#a playlist for every evermore song

[taylorslastkiss]

A Playlist For Every Taylor Swift Song

willow -> Link here.

My top tracks:

Feels Like - Gracie Abrams

Ho Hey - The Lumineers

Never Enough - One Direction

Glory & Gore - Lorde

Satanist - boygenius

[htylmg]

the day taylor plays epiphany or happiness is the day im jumping off the fucking texas schoolbook depository and getting my head cracked open on the same spot jfk died

[norikuna]

LAST FRIDAY NIGHT — choso kamo

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (d) and let the show begin !

prologue. → it's been seven days since you wobbled into your apartment and almost threw up on your best friend. seven days since you confessed your love to him. seven days of radio silence as you've done your best to shut him out, hoping that the earth swallows you whole. there's no way he's going to want anything to do with you now!

but it's been years since choso had started silently loving you.

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. choso kamo x afab!reader

warnings. vírgin!choso, spítting, kíssing, makíng out, thígh kínk (mild), yuuji being a menace 😭

word count. 8k! song inspiration. last friday night — katy perry

a/n. i can't believe i don't write for choso more. i really put a lot of love into this fic but i wish i had expanded on it a bit more 😭 one thing abt me is that i love adding side characters to cóck block

mp3. think we kissed, but i forgot!

"did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? breakups happen every day — you don't have to lose it."

you jab at the skip button like it's personally offended you, cutting off the mournful strains of the evermore bonus track mid-verse. normally, you'd let the singer's poetic misery hold your fragile heart in a pretty gentle chokehold, for she understood your heartbreak like a nobel laureate in emotional devastation. but not today.

not on this particularly dreary friday, right before christmas, where even ms. swift's dulcet agony felt obnoxiously on the nose.

pinned under the suffocating weight of your quilt, you let out a dramatic sigh that could rival a victorian heroine wasting away from heartache and humiliation.

with the theatrics of someone clawing their way out of a shipwreck, you work one arm free, waving it weakly into the air like your tragic signal of defeat.

the cocoon of your quilts and covers isn't warm nor comforting. it's a smothering trap, a quilted tomb of your own making.

"this is it," you mumble to the empty air of the apartment, your voice muffled by layers of fabric, "this is how i go."

the universe, for its part, remains unbothered by your suffering.

with a theatrical groan that would earn you a standing ovation in a one-person tragedy, you yank the quilt over your head. plunging yourself into darkness once more.

but unfortunately, the muffled strains of your 'sad girl winter' playlist refusing to take the hint seep through, like overly persistent ghosts of your bad decisions in the past. it seemed that evermore was feeling less like a balm for your soul, and more like the soundtrack to your public humiliation.

somewhere in the tangled chaos of your bed, half pillows and half-sulking regret, your poor and neglected nintendo switch lies face down like it gave up on your hours ago. its screen has long since gone dark, but if you listen hard enough, you can almost hear your animal crossing villagers whispering conspiratorially, drafting a formal petition to evict you.

no doubt tom nook is already sharpening his capitalist claws, repossessing your house with an unsettling amount of glee.

but the rest of your room is not much better. the string lights on your walls flicker half-heartedly, casting an uneven glow over the wreckage of the past week.

it's not the charming nor dramatic kind of mess that makes for an artsy photo dump. no, this is the slow and unflattering unravelling of someone who let life beat them up with zero resistance. if rooms could file restraining orders, yours would have done it by now.

teetering laundry piles of discarded sweatshirts are haphazardly stacked in the corner. nearby, an empty hot cocoa mug sits, sticky with the remnants of whipped cream. candy cane wrappers are strewn across the room, the aftermath of a peppermint explosion that made your jaw ache.

but the true centrepiece of this disaster? your phone, face down on your nightstand. neglected and on silent. the one object in this room that's probably begging for attention, and one that you've been skilfully ignoring. and yet, right on cue, it buzzes again.

lighting up with a contact number that you've been ignoring all week.

choso.

and you squint at the notification, at the glowing screen that makes your eyes sting in the dim light.

sweet, dependable and utterly loyal choso.

your best friend of over a decade. the one person that you can't bring yourself to face.

the one person that also deserves so much better than this radio silence, and yet the last person that you can humanly confront. especially not after what happened last friday night.

and here, good friends, lies the crux of your problem.

that doomed night, seven days ago, has mostly dissolved into a series of blurry and fragmented snapshots. like a bad, half-finished film that you'd walked out of halfway through.

but the lead up? oh, you remember that part with the kind of clarity that should have been reserved for more important moments.

you could still feel the heat of storming out of that overpriced restaurant, half-drunk and fully pissed off, tears streaming down your cheeks and thickening your throat.

your ex-boyfriend? well, he had been your current boyfriend, before he decided to break up with you. in public. for all that classy, emotional damage that was so in character for him.

and with a line so perfectly cliché, it practically begged to be immortalised on a 'worst breakup excuses' list in cosmopolitan: i'm sorry, baby. i just don't see it working anymore. we're just too different. oh! and i found someone else.

oh, sure. but you should have been glad to have been rid of the man-child that thought frankenstein was the monster's name, the man who commented 'oxford study' on innocent tiktoks, and called pinterest 'girl instagram.'

god, what a fuckin' loser.

fuelled by a mix of public-induced heartache and questionable tequila choices, you had practically charged across street crossing. your feet hitting the pavement with the reckless kind of abandon reserved for teenagers sneaking out after curfew.

and there choso had been in your apartment. your best friend had been sitting cross-legged on your rug, surrounded by wrapping paper and ribbons. probably wrapping yuuji's christmas gifts with military precision. he had been balancing a roll of tape in his mouth, scissors over his lap dangerously close to the family jewels. but you had barrelled through the door like a feral cat in a downpour.

his eyes had widened, a little startled, as you made your entrance. the tape had fallen out of his mouth, chestnut hair falling over his face as he gaped. you couldn't blame choso, of course. you had looked entirely like a bedraggled, disheveled mess in a storm. cheeks streaked with mascara trails, but then everything went...fuzzy?

what did you remember? crying. lots of it.

and boy, was it a show. the kind of weeping where your face contorts into a puffed-up, berry-red disaster, and you would feel the headache creeping in even before the tears had finished.

choso's arms had caught you before you could face plant into the couch. solid, broad. warm and familiar.

you had caught the scent of clove and pepper, alongside faint citrus that you had been associating with him over the years. you had been saying something, raw and desperate.

your words had spilled out of you like water from a broken faucet.

and here you were now, reaping the glorious consequences of your own unfiltered word vomit.

seven days of stewing in your own shame and regret. but seven days were not enough to undo this level of self-sabotage. you briefly considered the options: faking amnesia, dropping out of university entirely, or best case scenario — moving to antarctica and herding emperor penguins.

you groan, sinking deeper into the abyss of your covers. and then, of course, your phone buzzed again. the dull and persistent vibration drilled into your skull like a tiny, digital drill.

cho 💜

(01:09am) hey, are you doing okay? (08:42am) tell me if you need anything! (04:23pm) hello? did i do something?

you peek at the screen, trying to avoid making eye contact with the tiny and terrifying letters. your sheet mask scrunches uncomfortably, making you look like a particularly pathetic mummy. choso's sweet and utterly patient messages were a sharp control to your gross sulk, and his concern makes you want to curl into a ball and crawl into a snowbank.

outside, christmas snow fell gently, blanketing the world in a soft and untouched white. it was like something out of a dream, a world of calm and peace. peace that your trifling ass didn't deserve.

if choso wanted to speak to you, he'd have to drag you out of your self-imposed misery himself. and even if he were to arrive at your apartment door, he'd only find a note tacked to the wall. with a map leading to the south pole.

so, what exactly had happened last friday night?

the memory rolls out like an old film reel, all jagged and distorted. the kind that you can't skip, even if you wanted to. it comes in fragments, each one more excruciatingly clear than the last. the haze of vodka-infused whipped cream shots over hot drinks slowly melting away like a bad handover.

the door to your apartment? you remember that part with embarrassing clarity. you had kicked it open with awful, ragged flair. your heel slipping on the floor, and you had nearly stacked it. face-first into your own doorway, standing there with the grace of a giraffe on roller skates.

the second the door had slammed shut behind you, a gust of frigid winter shot through the apartment like a chill reminder of your situation.

choso had been sitting cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, in the midst of complete, barbaric chaos. the roll of mauve wrapping paper teetered precariously on his dark jeans, and scissors dangled from his lap while a stripe of tape was wedged between his teeth. in between the mess of clippings and discarded tape, he seemed more like an absurdly morose-looking christmas elf that had been tasked with being santa's helper after an entire bottle of mulled wine.

but as you had walked in, or rather stumbled in, his gaze had shot up. his chestnut hair falling in messy curtains around his face, with one unruly strand intertwined with a red-white rogue ribbon. choso's face had twisted in alarm, his usual solemn manner replaced by someone who looked like they were trying to figure out whether they needed to brace themselves for good or bad news.

"hey," he had said, voice soft but sharp, like he was trying to handle fragile glass. choso had spat the tape out of his mouth unceremoniously, and he had been tugging the ribbon free rom his hair, concern all over his fine features, "what's wrong? are you okay?"

and you? a disaster. drunk, crying, furious. the recipe for an emotional molotov cocktail.

