from him, letting him see your face again.                    

He visibly winces as he scans over the tears on your cheeks, how they’re starting to stain.

You’re still upset, a little, but not nearly as much as you’re sure your face is conveying. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

He shakes his head, “If I ever say something like that to you again, hit me. I’m serious.”

You drop your hand onto your lap, tilting your head at him with a serious look. “I’m not going to hit you—”

“Then break up with me. Don’t ever let somebody talk to you like that, especially not me.”

His voice is hard and you can tell the impact of his words have every bit of weight intended.

Your mouth closes and you waver unsure of where to go with that. Your gaze falls down to where your hands lie discarded on your lap and there’s a palpable shift to the air in the room.

“Hey.” He pushes your chin up to make you look at him, “Listen to me. You’re the love of my life. You hear me? I’m supposed to take care of you, make you happy. I don’t…I can’t talk to you like that. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Your eyes flicker back and forth across each others and you can see the genuine sincerity etched plainly across his face.

He processes the comprehension across your own before his jaw tenses for a moment and he adds, “Nobody’s gonna talk to you like that, much less me. Yes?” 

You start to nod slowly and he mirrors you until he’s convinced of your belief in the statement. 

He rubs calm circles into your thighs as you both sit with the conversation, the light sounds of each others breaths the only sound heard. This silence isn’t the same as it was before though, it’s safer, more comfortable. It’s familiar, if not weighted.  

“I love you,” you tell him quietly.

His eyebrows furrow like his heart was just shattered. 

“I love you too, baby. So much.”

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