"i hate him," you had snarled, yanking off your beige coat, hurling it in the general direction of the couch. instead, your aim missed entirely. flopping halfway onto the floor, and halfway across choso's knee.

choso simply plucked the coat off his leg with two fingers, gingerly draping it over the arm of the couch. your best friend was frowning as he set down his oversized scissors, rising to his feet in a fluid motion. amber-hazel eyes flicked to yours, wide with alarm as he stepped closer, "are you hurt? is this about —?" he was hesitating, "your boyfriend?"

"no, my ex-boyfriend!" the words were ripped out of you, and your voice pathetically cracked halfway through as tears spilled down your flushed cheeks, "and 'm not hurt, cho. unless you count emotional damage," punctuating your statement with a tragic, breathy hiccup.

choso's perpetual frown deepened, as thick and unruly brows knit together, "okay," he said, voice low and steady, "do you want to sit down? i can get you some water, wait." his steps are slow, purposeful as he closes the distance between you gently, with measured care. or like he was defusing a bomb.

but you were having none of his gentle care, "no, i don't want water! i want — i want to un-date him," you wail, arms flailing as you start pacing like a caffeinated hamster, "god, i'm so stupid for dating him in the first place. and yes, i know, stop looking at me like that. i know you want to say i told you so, but he's such a —," you pause mid-rant, clawing the air for the right word, "a troll. a goblin, an ogre."

choso blinks, "maybe you should just get some fresh water in you," but there's an underlying layer of grimacing amusement painted over his quiet features, "and i didn't even say i told you so."

"no," you blurt, your head snapping so fast that your neck immediately files a complaint in the form of a sharp crick, "i don't want water. i want —"

and then, your brain short-circuited. because that's when you'd actually looked at him. like really looked.

warm hazel eyes framed by dark, sleepless circles that seemed to follow choso around like cursed ghosts. soft, feathery strands of mahogany hair that refused to stay tied back, and tumbled rebelliously into his face. that damn sweatshirt, loose and charcoal gray, and perfectly slouched over his broad shoulders. the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal forearms so solid that they could make a renaissance sculptor pack and quit.

and like a freight train at full speed, like whee-woo, the realisation hit you. choso kamo.

your best friend in the entire world. your steady and reliable, and kind to a fault best friend. better than any stupid ex that you'd ever had.

and because tequila is the nectar of chaos, and heartbreak has no filter, your mouth decided to unleash the words that you would haunt you for the next week.

"i should have been dating you."

the room is silent, as choso freezes entirely. like someone had smacked the pause button on him, and his hand, mid-reach for a glass of water, stops cold. his eyes are wide, mouth parting as though he hadn't yet processed what you had said.

"what?" choso finally manages, the words soft and stunned, like he wasn't sure that he had heard you correctly.

you, in your infinite wisdom (or rather, drunken idiocy), barrelled on like a bull who had just seen red cloth, "i'm so serious! you're the one i should've been with all along!"

you wave a hand at him, as if showcasing him to an invisible jury, "you're smart and you're sweet, and you actually care about me, unlike him!"

choso blinks, his expression unreadable, "okay," he says slowly, setting the glass back down on the table, "i think maybe, uh, you should sit down?"

"i don't wanna sit down, i want you to stop looking so perfect right now."

there's a faint flush creeping up choso's neck, like red pigment staining cream watercolour canvas, "perfect?"

"yes!" you hiccuped, teetering over the couch, "you're supposed to be my best friend, and instead you just stand there with your stupid forearms, and your everything, and it's not fair!"

choso doesn't move, doesn't even speak. just stands there, vaguely dumbstruck. like you had hung the moon, and then yanked it back down to earth to hurl it at his chest.

"i should've been dating you, cho," you declare again, louder this time, and your finger jabs his broad chest like it was somehow his fault, "you're the best, y'know that? and you're so hot, how did i not realise this sooner?"

your best friend's expression goes on a journey of varying emotions, shock and disbelief, panic and confusion. all while his candied pink lips open and close, "uh," because by now, eloquence had left the room for both parties. his hands hovering awkwardly like he wasn’t sure whether to steady you or flee. his ears noticeably red, the flush creeping down his neck.

but drunk-dumped you wasn't done. oh no, this was your oscar moment. the hill you were going to die on. the ted talk that no one asked for.

and you were on a roll now, "i mean, look at you! you've got the broody, hot guy thing down so well, and you know that's my type. and everyone knows it, like why aren't we dating already?"

choso's mouth curls again, but no sound comes out. he looks like he wants to crawl into a snowbank and bury himself there forever, "okay, i think maybe you should sit down before you hurt yourself, or, uh, the furniture."

"i'm fine!" you'd declared, throwing your arms up in defiance just as your knees decided that they were absolutely not fine. you wobbled, and in an instant, choso's warm hands are on your shoulders, steadying you with ease.

the searing heat of his touch makes your heart lurch in a way that felt far too real for comfort. you look up at him, his face close enough that you could see the faint freckles dusting his nose, and your breath hitches.

he's close enough now that his lips could press against yours with the mere turn of his head. but you know that choso's just too kind and thoughtful to kiss you in this state right now. he also looks like he's about to gently suggest that you pull yourself together. you wouldn't know, because you've just bulldozed right over him with zero brakes.

tears stream down your face still, but they're starting to slow. sticky and hot, tacking to your cheeks, as you deliver the final blow, "if i asked you to kiss me now — like genuinely right now, would you, cho?"

you would never know what choso's reply would be, because you hiccup violently. the kind that punches your chest and makes you sway. fate was never done with you, because your stomach lurches in warning. you had clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with panic.

choso, bless his heart, had looked ready to throw himself in front of you, "bathroom. now," he'd commanded, his voice taking on a rare, firm edge.

and that's right where your memory cut off, mercifully plunging you into the black void of your vodka-soaked brain. no idea if you'd made it to bathroom. no idea if you'd thrown up all over him, classy as always.

but the last thing you did remember, the thing that haunted you eve now, like a ghost tapping on your shoulder, was the look on choso's face. wide-eyed, jaw slack. like you had flipped his entire world upside down.

choso sits cross-legged on the cold dorm floor, the faint creak of wood beneath him. in his hands is a neatly wrapped gift, small and unassuming. but painstakingly chosen for you. the crimson ribbon, shiny and festive, catches the light of the desk lamp.

it wasn't extravagant, nothing flashy nor pricey. but it was thoughtful, personal. something that he had picked out weeks ago, back when everything between you two had been normal.

back when you didn't look at your phone, and decide he wasn't worth answering.

choso's thumb grazes the corner of the box, smoothing over the edges of the paper that he had meticulously folded after watching youtube tutorials. but now? the box felt heavier than it had any right to. would you even want this anymore? would you even want to see him?

choso sighs, letting his head tip back against the edge of his bed frame. it was a tight and awful feeling, something small and sharp that had wormed its way into his chest.

it wasn't just the silence. it wasn't even the unanswered texts or the way you’d been avoiding him like he was the human incarnation of bad news.

it was the fact that you were you. his best friend. the person he always knew how to read — until now, when everything felt scrambled.

he stares at the gift again, his brows furrowing. he'd been turning this over in his mind for seven straight days, wearing grooves into his thoughts like a track stuck on repeat. did you regret it? did you even remember what you said?

and worse — what if you did mean it?

that last thought was the one that always hit hardest. he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, the dark strands falling back into his face. somewhere on his desk, his phone buzzed softly, and for a second, his pulse jumped. but when he checked, it wasn't you.

because of course it wasn’t.

"pathetic," choso muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

seven days.

seven long, agonising days since you'd stumbled into your apartment like the ghost of heartbreak past — tear-streaked, half-drunk, and dropping words so raw they’d knocked the air out of choso's lungs.

seven days since you’d looked at him like he was everything good in the world — right before nearly puking on him and passing out on the couch in a heap of drunken devastation.

and seven days of brutal radio silence ever since.

choso groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he slouched against the edge of his bed. he got it — why you'd be embarrassed. he, he was still processing it, the memory looping in his head like a cursed highlight reel.

"you're amazing, cho. you're perfect."

the words echoed, soft and slurred, over and over like a broken record choso couldn’t shut off. a selfish part of him — a really shameful, awful part — had been glad your ex was out of the picture. not that it was a surprise; choso had never liked that guy. too loud, too cocky. the kind of guy who thought buying overpriced cologne absolved him of skipping deodorant.

but then there was the other part of him — the one that made him feel like a jerk. the part that felt guilty for feeling anything at all. because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you.

choso wasn't supposed to have spotify playlists privately curated with all your favourite songs. wasn't supposed to have started buying extra hair ties, just because the thought of you stealing one was so annoyingly appealing.

and he definitely wasn't supposed to have been quietly, hopelessly in love with you for five years and counting.

how many times had he messaged now? four? five? enough that he was starting to feel like that guy, the one who couldn’t take a hint. what if you'd sobered up and realised last friday was just drunk nonsense? what if you didn't like him like that at all?

had he not spent seven days drowning his misery in tubs of mango and pistachio ice cream? enough was enough.

choso's thumb hovered over your contact for a long, stupid second, debating whether to send one more pointless text. but before he could add another "hey, just checking in," he swiped away and hit a different contact. a boisterous teenager with a shock of pink hair.

he shoots off a quick text, almost grimacing as he hits send.

Choso Kamo: Need advice. Got a hypothetical situation. yuujithegoat2003: if this is smth weird i'm not googling it for u

choso rolled his eyes, already regretting this decision. but he needed to hear an outside opinion.

Choso Kamo: It's not weird, serious this time. If someone confesses something private to you while they are drunk, then avoids you for a week, what do you do? Hypothetically?

a pause, and then:

yuujithegoat2003: is this someone a hot girl lol

choso sighed, his dry lips twitching despite himself.

Choso Kamo: Yes. Also, serious answers only. yuujithegoat2003: ok ok. do they remember what they said? Choso Kamo: Most likely not.

yuujithegoat2003: huh...so did they say something good? or was it rude? Choso Kamo: It was good. Really quite good. yuujithegoat2003: bro this seems easy, just ask if they meant it.

choso blinked at his phone, at the...almost reasonable response. suspiciously reasonable, coming from his younger brother.

Choso Kamo: And if they freak out? Or say that they didn't mean it? yuujithegoat2003: then u say 'just kidding' and blow the place up and leave the country. i can get u a fake id, i know a guy. i know lots of guys.

Choso Kamo: You need to stop being influenced by Gojo Satoru. Just because his public break-up landed on national news does not make it a premise for my own situation. Hypothetical situation. yuujithegoat2003: ok, gojo just said no one gaf abt your love life anyway. seriously tho if u like this hypothetical person, just be chill. don't be all intense and scare them off bc its never that deep.

Choso Kamo: Love is that deep. Especially when you care for the other person a lot. yuujithegoat2003: ur so dramatic bro. anyway good luck.

yuujithegoat2003: also if you get rejected don't tell me bc i can't handle second hand embarrassment. thx. gtg to work. these pizzas don't deliver themselves ay

choso glances down at the gift still in his lap, the ribbon he'd so painstakingly tied now a little crushed — much like his pride. the box stares back at him accusingly, as if to say, what's the plan here, genius? wait for her to magically show up?

choso exhales through his nose, sharp and frustrated. sitting here wallowing wasn’t doing him any favours, and neither was yuuji's unhelpful voice.

"yeah, sure," he mutters under his breath, shoving the box into his jacket pocket. he stands abruptly, grabbing his jacket off the back of his desk chair.

if you weren’t going to talk to him, fine. he'd bring the conversation to you. answers, he thought, stepping out into the cold. the winter air bit at his face, but it was bracing, grounding even. one way or another, tonight was going to settle this.

the knocking was relentless.

you tried to ignore it at first, clutching your blanket like it was a shield against all outside forces. whoever was at the door would get the hint eventually. probably. hopefully.

but no, the knocking persisted, evolving into a deliberate rhythm, like some overzealous drummer auditioning for a garage band.

"unbelievable," you groaned, peeling your headphones off and tossing them onto the pillow where they landed with a hollow clatter. if this was the pizza guy you'd ordered from two hours ago, he was wildly late, and you were too broke to tip him anyway.

dragging yourself off the mattress felt like an olympic event. your legs wobbled, your blanket fortress collapsed behind you, and your pride was buried somewhere under the covers still. at least you'd showered earlier — small victories.

your damp hair dripped cold trails down the back of your oversized sweatshirt, and you caught a whiff of cocoa butter as you shuffled to the door. that was…something acceptable at least. but then the mirror by the entryway betrayed you, reflecting sleep-swollen eyes, and the faint ghost of face mask residue clinging stubbornly to your skin.

perfect. a vision of grace and dignity.

you yank the door open, ready to unleash a pointed what do you want? — but the words lodge somewhere in your throat.

smooth. and oh, just your luck.

there stood choso, a walking anomaly in the drab matrix of your sad little existence. his tall frame fills the doorway, backlit by the flickering hallway light, clad in a baggy black tee and faded denim that didn't quite match the nervous energy rolling off him in waves. his hair was tied up in a messy bun, spiky strands sticking out like an afterthought, and of course, he looked unfairly good for someone who had probably spent the past week avoiding the sunlight.

"uh, hey," he says, his voice softer than usual — careful, even. like he thought you might throw the nearest piece of furniture at him and sprint into the night.

"hey?" you echo, voice brittle as you folded your arms tighter. the sweatshirt you were wearing — his sweatshirt, one that he had left here weeks ago — suddenly felt two sizes too big and painfully obvious, "what are you doing here?"

choso scratches the back of his neck, his gaze flickering over you briefly before darting to the floor, "i needed to see you."

"at…eight at night? without warning?"

"would you have answered if i'd texted you?"

the air between you stilled as your brain scrambles for a retort, but he had you dead to rights. with a reluctant huff, you step aside. "fair point. just come in."

choso hesitates for half a second before stepping inside, his presence making your already small apartment feel even more claustrophobic. he's taking a quick glance around, and you watched, mortified, as his eyes landed on the pile of crumpled tissues precariously close to a half-drunk mug of cocoa and a bottle of jack daniel's teetering on the edge of the coffee table.

"sorry for the mess," you mutter, your voice defensive as you crossed your arms tighter.

"it's fine," choso says, a little too quickly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. his gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary, "i didn't mean to…interrupt."

"you didn't interrupt anything." you wave vaguely at the disaster zone that was your apartment.

choso's lips twitch, almost like he wanted to smile but wasn't sure if now was the time, "look, i just —" he trails off, his usual dull voice faltering as he pulled something small and neatly wrapped from his pocket, "i came to give you this. and talk."

you stare at the gift in his hands, shiny crimson ribbon and all, your pulse kicking up like it had somewhere urgent to be, "christmas came early? thanks, cho," you say, mirroring his words with the kind of ease that only comes from too many shared silences. "i'm fine, though. i wasn't up to much."

choso cracks a small, half-hearted smile, but it's like watching a flicker of light in a dim room — there, but not really there. "i tried texting," he says, glancing at you, searching for something.

"i know," you murmur, suddenly finding the floor very interesting, "i just wasn't in the mood for much talking."

choso huffs, a sound halfway between exasperation and amusement, "i noticed," he says dryly, and that only makes the air in the room more thick and uncomfortable.

you sigh, letting your shoulders slump as you flop back onto the couch, curling your knees up to your chest like you're trying to make yourself small enough to disappear, "so, what? you came here to check if i'm still breathing?"

"kind of," choso admits, settling awkwardly on the edge of your coffee table, his long legs folded beneath him in that way that makes him look like he’s trying to physically contain himself. his knees bump into yours, and you have to fight the urge to pull away, like you could get too close, "but mostly...i came to talk about last friday night."

your stomach does a horrifying little flip, the kind that sends cold fingers crawling up your spine. you stare at him, silently willing him to read the begging look in your eyes and back off, but he doesn't. he's never been the type to take the hint.

"i've been thinking about it all week," he continues, his voice quiet but steady, as if he's preparing himself for something big, "and i need to know if —"

"nope," you interrupt, holding up a hand, "nope. we're not going there."

choso blinks at you, like he's trying to process the sudden barricate that you've just put up. but you're so not ready for this conversation, not now, nor ever. and you'll be damned if he gets any closer to the minefield. he scowls, his brows knitting together like he's resisting the urge to push you off the couch, "why not?"

"because it doesn't matter, okay?" you lean your head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like you can will this conversation away, "i was drunk as hell, cho. you're overthinking it."

he scoffs, his voice sharp now, like he's cutting through your flimsy deflection with a blade, "i don't think i am."

you wince, shrinking a little under the weight of his stony gaze, "why does this even matter?"

"you think i can just brush it off like it didn't happen?" and there's a rawness in choso's voice that hits you harder than expected.

your cheeks heat up, a fiery blush creeping up your neck, "i didn't mean it," you mutter.

"yes, you did," choso snaps back, with uncharacteristic heat, and he leans forward, enough to close the distance between you two, "and you know how i know? because you've been ignoring me all week. if it was just some drunk nonsense, you would have laughed it off by now. but you haven't."

you open your mouth to argue, to push back. but the words stick heavy in your throat. nothing comes out, and it must prove choso all the more right, because you watch as his bottom lip is captured by his teeth, suddenly watching plush skin split.

"do you want me to apologise?" you ask finally, voice a little too sharp for comfort, "because i will. i'll say i'm sorry for putting you in that position and —"

"i don't want an apology," choso cuts you off, and the dim light of your apartment makes the dark circles under his eyes stand out like bruises, "i want the truth."

you freeze, your heart thudding like a drum in your chest, "what truth, cho?"

"that you meant it," choso says softly, "that you meant it when you said that you wish it had been me."

the words hang in the air, heavy and electric. your breath catches, as your mind goes blank. an entire power outage, as you blink at him like a fish out of water. finally, after what feels like an eternity, you force the knot in your throat to loosen just enough to speak, "yeah," you whisper, "i meant it."

choso's whole body seems to deflate, like he's been holding up the weight of the sky. his shoulders slump, and the sheer relief on his face hits you like a tidal wave. it's almost enough to undo you. there's a sound, soft and shaky and far too vulnerable that escapes him.

neither of you move. the moment stretches out, fragile. like it could snap in half if either of you dared to breathe too loud.

then, choso is the first to move.

there's no hesitation, no uncertainty. just pure intention, like a dam finally bursting open. he shifts forward, hands finding their way to your waist with an urgency that makes your pulse go into overdrive. choso's grip is firm, but there's a reverence to it, as if you're something he's waited his entire life to touch. he pulls you to him, and you can feel the heat of him flood your chest, your blood, your bones.

"what if you regret this?" you murmur into his chest, voice muffled as your arms slip around his necks, holding onto the beautiful man like he may float way.

"not a chance," choso replies, and his voice is raspier than you've ever heard it, like he's saying it more to himself than to you.

choso kamo finally kisses you.

the kind of kiss that feels like a storm is finally breaking over clear skies, with an unrestrainted longing that crashes over the both of you.

his sweet lips meet yours with a hunger that makes your head spin, raw and real. choso clearly doesn't want to hold back, and neither do you.

his hands tighten at your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers thread through his hair, tugging lightly at russet strands.

choso groans into your mouth, a soft and burning thing that ignites every nerve in your body.

without breaking his hold on your lips, his wide hands slide down, finding the back of your thighs, making you shamefully clench them closer together.

but he's tapping them in silent invitation, and you leap into him, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lifts you effortlessly. the world around you blurs as he stumbles backwards.

and when the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed, gravity does its job. you both tumble into the mattress in a jumbled mess of limbs and muffled laughter, your heart pounding so loud, as you muster up the courage to prod your tongue at his lips, letting him part his mouth so you can take up more of choso.

you land beneath him, his weight pressing into you in the best way possible, sending sharp spikes of heady arousal through you. and you blink up at him, breathless.

choso is so close now, his hazel eyes locked on yours with a rare intensity, like the calm façade is entirely shattered now. but there's a smile on his lips, a crooked little thing that sends a rush of warmth through you.

"hi, choso," you whisper, your voice soft yet breathless as he chases your lips again, a desperate hunger in his eyes. it's as if he can't bear to be apart from you, even for a heartbeat.

"hey," he murmurs back, that low rumble sending shivers down your spine, igniting a heat you can't ignore.

you keep pressing kisses to his glossy lips, the world narrowing down the press of his mouth and how choso's hands cradle your waist like you might slip away if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

without breaking contact, choso shifts, his strong hands guiding you gently, firmly.

"don' wanna crush you," he spills against your mouth, his voice low and rough, and before you can reply, he flips you effortless.

the movement is seamless, fluid even. and you're suddenly perched atop him, straddling his thighs and sinking into the worn denim of his jeans.

he's leaning back against the covers beneath him, as his chest rises and falls in unsteady waves as he gazes up at you. expression caught somewhere between awe and hunger.

choso looks so completely, heartbreakingly in love with you that it leaves you breathless. his hands tighten on your waist, fingertips pressing with a near bruising intensity into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt that clings to your frame.

his cheeks are flushed a deep, telling pink, and you can't help the soft, teasing coo that slips from your lips as you trace the curve of his temple with gentle fingers, "is something wrong, cho?" you murmur.

his lips, swollen and glistening from your kiss, part slightly, his breath uneven and catching on the edges of unspoken emotions, "nothing. nothing, i swear," he says, the words tumbling out rough and raw, his voice pitched low and vulnerable.

his hands slide you closer, his grip firm but trembling slightly, and his next confession nearly undoes you, makes your core moisten even, "just…never done this before."

"really?" you whisper, eyes widening as you take him in — the flush on choso's cheeks, the way he won't quite meet your gaze, the way he holds you like you're something precious.

the realisation that he's never shared this part of himself with anyone else tugs sharply at your heartstrings, "never?"

choso swallows thickly, nodding once, his voice a quiet hum as he admits, "mhm."

"ah, you're so cute, cho," you giggle, watching as the man scrunches his nose in mock protest.

"tch, 'm not meant to be cute."

you huff, feigning disappointment, "and here i was, wishing you a very merry christmas eve." he whines as you lean in, pressing a teasing kiss to his neck, right where his heartbeat thrums beneath his pale skin. your lips find their home at the juncture, and you can't help but smile at the way he whines at your touch, bucks his hips up into yours.

"must have been real good to get a holiday gift like this."

you pull back just enough to admire your handiwork, a little red bloom that blossoms on thin skin, bruised petals that mark him now. choso's swallowing thickly, his adam's apple bobbing, as a soft whine escapes his lips again as you lean in, this time closer to the jaw. leaving a trail of kisses in a messy that makes choso squirm.

you press your thumb against his lower lip, feeling the soft and trembling skin quiver under your touch, "hey. open up," you coax, a teasing lilt colouring your voice.

choso looks up at you, his wide eyes clouded with desire as dark strands of hair fall across his forehead, "huh, what?"

you tap his lip again, impatience bubbling in your chest, "c'mon, open your mouth. properly," and the way he immediately obeys, parting his glossy lips sends a thrill through you. the scent of clove and citrus envelops you as you lean in closer, running your tongue over his lower lip.

you let a glob of spit fall from your lip into his mouth, with a thick thwack! echoing in the air. you deliberately miss, just a little bit, to watch him squirm as he swallows, eyes fluttering shut and inky lashes staining his cheeks.

"so good, aren't you? good at playing nice, hah," you use your thumb to smear the slick over his lips, just a bit. to watch him shudder, entirely captivated by you. it's exhilarating and makes your cunt clench around nothing. probably seeping through the thin material of your shorts and onto his thick jeans.

bang bang bang!

a sharp knock that booms at your door, enough to make your ears ring. you hear choso groan beneath you, shifting slightly so you can feel the full, thick curve of his bulge right where you need him most.

"think we can ignore that?" he rasps, his voice rough and low, the sound of it leave slick strands clinging between your thighs.

you spread your legs just a little wider over him, watching as his frown dissipates and his jaw drops, distracted by the preview you've given him, "i'm really hoping so."

but whoever is at the door has no intention of being ignored. another knock rattles the wood, followed by an all-too-familiar voice yelling, "hey! open up! delivery!"

your brows furrow, recognition sparking, "cho, isn't that—"

he cuts you off with an apologetic sigh, lifting you off his lap with surprising gentleness. choso sets you down on the quilt, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before muttering under his breath, "it better not be."

you watch him go, more than a little distracted by the sight of his broad shoulders and the way his messy hair bobs with each step. already, you're plotting exactly how you’ll get your hands back in it once he returns.

choso swings the door open, and you hear a collective, "what the hell?" echo through the apartment — one part you, one part choso, and one part…

"itadori yuuji?" you blurt, leaning over to get a look. sure enough, there's choso's younger brother, standing in the doorway in a bright red pizza delivery uniform, balancing three large boxes in one hand and his phone in the other.

yuuji blinks at the two of you, then raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and something vaguely accusatory before reading off his phone in a robotic voice, "uh…merry christmas eve. i have three pizzas. extra cheese. stuffed crust," he pauses, not able to keep the act up as his golden eyes narrow, "but, uh — bro, what happened to your face?"

you bite your lip to keep from laughing as choso straightens, his expression caught somewhere between mortified and furious, "yuuji—"

but the younger man's attention shifts to you, his gaze taking in the oversized sweatshirt you're wearing, choso's sweatshirt, and his jaw drops, "oh hell no. this is the hot girl you texted me about?"

choso visibly flinches as you burst into giggles.

"that's like your best friend? that's like my sister-in-law!" yuuji throws up his hands in mock disbelief, "you really keep your circles tight, huh, man?"

before choso can even respond, yuuji leans in closer, squinting at his older brother, "and seriously, dude, what's all that on your face?"

choso groans, snatching the pizzas from yuuji with one hand and shoving him toward the hall with the other, "okay, that's enough. get out."

"you haven't paid me! that's against the law!" yuuji protests, but choso grabs the scruff of his brother's uniform collar, steering him out the door.

"i'll pay you double. triple. just leave."

"my pizzas are probably cold now anyway," you call out, adding fuel to the fire.

"yeah? well, you look a bit too busy to eat them anyway," yuuji swivels his head over his shoulder to wag a finger at you with a grin, before choso finally shoves him fully into the hallway.

as the door slams shut, you hear yuuji's muffled voice echoing, "i'm telling everyone. i'm telling dad. i'm telling sukuna. i'm telling gramps, gojo, nanami —"

you can hear their bickering voices fade down the hallway, to where choso is probably gonna pack him into the car and send him off.

you glance down at the box you'd set aside earlier, your curiosity getting the better of you. carefully pulling at the ribbon, you open it to find a small scrapbook, beautifully made. inside are photos and clippings of you and choso: movie ticket stubs, receipts from late-night takeout runs, train tickets from your trip to the coast.

your chest tightens as you run your fingers over the familiar handwriting scrawled in the margins, a quote from a cheesy romantic movie that you had forced choso to watch with you a few months ago. what an honour it is to be loved like this.

[riordanness]

okay so every single (okay some) pjo character and their opinion on taylor swift bc that’s all i think about:

percy jackson: isn’t the biggest swiftie in the world but adores her music if it’s on. he owns at least two copies of the 1989 cd and his fav song to blast while skateboarding is welcome to new york ofc.

annabeth chase: absolutely loves taylor, probably really resonated with her lyrics and storytelling style tbh. her favourite albums are definitely 1989 (the beach-y california vibe yk), lover, and midnights and folklore and evermore and fearless and reputation and speak now. (what can i say—she’s a swiftie)

grover underwood: he’s a music guy. ofc he likes taylor swift. probably only knows like four songs total, and they’re all from like debut and fearless but hey. that’s something.

piper mclean: you can’t tell me she doesn’t ADORE reputation. and probably fearless too actually. definitely has some kind of merch (a signed cd??) in her room back home.

hazel levesque: obviously didn’t know anything about her but once introduced, loves folklore and evermore and the tortured poets department. soft and soothing songs are defo her thing.

leo valdez: old mate probably listens to all too well every day tbh. he doesn’t love her and definitely isn’t a swiftie, but red (especially the vault tracks and the songs written for hunger games) are always welcome.

jason grace: my boy knows nothing. nothing. but you bet he finds out about her eventually and doesn’t really have an opinion either way. he neither hates or loves or dislikes or likes. it’s just music to him.

frank zhang: probably likes debut. but probably also never really thought about her or knew much about her music bc of his grandmother and stuff yk.

nico di angelo: to anyone’s face: absolutely not. but secretly? oh yeah. he would totally listen to folklore and shit are you kidding me?? he’s such a swiftie.

reyna avila ramirez-arellano: yes and no. a couple songs in her playlist but not like. that much. she doesn’t really mind her and doesn’t really love her either.

luke castellan: he’s lowkey a hater. probably listens to kanye just to spite swifties and writes those hate comments on all her fanpages and shit yk.

thalia grace: she likes about half of the reputation songs and a couple of ttpd too. (especially look what you made me do). but she’s more into older music like green day (iykyk hehe)

silena beauregard: UH. YES. lover girl in the flesh. she is totally the camp’s biggest swiftie and is the one who got annabeth into her. she’d defo have merch and posters and have memorised everything.

clarisse la rue: silena made her do it. that’s what she’d tell you,and it’s true!! but she has a secret soft spot for a good taylor swift song.

chris rodriguez: knows about her through clarisse, doesn’t really give a damn about her.

charles beckendorf: BIGGEST SWIFTIE EVER headcanon okok. owns merch. posters. go to her tours. the whole shibing shabong iykyk

apollo/lester papadopoulos: duh. he’s the god of music bro. i think he would appreciate the literal music industry herself

meg mccaffery: no way. she’s a professional hater for the pure fun of it, has probably never heard a single song other than shake it off, and comments ‘kanye better’ on all her fan accounts

carter kane: tbh he would appreciate her lyricism a lot, but doesn’t strike me as someone who listens to that much music in general?? also he wouldn’t really know a lot of normal pop culture stuff necessarily, so…

sadie kane: she likes her. she likes everything. she’s a pop girlie fs, so reputation/midnights are her BANGER albums. she would definitely have some taylor swift on her ipod playlist, but she’d be more into avril lavigne, lady gaga, olivia rodrigo and stuff like that.

zia rashid: who’s taylor swift?

magnus chase: the only canon swiftie magnus you have my heart. he’s also a basic white girl, thank you very much. he literally (IN CANON BTW) recognises ‘blank space’ and ‘i know places’ and identifies them as taylor swift. so. yeah. he’s a swiftie fs

coach hedge: lol nope. he’d have the worst music taste of all time. NEVER give him the aux

sally jackson: she would LOVEEE evermore and speak now and debut, fight me. she’s also just the perfect person ever so ofc she loves taylor swift

paul blofis: would defo vibe to it imo, but would never put any songs in his playlist tho cause he’s boring ok maybe he would for sally’s sake. and estelle’s

[redisveryyummy]

Late night modern hotd music headcanons :D

Rheanyra loves Beyonce so fucking much dude

She feels like she would have one playlist and it's just called boss bitch or something

Reputation is the only Taylor Swift album she constantly listens to and evermore but we won't talk about that

Former theater kid, if you disagree argue with the wall

I am a strong believer that she is a fan of musicals/romcoms and her and her boys have a movie night where they watch their favorites and sing every song word for word

(Daemon does not participate)

ESPECIALLY MAMMA MIA

Rheanyra singing "Slipping Through My Fingers" to Jace and/or Luke has me sobbing my eyes out dude

Jace, Luke, and Joffery singing "Honey Honey" omg

JACE AND (INSERT S/O OF YOUR CHOICE PROBABLY CREGAN) SINGING "LAY YOUR LOVE ON ME" TO EACH OTHER AGHSBSUDBHD

Daemon listens to dad rock and dubstep exclusively, nothing else

Bro is literally the cbat guy

Daemon is really the kind of guy that would be like "there's this band but you probably wouldn't know it because it's so underground" and it's literally Weezer

Alicent loves her yearning music

Phoebe Bridgers, Frankie Cosmos, Laufey, Mitski, Conan Gray

Two words. BOY. GENIUS.

Her and Rheanyra have TOTALLY gone to many boy genius concerts together

folklore folklore folklore

Aegon 😐😑😐

Cbat guy 2.0

Listens to WAY to much house music

No real music taste

Whatever is on the radio, but like the radio in 2016 you know?? Or like late 2000's

1989 (Taylor's Version) he's not a monster lol

Usher (that's the only person I can think of rn lol)

Aemond only listens to classical music or weird experimental jazz because he thinks it makes him different

Activity hates on Taylor Swift for all the wrong reasons

Secretly likes her a little and is way too excited for The Tortured Poets Department

Helaena is so whimsical I love her sm <3

Very much into indie stuff with down to earth vibes

Hozier, The Crane Wives, Noah Kahn, Everybody's Worried About Owen, Bears in Trees, Maya Hawk

"Why Am I Like This" by Orla Gartland...iykyk

Jacaerys Velaryon is an Arianna Grande FAN I don't make the rules

Him, Beala, and Rheana definitely have little dance parties whenever they come over

Loves Ari and Brittany

Also enjoys country music

He gets it from his daddy 🥰

Taylor Swifts Self Title is his everything

LUCERYS VELARYON IS A THEATER KID I REPEAT LUCERYS VELARYON IS A THEATER KID

It's all his mom's fault

His playlists are all just musical soundtracks

Little Shop of Horrors, Heathers, The Falsettos, RIDE THE CYCLONE, BE MORE CHILL, Dear Evan Hansen, Hamilton

Same with the Hazbin Hotel soundtrack y'all don't even know

Luke loves "Hell is Forever"

Also bro has a HORRIBLE singing voice

Anyway I will probably have more tomorrow but that is what I got for tonight :))

[janesociety]

how different marauders characters would act at a taylor swift concert w/ you ⭑

inspired by this post by the lovely @bealovesmarauders

(0.7k)

remus knows her discography by heart. he was originally a little insecure to sing the whole time, but he can’t help but sing along when you look so cute dancing and screaming the words to each song. he probably would’ve been the one to buy tickets after you came to terms with your chances of getting them being so slim, so when he surprised you with them you were over the moon. he would’ve gotten you two lower bowl seats so you would be really close but also able to see every single visual. he also would’ve offered to stand and wait in the merch line during the openers and before the concert started so you could have fun and watch them and have a cute t-shirt to take home.

james “swiftie” potter would be going absolutely feral. he would’ve gotten floor seats that were at least in the first ten rows so he could feel everything. he would’ve made a huge ordeal about surprising you with the tickets. i just know he would take you out to a fancy brunch before you guys got ready for the concert. he would probably want you two to go as miss americana and the heartbreak prince and people would definitely use your pictures as inspo for their shows. i also think he’d be the type to propose during lover or love story if you were at that point in the relationship. he would’ve been all cute about it too and told everyone around you so they could film and take pictures for you guys during the moment. he would also make a show of carrying you back to your car after the concert, even if your feet didn’t hurt that bad from the extremely uncomfortable shoes you inevitably would wear.

oh, sirius. i feel like he’s a total music snob and was really only going originally because you were so excited about it. but then he gets to the concert and he’s awestruck. he would’ve gone insane during the beat drop in don’t blame me but also prob would’ve teared up during my tears ricochet. he would’ve loved every moment of it and would immediately regret not learning all her songs before the concert. i think he’d be so obsessed that the minute he got home he would’ve gone online and bought you two more tickets for either the second night in your city or the next closest show. he’d also probably make you explain all the lore and stories behind everything on the way home. you just know that next time, he will be so prepared he will outshine every other swiftie boyfriend in the crowd. he’s also a rep girly.

lily is a swiftie through and through. there’s not doubt in my mind that she’s not an evermore and lover girly. she would’ve fought hard for those tickets and she would be so proud when she surprised you with them. you and her would spend so much time picking out the perfect themed outfits for the night and would definitely end up in a few of those “my fav outfits i saw at the era’s tour!” videos. she definitely has a note in her notes app where she keeps track of all the surprise songs and which ones she wants (she was heartbroken after dbatc and clean were taken in the same night, but she also knows that there’s not a single song that she’d be disappointed in getting). it honestly doesn’t matter where your seats are because no matter what you two will be having so much fun it won’t even matter in the end.

regulus, unlike sirius, actually prepared for the concert. he was definitely doing his research before hand. he was never a big taylor swift fan before, but when he saw your eyes light up when you told him you got tickets, he knew he had to be ready. he spent months listening to each album one by one, making playlists, attempting to learn words, and maybe even looking into the meaning behind the songs. he may get a little too caught up in connecting each song to one of her relationships and prob would wear and “i <3 T. S.” shirt to the concert. like james, he would’ve offered to carry you out of the arena, but unlike james, he would’ve listened to you saying no and would’ve been content simply holding your shoes in one hand and your hand in the other.

[kaufmann-6]

What are the batfamily's thoughts on Taylor Swift?

I think Bruce would dislike her the most but not because he thinks she's bad, but because his kids listen to her so much and people *cough* Dick *cough* talk about her incessantly that it's become annoying and if he hears Dick scream "Hey, I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 22!" at the top of his lungs one more time he's going to lash out.

Damian probably pretends he doesn't like her. I don't think he listens to Taylor, but after Dick forced him to listen to every single song on the Folklore album he's gained some respect for her writing, that album is really relatable, many songs talk about mental health and some other stuff I think Damian would relate to.

Jason, on the other hand, is the secret swiftie. He tells eveyone his favorite band is some rock or heavy metal one like ACDC (which he does like) but meanwhile he's listening to the Speak Now and Reputation albums on repeat.

Cass probably doesn't care about Taylor that much, but she laughs at Bruce's misery and listens to her songs if it means she can spend more time with her siblings and has something to talk about with them.

I think Tim has some very crazy musical taste. I can imagine him having zero playlists, he just hits shuffle on his library and goes for it. So he likes Taylor's songs, but probably wouldn't be able to name her. He's like "oh yeah I like that song, I have it saved on by library but I have no idea of who the singer/band of this one is".

Babs likes Taylor and she has no shame on admitting that. Dick is the one who turned her, obviously. I think she would sit on an armchair, curled up with a book and listen to Evermore as she reads.

Stephanie doesn't think Taylor is bad, but she probably doesn't like her as much as some of the other members of family do. Maybe she has like, five Taylor songs in her library that she (secretly, she didn't want him to know and freak out) saw Jason listen to that she couldn't deny were good, but she doesn't activelly listens to Taylor.

Alfred, well, he isn't a pop guy, but he obviously knows eveything that there is to know about Taylor because Dick is a millenial and he would spend hours talking about Taylor to Aflie when Bruce got tired of him.

He got curious one day and listened to some of her songs. They weren't his taste but he gets why Dick likes her.

I don't know much about Duke's personality to know for sure but I think he likes her, he probably has a pop playlist on his phone and Taylor is there along with other artists he likes. He’s a casual fan, doesn't know anything about her life but enjoys some of her music.

And finally the ultimate #1 Swiftie, Dick Grayson. He's obsessed with Taylor and has been listening her music since the vey beggining. Knows every song and the meaning behind them, knows everything about Taylor life and the drama stories and calls Taylor and Travis his parents, which makes Bruce extremelly ofended.

He bugs his entire family about the latest Taylor nation news, tells jokes like "I'm in my junk food era" and "you never get out of style, baby", tries to insert Taylor references in every conversations, would absolutely be that friend who would tell you to name your baby Rebekah or Marjorie and broke a coffee mug when he found out Jason liked Taylor, hugging him excitedly.

[scarletgemstone]

Hazbin hotel ships playlist

disclaimer I own nothing everything belongs to the rightful owners please go and support them and be nice

chaggie

You’re in my head like a catchy song

never say never by Cole swindell and Lainey wilson

i love you like a love song

evermore

mary on a cross

so this is love

a thousand years

monster (obsidian)

huskerdust

counting stars

i’m glad you came

rewrite the stars

listen to your heart

falling in love with you

radiodust

Every time we touch

a thousand years

on this day

your in my head like a catchy song

spidermoth

Every time we touch

play date

somebody to love by queen

radiobelle

Evermore

tale as old as time

[alwritey-aphrodite]

I don’t know about you…

But I’m feeling 22! In honor of my 22nd birthday, I thought I’d host a little celebration that we can think of as a little birthday party! And because it’s my Taylor Swift birthday, it is of course eras themed. To play, just send me the name of the album and any other information I’d need from the description of the game/prompt and I’ll do my best to answer in a timely manner <3 This runs from today (July 20) to my birthday (August 1), and please feel free to send as many asks as you’d like, as long as there’s only one era per ask <3

debut (our song in the slam of screen doors): send me a character, a situation, a vibe, an aesthetic, and i’ll make a little 5 song playlist for you

speak now (stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love): send in a love note! for me, or yourself, or anyone else on here - just spread some love and appreciation

fearless (take me somewhere we can be alone): send me a character and i’ll give you a few random headcannons, or send me your headcannons for them and we can chat <3

red (i’m feeling 22): send me 1-3 characters from the list below and a theme for a birthday party, and i’ll tell you who I’d invite and who i wouldn’t

1989 (got lovesick all over my bed): send me a little description of yourself and a character category from the list, and i’ll give you a ship

reputation (sirens to the beat of my heart): send me any three characters for a game of fmk!

lover (at every table, i’ll save you a seat): send me 3-5 characters from the list below, whether they’re from the same fandom or not, and i’ll tell you how i’d arrange them at a table at a dinner party

folklore (loosing on card game bets with Dalí): send me any sort of game (would you rather, this or that, etc) and we’ll play it!

evermore (my picture in your wallet): send me a character, a situation, a vibe, an aesthetic, and i’ll make a little moodboard for you

midnights (stumble down pretend alleyways): send me a character and an au, and i’ll explain how i’d combine them or write a little baby blurb

the tortured poets department (who uses typewriters anyway): send me a title for a fic and a character, and i’ll write either a 5 sentence baby blurb or an explanation of what i’d write for a full length fic

Character/Fandom List

Game of Thrones/House of The Dragon

Ted Lasso

Star Wars

Moon Knight

TASM!Peter Parker

Finnick Odair

Sejanus Plinth

Coriolanus Snow

Tagging a handful of my lovely friends: @onceuponaoneshotfanfic @pedrito-friskito @beybaldes @hopefulromances @veryprairieberry @whimsical-roasting @dameronalone @eyelessfaces @katsu28

[taylorslastkiss]

A Playlist For Every Taylor Swift Song

ivy -> Link here.

My top tracks:

Give You What You Like - Avril Lavigne

I Walk The Line - Halsey

lacy - Olivia Rodrigo

River Lea - Adele

Northern Lights - Rachel Diggs

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Another thought came.

Dean pretending not to be a swiftie with his swftie sister.

Dean pretends he doesn't care about Travis and Taylor's relationship when he probably watched the Superbowl with his little sister and hoped the Chiefs would win.

Dean pretends that he did learn the entire Eras Tour setlist because his sister is always listening to it and pretends that the playlist of songs that are played on the Impala is ONLY because his sister likes that music.

Dean pretends that he made friendship bracelets with his sister, Cas and Sam just so they don't have a bonding moment and not because he finds it funny and reminds him of his childhood.

Dean pretends he knows about Taylor's new album because his sister has been talking about it and not because Dean actually follows Taylor on Instagram.

I can do this with a broken heart it's so Dean Winchester 😭

Dean pretends he watched the Eras Tour film on Disney+ just because his sister was watching it and he definitely doesn't put it in his room when he's bored.

Finally, when his sister told him that her friend was sick and couldn't go to the Eras Tour with her, Dean obviously only went to accompany his sister and not because he really wanted to go and he was embarrassed to tell his sister that he wanted to go with her (the friend never really existed, the Winchester sister knows that Dean likes Taylor but she doesn't say anything so as not to make him uncomfortable)

Cas, Sam and Sister Winchester know that Dean likes Taylor but they don't say anything haha

Also I don't know why I feel like Sam likes rap, Sam is the type of person who would know the gossip about Drake and Kendrick and Sister Winchester is the swftie type who knows about Taylor and Joe or that Hayley Biber is pregnant

That's why on the impala you can listen to classic rock, the tortuerd poet deparment or they not like us

What music do you think each of the characters (Dean, Sam, Cas, Sister Winchester) listen to? I feel like Clarie is the type of person who says she doesn't like Taylor and that she's overrated and says, "Do you like Taylor Swift?"

This is literally gold, u love it

Dean would make a playlist of his favorite songs, or, as he’d say to the little sister, “songs that don’t make me want to kill myself” that he lets her play (and of course he’s secretly hoping that she’ll ask to play it)

Sam wouldn’t be a Taylor fan, although I think there would be a few songs (maybe 1989? He’s either a 1989 guy or a folklore/evermore poet boy, can’t decide) that he knows/enjoys when the sister plays them.

I think Cas would either have the most boring (classical) taste in music or the most random mix-up mashup collection of every genre, there’s no in between. Like he either only listens to Beethoven or he listens to anything and everything from Broadway to rock to Taylor Swift to pop etc etc etc… (he wants to get the full human experience. If he gets into Taylor he’s definitely a ttpd fan, maybe folklore and evermore, he enjoys the poetry of the songs)

Claire seems like the type to think Taylor’s overrated, I think you’re right about that.

Jack. Is. The. Biggest. Swiftie. Hands down, no doubt about it. He doesn’t understand the celebrity drama AT ALL, but he’s happy to listen to anyone’s rants and/or descriptions of what the songs mean/who they’re about. He likes all the albums, and the little sister has to tell him any time a new album/a Taylor’s Version drops, because he doesn’t know how to keep up with that stuff, but as soon as anything new drops he and the little sister sit in her room and spend the whole day listening to it. (Ps, he’s a Lover boy) Like Cas, Jack also loves to listen to all genres of music, trying to learn as much about people as he can.

[all-too-unwell-13]

what i think marauders characters would think about taylor swift

(part 2 - includes the emeralds/slytherin skittles + emmeline vance, emma vanity, & amelia bones)

the emeralds:

regulus - he'd love taylor swift!! regulus' favourite albums would be ttpd, midnights & red tv. i don't make the rules (yes i do) 🤷‍♀️ his favourite songs from each album would be 'loml,' 'question...?' and 'treacherous' (which he'd never admit, but it's true)

barty - i can see barty saying he hates taylor just to piss of reg, but if 'king of my heart' came on, he'd vibe and def wouldn't turn it off (he associates it with evan 👀) (wanna unpack why that is, barty?)

evan - loves her. period. his fav album is reputation and his favourite songs are 'gorgeous,' 'don't blame me' & 'delicate' !! (he associates them with barty 😙😙)

pandora - her number one song on spotify wrapped EVERY YEAR, without fail, is 'i hate it here' by taylor. second top song is 'never grow up (taylor's version)'. she's a speak now tv girl!!

dorcas - also pretends to hate taylor, but 'the man' by taylor is on almost all of her "favourite song" playlists so 😋😋 she's a lover girl at heart, but she tells pandora (she's the only one who knows she likes taylor) that her favourite is evermore

the others <3 (what is their group name?):

emmeline vance - genuinely doesn't listen to taylor swift much, but would never hate on her or say anything against her. she just doesn't know much of her music or much about her, so she doesn't judge 🤷‍♀️ will listen to fearless tv with mary if asked though!!

emma vanity - she's a huge swiftie and she's LOUD about it. everyone knows she loves taylor; her favourite album is lover & fav song is 'cruel summer' (emma liked it before it blew up, and she makes sure to add that whenever she tells someone)!! emma is alsooo a huge red tv girl, but more the lover girl side of red, yk?? like she LOVES 'begin again,' 'run,' as well as 'forever winter'

amelia bones - her and emma bond at first bc of their love for taylor and just music in general !! amelia doesn't seem like it, but she's an evermore and, strangely enough, debut type of person. her favourite all-time taylor song is 'a place in this world' !! a close second for her is 'dorothea'

[girllblogging777]

Sorry if someone's already asked this, I'm fairly new to your page but what are some of your favorite Taylor Swift songs or albums or your thoughts in general about each one?

𝑠𝑤𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑖𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 !

↳ honestly i’m so so happy you asked because it gives me an opportunity to talk about taylor’s music so i’m just gonna rant a little bit

my experience as a swiftie :

✩ my first memory of listening to taylor was when i’d watch the shake it off clip with my sister RELIGIOUSLY, even though we were really young at the time

✩ i started listening to her music a little after fearless tv released and became a swiftie during red tv (best era ever imo, i miss streaming atwtmv all day long and romanticising fall)

✩ i had the chance to go to the eras tour back in june, which was the BEST experience of my life. i traveled to london just for the concert and it was so great !

✩ london n2 btw, i feel like we had the worst show of all wembleys and i can’t believe i missed gracie abrams by a day, but i’m still super grateful (i got thank you aimee x mean and castles crumbling)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

my opinions on her music :

✩ i’m personally more of a fountain pen songs swiftie than a glitter gel pen one, although i love all of her albums and songs (all bops idc)

✩ i have absolutely NO idea how to rank her albums because it changes everyday and based on my mood

✩ in my opinion, taylor’s most “taylor” album is red, which is why i have a particular attachment to it

✩ folklore and evermore are BOTH masterpieces and evermore deserves to get the folklore treatment (dare i say it’s better than folklore ?)

✩ debut is criminally underrated and i can’t wait for people to realise that when taylor’s version is released

✩ ttpd is a perfect album, and probably in my top three of hers (i do like the anthology better than the album in itself)

✩ her only album with NO skips (again that’s my opinion) is reputation….

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

about ME! :

✩ she truly does have a song for every situation, it’s insane

✩ i’m a this is me trying/the archer girl through and through, that’s for sure

✩ as for my favourite songs, i do have a particular attachment to cowboy like me and you are in love (yes i cried when she did a mashup) and my most streamed song of hers is haunted

✩ OKAY WAIT i’m gonna do a little playlist with taylor songs that describe my “romantic life” (you’ll get the lore pretty easily, try to guess what happened)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

♪ the playlist ♪

“babe”

“my boy only breaks his favorite toys”

“now that we don’t talk”

“betty”

“gold rush”

“better man”

“the 1”

“the smallest man who ever lived”

“peter”

“girl at home”

“down bad”

“right where you left me”

“foolish one”

pretty sure no one is gonna read all that but i had so much fun ! thank you for your question <3

[fists-on-up]

I started this blog when Twitter looked like it was going down so I could keep up with my gaylor friends. Most of them are still on Twitter, but as a writer I am a wordy motherfucker & I hate character limits. So, rather than let this blog lay dormant I am going to use it for more personal gaylor related things & more abstract/complex perspectives.

I might as well start by explaining how I stumbled upon the gaylor community because I feel like my journey here was much different than most.

I am a little older than Taylor & have mostly listed to rock & EDM my whole life. I don't hate pop, but I don't really seek it out & I don't care much about trends or pop culture. I had heard the most popular Taylor Swift songs in passing. I didn't hate Taylor at all, I just never looked further into her music.

I do vaguely remember feeling like YBWM sounded very much like being in love with your high school best friend who doesn't consider you an option because you're a girl, and as a Shakespeare obsessed lesbian Love Story pinged the ol' gaydar because forbidden love is way more common for queer people. It's not impossible, though, for a girl's family to not approve of a particular boy so I chalked it up to a specific situation she faced coupled with me viewing lyrics through my own (very gay) experiences. Especially given the fact that Romeo & Juliet tends to be referenced often based upon a very surface-level understanding of the story.

These thoughts did stick with me subconsciously, as it turns out. One day I was listening to a Spotify generated playlist I was really digging and Don't Blame Me came on while I was in the shower. I thought "Wow, this is a very sexy, Sapphic song who the hell is this??" I checked when I got out of the shower & was so confused. I LOVED it and listened to it frequently, but it still hadn't clicked completely.

Then I heard only the bridge to Cruel Summer in a TikTok & said "Oh my God, she's gay!" I immediately recognized how painful & difficult it is to play the part of "friends" in public and the sense of doom that comes with realizing you're in love with a girl while closeted. If you've never had that experience, I envy you. How we treat people we're in love with isn't really planned out, it's automatic. Trying to catch that & substitute "friendly" behavior when you don't even know HOW to be her friend is very hard. It's hard to not feel insecure when the woman you love treats you like a friend, too. It's hard to hide the love and the pain if you wear your heart on your sleeve. In short, it's torture. A unique torture you can only really describe or recognize if you've experienced it. I have, and immediately knew Taylor had too.

As soon as this clicked I immediately devoured her entire discography over & over again. For days it was all I did, starting before I got out of bed and ending when I fell asleep with a notepad on my bed listening to evermore (again). I was 100% certain she is queer before I ever Googled "Taylor Swift gay?". I didn't even know there was lore or a community at first.

I didn't just recognize her queerness because I'm queer, however. I recognized it because I'm a writer. Not by profession. By passion, I suppose. And what really made it clear was what Taylor doesn't say.

I realized I was gay when I was 14 years old and when I did I wasn't scared, I was excited. I had come to the conclusion that the entire world was just... faking it. Girls would kiss boys & go on & on about it, almost every song, movie, & book was about love, and I just couldn't relate. I had kissed more than a few boys, but I seriously did not understand. I would pretend to fit in, but it was not at all appealing to me.

Then a friend stayed the night & kissed me. A friend that I wasn't consciously attracted to at all, and yet - fireworks. Suddenly I realized that people weren't exaggerating or lying about attraction & love. I realized that the concept of attraction wasn't merely recognizing that a boy was conventionally attractive, it was attraction like two magnets pulled together. Like gravity. I wasn't broken, the world wasn't a lie, and I was fucking ecstatic about it.

But then I told some close friends and most of them immediately stopped talking to me. Some became hostile. This was around 1999-2000 in Small Town, Texas where there were no out queer people. Looking back I understand that it was just a matter of kids being ignorant and uneducated and, well, kids but at the time it was confusing. I tried to backpedal and told the friends who stayed that I was bisexual. I even tried to be bisexual (spoiler: I am not). The excitement I initially felt quickly turned to fear & I chose to hide it from anyone else.

To cope with the constant overflow of my newly-activated heart and the isolation of having no one who understands, I poured myself into poetry. I started reading Shakespeare at 11 and had read most classical works by the same age. By 14 I had multiple poems published in collections, had read every work of Shakespeare & Poe, and had memorized the Chorus to Romeo & Juliet. Using poetry to cope was kind of my brand. So cope I did.

I wrote thousands of poems. I filled binders & spirals & journals. I was always writing. Most people knew I was published young & knew I was writing like crazy, so it wasn't uncommon for other kids to read what I was working on. Sometimes they'd commission a poem from me.

The fear of anyone finding out (including my parents) meant that I had to be very, very careful with how I worded things. No she/her pronouns. Nothing that would give me away. The occasional red herring. I would be specific enough that the muse would know it was about her, but no one else would.

I almost always wrote to the muse, using "you" more than anything. Poetry is like a love letter, so it comes naturally, but it also prevented the need for gendered pronouns. I wrote that way so much I still default to it now (and I have a hard time NOT pouring my heart out to anyone I care about). I didn't realize it at the time, but my writing was inherently queer coded despite my efforts to conceal it because, well, I'm queer. Sound familiar?

There are simply some things that are upside down when you're queer & you don't even recognize it because you've never NOT been queer. Things you say straight girls wouldn't. Things you don't say that straight girls would. Straight people don't see it because they've never NOT been straight. Hell, queer men won't recognize Sapphic language because they've never been attracted to a woman OR been a woman.

There are subtle, inherent tells separate from intentional tells or flags. I didn't realize that, and neither did the kids (or adults) who read my work semi-regularly.

One day my close friend borrowed my poetry journal to catch up on what I had written. This was an especially vulnerable journal, but it was just as obfuscated as everything else. I thought nothing of it and went about my day.

Hours later, during lunch, I was outside probably bumming a cigarette off of an equally punkass kid or smoking a bit of weed from a pipe crafted out of a soda can when I heard a girl shouting my name. I left the hidden corner and walked to the main area to see a girl I didn't know walking around, calling my name loudly over and over. I called back to her, confused but glad it wasn't a teacher busting me smoking.

When we were finally face to face she confirmed that I am in fact me & I realized that she was holding my journal. She pulled me to a more secluded area, looked me in my eyes, and said "these are about girls, right?"

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck shit.

I was a sophomore. 15 years old. She was a senior. A beautiful black girl named Lovely who I only knew of because it was a small school. And here she was just... straight up asking me. No one had ever asked me before. I had never had to answer this question before. I was caught off guard & wholly unprepared for this.

The closet is an awful place when you hate lying.

So, I didn't lie. For some reason I looked right into this girl's eyes and reluctantly, fearfully, said "Yes." Then I held my breath.

But she didn't laugh at me, didn't call me a dyke, didn't preach at me. She just... fucking cried.

This lovely girl named Lovely completely broke down in front of me, a complete stranger, and I did not realize what was happening.

Turns out Lovely wasn't just lovely, she was queer. And scared. And so, so lonely. She thought she was the only one, until she heard what my poetry didn't say. She recognized the inherent queerness in my writing because she identified with it and immediately came to find me.

I consider that conversation to be one of the most pivotal, defining interactions of my life. The entire time I thought I was alone & Lovely was there. Lovely thought she was alone & I was there, and I suddenly realized coming out wasn't really about me. It wasn't about the friends and family who would reject me. It was also about being visible. Being brave. Being proud. It was about the other queer kids who thought they were the only one. The other kids who couldn't come out. With this realization, from this conversation, I found purpose.

The very next day, Lovely came to school in baggy jeans and a basketball jersey - a huge departure from the very feminine presentation she always had. We never talked about it again, just exchanged fond smiles and nods in the hallway, but she came out to some extent. I came out within a week of our conversation, and I made a conscious decision that I was going to be loud about it.

My mom was great when I came out & I knew she'd have my back. Before the word "privilege" was commonplace, I at least understood that my supportive mom gave me an advantage others didn't have. I felt like I had not only the ability but the responsibility to be visible and unapologetic.

I was a rebellious little shit. I would make out with girls in the hallway. I lined the inside of my locker with Playboy pictures. I wrote "gay" on my forehead in hot pink lipstick when I got sick of being asked if I was "fully gay".

As a result, the varsity quarterback would call me in tears to talk through his struggles with his sexuality. I knew the most popular boys all of the girls wanted were actually very in love with each other. Girls who would laugh along with their friends who called me a dyke would hook their fingers into mine when they passed me in the hallway & pull me into dark rooms at parties when no one was looking.

I became the keeper of secrets. Society makes queer people lie & uses the guilt of that "deception" to keep people closeted. We lie to ourselves, then to everyone else, then to all but a few trusted people, then even when we're out we lie on behalf of others. I still hold secrets, even for those who don't "deserve" my loyalty. It's part of it, like an unspoken code. Closeting is lying, whether we like that or not. But lying is morally neutral. Intent & impact matter.

That time of my life was hard. Teachers would treat me differently. One flat out told me I would go to hell in front of the class. Another refused to intervene when my girlfriend was physically attacked by another girl who was pissed about her dating me. The school tried, for a time, to force me to use the boys locker room so other girls wouldn't feel uncomfortable. The school tried to ban me from taking a girl to prom (even though I was taking a friend, my girlfriend's family wouldn't allow her to go with me). A group of boys chanted "1, 2, 3, 4, death to the lesbian whore" when I got to school every morning. I got in a lot of fist fights. Mostly with that group of boys. Someone broke into my locker and wrote "dyke" all over & inside of my text books in huge magic marker. I remember telling one of my teachers I couldn't read part of an assignment because of it & trying not to cry. I was preached at constantly by kids & a few teachers who saw me as an opportunity to "save a soul". I have a lot of stories.

But you know what? I got the teacher that told me I would go to hell fired. I fought back when they tried to make me use the boys locker room. When they tried to ban me from prom, I printed hundreds of pages of court rulings from cases in which schools tried to do that to other gay kids, stormed into the principal's office, dropped it on her desk and threatened her. I went to prom with my friend. And after I had graduated, my high school girlfriend (who was a grade below me) finally got to take me to hers. A gay boy I'd never met won prom king and he thanked me for it. I didn't even know him, but he knew me. I won every single fist fight. I didn't cry about the slurs written in my books in front of people & I protested when they washed it off of the front of my locker. I wanted it to be the dyke locker. I took everything they gave me with a smile & asked for more, because it showed other kids it was possible. I made myself a lightning rod for hate on purpose, because then the "less problematic" queer kids were seen in a better light. It protected them. It also made sure they knew I was there. And they came to me & I did my best to help. I chased girls & have so many stories about drunken hookups and falling in love. Wild nights & happy days.

Don't get me wrong, I fucked up plenty too. I certainly wasn't a hero, and I put myself in very real danger multiple times. There were a lot of failures & mistakes. There was a lot of pain. But it was absolutely, positively fucking worth it. Despite it all I look back on that time fondly & I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. And I'd do it the same.

That time of my life shaped who I am in every way. I'm still that punkass kid (even though I'm pushing 40 now). Still a fighter who doesn't care how much pain I endure if I'm doing the right thing. And I never would have become that person if a girl named Lovely hadn't picked up on the queer themes in my writing that I wasn't even intentionally adding. So for me, it's kind of serendipitous that the very thing that led me to becoming everything I am today is the thing that I saw & heard in Taylor. That led me to so much beautiful art, beautiful love stories, and beautiful people in the gaylor community that is so, so dear to me now.

It takes one to know one, but sometimes knowing one puts you on the path to knowing yourself.

[charsoamerican]

OK so I made a Taylor Swift, the inheritance games playlist

The Way I Loved You - giving tfg when Avery was mad over jameson being over protective

I Can See You - such a hot song but also describing averyxjameson relationship perfectly

Bigger Than The Whole Sky - describes Avery and Toby’s relationship so well and just them especially the lyrics “You were more then just a short time” and “Everything to come has turned to ashes” so yeah

Sparks Fly - totally avery talking about Jameson like “you’re the kind of reckless that should send me running” and “get me with those green eyes baby as the lights go down, give me something that will haunt me when you’re not around” and “my mind forgets to remind me that you’re a bad idea” LIKE

Mine - fr just the lyric “you made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter” think about that is literally perfect

Long Story Short - it’s so perfect and also this song can literally be a summary of the romance in the whole series but anyway THESE lyrics; “no more keeping score, now I just keep you warm” and “if the shoe fits walk in it til your high heels break” fits Avery perfectly, she was literally broke and turned into the worlds richest teenager overnight, like she obvi didn’t know everything immediately

Evermore - it’s like sad but stillllll “in the cracks of light I dreamed of you” because when she was in a coma the first thing she heard was Jamies voice and then “it was real enough to get me through” because they never really called it love in thl but it was there (omg that was so cringy forget I said that)

Call It What You Want - literally this whole song is just perfect for them every lyric is perfect but what stood out to me was “you don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me?” Because she didn’t need Jameson to protect her by preventing her from doing things, but she still wanted to do it with him instead

Fearless - idk but there is just something so fitting with the name of this song like jameson literally took her hand and drove her head first fearless “you’re just so cool, run your hands through your hair” also *reminder* Jameson is cool, but on serious note, “I don’t why but with you I’d dance in a storm in my best dress, fearless” bc yes

Mastermind - them. they literally are masterminds. “And the first night that you saw me I knew I wanted your body” also this line “you see, all the wisest women had to do it this way, because we were born to be the pawn of every lovers game” works with how she felt like Jameson just thought of her as part of the game and not a human with feeling in tig

Wildest Dreams - I just feel like they would literally do anything for eachother and this is totally not on this playlist because of the “he’s so tall and handsome as hell” line and it’s also definitely not about Jameson 😳

Lavender Haze - the lyrics are just so perfect like “I’ve been under scrutiny, you handle it beautifully” and “I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say” AND “They’re bringing up my history, but you weren’t even listening” THESE LYRICS OH MY

Midnight Rain (“he was sunshine I was midnight rain” because Jameson is literally golden retriever on the inside and Avery is very chill and yeah this is just me fantasizing soo)

Wonderland (this song literally IS jameson and Avery. Get ready for me to basically quote the whole song “Didn’t they tell us don’t rush into things? Didn’t you flash your green eyes at me? Haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds?” LIKE WHAT? I’m convinced jlb wrote this romance based off of this song and also “didn’t you calm my fears with a Cheshire Cat smile?” His smile is literally described as “a Cheshire Cat smile” in the first book before Avery starts calling it devastating. “We found wonderland, you and I got lost in it, life was never worse, but never better”

Anti-Hero - literally should be jamies theme song. People always are like “Grayson is so depressed he deserves better” but what about Jameson?? Like he literally blames himself for Emily’s death and basically sh when jumping off the cliff. He always compares himself to Grayson. Like the lyrics “pierced through the heart but never killed” he literally is almost if not just as much broken as Grayson is but he’s just better at hiding it and covering it up with a smile, but I do think Grayson needs therapy desperately like jlb please help him

You’re on your own kid - This song fits Avery soo well like after her mom died no one really could take care of her, I mean I know Libby did, and I love Libby, but it was just different? And also when she inherited the billions of dollars everyone hated her pretty much so yeah. I think the lyric “Everything you lose is a step you take” it just is Avery

Paris (it just relates to Avery and Jameson sm, like the lyric “I’m so in love i might stop breathing, drew a map on your bedroom ceiling” Avery made a point about how they want to go places together. “Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours”

Other ones that I’m too lazy to explain

Style

Vigilante Sh*t

Forever Winter

I Did Something Bad

Don’t Blame Me

Paper Rings (I’m a big xandermax and nashlibby stan)

London Boy

Getaway Car

Miss Americana and the heartbreak prince

Blank Space